Barbarian Outcast (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 1)

by Aaron Crash

  His hand moved lower down the muscles of her back until he could squeeze her pliant ass. His fingers split her crack and he touched her tight rosebud. His arms weren’t long enough to reach her hot, slippery folds. She was too tall. He felt her heat, and her sweat, and while the air felt cold, she felt like living flame. His uht pressed up against the oven of her skin, smearing his spend across her belly.

  Ymir couldn’t wait. He picked her up in his arms and carried her easily to the bed and laid her down on her back.

  Her legs opened wide, and she was wet, ready, though he wasn’t going to give her relief, not right away.

  He took hold of both of her feet and spread her legs wider. The big, fleshy petals of her oheesy opened to reveal her pink tunnel. Her ass cheeks spread to show him all of her.

  It took all his self-control not to fall to his knees and bury his face in her flower. He wanted to kiss her toes, and he did, which made her giggle. He sucked her big toe into his mouth and nibbled on her other digits. That brought on more giggles, which fell musically.

  He knelt and slid his tongue up her calves to her knees and to inner thighs. She had both of her hands on her nipples, drawing them out even longer. He’d get to her tits eventually. They would be within reach of his mouth when he finally got his uht inside the horny elf.

  “I’ll never not want this,” she hissed. “I’ll never give this up.”

  “That’s my girl.” He licked her inner thigh. Then he gave her kisses as his face neared her oheesy, his main meal, so pink, so swollen, her juices dribbling down from her slit.

  Her scent crowded out all thought. He reached her sex. He drew his tongue up her crack from the bottom of her hole to the fleshy button at the top of her lips. The ohi. He’d never get tired of that word, or this woman. His lips closed over her ohi, and the results were immediate.

  “Oh, too soon,” she gasped. “Too soon, too good, I’m coming, Ymir. You’re making me come.”

  Music to his ears. He’d liked the elf musicians in the Throne Auditorium. He loved Lillee’s orgasm song far more.

  “In me, Ymir. I want you in me, now.”

  “And do you want it hard?” he asked. “Do you want me to fuck you hard?”

  “As hard as you can.” She wiggled her body at him. Her hands came down to grip his arms, to try to pull him up, but he was so much stronger than she was.

  “You’re a thin thing,” he said. “What if I break you?”

  “You can’t. I was made for this. I gave up everything for this. Please, don’t make me beg.”

  “But I like you begging.”

  “Then I beg you. Please. Please!”

  He was up, on her, in her, his knees on her rough sheets, his sex splitting hers as her petals clutched him. He entered her, inch by inch, until his golden-brown pubic hair mingled with her platinum tufts.

  Lillee gasped, then whined, then whimpered. “You’re so fucking big. You’re so big in me. I feel you, Ymir. I feel every inch of you.”

  He slowly slid himself out of her until only the head of his shaft was clutched by her tight channel.

  “Back in me, please, I beg you!” she called out.

  He eased himself back into her.

  “Oh, so big, so big in me,” she whimpered. “You’re splitting me in two and I love it. Slow, go slow, a couple more times.”

  He complied.

  And then he could feel what she wanted. He reared back and speared forward, hard, ramming his pubic bone against her.

  She yelped.

  Back, and then a thrust, and more yelping, until he took to ramming himself in and out of her wet, clinging tunnel. He raised himself on his hands to look at her face, and her bouncing tits. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked on the rubbery nub. First the right tit, then the left, as she squirmed under him. She growled and rubbed her pearl on him as he pressed forward, then whined as he left her, and then screamed as he returned home.

  “Wait. Stop,” she pleaded. She pulled him down tight against her.

  For a split second, he thought her doubts had come back. That wasn’t the case. She clutched him, rubbing the sweat down his back and down onto his ass. She was grinding herself against him, and every movement brought him out of her by scant inches.

  Her hungry lips found his. And then she was gasping into his mouth, and he felt the contractions grip him, again and again. It was too much. He stuck his tongue into her mouth and stuck his uht deep in her sex. His mind rode the winds of heaven, and his orgasm seemed to take forever to finish as he filled her with his seed.

