Sin and Soil 9
Anya Merchant
Copyright © 2021 by Anya Merchant
All rights reserved
Kindle Edition
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only. It contains substantial sexually explicit language and scenes that may be considered offensive by some readers. None of the characters engaging in sexual conduct in this work of fiction are under the age of 18, legally unable to give consent, or related by blood.
Cover art by Chocolate Raptor. Cover typography by Pixel Perfect Publishing.
Contents
Sin and Soil 9
Anya Merchant
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 1
Avaricia always lived up to its name. Within half an hour of reentering the city on an unassuming early winter night, Damon witnessed no fewer than three bribes, two muggings, and a rather uncoordinated attempt at purchasing sex from a woman who wasn’t selling.
He kept his hood up, grateful for the concealment it provided. The weather was cold enough to make those without a face covering the exception, and the guards Damon passed paid him little mind.
His first impulse upon leaving Azurecliff and The Rosewood Inn hadn’t been to return to the city he hated most, but after some consideration, he’d found it unavoidable. Vel was trapped within a magically induced sleep, a malady from a dreamspelling bout gone wrong.
If he wanted to find a way to save her, he was going to need help.
Damon came to a stop outside the unmarked door of a plain building in between a fletcher and a perfumery. He looked both ways, assuring himself that he was alone in the street, and knocked three times.
It was late, almost midnight, and he was half expecting to receive no answer. After a minute, the distinctive sound of footsteps came from the other side, and the door opened to reveal a tall woman with dark hair, tanned skin, and piercing hazel eyes.
“Damon Al-Kendras,” she said, without pause.
“Kassandra, er…” Damon flashed a smile and shrugged. “It’s horrible of me, but I actually forgot your last name.”
“You’re forgiven.” Sandra looked past him, frowning a bit. “Is your aesta not in attendance?”
“It’s just me tonight,” he said. “Can I come in?”
Sandra folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Possibly. Why are you here, Damon? Has something happened?”
She pulled her nightgown closed against the night’s chill, which drew Damon’s attention toward what it covered. He could see the outlines of her full breasts against the thin, insubstantial fabric. She was an attractive woman, appearing perhaps forty in age, though to his knowledge, she was far, far older.
“Vel,” he said, dropping his gaze.
Over the course of the next few minutes, Damon explained as much as he could. He followed Sandra through her cozy little enchantment shop, into a small study in the back of her house, stuffed wall to wall with thick, old books. The room smelled of worn parchment and spilled ink. Sandra set a lantern down on a polished oak table and began pulling down a few specific volumes from the shelves.
“I can’t promise that any of these will have the answers you’re seeking, but you can take a gander and see.” She wiped the dust off the front of an aged tome and slid it toward him. “I wish I could give you a solution off the top of my head, but your predicament is fairly specific. Dreamspelling is one of the forgotten magics.”
“It’s more than I currently have to go off,” said Damon. “I’ll take what I can get.”
“It’s yours for the taking,” said Sandra.
She bent over, struggling to pull another volume out from one of the overstuffed lower shelves. The movement did interesting things to her nightrobe, pulling it open in front and shifting it upward in the back.
Sandra grinned at him as the book came loose, and Damon waged a war against himself to keep from drinking in the sight of her cleavage as she leaned forward to set the book down on the table.
“Let me get you some food,” she said. “You’re a good man, Damon.”
She ruffled his hair and headed out through the door. Studying by lanternlight had never been something Damon had taken much pleasure in, but he set his mind to the task with as much focus as he could muster.
Sandra came and went with the food. An hour passed without much progress. As far as he could tell, the books simply didn’t have the relevant information he needed. He wasn’t surprised by that. He’d known it was unlikely that he would find much going into the search, but his disappointment was no less demoralizing in the face of the long odds.
“Any luck?” Sandra came into the room again, sidling up to the back of his chair and setting her hands on his shoulders.
“No,” he said. “At least I tried. I suppose I should be on my way.”
“Have you already rented a room in the city?” asked Sandra.
He shook his head. Sandra came around to the other side of the chair, smiling mischievously and hugging her arms across her body.
“You’re welcome to stay with me for the night,” she said.
“I don’t want to impose…”
Her smile twitched. She slid a few fingers deliberately along the hem of her robe, pulling it open slightly.
“You’re more than welcome to stay with me for the night, Damon,” she said.
He smiled back at her, despite his exhaustion and disappointment. Setting a hand on her hip, he gently pulled her into his lap. She let out a small, girlish squeal as his hands began to rove over her. His lips met hers, and Damon was immediately contented with his decision to come seeking information in Avaricia, despite his lack of results.
