Sally brought the tiny assassin closer, nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply, slow, deliberate, savoring the sharp tang of fear-sweat and leather that clung to the woman’s dark clothes. A faint, pleased hum vibrated in her throat, as though the scent confirmed something only she could judge.
Without hesitation, she lifted her higher.
“No, please-!”
The plea snapped off as the assassin tumbled past soft, warm lips into humid darkness.
Sally’s mouth closed with a gentle, final click.
Instantly the world became heat, wetness, and motion.
The assassin landed on the broad, slick muscle of Sally’s tongue and immediately scrambled, hands slipping on saliva-slick flesh. She tried to stand, slid, fell again as the tongue flexed beneath her like a living wave.
Thick saliva coated her instantly, soaking through leather and cloth, stinging her eyes, filling her mouth with the faint sweet-salt taste of the Demon Woman’s breath mingled with something darker, almost metallic.
Sally made no sound, gave no sign of effort.
Saliva pooled thicker now, thick strands clinging to the tiny woman’s limbs, weighing her down. She gasped, inhaled only more of the hot, wet air, and screamed again, voice muffled to nothing outside the sealed cavern.
Then abruptly, the motion stopped.
Sally’s lips parted just enough to let a thin ribbon of pale moonlight slice inside.
The assassin, bruised and drenched, lungs burning, flung one trembling arm toward the light, reaching, pleading, fingers outstretched as if she could pull herself into the night.
Sally’s lips closed again.
A single, neat swallow rolled down her throat.
The tiny form vanished with a soft, wet gulp
One pest down.