  He drew back and stared down into her sweaty face.

  She touched his face. “Your eyes are green now. And you’re not glowing. I guess I expected your dusza to shine.”

  “Not this time. It didn’t need to.”

  She grew shy. “I’ll need to do this a great deal. If I’m to dance in the flames of my moral destruction, I want you in the fire there with me.”

  “Always. If we’re to burn, we’ll burn together.” He kissed her cheek, then kissed her mouth. “This is creation, not destruction, Lillee. It always has been. It always will be.”

  He wondered if she’d put the forearm cuff back on, but he knew she had to, not to keep her desires at bay, but to try to fit in with the Ohlyrra at the Majestrial. He understood that. To be alone and hated, to be the outcast, was a hard burden. Already she was marked as Sullied. No reason to make it worse.

  He also knew that mad passionate fucking was only a few seconds away once her arm and soul were free.

  “Do you like me like this?” she asked.

  “I love you like this.” And he showed her he meant it.

  Time and time again, they made love. He let her get on top of him so she could bounce up and down on his uht. Or he took her from behind, grabbing her ponytail and gripping her hips, leaving fingerprint bruises on her perfectly creamy skin.

  Conquering Lillee’s lust together took hours. Even when he pulled out of her the last time, she rubbed her ohi, wanting just one more.

  She put her essess back on, and when she saw the unasked question on his lips, she smiled. “If I didn’t put this back on, we’d never sleep at all. I’m satisfied now, but I know such satisfaction can’t last. It’s never enough, no disrespect to you.”

  “No disrespect. We established that with the three questions.”

  Lying on their sides, she curled up next to him and fell asleep. He thought about getting his bearskin from his room, but their heat together would be enough. Truly, she burned hot, hotter than any woman he’d ever been with before.

  Damn the elk-hide tents and the bear fur blankets! All he’d need to weather the winter months was to bring Lillee into his arms. The snow would melt right off them, and spring would reign forever around her. The flowers would bloom wherever she slept.

  THEY HAD TO WAKE UP early to clean before classes started.

  Dawn filled the window with a gray light as they kissed, one last time, before he left and went back to his own cell to gather his gear for the day. And to wash. He’d need a proper bath at some point, though he liked Lillee’s scent on him.

  He cranked open the door to his cell. He saw something was wrong immediately.

  On his bed lay a single piece of parchment. He thought it might have blown off his desk. That couldn’t be—his satchel held his school supplies.

  He picked up the paper. From the script, he saw it was Homme, but strangely written. He could hardly make out a single word.

  The sketch of a ring filled the middle of the page. A shiver iced up his spine and lifted the hair on his nape.

  Damn the Ax, he hated this magic. Why would a sketch fill him with such dread?

  He saw a word he knew, “magic,” and then another phrase: “To be rid of.”

  Put them together? This might be a spell for him to be free of his dusza forever. Who had left it? The cell doors didn’t lock. He guessed that made sense. If there were a thief or an assassin around, the Princept Della Pennez
could easily catch them with her divination magic.

  He stuck the paper in his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He also grabbed the gray-and-black robes. He left his room and walked with Lillee, his mind reeling.

  She sang as they walked, and he didn’t want to interrupt her.

  He might have a way to get rid of his magic. But it seemed too convenient. He’d have to be careful. He’d learned that things weren’t always what they seemed at Old Ironbound.

  Chapter Eighteen

  YMIR KEPT THE MYSTERIOUS parchment to himself. He and Lillee split up. He went to take care of the mid-level Flow apartment hallways. She went on to the higher-level suites, singing loudly. The sex had improved her mood. Nothing could improve her voice. She sang like an angel.

  Ymir felt like singing too. He’d survived his first official day at Old Ironbound. He wondered what the second day would bring. It wasn’t starting out well.

  He swept up rolled-up leaves, half singed, and wondered why people smoked kharo. He’d tried it in Summertown and didn’t see the appeal. Torpor dust had a far stronger kick, but torpor also made you see things sometimes, and the drug drove some men insane. He’d stick with strong tundra wheat beer and seesee wine. Not that he could get either anymore.