Sandra was naked underneath her nightrobe. Her body was lean, but her breasts were full and supple, with only a hint of sag to them that was erotic in its own way. She was as eager as he was, grinding herself over Damon’s hardening cock so insistently that it felt as though she was trying to rub his pants out of existence.
He picked her up and carried her to her bedchamber in his strong arms. She’d lit several candles, lending a sensual mood to the comfy space. Damon set her down on her quilt and pulled off his shirt. Sandra undid his belt and pulled down his trousers, blinking in appreciation as his hard cock came into view.
“Oh my,” she whispered. “I’m reminded again of why you’re such a handful for your aesta.”
Damon glanced away, feeling his face heat up. “Are you really going to talk about her right now?”
“If it gets a rise out of you, I will,” she said, smiling. “I want your best, Damon.�
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Her expression seemed like a direct challenge, one he was eager to rise to. He spread her legs open and mounted her, sinking his cock into her wonderfully tight womanhood. Sandra let out a steady stream of moans as he began thrusting, letting out all of the stress and frustration of the past few days on her slender, mature body.
He hadn’t come to her for this, but she was willing, and he was horny. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, enjoying her body and letting his mind go blank. The bed creaked and groaned underneath them. Sandra urged him on with soft, cooing noises, legs squeezing tight and locking him into the embrace.
It wasn’t a long encounter, but the intensity of Damon’s release more than made up for it. Sandra sucked on his neck and nibbled his earlobe as he unloaded inside her. She ran her hand through his hair in a gentle, almost loving manner that reminded him far too much of his aesta.
“Are you planning on setting out early tomorrow?” she whispered.
“I have to. It’s not going to be easy for me to get around Avaricia during the day. Besides, you were the only lead within the city that I had to go on.”
Sandra rolled over, setting her chin atop her arm and scrunching her face up in distaste. “There’s only one other place where I suspect you might be able to find the answer you’re searching for.”
“Which would be?”
“You aren’t going to like it.”
Damon made a rolling motion with his hand. “It makes no difference what I like.”
She gave him a thin-lipped smile and shook her head. “Your aesta would kill me if she caught wind of me setting you on this path.”
“I don’t see her around,” said Damon, searching the room with exaggerated glances.
Sandra sighed. “You’ve no doubt already considered it, yourself. The knowledge you seek would have been commonplace in past centuries when magic was less rare. Someone with memories of that time might know more about Vel’s condition.”
“Someone with memories of that time…” muttered Damon. “One of the Forsaken, in other words.”
She nodded. “Their help doesn’t come cheap. I know that from experience.”
CHAPTER 2
Damon awoke the next morning to the sound of Sandra’s soft, rather girlish snoring. He smiled as he checked the window. The sun was coming up over the horizon, but he’d still have a few minutes before he needed to set out.
He pulled her into a gentle embrace and kissed her neck. She shifted against him, rolling over and yawning as she came awake.
“Fancy another round?” she whispered. “I forgot how energetic young men could be.”
Damon started to answer and then felt his jaw drop open as he actually looked at her. As one of Lascivious’s former crest sorceresses, Sandra had retained several facets of her innate magical affinity, including the ability to refresh her youth through sex.
“True Divine,” muttered Damon. “I’m…not so sure that I’m still the young one in this equation.”
He pulled back, feeling an unsettling lurch in his stomach as he realized he’d just been groping a woman who looked no older than a teenager, appearance wise. Sandra frowned as she sat up, peering down at her hands.
“I think I missed my target age by about a decade,” she sighed. “This is going to make for an interesting few years.”
“Wow.” Damon slid in closer to her, blatantly checking her out and noting a few of the more pronounced differences. “You must have been popular when you were younger.”
“Ahem.” Sandra shrugged his hand off her shoulder. “I’m still fairly popular.”
“I mean, you are, but…” He ran his hands up the front of her body, risking a quick inspection of her breasts with his palms. “Whoa.”
“You need to be leaving,” she said, standing up. “Every minute you stay here will make it more difficult for you to sneak by the guards and get out of the city.”
“I’m going. I am, truly, it’s just…”
He reached for her again. Sandra pulled away, frowning as she turned around in a manner that reminded him all too much of his aesta.
“I’m serious, Damon,” she said. “You took a brazen risk in coming here. Malon would never forgive me if I exposed you to unnecessary harm just for the sake of an extra early morning romp.”
He sighed and nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Travel safely,” she said. “I can spare some extra food. I noticed your pack was a little light.”
“Thanks.”
