Second Skin: Unified: A litRPG Adventure (Second Skin Book 3)

by M Damon Baker

  “Tási told me about the conversation you had,” I redirected her. “Tell me your thoughts on it.”

  “She is far more formidable than I gave her credit for,” Líann conceded. “We reached an understanding; the terms of which are not your concern. All you need to know is that there will be no friction between us.”

  Good enough for me, I thought.

  We talked briefly about other matters before I simply couldn’t wait any longer. Finally giving in to my darker side, I picked Líann up and threw her down roughly on her bed. I shed my clothes, leaving only my thin undergarments in place before pulling open Líann’s robe and straddling her.

  I stopped to admire her for a moment as she lay beneath me, and the soft curves of her pale body beckoned to me strongly as the dark green fabric of the robe she lay upon accented Líann’s every subtle contour.

  Part of me wanted to be with her in the same way I usually was with Tási—I wanted to share my passion with her, to love her in a gentler way than the rough and frequently abusive manner that she desired. While I could do that if I truly wanted to, it wasn’t what she needed from me, and would have left her feeling unfulfilled. Not only that, while sharing my passion with her would certainly have been pleasurable, I knew that it would have left me with a hollow feeling as well. Our connection required… no, it demanded that I show Líann my darkness. It wasn’t only her destiny to experience it from me; it was my fate to give it to her as well. So, I ignited the fire in my eyes, and stared down at her.

  “I will be gone for some time, Líann,” I menaced her. “You’ll need something rather powerful to help you remember that I still own you while I’m away.”

  And powerful it was. Over the next hour, I let my darkness have her almost completely, only drawing it in when it sought to truly hurt her. Even so, by the time I’d unleashed all Líann could take, she was almost covered in bruises. While most of those were of her own making as she’d struggled against me, I’d left my own marks on her where I’d bitten down on her soft flesh and sucked forcefully on her breasts.

  It pained me to see her that way, but she only basked in her lingering ecstasy. I’d asked her about it more than once, and she’d answered me the same way every time—it was part of what she needed from me, and if I held back too much, it would leave her feeling unfulfilled. I didn’t just have to accept her word on the matter; it was a truth I’d already known.

  Normally, I’d leave her with a soft kiss or other small gesture before leaving her lying there to recover from the intense experience, but with my departure the next morning and the long separation to follow, I laid my head across her chest instead and wrapped my arm around her waist, letting my hand settle on the soft curve where the slight flare of her hip began.

  We laid together peacefully for a while, something we’d never done before, while I listened to her heartbeat and my head gently rose and fell with Líann’s every breath. She surprised me a little when I felt her hand come to rest on mine, and even more when she whispered to me.

  “Dreya,” she said softly, “I think I want to become more.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking,” I replied. She rarely called me by name, preferring to remind herself of my dominance by always referring to me as ‘Empress,’ and her use of it then was almost startling.

  “I’m not sure I do either,” Líann said. “But I feel the need to experience your other sides, not just your darkness. You’ve shown me softness, and to be honest, at first it did nothing for me, but something’s changed, and I’ve come to look forward to feeling it as well. As I am right now.”

  I sat up and looked at her and couldn’t help but wince as I took in the marks across her body.

  “Pay them no mind,” Líann offered when she saw my response. “They are mine—I earned them.”

  “I’m not trying to take Tási’s place, or anyone else’s,” she quickly drew me back to her request. “But something has changed inside me. While I will always be your darkness, I think I’m becoming something else as well.”

  “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I replied, unsettled by what she’d told me, but also thinking of what it would mean for her to experience what I did with Venna. The passive acceptance of my most gentle and loving tendrils seemed like it would be pure hell for Líann, who craved only struggle and domination.

  “Tell me,” she said, finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Not who they are—I know you won’t reveal them to me. But what are they to you? What are the other paths you walk with them?”