  The mid-level Flow showers were empty, so he mopped them out, and noticed a pile of vomit in one corner. Someone had some fun the night before. He sent the sick down a drain. He turned on a spout and warm water gushed below. They heated it somehow, probably with Sunfire.

  His showers, at the end of the sea alley, only got the last dregs of the warm water. He figured after his classes, he’d go through the grate and down to the beach. The ocean water would clean him better than the tepid water dripping out of rusty pipes. He could then rinse the dried salt off his body before the water turned chill.

  By the time he hurried into the feasting hall, most scholars had already finished breakfast and were wandering off to class.

  Lillee was headed to the counter, and Ymir sidled up to her. “Don’t worry, we’ll be done with this work study business as soon as I can figure a way out. As a princess, I don’t think you cleaned toilets this much back in Greenhome.”

  Lillee took his hand, went to kiss his cheek, and stopped herself. She let go and took a step away from him. Her forearm cuff was in place. People were watching.

  “No, I didn’t clean much.” She went quiet. He thought she might talk more now that they’d shared sex and bared souls. That wasn’t the case. It was fine with him. A beautiful, quiet woman was a treasure. She hummed a tune and drifted close so their arms could touch.

  He and the elf went to the counter. Tori brightened when she saw him, and then gave Lillee a cool look. The dwarf girl wasn’t her usually chatty self as she loaded bowls with a thick, lumpy mixture of something.

  “Out of meats, Ymir,” Tori said. “Sorry. The oatmeal isn’t bad. Put lots of cream and raisins on it, and you’ll choke it down just fine. I think we’re out of beet sprinkles.” She waved him along.

  So, Tori was the jealous type. It was unfortunate. Was it her character? Or did it have to do with her being a Morbuskor? Either way, he wasn’t about to distance himself from Lillee. She was all he needed at the moment, though she’d made it clear—he could celebrate love with anyone he liked. She’d also said he was the only man for her, though the elf might find a woman she liked. Ymir was pleased with the idea.

  “Thanks for saving my life,” Ymir said to the dwarf woman.

  “It’s fine.” Tori again motioned for him to keep on going down the line, as other scholars, mostly cleaning staff, waited to get breakfast. The dwarf gave Lillee another cold stare.

  Lillee kept her eyes down. It was clear that Tori’s chilly gaze had sunk her spirits.

  He and Lillee added cream and dried grapes to their bowls and got wooden cups of the weak beer. All the tin dishes had already been claimed. The elf girl went to a big metal urn and grabbed two cups. She filled one with a steaming black liquid.

  They sat at an empty table.

  Lillee poured the black drink from one cup to another, back and forth. She then filled a cup for the last time and sipped it carefully.

  “What’s that?” Ymir asked.

  “Kaif. You might know it as coffee.”

  “Kaif.” Rhymed with safe. He didn’t recognize the word. “Why did you pour it back and forth?”

  “To cool it.”

  He sniffed. “It doesn’t smell too good. Why drink it?” he asked.

  “After last night? It will keep me awake. And I love it so. Try some, but be careful. It’s hot.”

  She slid the cup over to him. Sometimes, in the coldest part of winter, the clan would boil seesee wine, so he knew what to do. He blew to cool the top and sipped.

  He wrinkled his nose. “Bitter. Disgusting. You can’t like it. It’s like someone mixed roots and dirt with boiling water.”

  Lillee slid the cup of kaif back to her side of the table. She smiled warmly, sipped, and then sighed, letting him know she didn’t care what he thought. This woman wasn’t like any of the chatty girls he’d known. Even Ilhelda had liked to talk.

  The oatmeal was like half-congealed bird shit in his mouth, and the raisins were so hard it took several tries to chew them down. Dried seesee berries were so much better and more flavorful. The strange cow cream made it all bearable.

  He found himself wanting more of Lillee’s dirt drink. The memory of the bitter kaif seemed better than the actual experience. He might get a cup of it at some point.

