Apocalypse : Transmigrated With Milf System-Chapter 26: Anya : Her Troubles - 3

Ruel stood in the dimly lit room, the silence stretching between him and Anya.

He broke it with a smooth, almost theatrical flourish.

"Good evening, Madam," he said, his voice a low, melodious drawl, dripping with false concern.

"I am Ruel. I heard you need my help?" Or, perhaps, I heard you need a good fucking, he thought, his inner voice a lecherous snarl.

Anya, still recovering from the shock of his sudden appearance, stared at him, her eyes narrowed with suspicion."Who... who told you that? And why are you here? This is a private place."

Ruel inclined his head, his smile widening slightly, a hint of something dangerous and predatory lurking beneath the charm.

"By that look of yours, I get that you know me. The details of my arrival are... unimportant. What is important is how I can be of service."

He paused, letting his gaze linger on her, his eyes tracing the curves of her body, already imagining how she would feel beneath his touch.

"I couldn't help but overhear your... concerns, as you were speaking to your husband, I suppose?"

He let the word hang in the air, a subtle probe, testing her vulnerability.

Anya's jaw tightened. She didn't like this. This man was too perceptive, too... dangerous.

And the way he looked at her... it sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and a reluctant, forbidden desire.

"This is hardly the place for such a conversation," she said, her voice regaining some of its authority, though it still trembled slightly.

"We should go somewhere else."

Ruel's smile deepened, taking on a lecherous edge that she, thankfully, missed in the dim light.

"I couldn't agree more," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over her, lingering on her breasts, her hips, her thighs.

He imagined stripping her bare, feeling her skin beneath his hands, the taste of her on his tongue.

"This room... lacks a certain... ambiance. A more... intimate setting would be far more conducive to... negotiations."

He followed her as she turned and led the way out of the room. As he walked behind her, his attention was drawn to her figure.

His "sleeping dragon," as he internally referred to his arousal, began to stir, protesting the lack of immediate gratification.

Patience, my friend, he thought, a cruel smile playing on his lips. Your time will come.

Anya, he noted with a predatory gleam in his eyes, was a woman of... mature charms.

Her hips swayed with each step, a subtle invitation to his manhood.

They were wide enough, he mused, to bear the weight of a dozen children.

He imagined his hands on them, his fingers digging into her flesh, controlling her movements.

He had to suppress a surge of lust, reminding himself that this was not the time. Not yet, he thought. But soon.

Her buttocks, he observed with a practiced eye, were full and rounded, promising a satisfying grip.

He almost lost control for a moment, his thoughts drifting to more... carnal pursuits, his mind conjuring images of her on her knees before him, begging for his touch, but he reined himself in.

Control is key, he reminded himself. Control and... pleasure.

Her back was straight, her posture regal, but her steps were hurried, betraying her unease.

He found her fear... arousing. And then there were her breasts.

They bounced with each movement, full and ripe, straining against her clothing, a tantalizing display that threatened to overwhelm his carefully constructed composure.

He imagined the feel of them in his hands, the weight of them, the silkiness of her skin.

Her dark, almost black hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders, framing her face and adding to her allure. He wanted to bury his face in it, to inhale her scent, to dominate her completely.

Ruel swallowed, his throat tight. This woman was a force of nature, a goddess in a world of decay. He had to have her.

But he also had to be careful. He couldn't afford to blow his cover with a moment of weakness. He would play the long game.

They entered a more formal room, a stark contrast to the grim reality of the base outside.

Anya settled onto a plush, if somewhat worn, sofa, her posture rigid, a fragile attempt at composure. She gestured to another seat, inviting Ruel to sit.

She hadn't summoned any guards, a silent acknowledgment of the futility of such a gesture in the presence of his power.

She had witnessed his... valour, as she put it, his brutal efficiency, and she knew that any show of force would be met with swift and... perilous outcomes. Good, Ruel thought. She's learning.

Ruel surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the threadbare elegance, the faded grandeur of a world long gone.

