The walk home was slow.
Shiro carried the tiefling girl effortlessly in one arm, the blood-slick claws of his gauntlet now dulled and cracked. His breathing had steadied, but his body felt… different.
The transformation was fading—but not all the way.
His skin tingled beneath the blood and grime. Veins buzzed like they'd memorized the relic's rhythm. He felt taller. Broader. His hair was wilder, dreadlocks thicker, some streaked with darker tones now. His jaw was sharper, his canines still gold but longer. His eyes hadn't gone fully back either—still haloed with that faint red glow.
When he passed a window on the street, even he had to pause.
"…Shit."
He looked good.
Too good.
Even his scent had changed—richer, heavier. Animalistic. Dangerous.
The tiefling stirred in his arms, blinking up at him.
"You're not human," she muttered.
"Not sure I ever was."
He adjusted her gently. "What's your name?"
"…Zarrah."
"Pretty."
Her gaze lingered on his face. "You're still changing."
"Yeah." He flexed his jaw. "Relic did somethin'. Took a piece of me and gave one back."
They crossed the threshold to Lena's mansion just as the digital lock beeped open.
Inside, warm lamplight spilled over the polished floors and open foyer.
Grakka looked up from the kitchen.
Lena stood from the couch, eyes locking on him.
And both women just… froze.
Their mouths parted.
Grakka blinked slowly. "Damn, boy."
Lena stepped forward, eyes scanning him like he was a rare beast in heat. "You smell… different."
"Feel different too."
Zarrah stirred in his arm, and Lena's eyes flicked to her. "Who's this?"
"Prisoner. Found her locked up in the back."
Lena nodded. "There's a spare room. Come on."
She guided them down the hall. Shiro laid Zarrah gently on the clean bed. Her glowing eyes softened for a second before she rolled away without a word.
"She's safe now," Lena whispered.
As the door shut behind them—
Grakka leaned on the hallway wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Shiro.
"You look like you survived a war… and got sexier for it."
Lena smirked. "His back's even broader. Skin darker. Fangs longer. You feelin' the shift, love?"
Shiro rubbed the back of his neck, but every brush of skin sent a jolt. His nerves were still raw, hypersensitive. Even the air on his neck made him twitch.
"I ain't used to this yet."
"Oh, we can tell," Lena purred.
She stepped close, her heels clicking against the marble like a slow heartbeat.
Grakka joined her, the heavy scent of her skin—salt, sweat, and heat—mixing with Lena's perfume. They circled him like wolves.
"Easy now—" Shiro started, but Lena was already dragging a finger down his chest, tracing the cut of his abs, smearing the dried blood. The nail scraped softly over one of his tattoos, and his entire body jerked like it'd been shocked.
"You're pulsing, Shiro," she murmured. "All that power sittin' under your skin. You need a release."
Grakka's hand came up and slid down the waistband of his pants, her calloused fingers teasing the base of him. "Let us help you adjust."
He growled—low and deep.
They didn't stop.
Lena pressed her body to his, lifting onto her toes to kiss his throat, her lips soft and wet. "We missed you."
Grakka tugged his pants loose with one hand and ran the other across his back, fingers tracing new scars. "You smell like a damn god."
Shiro's hands came alive—one gripping Lena's waist, the other wrapping into Grakka's thick hair.
Lena kissed him—slow, then wild. Her tongue danced with his, tasting blood, sweat, and need.
Grakka dropped to her knees, already licking the length of him, her tusks dangerously close but her lips soft as silk. She moaned when he twitched against her tongue, stroking him with both hands like she worshipped the weight.
He hissed through his teeth. "Damn…"
Lena bit his neck. "Still sensitive?"
He nodded, breath catching.
"Good."
She stripped fast—shirt gone, skirt sliding down her legs. She climbed onto the couch behind him, pulled his face to hers while Grakka worked him with her mouth.
Shiro couldn't take it. Every nerve was wired raw. Every touch felt multiplied by ten. He shoved Lena back, lifting her by the waist and slamming her down onto the couch cushions. She gasped—legs wrapped around his hips as he slid into her hard.
"Shit—" she cried, eyes wide. "That relic really did somethin' to you."
He didn't speak.
Just moved.
Grakka wiped her mouth and climbed onto the couch behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, licking his ear while pressing her chest to his back.
Lena dug nails into his arms, moaning louder with every thrust.
Grakka whispered filth in his ear. "Breed her, Beast."
He grabbed Grakka by the thigh, pulling her into the mess—his lips crashing into hers even as he fucked Lena deeper.
The couch groaned beneath them. The air filled with the sound of skin slapping, wet moans, and Shiro's low, animalistic breathing.
Lena's legs shook as she came—back arching, nails dragging down his spine.
Grakka climbed over, straddling his lap as soon as Lena slipped off, still trembling. "My turn," the orc growled, fangs glinting.
She rode him fast. Hard. Every bounce had her breasts smacking into his chest, sweat running down her abs, thighs clapping against his hips.
Shiro leaned back, gripping her waist, fangs bared, eyes glowing again as she squeezed around him.
They lost track of time.
It was chaos.
It was heat.
It was primal.
⸻
In the next room, Zarrah lay wide-eyed under the covers.
She stared at the ceiling, face flushed, breath tight.
The sounds through the wall weren't muffled at all.
Moans—sharp, hungry. Flesh. Pressure. Laughter. Growling.
And his voice. That deep, cruel, beautiful voice…
The one who freed her.
The one who smiled like he'd bite gods.
Her thighs pressed together beneath the sheets.
"…Beast ," she whispered.