The Witch's Amnesiac Sex Slave

Those beautiful dark golden eyes of Cassius should have been filled with dependence and longing for me. Not like now—bewildered, innocent, like a lost fawn. I perched high on an oak branch, watching the man below who was being ordered around like a servant by the knight squad gathered around their campfire. The most feared top-tier human assassin, and... my devoted hound who warmed my bed. Three days ago, he'd vanished without a trace after getting caught in a spatial rift while searching for abyssal crystals for me. Never imagined when we'd meet again, he'd not only lost his memory but been picked up by a bunch of self-righteous fools. I pulled out my communication crystal and reached out to my vampire bestie Lilith: "He's gone from attack dog to puppy dog, and I'm not sure how to handle it. What should I do?" Her reply came instantly: "Easy—make him remember who owns him." I curved my lips into a smile, my gaze piercing through the darkness to settle on the man by the flickering campfire below. The dancing flames illuminated his half-wet, tattered shirt, clinging to outline that lean, muscular waistline in exquisite detail. I stared at him, silently clenching my jaw. I wondered—when night fell and I slipped into his tent, when I bit down on that strong nape of his neck again... would this sweet, innocent pup still be able to hold back those enticing gasps of his?