More of Life of a Phoenix

Lucria stood on one of the many dais of Ka’thi’en. She tilted her head, taking in all the macabre details of the room.
The curtains and drapery were a deep, bloody red color. The cloth itself was so old that there were holes and rends within the soft strands, making it look far more decayed than what it was. The carpet beneath her silver-shoed feet was a rusted color.
She sniffed disdainfully when she realized it was originally a cream color, but blood had soaked the steps and dried to this particular color. Some looked newer, now that she scrutinized it heavily, and she wondered, albeit briefly, what poor soul had made the donation.
The most disturbing thing, at least to her, was the golden throne that sat before her. The gold wasn’t what bothered her, but the images within the gold made her body shiver in fear. There were things… alive things within the gold that moved and pulsed under the Master’s hand.
“My dear winged one, it is good of you to answer my missive… personally.”
“It seemed appropriate that I physically come here. Why delay the inevitable? You would have asked for me later, so why starve it off?”
The man clucked his tongue at the woman. “It seems that your wing is broken?”
The question was turned into a fact, with just the slightest uplift on the last word.
Lucria narrowed her eyes. What is he playing at, she wondered silently. “Yes it is,” she finally answered out loud.
The man stood, his golden hair falling in waves to his mid back, swinging gently as he sauntered down the steps to stand one above her. His hand, calloused and hard, reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her full lips. “I can help you with that…”
He nearly laughed as he saw hope flare in her eyes. “Healers know… next to nothing.” His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, making them open slightly. “I would not doubt that they were tugging at your chain, leading you to keeping that contraption on for as long as they wish…”
He leaned closer to her, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from hers. “Would you like me to fix it for you, my dear? To correct an unfortunate mistake made by your foolish nephew?”
Green-gold eyes watched as her eyelids dropped, her breathing speed up and a wet, pink tongue come out to dampen her lips.
“I would want nothing else in the world than to have that upstart taken care of… In fact, I will lay the matter at your feet… however… the question remains on the price of payment for mending my wing.”
At that, the Master laughed low in his throat, making Lucria shiver.
“You think quite well, dear one, so the price to pay is quite simple…” He turned and backed her up against the side of his golden throne. “Quite simple,” he breathed before his lips descended on hers.
Lucria gasped as she felt his hands slide down, lifting her skirts above her waist as he pushed her bottom against the arm of the throne.
His hands made quick work of his laces, and soon he stood bare between equally bare thighs. He bit at her arched neck as her hands found purchase against the other armrest.
“Are you willing to pay the price?” The words were laced with something else as he rubbed himself against her.
Lucria wrapped her long legs around the Master’s hips, trying to pull him closer as she arched, shuddering in the feeling. Her face was flushed as she opened her closed eyes slightly to gaze at him.
“Of course,” she panted. “What do you want me to call you?”
His fingers bit into the smooth skin at her hips, pulling back to perusal her wantonness. “My name?” He asked softly before he laughed. “Call me Faxon…”
With that he thrust hard within her, making her back arch impossibly tight, a scream ripping from her throat.