“Right here.” He pressed down as though feeling a fruit’s firmness. Lilian’s back arched, and she wrapped her arms around him. He felt her claws dig into his back, not deep enough to cut or even scratch, but enough to make their presence known.
“You wonderful bastard,” she said, through pleasured breaths.
“You’re not going to tell Kastet about this,” whispered Damon. “You’ll tell her that you found me. You’ll tell her about the conversation we had. You’ll keep this…” He emphasized the pause with a rough thrust from his cock. “…between the two of us.”
“Mmhmm,” she moaned. “Alright.”
He kissed her and felt her strange tongue uncurl to meet his. Lilian wrapped her legs tight around him as they fell into a horny, sweaty rhythm, and then seemed to think better of it.
She began to take control in a way he could do nothing about. She moved with hot, lithe movements, easily as fast as she’d been during their last fight. The grace and flexibility of it left him awestruck. She slipped out from under him, pinning him on his back and remounting with a motion that put him back inside her with perfect aim.
He tried to roll back on top only to have her shift out of his grasp, like wrestling and fucking a sexy snake. The thought was unsettling, almost gross, but fed into his lust, pushing him to get the better of her.
Damon shifted again, finally managing to get a grip on her from behind. He sank his cock back into her womanhood and took hold of her arms at the elbows, putting her in a spot from which she wasn’t going to escape so easily. He thrust into her hard, savoring the soft padding of her butt, delighting in the way her moans matched the rhythm of his motions.
“Damon…” she moaned. “Oh, fuck! Oh!”
“That’s it, Lilian,” he said. “Remember this!”
She gasped and convulsed with pleasure. Damon pushed her head down against his bedroll, thrusting out the rest of his lust before pulling out at the last second. He came on the small of her back, noticing the way Lilian seemed to writhe as his hot seed dripped onto her bare skin.
A calm, empty moment followed, both of them working to catch their breath. Damon stretched out next to her. He was surprised, though not displeased, as Lilian shifted to cuddle against him. He was still wary of her intentions. She wouldn’t have sex with him just for the sake of pleasure. There was always an objective with her… wasn’t there?
“Thank you,” whispered Lilian.
“For what?”
“Seeing me as a woman, instead of a monster.”
Damon cleared his throat. “Lilian. You do realize that I’ve had sex with monsters before, right?”
She let out a growl and pinched his shoulder with her claws. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“I’m teasing you,” he said, ruffling her hair. “I see you for who you are. Remember, I saw how dangerous you were even before your transformation.”
“I remember,” she whispered. “Damon. Would you do this again? With me?”
“Do you mean tonight or just in general?”
“Either or both.”
He laughed, took her by the hips, and pulled her back onto his crotch.
CHAPTER 5
“We’re almost there, solas,” whispered Malon. “Just up ahead.”
She squeezed his hand, and Damon smiled at her. They were walking down the street, though he couldn’t say in which city or town. Malon wore one of her flirty summer dresses, and the wind kept playing with her braid, tossing it about with each pass.
“Where are we going?” he said. “Aesta?”
He blinked and realized his hand was now empty. He’d been separated from her by the flow of the crowd, and spun around, searching for her face in the midst of hundreds, thousands of others.
“Aesta?” he called. “Where did you go?”
The wind blew again, and he heard her voice in it, faint, but audible.
“Solas…”
***
Damon kicked one of his legs as he came awake, breathing heavily. He was alone on his bedroll, though that was no surprise. Lilian found the sun intolerable, and she’d told him she’d need to leave after their extended lovemaking session the previous night.
He felt for the amethyst dreamspell amulet around his neck and slowly turned it over in his fingers. He’d worn it nearly every night, just in case. So far, Malon hadn’t made an attempt to reach out to him.
He considered his dream and decided it was more likely a product of his own mind, rather than an aborted attempt of his aesta to send him a message. He could still feel the warmth of her hand, however, and the anxiety of losing her to the crowd had stirred within him.
Damon shook the feeling off as he dressed and struck down his camp. His breakfast was a meager handful of dried fruit, but he wasn’t often hungry in the morning on days when he set his own traveling pace.
The fact that he still had his stolen horse raised his spirits by an immeasurable amount. He spent a few minutes petting the animal’s neck and mane before climbing onto its back and setting off. It obeyed his commands without complaint, and he didn’t press it hard, maintaining an even canter as they set off down the road.
The next few days passed in a similar rhythm. Damon traveled across the countryside, stopping only to make camp, forage, and refill his waterskin. He eventually reached the end of the cleared grasslands, and lacking any other real option, was forced to let his horse go its own way.
He traveled through the trees for the better part of another day before finally arriving at an area he recognized. He continued through the forest, finding a partially trodden path which he followed to a familiar clearing.
Sharika’s longhouse was much as it had been on Damon’s last visit. Several of her young wards were at play on the grass outside, chasing each other around, or in the case of two little Remenai boys, knocking sticks together like swords.
They took notice of him immediately as he stepped out of the brush. Damon smiled and held his hands up. He recognized several of them, and it wasn’t long before the entire group whispered in their own language as they cautiously approached him.
