Chapter Three

I walk along a worn cobblestone street lined with Muggle construction equipment. It looks as if someone has angrily knocked over a glass of pumpkin juice across the city skyline, giving the pavement and surrounding buildings a warm glow.

I make my way past a group of tourists chatting away in English, many of them wearing 'Niagara Falls, Canada' T-shirts under their jackets. One girl tries to ask me a question in wretchedly pronounced French, but I ignore her, needing to keep pace with Lestrange who's half-a-block ahead.

It took me over two weeks to find Lestrange, much longer than usual for me. In that time, he's killed five more creatures: two vampire merchants, two well-known nymph musicians, and a werewolf Beta. Lestrange has already proven more of a challenge than any of my past targets. I'm quite curious to see if the trend continues, but I won't allow it at the cost of more High-Realm lives.

During my investigation, I've learnt that Lestrange has been calling himself Eyas Rosier. Every few weeks, he has moved to a different country in an attempt to remain undiscovered. His alias is what tipped me off. A surname not in the Pure-Blood Directory would have served him better. Like with most Dark wizards, his pride would be his downfall.

Lestrange disappears around a corner.

I curse and sprint forwards, manoeuvring around pedestrians as best I can.

As I turn the corner, I slam into a hard, muscled body. "Oof." I take a step back. "Pardon."

I'm not a short woman, but I have to crane my neck to see whom I've crashed into.

Whom I find is Rabastan Lestrange gazing down at me. His brows are up, and a smirk graces his mouth. I hate to admit it, but he looks good. Okay, better than good. Alright, fine. He looks gorgeous. He's wearing olive trousers and a white Oxford shirt with a casual-but-stylish, violet-blue coat. His dark hair is a little too long, and a few strands fall over his eyes and ears. His irises are amber with flecks of gold, and his hawkish nose completes the picture of him resembling a bird of prey.

For a second, I lament over my task. It will be such a shame and waste having to kill such a clever and attractive man, but needs must.

"Follow me," I order.

His smirk widens, and I frown. On his face, he has the unsettling look of a raptor that's been triumphant in nabbing its dinner. If he thinks the wand in his hand will save him, he's wrong. I return his arrogant expression with one of my own.

"We meet again, my little pullet"—I narrow my eyes at him for calling me a young female chicken—"It was quite a sight to see those wings of yours sprout from your back all those years ago. Been wearing this ever since." He pulls something from underneath his shirt and then taps his temple.

I take a closer look and see a small glass ball filled with water hanging from a silver chain. An air bubble inside it shifts with his movements. Fuck a duck. Water and air are my affinities. He must be wearing a charm against the Sway of a siren. This poses a huge challenge. The Canadian Ministry has strict laws against using magic in Muggle areas, so using my wand is out. I'm left with only one workable solution.

As Lestrange drops the charm back behind his shirt, I attack with superhuman strength and speed, aiming my fist at his head. Lestrange doesn't avoid my hit, but he does move quick enough to not get knocked out as I intended. I ignore the concerned yells from nearby onlookers and immediately strike out with my foot. Lestrange dances out of the way and uses my momentum against me.

An instant later, I find myself on the pavement with him on top of me. As I struggle to gasp in a breath, his fist makes contact with my face, busting my lip.

I freeze when I feel the tip of his wand digging into my stomach. Lestrange is a fugitive and has nothing to lose, but I can't just Fade and escape. If he just wanted me dead, I'd already have found myself getting chummy with a Killing Curse. No, he wants something from me. I have to at least try to learn what that is and complete my mission.

I make a show of struggling and say, "Get off me, you disgusting Death Eater scum."

Lestrange nuzzles at my neck and then whispers into my ear, "Now, now, pretty ducking, that's no way for a lady to act."

Gooseflesh rises on my body from the continued sensation of his breath on my skin. Feeling his weight on me, one part of me wants to gut him with my talons, consequences be damned, but another part of me wants to purr. He's succeeded in dominating me into my current predicament. Against all reason, my instincts and body approve.

I close my eyes as his lips tease my cheek. I want him…but I've wanted to bed others and refrained. Lestrange would be no different.

He lifts his head until his mouth is only an inch away from my own. In silence, we stare at each other.

I undulate my body with a slow stretch, springing my trap. "Fuck…you," I hiss.

Lestrange's eyes flash. "You sound quite eggy, love. I know exactly what will cure your sour mood: a nice, long kip. Sweet dreams…"

I brace myself, my last thought being that the richness of his voice alone could ease me into slumber.

"Stupefy."


My face throbs, and I groan. Why couldn't I have the ability of super healing? It would be far more useful than the pair of overly large feather dusters attached to my back. I open my eyes, needing to squint. Overhead, I see a light fixture lit with electricity and not candles. I frown.

"Rise and shine, pretty puffling."

Looking around, I find I'm lying on a settee with my wrists restrained in front of me with wizarding shackles. Then I spot Lestrange. He's lounging on a nearby cushioned armchair, idly rolling his wand between his fingertips. I glare at him.

"Stop referring to me by words used for the young of varying bird species," I demand, causing him to smirk. "Where are we?"