  “You are my darkness, Líann,” I told her when I could see no harm in answering her question. “I think of the others as my passion, my soul, and I guess what you might call my humility.”

  “I need you to show me all of them,” Líann replied, in an unusually assertive manner.

  “Most of them are quite opposite of what you require, Líann,” I tried to dissuade her from the strange compulsion she’d developed. “I’m almost certain that it would be uncomfortable for you to feel those emotions from me.”

  “No. I know why you might say that, but you’re wrong,” she responded firmly. “I don’t know what’s changed. I have no words to explain what is happening to me—maybe it’s normal. The Sintári have been gone for too long, and we know almost nothing about these things, but I’m not the same as I was when I first came to you.”

  “I’m not sure what to think about what you’re telling me, Líann,” I replied honestly. “It goes directly against what little I know about myself. If I wasn’t leaving in the morning, I might say that we could experiment with this a little, but I don’t think that’s wise under the circumstances.”

  “Promise me that we can try when you return,” she implored.

  “We can try,” I offered her. “But if I sense anything wrong, it ends. I won’t risk harming you. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” she smiled in relief. “Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen. I’m sure of it.”

  That makes one of us, I thought.

  She surprised me yet again by pulling me into a gentle kiss, laced with a passion that she’d never shown me before. Usually, her kisses were more of a contest, or sometimes a nearly desperate thing. But this was a soft, tender kiss, filled with only love and affection. To say that I was stunned by her display of gentle warmth would be an understatement.

  “I can do this,” she whispered as our lips finally parted.

  “I… I think I believe you.”

  It was all I could bring myself to say—Líann’s kiss had literally taken my breath away.

  I stood up to get dressed and leave while Líann just sat still and watched me. Just before I turned to go, she caught my eye, and she said her farewell.

  “I won’t be seeing you off tomorrow morning,” she purred in her most seductive voice. “I want your last image of me to be like this.”

  As she spoke to me, Líann simply lay there, reclining against the headboard, completely naked and absolutely amazing, despite the bruises that adorned her body. She let me stare at her for a long moment before she shifted slightly towards me just to let me take her in more fully. As always, she stirred something inside me, and I was sorely tempted to take her again. Sorely. But I knew she’d reached her limit, as did she. Her display was not meant to entice me back right then; it was intended to spur my return to her once the war had been won.

  “You will have time to prepare yourself before we see each other again,” I told her as I tore my eyes from her body and met her gaze. “Be ready for me. What I’m going to give you will be quite different from anything you’ve ever experienced before.”

  She’d tried to unsettle me with her coy words and blatant display, and Líann hadn’t failed in that effort. But I saw the shiver that ran through her at my response, and I knew that I’d at least returned the favor.

  But that was very little comfort to me as I returned back to my rooms. Líann’s apparent compulsion to experience al
l of my Sintári needs was inexplicable to me. From just the little I knew, it should be an almost impossible thing—the Sintári drew people to them specifically to tend to one particular need that they shared. The relationship was symbiotic, with each of them fulfilling a specific requirement of the other.

  From what I understood, the ability to link with a Sintári was rare among the other races, and those with that ability found themselves drawn to their Sintári. Not to just any Sintári—only theirs. The link was not only rare, but it was also specific to a certain Sintári and their partner. These relationships were deeply personal and were not entered into at random. It was only because of the deep connection we had with the world around us that we took multiple partners. Our requirements dictated that practice, as without an outlet for each of our individual needs, they would eventually overwhelm us.

  So, when Líann expressed her desire to experience more than what she’d been sent to me for, apparently driven by some change within her, I was unable to comprehend it. It simply shouldn’t be happening, but if the firm conviction of her words hadn’t convinced me, the gentle passion of her kiss certainly had—whatever she was experiencing was real.

  I needed to know just what the fuck was going on, so when I was back in the privacy of my own rooms, I made a desperate plea for help.

  “Nentai,” I called out to the empty air in a near panic. “I need you. Please come to me. Something is very wrong, and I don’t understand!”

