Damon gulped as he took a good look at the black lacy outfit Ellora was now casually flaunting. It was bold, clingy in all the wrong ways, and definitely not the kind of thing one would expect a follower to wear while on duty.
Damon groaned and looked away, trying to ignore the damned woman. While he enjoyed a good show, currently, there were plenty of women in his life whom he actually cared for. He really did not have the mental space right now for this.
"Get dressed and stop this nonsense. I won’t tell you this twice."
Ellora pouted and turned away. For a second, Damon worried if he had screwed and lost her favorability, but the next second, the woman only revealed an even more cunning grin. "Can’t say that I do not love a strict master. Mmmm. Yes, my Lord. I am here to obey all your whims and wishes."
Her attire changed to her old revealing one, which only had a little more clothing than the lingerie she was wearing. Not to mention, her attitude was still the same. Damon decided to give up on this for now. It was not like he hated looking at beautiful women. Well, whatever worked for her.
"First, teleport us both to the blood hall." He gave the first order.
Ellora gave a theatrical bow, the shimmering red veins glowing faintly along her arms as she activated her magic. "As you command, my stern Lord."
She snapped her fingers with a smirk, and a swirling crimson vortex opened at their feet. The magic pulsed with the familiar scent of aged blood and runes—the unique signature of the Blood Hall.
Damon didn’t bother replying. He stepped into the portal, forcing himself to stay focused on his real objective: his soul. His body was still a mess, his mana circuits felt like tangled thorns, and every breath reminded him he was running on fumes. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by flirtatious witches.
The portal whisked them away, and within seconds, they emerged into the core chamber of the Blood Hall. Ellora emerged beside him, stretching dramatically like she had just done something extremely difficult. Damon didn’t give her the chance to open her mouth or start any drama. "Lead me to the prison cells."
She gave a mock salute and spun on her heels, her voice lilting. "To the prison cells it is. Why, my lord? Are you going to give me a good spanking for being such a naughty, naughty follower?"
She made a really cute face as opposed to her usual seductive face, and it made Damon laugh a little. "Ya, I just might spank you until you beg for mercy."
Ellora gasped in mock horror, putting a hand to her chest like he’d just offended her delicate sensibilities. "Oh no, how terrifying. Please punish me, Master. Punish me hard," she whispered dramatically with the same mischievous glint in her eyes.
Damon rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "Enough. Walk."
She obeyed, hips swaying far more than necessary as she led the way down a side corridor lined with red torches.
Damon followed behind, keeping his mind anchored to what mattered. Kaelthorn. He was going to meet the man face to face now, and no amount of Ellora’s playful teasing was going to change how serious this visit was.
His eyes were closed, as if asleep, but Damon knew better. The moment he entered, Kaelthorn’s lips twitched into a slow, crooked smile.
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