"Now, now, owlet, you don't think I would be foolish enough to take you where someone in the wizarding world might notice. Your kind has always been like pests; if there's one, then there's likely more scurrying about."

I grit my teeth. He's such an aggravating man. At least, I can infer we're still in the Muggle world. If he uses any Dark magic, the Canadian authorities would be here within minutes.

"I didn't ask for your opinion about what I think, but now that you've brought it up, yes, I do think you're foolish, exceedingly so, as well as mind-bogglingly chauvinistic. If you don't want to tell me where I am, then tell me why I'm here."

"Hmm, 'owlet'…" Lestrange says, completely ignoring me. "Now that's my favourite so far. What do you think? Should I keep it or continue? There are so many catchy possibilities: squealer"—he raises a suggestive eyebrow—"flapper, jenny…"

As Lestrange prattles on like a mad hatter, I contemplate what I should do next. One idea, in particular, persistently bounces around in my head. If I'm successful, I'll learn everything I need to know, but things could also blow up in my face, spectacularly. It's my own maddening curiosity that decides things. I sit up.

Lestrange instantly becomes more alert.

"Well, if you don't want to answer any questions about me, maybe you'll answer questions about you." I stand, and he casually aims his wand at me. I glide towards him, sensuously swaying my hips with each step. "I've always wondered. How did you escape Azkaban? You're an unregistered Animagus, aren't you?"

Lestrange grins charmingly. "No, darling, I'm not an Animagus… I'm just that good."

I snort.

His expression turns hard. "You, on the other hand, little owlet, are nothing but a Mudblood that needs to learn her place."

His eyes widen when I straddle his lap and place my shackled wrists behind his neck. My knit dress bunches, revealing the smooth flesh of my thighs. Lestrange jabs his wand into my side, but I pay it no mind.

"That's where you're wrong, Lestrange… The blood that runs through my veins is ancient; I'm beyond you. I'm above you." I lean in and whisper into his ear, "I am a seducer of men, and death is my food of choice. You are mine to do with as I wish."

Lestrange tries to act unaffected, but his dilated eyes give him away. "Is that so, my caged, little owlet." His eyes flicker to my breasts peeking out from my V-neckline. My nipples are erect and easily discernible. He leers. "And what is it you wish?

I smile. "Are you in the business of granting wishes, Lestrange." I slowly gyrate my hips.

He parts his lips and exhales a harder breath. "Perhaps…"

Lestrange lifts his wand and drags it down my cheek, stopping on top of my mouth. "Episkey."

Fire then ice rolls over my face. I smile. The pain I felt earlier is gone.

Him healing my split lip brings my attention to his mouth. His bottom lip is plumper than the top one, but his mouth isn't too pouty; it's masculine with a touch of mischievousness. It's lovely. I've never had to kiss anyone on a job; I've always managed to avoid it. This time, though, I wouldn't be able to and…I must confess I'm glad.

I lean forwards. Lestrange's left hand tangles into the back of my curls while his wand presses into the junction between my jaw and neck. Our lips chastely touch for the barest of moments, and then we're desperate for one another. We open our mouths, frantically tasting and learning. He tastes of bitter spirits and star anise. I slide my tongue along his teeth, and they're perfectly straight, dull, and human. Moaning, I rub my softer curves against the hardness of his fit body. It's intoxicating.

It requires all my willpower to focus. The High Realm keeps its secrets well-guarded, and I'll be using one such secret to my advantage. While our tongues battle for dominance, I tap my link to the High Realm and flood my shackles with magic.

Finally, the charms on my restraints buckle under the pressure. I feel my powers as a witch return to me and sigh.

Lestrange removes his hand from my hair and grabs my bum, pushing my centre harder against his arousal. A loud moan escapes from my mouth. I moan again, but this time, I also concentrate on one word: Alohomora.

The tightness around my wrists eases. I wait for a moment to see if Lestrange heard the shackles unlocking over my sound of pleasure. He does pause, but it's to gasp in a breath. He then takes my tongue into his mouth and sucks. It's heaven. I feel myself grow wetter.

Ever so carefully, I locate the clasp of the silver chain hanging from his neck. Then I do as I did with the shackles and pour magic into it. A second later, I sense something snapping back into place and grin as a new excitement languidly stretches inside me.

We're both breathing hard when I break away.

I gaze into his eyes. "Drop your wand."

Lestrange's eyes widen. "How…"

As my magic licks at his, the digging pain underneath my jaw disappears. His magic and will are strong…but not strong enough. Our magic fully connects, and we gasp. A second later, I hear the clatter of his wand landing on the floor.

He's mine.

"Lestrange, answer my questions truthfullyWhy are you killing notable creatures in the wizarding world?"

Lestrange's eyes pinch close. He shakes his head violently. Opening his eyes, Lestrange grits his teeth. "Noooo…" He groans. "I…want to finish…the Dark Lord's work." He fights every word.

"What work would that be?"

His body shudders and then relaxes as he gives into the influence of my Sway. "To reclaim our birthright. To take the High Realm for wizardkind."

