Emberwood Silken

Blackwater. What kind of insanity was this? What kind of name was that? Nothing good ever happens on islands!
Had she seriously gone from one fucking cult into the black and wretched hands of another?
Against her better judgment, her first reaction is a laugh. A laugh, one high in her throat and threaded with nerves. Seriously? her lips split into a smile jagged and withered, sunken eyes blown into wide spheres. Okay, alright, I get it, you're just crazy. You're psychotic, that's what this is? Right? panic, panic; it thrums through her as her tail weaves between her legs in an instinctive measure to protect her loins, her soft underbelly; as if that would do her any good.
She wanted to ask what this was for, what he truly wanted with her if not to have his way with her carnally. As if whatever answer he gave her would be normal, or even make some sort of sense, or even be the truth. And she sought to kill him her fucking self for this, the stew of hatred now boiling hot beneath her veins into something obsidian and gnarled.
But she didn't want to die. Not by him. She deserved a death with dignity.
If I do what you want, her lips curl now into the whisper of a snarl before her tongue lashes out to smooth them back down. will you let me live?