"This place," he remarked, his voice a low drawl, laced with disdain,

"doesn't exactly scream 'post-apocalyptic chic,' does it? Hardly the setting for a... delicate negotiation."

He still sat down, though, his movements fluid and controlled, radiating an aura of casual power.

His eyes, however, betrayed his words, tracing the curves of her body, imagining her spread out before him, vulnerable and submissive.

Anya's jaw tightened slightly, but she ignored his comment, focusing on the matter at hand.

"I need your help," she said, her voice low and urgent, her eyes pleading.

Her chest rose and fell with each breath, a subtle movement that Ruel found utterly captivating.

He imagined his hands on her, feeling her heart race beneath his touch. "This base... my husband built it from nothing. It's everything we have. I can't let it fall apart."

Ruel leaned back, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. He maintained eye contact, but his attention was divided.

He couldn't help but notice the way her dress clung to her figure, highlighting the swell of her hips. fгeewebnovёl.com

He imagined running his hands along her curves, exploring every inch of her, feeling her squirm beneath his touch.

"And you believe I can help you... control them?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral, though his eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger.

He already knew the answer, of course, but he wanted to hear her say it.

He wanted to see how far she was willing to go.

He wanted to see the desperation in her eyes, the willingness to submit.

Anya leaned forward, her expression a mix of pleading and calculation.

"I saw what you did at the RV," she said, her voice low and urgent, laced with a hint of fear.

"Your... supernatural power." She swallowed, trying to maintain her composure, but her voice still trembled slightly.

"You flew that sword, cut them down swiftly."

She paused, gathering her courage, her eyes fixed on his, searching for any sign of weakness, any hint of compassion.

"Those men... they were the sons of the leaders of the opposing factions."

"Now that you've done that, they will be coming for you," she continued, her voice rising slightly, desperation creeping into her tone.

"And they won't hesitate to go after... your woman."

Ruel, whose face had held a perpetual, if unsettling, smile, suddenly chilled.

His eyes narrowed, the amusement replaced by a cold, hard light.

A flicker of something dark and dangerous ignited within him.

Threatening Mei Feng? That was a mistake, he thought, his inner voice a low growl.

"You don't have to tell me what I've done, or whose kids I've killed," he said, his voice dangerously low, each word a carefully measured threat. "

If they want to come at me, let them. I'll be waiting. But you... you asking for my help, thinking that I would take your side because you tell me they'll come after me? What do you take me for?"

He stood up abruptly, his movements fluid and predatory, like a caged animal finally unleashed.

He stalked towards Anya, his gaze intense, his presence filling the room, suffocating her. "I'm not scared of anyone," he said, his voice a low, menacing growl.

"And definitely not of some... fat pig who spends his days eating and whoring around." He paused,

his smile returning, but it was a cruel, lecherous smile this time, a sneer that sent a shiver down her spine.

"But if you want my help, Anya, you have to offer me something of value. Something I can't refuse."

His eyes dropped, lingering on her large breasts and curvaceous figure, making his gaze almost palpable, stripping her bare with a single look.

Anya flinched, her composure cracking under the weight of his intense, heated stare.

She saw the raw desire in his eyes, the predatory hunger.

She understood what he was implying.

The thought of offering herself, of betraying her comatose husband, warred with her desperation to save the base.

She felt trapped, a pawn in a game she didn't understand, a game played by a man who was both terrifying and... undeniably alluring.

Unbeknownst to her, just outside the door, Elara stood, listening intently.

Ruel had already sensed her presence, of course.

He knew she was there, her heart pounding in her chest, her hand trembling on the hilt of her hidden blade.

He saw her as a potential pawn, a tool to manipulate Anya further.

Ruel cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence.

"You have to lose something if you want to gain something," he said, his voice a low, suggestive murmur, his eyes fixed on Anya, but his thoughts already turning to Elara.

She'll be easier to break, he thought. More... pliable.