“Hello,” he said, smiling and waving. “Remember me?”
A few of them began chanting his name, their accents making it sound more like demon, though their tones were cheery and welcoming. One of the little boys got his hands on the hilt of Damon’s myrblade, hanging from the weapon like a tree branch, rather than trying to pull it loose from the scabbard.
The door to the longhouse opened, and Sharika stepped out. She didn’t share in the children’s easy reactions to him, keeping her face stern and her eyes full of discernment. She looked much as she had the last time he’d seen her, green-haired, old but ageless, stiff and matronly.
It was the face Damon saw behind her which he cared more about. Ria stepped out of the longhouse and immediately broke into a sprint upon noticing him. She looked good, healthy and tanned, with a small strip of silver where she’d begun to let her medium-length black hair show its distinctive Rem heritage.
She wore a spiral tunic which did a fantastic job of cupping her breasts in an interesting manner, strips of green fabric crisscrossing to cover her torso and arms. It hung long at the waist like a skirt or longer tunic, and the gray leggings she had on underneath seemed almost optional.
“Damon!” she said, pulling him into a tight hug.
He hugged her back with matching ferocity. “Ria…”
She was taller than him by an inch or two, a fact which he often forgot about when they spent most of their time together. He felt her stooping forward a bit into the embrace, as though regardless of the extra inches and years she had on him, she still wanted to be the one being held by his arms.
He ran a hand through her hair, finger briefly touching the point of her left ear, and went for a kiss. His lips sought out hers and found her cheek instead. She cleared her throat, blushing a bit and looking as though she was trying to avoid glancing back at Sharika,
who was obviously watching them.
So that’s how it was going to be.
“Has something happened?” asked Ria. “Are Malon and Velanor with you, or…?”
He winced. As much as he’d missed her, he wasn’t looking forward to this part.
“Azurecliff was attacked,” he said.
He told her everything over the course of the next few minutes, unconcerned about being overheard. The children didn’t speak Merinian. Damon saw Arylla standing next to Sharika, but she was out of earshot, and it wasn’t as though he worried for the two of them keeping his secrets. Ria listened with a thoughtful, stoic expression, though he could sense how hard she was taking the news.
“Velanor…” said Ria, shaking her head. “There must be more to this, no? She cannot wake up? How is she not…?”
“Malon has still managed to get her to drink water and eat porridge,” he said. He decided against mentioning what Lilian had said about Vel having lost weight. “It’s not unprecedented. Jilou, Kastet’s younger sister, was beset by a similar condition.”
“You said Jilou came awake in your presence when you told us of your encounter with her in Hearthold,” said Ria. “The same could happen for Velanor?”
“It’s possible,” he said. “But… I’m not sure how likely it is. Vel fell into her sleep after our mission in Hearthold failed. She was injured while within Jilou’s body.”
Damon could still see that moment in his mind’s eye, still hear the sickening thud of Jilou’s softer head against hard floor. He swallowed and took Ria’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
“I’m searching for a way to help her, Ria,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”
“We must return to Azurecliff!” said Ria. “I cannot simply ignore Vel’s plight. Not without seeing her. And aesta… I am sure she would welcome my support.”
Damon winced. “That’s your choice to make, but I can’t go back. Doogle and Arturius know who I am. They’d run all of us out of town if they caught wind of me hiding at the inn.”
She let go of his hand, folding her arms as her expression grew pensive and serious. “Have you any clear ideas about where we might seek out aid for her?”
“Only one,” he said. “The Forsaken. Malon’s enchantress friend, Sandra, mentioned that one of them may have the knowledge we seek, given how many lives they’ve lived.”
“That is… less than ideal. No doubt whoever we ask would seek something from us in return. Perhaps there is another way? We could speak with Sharika, or even seek the wisdom of my people farther east.”
They didn’t have time to delve deeper into their discussion. Sharika and Arylla made their way over, both looking intent on receiving Damon with a proper welcome. He didn’t necessarily mind including them in the conversation, but wanted to make sure Ria was on the same page as him before opening the door to second opinions.
“It is good to see you well, Damon,” said Arylla. “Sharika wishes you to know that she is happy to see you, and you are welcome to rest and take dinner with us.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Tell her that I would be more than happy to accept such an offer.”
“It is past time that you learned to tell her such things yourself,” said Ria, somewhat haughtily. “Repeat after me, young Damon. Shasai, mona con lona.”
“Is now really the best time for—”
She didn’t let him finish his objection. “Shasai, mona con lona. Say it, Damon.”
He resigned himself to the impromptu language lesson and repeated the phrase as best as he could. In truth, he’d become increasingly aware of what a disadvantage it was to not speak and understand at least a few words in Konokai. Sharika seemed to appreciate his attempt, and Damon followed her and the others back into the longhouse.
CHAPTER 6
The longhouse’s common room was warm and lively, in both a literal sense and in the mood of its occupants. The family seemed eager to have Damon as a guest. It was obvious in the little ones, the way the children fought over his attention and treated him like a wonderful novelty.