I exhale a heavy breath. "So pointless… Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort, was defeated once and for all. Why would you continue to follow the ravings of such a lunatic?"

Lestrange frowns. "It's…all I've known. It gives me purpose."

"There must be something else… If not weighed down by the past, what else would you want to do?"

Lestrange's eyes darken. "I'd want to plunge my cock into your tempting half-breed cunt. I'd want one try to fuck you before you gut me like the others I've learnt about."

His hands follow the curves of my body, coming to a stop at my waist. "Salazar," his face twists as if he were in pain, "I hate that you're so fucking beautiful. I hate that I've wanted you for as long as I have."

I stare at him feeling entirely dumbstruck and painfully aroused. He actually wants to shag me. "But…I thought you wanted to kill me for some reprehensible purpose. Don't you?"

"Yes…no…" Lestrange gnashes his teeth. "I don't know."

Lestrange is as good as dead. He knows about the High Realm; he must be eliminated but… I bite my bottom lip. What would a few more minutes hurt? I have the upper hand now that I have access to my Sway. He's also unaware that I've unlocked the shackles and can free my hands at any time. And it has been years since I've come across a man that's really caught my eye.

I lick my lips. "Alright."

"Alright, what?"

"You may shag me…if that's what you want." Merlin, I'm supposed to be an apex predator and seductress, but I'm acting more like a bumbling idiot.

Lestrange narrows his eyes. "You'd let me fuck you?"

Instead of answering him, I close my eyes and softly press my lips against his.

"Fuck…" he breathes, tightening his hold.

We resume our earlier wild snog; this time with me not needing to split my attention. I let myself sink into Lestrange's warmth, falling deeper and deeper.

Lestrange's hands tug on the gathered fabric of my dress. He lifts it and groans when he feels the smooth expanse of my buttocks. "Fucking Merlin…no knickers…" As his hands move, they seem to scorch me, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Lestrange slowly slides my dress higher until he exposes my bare breasts. Almost reverently, he places kisses on the soft mounds. He then guides my dress off my head and down my arms until it can go no further. Wanting to bury my fingers into his hair, I'm incredibly tempted to rip off the shackles and fabric bunched around my hands.

He slips a hand between my legs and moans. "You're so wet… Sweet Salazar, you're dripping down your thighs."

I whimper when Lestrange delves his fingers into my folds. He glides around my silky flesh, teasing my nerve endings before bringing his hand to his mouth.

Staring at me hungrily, he sucks and savours every digit. "You taste clean…like the sea. I could feast on you for hours."

I can't take it anymore. "Please…" I grind my core against him.

Lestrange shuts his eyes and chuckles. "As my owlet wishes."

We both raise our hips so he can lower his trousers and pants. I salivate. I'm quite impressed with what's revealed: Lestrange is well-endowed and glistening from arousal. I now understand his sentiment about wanting to know my taste because, right now, I want to lick off the new drop of pre-cum on the tip of his cock.

Lestrange positions himself at my opening and waits. I'm surprised he does, but he doesn't have to wait long. With no hesitation, I lower myself onto him.

When the head of his cock enters me, we both moan. We watch each other as I take more of him into me. As Lestrange stretches and fills me, I feed off the pleasure on his face, and he feeds off mine.

We quickly build an aggressive pace. He feels so good inside me. I kiss and suck at his neck, inhaling deep breaths of his scent. His head falls back onto the ball of fabric encasing my hands, giving me easier access.

All too soon, I'm close, but I can't stand it anymore. I need to feel more of him.

I yank off the shackles and free my hands from my dress. Then I rip away Lestrange's shirt exposing prison tattoos and deliciously hot skin.

Lestrange moans. "That's it, love," he says between hard breaths. "Feel me. Ride me."

Merlin… I let out a harsh exhale. "Oh, fuck!" I'm unable to say another word as I come apart. Pleasure lights up every inch of my body. It's too much.

My wings burst into being behind me as my talons fully elongate.

"Fuck, yes," Lestrange growls, thrusting harder.

My talons scratch across his upper back, marking him. I feel so alive: a creature of sex and power.

Lestrange stares at me with wonder, and his movements grow erratic. "Fuck…I'm…I'm going to fill your cunt with my pure-blood seed." His hold becomes bruising. "Yes…" he moans loud and gutturally, letting himself spill inside me.

I grin victoriously. I gain no magic from his release, but I do gain something else. During the few seconds that Lestrange is lost in the crashing sensations of his climax, I'm not a Mudblood or a half-breed; I'm a woman, and he's a man, and we're equal partners in a dance the predates even the High Realm.

Lestrange grabs my face and crushes our lips together, expertly drawing another moan from me.

On second thought, Lestrange has aptly renamed himself. Rosier is the name of the fallen angel who is considered the patron demon of tainted love and seduction. It fits him perfectly.

Lestrange reaches down and rubs circles on my clit. I sigh with pleasure, and he grins.

What are a few minutes more?

"Get hard for me."

Lestrange's eyes grow large just as his lower extremity does.

I laugh softly, kissing and touching him.

For the rest of the night, we continue our dance, again and again, letting the worries of both our worlds drift away, at least for a time.


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