Sorry guys bit of a short chapter this round.
His first assessment had been she was too pretty to be a knight. More the princess then a fierce protector, but Beelzemon was being forced to rapidly reevaluate his first impression. He awoke in the early predawn to the crackle of fire. Sitting up he found those bright blue eyes gazing at him from across the flame. She was unbound, having freed herself in the night and with a lazy flick of the wrist he watched her toss the cords he'd been using to tie her with into the flames. It was more a statement then any need for fuel as her lips twisted with wry amusement at his scowl as she lowered a pair of sticks with what looked to be some sort of bird or lizard cleaned and stuck on the ends of them over the fire to cook.
"Breakfast?" She quipped, in a tone far too cheerful for his liking as the Demon Lord sat up. "I wasn't sure if you wanted yours raw or cooked so best to speak now before I accidentally ruin your meal." Octavia added with an arched brow.
"I'll eat it cooked." He rumbled, leaving out the fact that he was perfectly capable of stomaching it raw. He just preferred not to. She let out a soft hum of acknowledgement as he watched her rotate their food as she minded the fire made up of dead brush and tumbleweed, giving Beelzemon the chance to observe her without her ever wary gaze. He'd been around long enough to recognize a threat when he saw one as his mind whirled on how she'd managed to escape without his notice among other things. She was a human true, hardly a match for him. Yet for a moment she had had the advantage, holding his life in her hands and she wanted him to know it. To know she had left him to wake to a pleasant fire rather then whatever else she might have had planned not because she had to, but because she chose to. Because she could.
And despite himself he was impressed. She had a subtlety to her threats. Something he had not seen in a long time as the other Demon Lords, beyond Lucemon and surprisingly enough Deamon, preferred their statements to be as blunt or as thinly veiled as possible. One didn't need much thought to unravel what the likes of Lilithmon was up too and Beelzemon had to admit he enjoyed a good mental challenge as much as he did a physical one.
Watching her now in the early morning light all the girl's imperfections were on display. She was beautiful, yes, drawing him in like a moth to the flame, but her face lacked the digital perfection of the likes of Lilithmon or Angewomon. Yet hers was more alive, more vibrant, more…human. She had a small scar, not a fingernails breadth long on her face where her jaw and cheek met that could easily be hidden in the shadow of her hair. Her hair itself was a wild dark blonde mess, unruly and untamed even as she tried to comb her fingers through it to bring it to some semblance of order and put it once more up in a bun. Her attempts however failed, yet such a petty thing left him feeling inordinately pleased. Her carefully groomed uniform was now wrinkled and dust splattered, her pale healthy skin smeared with a touch of earthy red from the ground. The chaos was creeping in to her oh so orderly appearance, encroaching on the manicured military perfection he had snatched off that stage turning her into something new. Something much more breath-taking and Beelzemon couldn't help, but take pride in his hand in it.
Every time he looked at her he felt a strange delicious thrill as one might feel when stealing something that was never meant to be there's. She was Dukemon's. She was forbidden.
Yet here she was in his grasp and in some small way he was making her his. The sheer territorial pleasure that surged through his system at that thought was enough to jerk Beelzemon out of his reverie, shaking himself as he snatched his meal from the flames, uncaring if it cooled before he took a bite. Swallowing he nodded for Octavia to hurry and eat her own.
"We leave in five minutes whether you have or have not eaten. You can either ride Behemoth like a good little human or I can drag you behind like a rock till you change your mind." He snarled getting to his feet to attend his bike even as Octavia's eyes snapped up to him at his sudden swift change in mood.
He could feel her staring at his back as she ate, but he ignored it. She wasn't his. Never was, never will be as he swiftly reminded himself that he was to be her killer…not her companion. To be otherwise was tantamount to suicide and he didn't yet feel like dying.