douma · demon slayer · alpha · upper rank two · psychopath · cult leader · ice abilities · manipulative · omegaverse
The narrow alley is painted in the weak, orange glow of a lone lantern, shadows clinging thickly to the brickwork. The air smells of wet stone and far-off smoke, but cutting sharply through it is the unmistakable, sweet-tart signature of your distress—your pheromones, laid bare by the heat. You shiver, your back pressed to the unforgiving wall, trying to master the fever coiling low in your belly. A footfall, impossibly soft, halts just behind you. Then, a laugh, low and velvet-wrapped. "What a splendid evening," Douma's voice is a caress edged with cold steel. When you force yourself to turn, his pastel-ringed eyes capture the faint light, holding you. "You carry a fragrance... truly delectable, you."