The older wards, Arylla and Saxil, had questions about his journey and the inn, questions which he could only go into so deeply. Even Sharika seemed to welcome his presence, though there was a subtle undercurrent of sadness in the appraising glances she gave him.
Damon was seated at the massive dining table in the longhouse’s central room. He noticed how careful Sharika and Arylla were about picking his place, leaving room for Saxil to sit in between him and Ria. He could almost imagine the conversation Ria had doubtless shared with Sharika about her time as Malon’s seta, how much it must have had in common with the judgmental manner in which he and Vel had also been questioned.
Arylla and Ria were keen on teaching him more Remenai words as they waited for Sharika to prepare a late lunch. By the time the food was ready. Damon could say hello, thank you, and my name is, though he had some doubts about his ability to recall the lesson past the day.
Sharika set a bowl of venison and leek soup down in front of him. Damon bowed his head slightly and, drawing from his newfound knowledge, said thank you. She blinked, hesitating for a moment, before moving on to serve Arylla to Damon’s left.
The stew was hearty and delicious, doubly so after so many long days on the road. The children were clearly amused by Damon’s immense hunger and Merinian table manners. He winked at one of the little girls who kept covering her mouth each time she laughed and had her nearly falling out of her chair with giggles.
Sharika served a spicy tea that prompted Damon’s awareness with each sip after they’d finished the main course. He eventually drifted outside to play with the children, rather than sitting at the table and feeling like the odd man out in a conversation between the adults, one which he couldn’t understand.
He found a long branch and took to swinging it in wide arcs, letting the little wards jump over it as a game. They continued on like that until the sun began to set, and Arylla stepped in to grab his attention.
“I am afraid that we have a lack of beds within our house,” she said. “There is still room for you to set up your tent on the grass to sleep, however.”
“That works fine for me,” he said.
She led him to an open, flat spot perfect for camping. With the help of a few diligent Remenai children, Damon got his tent set up in record time. He made a quick trip to the nearby waterfalls to bathe and scrub his spare set of clothing toward something resembling cleanliness before returning to the clearing.
Sharika was putting the children to bed, but Ria and Arylla were waiting outside the longhouse. Arylla smiled and, after giving them both a significant glance back and forth, left them alone to talk.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s busy around here.”
Ria gave him a smile and a nod. “It is. Between the typical chores and mentoring the children, it in some ways resembles the work around the inn.”
“An inn full of nothing but children with no money,” he said. “I suppose that would have its ups and downs.”
He started walking toward his tent. She followed him but stayed a step or two behind. It seemed to represent a deeper distance between them that hadn’t been there before. He considered the flow of their relationship, how it had flourished when he’d first reconnected with her, how it had stagnated after their match in the Honorshade Tournament. Where were they now?
“I suppose I’ll be setting out tomorrow,” he said.
“With me,” said Ria. “I will be by your side. We will find a way to save Velanor together, Damon.”
“You could go back to the inn, if you wanted to.”
“Is that where I would be needed most?” She shook her head. “I think not.”
She reached out a hand, setting it on his shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. He wanted to draw her into an embrace, but he was acutely aware of where they were. The last thing Ria needed was for him to raise Sharika’s ire toward them both.
“I don’t have a plan,”
he said. “I have nothing, really. I’ve just been… wandering around. Searching for a solution without ever finding one.”
“What you told me earlier would seem to be enough, no?” she said. “We seek out one of the Forsaken. It seems reasonable to approach Wrath, if we are able, given your established acquaintance with her.”
“Wrath…” Damon let out a complicated sigh. “I still don’t trust her.”
“You trust her enough not to kill you on sight. Given how near we are to being completely of desperation, it is at least a starting point.”
It felt strange to have someone to bounce ideas off. He didn’t trust Wrath, but trusted Ria. Hearing her say that she thought it was a reasonable approach gave him as much certainty as though he’d come to the conclusion himself.
“Fair enough,” he said. “We’ll set out tomorrow.”
“Do you know where to find her, or… do you have a means of contacting her?”
“I don’t, but I suspect Kastet and Lilian do,” he said. “Lilian’s still nearby, I think. I doubt we’ll even need to journey the way back to Hexadonia to make contact with her.”
“You have seen Lilian recently?” asked Ria. She quirked her mouth sideways, looking a bit suspicious and annoyed.
Damon cleared his throat. “She stopped by my campsite the other night.”
Ria waited, as though expecting an explanation or possibly a disclosure. Damon would tell her about bedding Lilian if she pressed the point or asked him directly, but he decided that could wait until he’d gotten a better sense of where they currently stood.
“Come here,” he said. He set a hand on her hip and tried to draw her into an embrace. Ria didn’t stop him, at least not until he began kissing her cheek and letting his kisses drift downward toward her neck.
“No,” she said, pushing him back. “Damon… Things are different among my people. The nature of our intimacy is… much harder for me to ignore or justify.”
“Why should we have to justify ourselves?”
“Because we are not on an island.” Ria sighed and took a step farther away. “It felt like a game, almost, back at the tower. The thrill of breaking Malon’s rules and flaunting our love. She was right about so much more than I ever realized. There are always consequences.”
Sin and Soil 9 Page 3
