Bound to the Battle God

by Ruby Dixon

  Behind her is a cloaked figure, and I hold my breath as she peeks over her shoulder, the look utterly flirtatious. She glances around, then moves to a tree close to my own, as if picking a spot that's in the perfect line of sight. "Here?"

  "Not here," comes the voice, and I stiffen, a reaction shivering through my body. I recognize that voice. It's Aron. Bad Aron. Liar Aron.

  The concubine gives a throaty little laugh, tosses her hair, and puts her hands on the bark of the tree, even though he just told her not to. She leans forward and bends at the waist, sticking her butt out with a wiggle.

  I suck in a breath when the man accompanying her grabs the edge of her skirt, pushes it up, and exposes her equally perfect ass. He moves behind her, and then she surges forward with a low cry.

  Holy shit. He's doing her right in front of me. I clutch the rock, both fascinated and horrified all at once. My jaw drops, and as I stare in shock, he begins to thrust in fast, hard pumps, the force of his movements making her bounce forward. He's angled so I can't see his face, but I can definitely see him driving into her. I watch as he fucks her, wondering if I should throw the rock now, or wait until they're done. He's drilling her so hard that it can't take long…can it?

  Her cries get louder and louder, as if he's killing her vagina, and he steadies a hand on her shoulder, holding her so he can pound into her that much harder. I squeeze my thighs tightly together because it's affecting me. I'm fascinated by his brusque, efficient movements, and part of me wishes he was naked so I could watch his back flex as he moves over her. The hood of his cloak falls back, and then I see the dark hair and strange eyes that mark him as Aron.

  That changes everything. I’m watching Aron—my Aron—have sex with a gorgeous woman and…it’s weird. I know it’s not really him, but at the same time, I feel jealous. This Aron doesn't know me, but for some reason, it bothers me that he's fucking someone else. My Aron's never laid a finger on me…

  Well, that's not true. My brain helpfully fires up several reminders of that night in Tadekha's Citadel, where he fingered me as I crawled all over him.

  Doesn't make me feel better.

  Another figure crashes through the underbrush, and I clutch my rock tighter. Bad Aron doesn't stop in his relentless fucking of the busty concubine, who's squealing as if she's dying. Even if I threw a rock right now, I doubt anyone would notice, so I guess it's just as well I wait and watch. I swallow hard as a second man approaches, dressed in a dark cloak and long robes. He’s young, which surprises me, his beard nothing but scruffy wisps. He arranges long robes around his body as they snag on the greenery and gives the busy twosome an irritated look as he approaches.

  Aron doesn't pause in the slightest. "Louder," he tells the female, and she quiets down. Weird. Maybe he likes disobedience.

  The wizard—because it has to be the wizard—moves to stand next to Aron, watching them with glittering eyes. "I want to go next," he says. "Before you take her again." His gaze is locked onto the shuddering woman, who's clawing at the bark of the tree and panting. Her tits heave with every thrust Bad Aron pumps into her, and it's clear she's loving what she's getting. Even the people back by the fire—the mercenaries—are glancing over. She’s quieter, but not quiet enough.

  Aron ignores the wizard.

  "Let me have a turn," the wizard tries again. "You'll have her all night. We've shared her before."

  Aron pauses, his movements stopping. He's still buried deep inside her, and he turns to look at the wizard. The woman moans and squirms back against him, clearly not happy with the pause. The wizard cringes back from Aron's look, retreating a step.

  "Of course you can go next," Bad Aron says, and his voice is so familiar that it sends shivers down my spine. "I love the taste of your cum on her lips."

  The concubine giggles.

  The wizard flushes, his mouth thinning into an angry line, and stalks back to the camp. Aron watches him go, then grunts, and turns back to the concubine. He puts his hand on her shoulder once more, and then grinds into her.

  "Oooh," she moans.

  "Louder," he snaps, and she goes quiet again as he starts to fuck her once more.

  I'm a little confused. Everything they do is in direct contradiction to what he says. I watch him continue to drive into her against the tree, and her cries are muffled against her arm. It takes a moment, but then it dawns on me.

  He's the Aron of Lies.

  Mine is Arrogance, so everything he does and everything he says comes from a place of arrogance. This one clearly can't tell the truth, and so everyone's interpreting what he tells them. Oh. Suddenly it makes sense.

  With a grunt, Bad Aron stiffens, and I watch, almost hoping I could see his O-face. I guess it's good that I can't. It still feels surreal to think of Aron screwing another woman…and doing an amazing job of it. I’m still feeling that weird surge of jealousy, and I hate that. The god pats the woman's flank as he pulls away and she straightens, lowering her skirt. "Let the wizard touch you next," he tells her. "I'm done with you for tonight. You know how fond I am of sharing.”

  Her face is flushed and she gives a little wobbly curtsy, panting. "I won't let anyone touch me but you, my lord of storms."