He was out the door within fifteen minutes. The sight of a teenaged Sandra waving him off as he started down the street was both surreal and intriguing, and he made a note to stop by again the next time he came through Avaricia.
Admittedly, it was anyone’s guess when that would be.
He pulled up the hood of his cloak and made his way toward the city’s southeast gate. The streets were alive with activity, despite the early hour. Damon weaved through a crowd surrounding a street performance. It was close to Alderman’s Day, or it possibly was Alderman’s Day. His sense of time had drifted a bit with his travels.
He was approaching the gate, nearly in the clear, when a whistle came from the alleyway directly to his left.
“Anders.”
Damon recognized the voice, and for a moment, he considered trying to run.
“Austine,” he said, stepping into the alley. “What do you want?”
“You don’t sound all that happy to see me.” Austine stepped forward, pulling the hood of his own cloak down to reveal a blond ponytail, matching diamond earrings, and a silk neck scarf.
“For good reason,” said Damon. “You tried to kill one of my friends the last time we met.”
In truth, Damon’s emotions were a storm of contradictions. He was annoyed with Austine. He hated him, even, for both the choices he’d made and the dark path he represented. He was also relieved beyond words to have confirmation that his oldest friend was still alive.
“I’ve tried to kill a lot of people,” said Austine. “It’s the better part of my job now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed.”
Damon’s fingers twitched toward his myrblade. He saw Austine’s shoulder give a subtle jerk in unconscious reaction. They both knew the game. Old friends and new enemies.
“Why are you here in Avaricia?” asked Austine. “I want the truth, Damon.”
“You can have it,” he said. He let his gaze drop, feeling his throat tighten as he tried to explain. “Vel is… unwell. She’s in a coma. There was an incident. Magic was involved. I came to see if I could find help for her, Aust.”
“Oh.” Austine relaxed his posture visibly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” said Damon. “Be helpful.”
“Damon, I—”
“Avarice might know something,” he continued, cutting Austine off. “If he has a secret library, or if you could subtly ask him about the situation, or…”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t help you, Damon.”
“You mean you won’t help me.”
“I mean I can’t!” snapped Austine. He pulled the silk scarf down, flashing the golden crest on his neck. “Do you understand what this means? The power it gives Avarice over me?”
“You’re scared of him,” said Damon.
Anger flashed in Austine’s eyes, and he bared his teeth for an instant. “I am. And if you had any sense, you would be too. You would have never come back to Avaricia.”
“If you can’t help me, then get out of my way. Go back to your money, and your wives, and whatever else it is that convinces you that it’s worth it.”
Damon had no sympathy for him, not then, not with Vel’s life on the line. He saw Austine’s eyes narrow and knew he’d pushed him too far with his last comment.
“I came to warn you, Damon,” he said. “Get out of the city. If you stay, I’ll be the one coming after you.”
“Nice seeing you too, Aust.”
Damon turned and left
the alleyway without looking back.
CHAPTER 3
Damon spent the rest of his morning walking and thinking. Avaricia’s outskirts were safer than the area within the city limits, with few travelers giving him more than passing scrutiny as he traveled away from the coast.
It would all be so much simpler if he could just go back to the inn and be with Malon and Vel during his family’s time of need. He felt adrift on his own, searching for a solution to a problem he didn’t fully understand. Chasing after hope with no sense of direction.
He wanted to go back to them, but at the same time, he couldn’t go back. Not without a way to help Vel. Malon was counting on him. The responsibility saddled on his shoulders made him anxious, but it also gave him a purpose.
“What do you think, Myr?” he whispered. “You must have an idea about where we should head next.”
“Well…” Myr made a pensive, humming noise. “I think it’s time you sought out Ria. She might not have the answer you’re searching for, but she’ll no doubt be willing to help.”
He nodded. It made sense, and he’d been considering it, regardless. The only reason he hadn’t immediately traveled to Ria, who as far as he knew, was still staying with Sharika, was… because she was still staying with Sharika. Malon’s aesta was not a woman who Damon had found a way to get along with, as of yet.
The weather was blessedly fair, despite how late into the year it was. Damon had only to contend with a slight chill in the air as he traveled through the farmlands and pasture towns surrounding Avaricia’s outskirts.
He had all the food and water he needed to continue into the Malagantyan on foot. As much as he would have preferred to be on horseback, or better yet, sharing a wagon or carriage, the risk of being recognized was simply too high.
Despite having a firm understanding of this fact, when Damon came across a waylaid wagon off to the side of the road at the start of the afternoon, he couldn’t resist approaching to get a closer look. Three blonde women in fancily colored dresses were attempting to change one of the wagon wheels, with mixed success.
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