  “Need?” I heard her call from behind me. “My, I don’t think I’ve heard you use that word before.”

  “What’s happening with Líann?” I whipped around and asked her.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied calmly. “Why don’t you explain.”

  “I thought you were always watching me?” I snapped. I imagined that she was toying with me, and I couldn’t help my irritated response.

  “No,” she replied with a smirk. “Believe it or not, I do have other matters to attend to. And just so you know, I don’t peek in on your private moments either. In fact, I have made it so that no one can. The device I use to watch over you will not allow it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I replied more calmly. “And thank you for your consideration.”

  I hadn’t thought about that issue before, and I was glad that she’d let me know that I had at least those times to myself.

  “Yes, yes,” she dismissed the matter. “Now, what’s bothering you about Líann?”

  “She can’t explain it, but she told me that there’s something different about her, that something’s changed,” I told the Goddess. “She feels the need to experience the emotions that I give to my other lovers. The one’s they were sent to me for, and not only her own.”

  “This should not be possible,” Nentai whispered oddly.

  “You know something—what is it?” I replied as I caught her tone.

  “The need you describe is highly unusual,” Nentai replied. “There were only a handful who ever made this transition.”

  “Goddess,” I pled with her. “Please tell me what you know. I’m afraid doing what she asks will harm her, but she seems to need it.”

  “Sit with me,” Nentai sighed. “There is a great deal I will need to explain to you. I didn’t think this would be necessary, but Líann’s transition changes things.”

  I sat nervously across from her in one of the soft chairs beside the fireplace. The plush seating did little to comfort me, however, as my anxiety began to get the better of me. Líann was profoundly special to me, and Nentai’s seeming reluctance to tell me what was happening to her was fraying my nerves.

  “She will be fine,” Nentai began, obviously noticing how I was feeling.

  It helped, but not much, and then she went on.

  “I will start at the beginning, to make sure you know everything you need to,” Nentai explained. “The Sintári are deeply attuned to the world around them, in every way. This lends them great power and affords each Sintári their own particular strengths, but these strengths also come with corresponding vulnerabilities; weaknesses that need to be tended to before they become overwhelming.”

  “When the Sintári were common,” she continued. “They took partners who helped them with theses weaknesses, much as you have. Those who were able to help a Sintári in this way were known as the Tári, and were honored for their ability. However, a Tári could only help with a single one of these weaknesses, and it was understood that every Sintári had multiple needs, or V’Ríel as they were sometimes called, so the fact that they each required more than one Tári to help them was of no concern.”

  “The Tári’s connection with their Sintári, was both intimate and unique. One Sintári could not simply use another’s Tári to vent his V’Ríel, even if the two Sintári suffered with the same need. Forcing a Tári to take another Sintári’s V’Ríel is a vile and despicable act; a deeply personal violation beyond any notion you might have regarding such things. Only the dark Sintári ever committed these acts, and that was one of the reasons they were hunted down so ruthlessly.”

  “Do you understand everything so far?” Nentai stopped to ask.

  “Yes,” I replied. “You’ve given me some specifics I wasn’t aware of, particularly regarding the dark Sintári, but I knew most of this already.”

  “Good,” she responded. “Knowing that, I can see why Líann’s situation might cause you some alarm.”

  Before I could react to her statement, Nentai continued.

  “As I’ve said, and as you already know, the Tári were attuned to not only a single Sintári, but also to only one of that Sintári’s needs. As varied as the Sintári were, one might need as few as two Tári, while others required as many as ten. But that is a different matter entirely.”

  “If what Líann is telling you is correct, she is becoming something more than your Tári. She is becoming the rarest thing of all, and absolutely the most important person you will ever have in your life. She is becoming Táriel—one of the many-feeling.”