  He grunts, pleased, and then adjusts his clothes and heads back to the encampment. A moment later, she follows, straightening her gorgeous hair. I watch them go, shell-shocked, and then remember the rock in my hand. Right. My Aron's going to think I've fallen asleep.

  Or maybe he was watching that, too. I wonder for a moment if he found her pretty. Of course he would. It's still Aron, right? So he would have the same taste in women. I hate that.

  With vicious force, I fling a rock into the bushes and imagine nailing Aron's head with it.

  42

  The underbrush crunches, the leaves shaking, and one of the guards pauses, flask almost to his lips, and glances into the woods. He turns back to the camp, counts heads, and then says something low that I can't quite make out. After he puts his flask away, he pulls out his sword and heads into the brush, disappearing.

  Nothing happens.

  I watch, waiting, and all is quiet. The guard doesn't emerge, no one goes to check on him, and there's no signal from Aron that he's taken care of the problem, either. I have to wait and hope that things went according to plan. I give it a few moments, and then I chuck another rock in the same direction.

  This time, his buddy is the one that pauses. "Gracel?" He takes a few steps into the woods. "Anything?"

  When there's no answer, he pulls out his sword, too, and then disappears into the shadows. Two of the other guards are paying attention now, frowns on their faces, and I wonder how many are going to fall for this before Aron's plan goes awry.

  Apparently the answer is two. I throw a third rock after enough time has hopefully passed, and the Bad Aron by the fire begins to look wary. He frowns deeply and I hear thunder rumbling overhead. He points at three of the guards, and they nod and head into the woods while three more pull their swords and gather close to Aron.

  The wizard sidles closer to Bad Aron, his face pinched with an expression like irritation. “What is it, my Lord of Storms?”

  “It is not one of my Aspects, I think. I cannot feel it in the air.” The god crosses his arms and looks so much like my Aron that my heart stutters. His gaze swings through the trees, and for a brief moment, I think he sees me. But then he keeps scanning, and I breathe again. “Look for his anchor,” Bad Aron demands. “I do not sense him near. There is not power close by.”

  The concubine shivers and runs to hide in a tent.

  We’re in trouble now.

  I don't know what to do. The guards are scattering through the woods, but there's still far too many of them. As I watch, Bad Aron finds a sword, and the wizard moves toward the fire, pulling a pouch from his belt. He stands near it and closes his eyes, reaching for what looks like a purple dust and begins to sprinkle it in the fire.

  He begins to chant, and a strange smoke begins to curl up
from the fire. If he was a fake wizard, he wouldn't bother. This must be the real thing, and I suspect that spell isn't going to be anything good. He keeps murmuring words, his hand waving over the fire, and the smoke begins to move in a pattern that looks completely unnatural.

  Full of panic, I do the only thing I can think of—I throw one of my rocks at him.

  I peg the guy right square in the middle of the forehead. The wizard grunts and hesitates, and for a moment I think he's going to come for me. Instead, he falls onto his back and lies still.

  I've knocked him out.

  Hot diggity. I didn't know my aim was that good. I bite back a laugh of pure delight, because I need to stay silent. As I watch, Bad Aron moves to the side of his fallen wizard, touches the bloody mark square in the middle of his forehead, and then glances up into the trees, looking directly at me.

  A new kind of panic hits me, and I squeeze my eyes shut so he doesn't see me. The darkness will hide me, I tell myself. There's nothing to worry about.

  "I don't know you're there," he says in a low, deadly voice I recognize. "You can either come down now and let me take a look at you, or I won't make your death spectacularly unpleasant."

  My throat goes dry. I swallow hard, thinking. Will it even do any good to pretend I'm not up here? I clear my throat and then manage, "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay where I am. I love the view and all.”

  Bad Aron rises to his full height. ”I am not the Lord of Storms. I can't destroy that tree with a single bolt of lightning," he says, voice utterly calm. "Think hard on how you would like to die."

  I clutch the bag of rocks to my chest, terrified. I don’t want to die at all, and yet it seems like I can’t avoid my life being put in jeopardy no matter what I do. Freaking arrogant Aron and his arrogant, stupid plan. Rocks in trees, for Pete’s sake. I pause, stalling the inevitable. "You won't hurt me if I come down?"

  “I promise.”

  I slide down a few branches, skittery with panic. Think, Faith, think. The wizard must be still breathing, or else Bad Aron would be dead. The woods are silent—too silent—and I worry that my Aron has been taken out or incapacitated. It’s up to me to kill the wizard, which is going to be downright tricky given that I’ve got nothing but a bag of rocks and he’s got a god standing over him.

  Maybe I can distract this Aron long enough that I can…do something. What, I don’t know. Something. I move down another branch or two, and then I remember just before I hit the lowest branch—did he say he would hurt me or wouldn’t hurt me? “Wait—”

  Bad Aron stalks over to my tree, lightning fast, and jerks on the edge of my cloak. I tumble from the tree, flopping onto my back. Pain shoots through my ribs, and I groan, clutching at them.