  He pulled the mysterious parchment from his satchel and laid it on the table. “Lillee, I found this on my bed this morning. Not sure when someone put it there. Or what they might have done to me if I’d have been under my bear blanket.”

  Lillee was silent as she read it.

  “Well, what does it say?” he asked.

  They didn’t have much time. Their first class was with Issa Leel, an Introduction to Flow Magic. Or that’s what the Knowing mirror had shown them. Not all his classes lined up with Lillee. Most did.

  Jennybelle Josen hurried over from the Librarium and sat down. “There you two are. I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

  Ymir squinted at her. “Where is your escort? I thought you didn’t go anywhere without Nelly and the others.”

  “In class.” Jenny’s inky-black hair was piled high on her head, held there by gold scarves. Her cheeks were rosy below her brilliant blue eyes. “And they aren’t my escort, just my friends. We can’t all be loner barbarian warriors.” She noticed Lillee reading. “What’s that?”

  The clansman didn’t like the idea of Jenny reading what might be a cure to his magic. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her, not after their rocky history together.

  The black-haired beauty introduced herself. “I’m Jenny, by the way, Second Daughter to Queen Lissabelle Josen of Josentown. I know who you are. Everyone does. It’s not every day a girl gets to meet an Ohlyrran princess. Greenhome, right? King Cebor Nehenna is your father.”

  Ymir leapt in to protect Lillee. “That’s right. She’s a princess. So are you, it seems. But with the Withering, men ruling in Thera makes sense to me. You say you are from a queendom. Are there many queens?”

  “So many,” Jenny said agreeably. Her eyes remained on the quiet elf.

  Lillee nodded. “You are correct. I’m a princess. I’m—”

  The swamp woman cut her off. “Lillee Nehenna. I pride myself on knowing the names of everyone. We’re here to make contacts, right?”

  “Yes.” Lillee went back to reading.

  “What is that? Some kind of spell?” Jenny asked.

  Before Lillee could answer, the Swamp Coast woman rose and leaned far over the table. “The Akkiric Rings. The Form within the Flow. The Sun between the Moons. The Fire in the Lightning. The Stone in the Tree.”

  Lillee frowned at the intruder.

  “What is this?” Jenny asked.

  Lillee wasn’t about to answer.


  It was up to Ymir. “Something I found. It’s nothing.” He scooped up the last of the oatmeal and swallowed. He drained the weak beer in a single draught. Wiping his mouth, he stood.

  “Like a Focus ring. Are you wanting something special?” Jenny asked, pointing.

  “I guess so,” he said.

  Jenny stood and walked up to him. Compared to Lillee, she was a short thing, short and curvy. Her expensive perfume wafted into his nostrils.

  “No, from the little I could read, it’s not a simple Focus ring. It’s something else. What are you two working on?” the Josentown princess asked.

  Lillee took the parchment and put it in her satchel. She stood, gathered her dishes, and walked slowly over to the far-left portion of the counter to add them to the pile.

  Ymir collected his own dishes. “It’s nothing. Forget you saw it.”

  “That was archaic Homme. You know, Lillee might be smart, but she grew up learning Ohlyrran. I’ve studied Homme my entire life. I can help.” Jenny arched an eyebrow. “Unless you don’t trust me.”

  “Maybe I don’t.” Ymir left to put his dishes with Lillee’s.

  All three walked through the Librarium and hurried toward the Flow Tower as the college bells clanged eight times, marking the hour. They were late.

  Ymir felt his frustration keenly. He wanted to know what Lillee had gleaned from the parchment, but Jenny’s presence made talking about it risky.

  Jenny chattered, almost as if she was nervous. “You two make a great couple, by the way. You’re together, right?”

  “Very together,” Lillee said quietly.

  “How many times were we together last night?” Ymir asked with a grin on his face. “I lost count at three, and I’m good with numbers.”

  Lillee blushed and didn’t answer.

  “Sounds hot. He’s big, isn’t he, Lillee?” Jenny didn’t seem to have a single shameful bone in her body.