  “She will always be most attuned to her natural V’Ríel, but Líann will also be able to mold herself to your other needs as well. She cannot replace the Tári you need, at least not for extended periods, but Líann will be able to keep you from suffering, should one be absent for a time. As she attunes herself to each of your V’Ríel, Líann’s attachment to you will only grow stronger, as will yours to her.”

  “I cannot tell you how impressive this is,” Nentai oddly seemed to beam with pride. “Táriel do not simply occur—it takes a very powerful Sintári to create one. And even then, only after decades of work. Yet you have turned Líann into one of the many-feeling without even trying, just as you did when you made Bane into the first real dragon this world has seen in over a millennium.”

  “Can I make them all Táriel?” was my first thought.

  My mind was mostly on Tási when I asked her this. I’d made a lot of promises to her, but with how powerful my feelings already were for Líann, when she adapted to my other needs and that attraction grew even stronger, I was afraid I might not be able to hold myself to those oaths.

  “My, aren’t you a greedy thing!” Nentai laughed.

  “No, dear,” she answered my question after a moment. “I don’t think that’s possible for even you. Líann is bound to you, you cannot make another like her, even if you tried.”

  In other words, there was no easy way out for me, as usual.

  “Dreya,” Nentai spoke in a comforting voice. “This is a very good thing for you. There is one more aspect to the Táriel that I haven’t told you yet. Because of what you’ve done, Líann will live for as long as you do. You will not lose her, at least not to old age or infirmity. Your Tári will come and go, but you will always have your Táriel.”

  That pretty much changed… everything. Líann, forever? Not having to lose at least one of my partners over and over? That kind of stability, having someone always by my side, was exactly what I needed to balance the in
evitable losses I would have to suffer through over the many centuries ahead of me.

  That thought reminded me of something, actually someone, and I seized on the opportunity to ask Nentai about her.

  “What about Saibra?”

  “I have no special insight into her.”

  “Raithe did something to her,” I replied. “She’s compelled to protect me and she’s waiting for me. Waiting for one of my Tári to die.”

  “She may be a latent Tári herself then,” Nentai commented almost offhandedly. “If so, her link to you will not fully manifest until you have need of her. In the meantime, keep her close. Insleí was one of the deadliest assassins in Arrika, you are very lucky that she is now Saibra and on your side.”

  “Can I heal her?” I asked. “I know I did a great deal of damage to her when she was Insleí. Would it be safe for me to try and fix what’s left of that?”

  “Most likely, yes,” Nentai replied. “She’s complicated though, and I wouldn’t suggest you attempt anything until you’re ready to make her yours, Tári or otherwise. You’ve made that mistake often enough to know better.”

  Wasn’t that the truth.

  “Thank you, Nentai,” I offered her sincerely. “I appreciate the fact that you came when I really needed you and everything you’ve told me.”

  “I will always come to you when you need me,” she replied with a smile. “If I don’t, it’s only because something prevented me from doing so.”

  “When will you tell me why?” I asked her the one question she’d always refused to answer for me.

  “As soon as it’s safe for you to know,” Nentai replied, clearly wanting to tell me what she knew, yet still holding back.

  “Alright,” I sighed. “But I’ll probably keep asking anyway.”

  She shimmered and vanished without another word, but that was just fine with me. I’d gotten the answers I needed, and even more that time—an uncommon thing when it came to my interactions with Nentai.

  When Bane and Tási both returned later that evening, we spent that last night together, curled up on Bane’s enormous mattress before heading off to war the next morning. All things considered, I felt remarkably calm about the prospect. I knew that war had been inevitable, and in this case, there was no doubt that it was necessary. It was no mere blunder or misstep that led to this conflict, but an act of utter barbarity that had claimed the lives of two of my people. I would happily spill the blood of those responsible for that atrocity, and any who chose to stand by them. To me, they were no different than the Bloody Hearts; the only distinction was the weapons they used to oppress those weaker than themselves: the power and privilege of their stations. And in my mind, wielding those advantages in that way made them even worse.