Now that you're looking up at him, he releases you and steps back.

'Look at me. Look at all of me.'

Without a choice, you take in every muscular, masculine inch of him. His hands are so big your head could probably fit into one of his palms—and it's likely strong enough to crush it. Long, ropey veins wreathe his arms. Muscles bulge in his biceps. His neck is thick with muscle too. His nipples are dark, his body hairless, except for his long dark hair that curls around his horns and a small thatch just above his erection. Unlike his 'servants' he has no wings and his ears are normal.

'Do I frighten you?' he asks in that deep voice.

You shiver, then nod as you gaze back into his yellow eyes. How you're even able to look into a gaze so monstrous, so reptilian, astounds you.

It hasn't passed his notice either. He gives a small, wicked small. 'You won't be frightened soon.'

You blink. What does he mean by that?

'The transformation is already beginning,' he says.

'Tr-transformation?'

'You'll see.'

You suddenly remember you're naked. With no way to escape from the bed, you quickly slide between the sheets, holding them firmly against your chest as you stare up at him. 'I want to go home.'

'This is your home now.'

Any icy cold feeling rushes through your body. 'Why ... why ...?' Your mouth can't seem to form the words.

'Why are you here?' he finishes for you. 'Not obvious yet? I thought you were smart.' He walks slowly around the bed, smoothing his hand around each of the timber posts as he does.

Your eyes drop to his massive erection and you gulp. 'Are you ...?' You shake your head in horror. 'You'll tear me apart.'

He stops to look down at himself. 'It won't hurt when you're ready. In fact, you'll enjoy it.'

A terrible thing to say.

How can he say that? How can he think that? What does he know about a woman's pleasure? What does any man know? What do they know about a woman's fear, particularly in this situation?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Your heart is pounding in your throat. You feel sweat bead your upper lip. You can't stop staring at it, flushed and massive with its foreskin peeled back like the skin of an overdone sausage. You drop your eyes to his testicles. They're red like the rest of him, and big, the size of tennis balls. Drooping and wrinkled, they seem to be the only thing about his body that isn't made of steel.

He paces around your bed again, his slitted eyes locked onto yours, utterly shameless. You bite your lip as heat fills your cheeks. It's almost as though he can see right through you, as though he knows exactly what you're thinking.

'Doubt me if you will, but you will enjoy it. You will know pleasure because your body was always meant for mine.' He bares his canines at you in a terrifying grin. 'You asked me what I was. I'll tell you: I am exactly like you as you are like me. The difference is is that I'm what I'm meant to be and you are not.'

He pauses to let his statement sink in, as though you can understand it.

He stops his pacing and folds his arms as he leans casually against one of the bedposts. 'You're not human. You never were and you never will be. The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be for you.' He lifts his nose, closing his eyes as he does. 'I can smell you like no other being on this planet. The things you make me feel.' He sighs and opens his eyes again. 'I've been looking for you for a long time.'

'I'm not like you at all,' you say in a quiet voice. 'I'm not a ... I'm not a ...' You swallow. It's such an easy thing to say—of course you're not like him!—but your tongue sticks to the top of your mouth. 'I have a mother, a father.'

He smiles at you and it makes you flinch. 'Is that so? Tell me, then, what are their names?'

'Rachel and Derrick.' Even to your own ears it doesn't sound convincing.

'Nice try.' His eyes pin you to the bed. 'Orphan. And I bet you don't have a lover.' He flairs his nostrils, as though the thought angers him. 'Why would you, when you've been waiting for me?'

'I've not been waiting for you. You're hideous and ... and monstrous.'

He stares at you hard. You clutch your sheet more tightly to your chest. His slitted eyes look so hungry. The muscles in his big shoulders bulge even bigger. For the love of God, don't make him angry. You fool. You should have just agreed with him!

'I can't take it,' he says, clenching and opening his left fist, gritting his teeth, baring those awful canines again. 'It's been years. Loneliness—' he shakes his head '—it's like a cancer in the soul.'

You sit frozen, not knowing what to do, despite knowing what's about to happen.

God help you.

'Let me touch you.' He steps closer towards the bed.

You pull back, clutching the sheet to your chest like it's a shield. You're so breathless it's like you're trying to breathe in water. The bed sinks a little as he sits his great weight upon the edge of it. Before you can get away, he seizes your ankle and pulls you to him.

With a screech, you kick out at him but he simply grabs that ankle too. You stop fighting and stare back into his horrifying, strange eyes. What's wrong with you? Fight him. Fight him!

But you don't. You can't. You've never been so helpless in all your life.

You're tangled in the sheets, parts of you revealed, parts of you concealed. With a growl, he rips the sheets away until you're exposed to him entirely. With one of his massive hands, he grips your throat, but in such an unexpectedly tender way that it takes you by surprise.

You want to scream. You want to kick. You want to punch. You want to beg. But you do nothing except lie there, completely under his control.

He touches your cheek, then strokes your bottom lip with his thumb. You don't stop him. Releasing your throat, he lightly strokes you between your breasts.

'So soft,' he murmurs. He curls his hand around your waist.

You keep your legs tightly shut but that doesn't stop him from playing with your pubic hair, twisting a particularly long strand around his big forefinger.

Smiling, he leans in and before you can do anything, his mouth is around yours.