Thalion rose from the bed, stretching his thin arms above his head.

"I need fresh air," he announced, his voice light. "And I want to gather more information about the other guilds. The ones that might still remember the Velveteen Watch."

Jason nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "Take your time."

The elf slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him.

The moment his footsteps faded down the stairs, Ylva turned to Jason. Her eyes were sharp, unblinking.

"He’s lying," she said. "About the fresh air."

Jason shrugged. "Probably."

Thalion had left to escape Jason’s eyes. Because Thalion knew something was off. Jason had seen it—the flicker in those pale irises when he described the dream. The slaughter. The heads exploding. Even though Jason had laughed it off, called it just a dream, Thalion wasn’t stupid. He knew Jason was sending a message.

But Jason had been vague enough that Thalion had no idea if he was being serious or not. Was it a threat? A warning? A coincidence?

Thankfully, due to Jason’s playful nature—the constant jokes, the sarcasm, the easy laughter—it was easy for everyone to assume he was joking. Even Ylva had called it the dumbest dream she’d ever heard.

But Jason was beginning to realize the truth. He had to adapt to magic. And fast. Or else Thalion would have his way eventually. The elf was patient. Twisted. And if he couldn’t get to Jason directly, there was one way he could get to him.

Ylva.

Jason glanced at her. She was watching him with those sharp eyes, her tail flicking slowly.

"If he hurts you," Jason said quietly, "I’ll kill him myself."

Ylva’s ears twitched. "What?"

"Nothing." He looked away.

They could leave Thalion behind eventually. If they found the opening—a chance to slip away, to join another guild, to disappear—they could cut him loose. But for now, he was more useful as an ally than an enemy. Because at the end of the day, Thalion truly believed Jason to be his savior. That belief kept the elf’s claws sheathed. For now.

Jason didn’t tell Ylva more than she needed to know. He wanted to keep her out of this. The less she knew about Thalion’s manipulations, the safer she was.

But Ylva could sense something was wrong.

"Why did you say that?" she asked, her voice low. "About the dream. About people being slaughtered."

Jason didn’t answer.

"I can pick up when you’re lying, Jason," she pressed. "And you were lying. Not completely."

Jason forced a smile. "It was just a dream, Ylva. You said so yourself. Dumbest dream ever, remember?"

She stared at him for a long moment. Her nostrils flared.

"You’re hiding something."

"I’m always hiding something. It’s part of my charm."

Ylva growled softly—but not with anger. With frustration.

Then she shifted closer to him on the floor. Her shoulder pressed against his. Her tail curled around her legs.

"Fine," she muttered. "Keep your secrets. But you’re stressed. I can smell it on you."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "You can smell stress?"

"I can smell everything." She paused. Then, quietly: "Do you want me to help you? Release the stress?"

Jason’s heart skipped. He turned to look at her. Her eyes were half-lidded, her ears relaxed.

Ylva’s offer hung in the air, thick with unspoken promise. Her body heat radiated against Jason’s side, her furred tail brushing his thigh in a slow, deliberate sweep. The room felt smaller, the distant hum of the guild hall fading as her scent—musky, wild, laced with arousal—filled his nostrils.

Jason’s cock twitched in his pants, the stress of the day coiling into something hotter, more urgent. He met her gaze, those sharp eyes now darkened with hunger.

"Help me how?" he murmured, voice rough, testing the waters.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, Ylva leaned in, her lips parting as she nuzzled his neck, hot breath ghosting over his skin. Her tongue flicked out, lapping at the pulse point below his ear—a rough, cat-like rasp that sent sparks straight to his groin. Jason’s hand shot up instinctively, fingers tangling in her thick mane at the base of her skull, holding her there as she licked again, slower, wetter.

"Like this," she whispered against his throat, her hand sliding over his chest, nails scraping lightly through his shirt. She pressed her palm lower, cupping the growing bulge in his lap. Jason groaned, hips bucking up into her touch. She squeezed, firm and unyielding, her tail wrapping around his calf to pull him closer.

Fuck, she was bold. No hesitation, no games—just raw need mirroring his own. Jason twisted toward her, crashing his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Her fangs grazed his lip, a sharp sting that made him hiss, but he dove deeper, tongue thrusting past her teeth to tangle with hers. She tasted like smoke and earth, her growl vibrating into his mouth as she sucked on his tongue.

Ylva shoved him back against the wall, straddling his lap in one fluid motion. Her thighs clamped around his hips, grinding down onto his hardened cock. Through the thin fabric of her skirt, he felt the slick dampness of her pussy, already soaking for him.

"Feel that?" she panted, breaking the kiss to nip at his jaw.

"That’s you. Your stress. I want to taste it too."

Jason’s hands gripped her ass, kneading the firm muscle, spreading her cheeks as he rocked up to meet her rhythm.

"Then do it," he challenged, breath ragged. She smirked, ears flicking forward, and slid down his body, claws raking his thighs.

She yanked open his pants, freeing his cock with a hungry slurp of fabric. It sprang out, thick and veined, pre-cum beading at the tip. Ylva’s nostrils flared, inhaling deeply before her tongue dragged from base to head in one long, flat stroke. Jason’s head thunked back against the wall, fingers clenching in her hair as she swirled around the crown, lapping up his saltiness.

"So tense here," she murmured, lips brushing the slit. Then she engulfed him—hot, wet mouth sucking him down inch by inch until her nose pressed into his pubic bone. Her throat constricted around him, fangs carefully sheathed, as she bobbed, slurping noisily. Jason fucked her face in shallow thrusts, the obscene wet sounds echoing in the room, drowned only by his grunts.

But he needed more. Grabbing her shoulders, he hauled her up, flipping their positions so she was on her back, legs splayed. He shoved her skirt aside, exposing her dripping folds—pink and swollen, clit peeking out like a ripe berry. No panties. Of course. Jason dove in, tongue spearing into her cunt, fucking her with it while his thumb circled her clit. Ylva yowled, back arching, claws digging into his scalp as she flooded his mouth with her tangy juices.

"Nnnmmmpph~!"

"That’s it," he growled against her pussy, sucking her clit hard enough to make her thighs quake.

"Give me everything." He added two fingers, curling them to hit that spongy spot inside, pumping fast and deep.

"Fuck face! I am going to...!" Ylva’s mind went blank momentarily.

She came with a shattered cry, walls clamping down, squirting onto his face.

But Jason wasn’t done.