  He looms over me where I lie on the ground, tilting his head as if I’m some weird sort of science experiment. Then, he goes down to one knee and grabs me by the throat. Not hard, just pinning me. His thumb moves against my jaw, forcing my head to turn as he studies my features. “Not what I would have picked.”

  “Bitch please,” I manage, coughing. “I’m amazing.”

  Bad Aron’s brows go up and a smile curls his hard mouth. “I fail to see the appeal now. It is good we meet under such circumstances. I imagine you make the most unpleasant companion.” His voice is whispery soft, and my body responds despite the situation. I can feel my nipples prick, and his eyes regard me with such familiarity that I feel a sudden, stupid urge to kiss him. Or to let him kiss me. But all he does is gaze down at me, and then his thumb brushes a few flakes of mud off my chin. “You…”

  When he doesn’t continue, I lift my chin. “I what?”

  But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move at all. As I watch, he slowly fades out like an undeveloped picture, and then the hand on my throat is gone. The entire man is just…gone. I gasp, sitting up, and as I do, I see Aron. My Aron.

  He kneels beside the body of the wizard, a dagger jutting from the man’s throat.

  “Oh,” I murmur weakly, putting a hand to my forehead. “Thank god. Aron, I almost screwed that up really badly.”

  “I noticed.” Aron gets to his feet and gazes down at the wizard, his thoughts consuming him.

  I manage to stagger to my feet, dusting leaves off of my body. “No, no,” I wheeze. “Don’t worry about me. I’m cool. I fall from trees all the time. I’ve got this. No need to help me up.” When he doesn’t respond to my griping, I frown to myself. “Aron? Are you okay? Where are the mercenaries?”

  “Some are dead. Some alive.” He nudges the wizard’s body with one boot, then looks at me. He flicks his hand, indicating I should move to his side.

  I limp over to him, wincing at the pain that shoots up my ankle. “If they’re alive, where are they?”

  Aron gazes down at me. “Faith. I am telling you the truth. Do you understand?”

  “Uh, okay? Why would I doubt you?” I rub my hip absently. “I think I landed on a rock, by the way. Never thought I’d wish the woale was here to carry my ass back to the road, but here we are.”

  “I am telling you the truth,” he repeats.

  I frown at him, confused. “I heard you the first time.”

  “You’re not listening to me.” He touches my chin, and for a moment I’m reminded of Bad Aron gazing down at me like he wanted to kiss me. “I’m glad you climbed down the tree. It was a smart thing to do. I’m not mad about it at all. Understand?” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. “Next time we plan things, I don’t want you to listen to me.”

  I squint at him. “Are you…are you lying to me?”

  “No.”

  For a moment, I have a gut-wrenching burst of fear—that the wrong Aron lived. Except…I saw him fade out. I saw him disappear right before my eyes. The wizard’s dead and I’m alive. I look down at the dead guy just to be sure, then back to Aron. My Aron. He blinks, waiting.

  “I…are you Lies and Arrogance both now?”

  He exhales deeply, as if relieved. “Not at all. That’s not how this works.”

  Oh, fuck me.

  43

  The remaining mercenaries immediately surrender to Aron the moment they realize their leader is dead, replaced by…the same guy. They prostrate themselves on the ground, but not before kissing the pommels of their swords and offering them to him. The concubine emerges from her tent with a swish of her hips and does the same, raising her too-perfect ass into the air.

  Aron watches all of this from the center of the encampment, one foot still on the wizard's dead body. Eventually, he looks over at me. "Well?"

  "Well what?" I look up from the bags I'm searching for weapons. I see some coin, but it's mostly supplies.

  "Do you want them to live or die?"

  I stare at Aron in horror. "You're making me pick?"

  "No. If it were me, I would let them go, but I'm asking you since you have a hard heart." His tone is curiously playful despite his words, and he crosses his arms over his chest, watching me and waiting.

  I swallow hard, deciphering that. Fuck. He is making me pick. He wouldn't let them go, but he thinks I'm soft. Okay. I gaze down at the men (and woman) bowing before Aron. "Um. I'm not used to having people's lives in my hands."

  Aron just shrugs and gestures at them again.

  I study the mercenaries. They wear piecemeal armor, which makes it impossible to tell how young or old they are, but they remain with their faces down in the dirt, waiting. The woman next to them trembles, her arms outstretched, and I feel a surge of pity. I know I need to be ruthless. I know these people would have killed us without a second thought, but I'm not from this world. I'm not like that.

  I look down at the dead wizard under Aron's boot and shudder.

  Aron grunts. "I suspect I do not know your answer."

  "I suspect you do," I say, feeling faint.

  "Do not sit up, all of you," Aron says, voice blunt. "I would not like to see your faces."

  They all immediately sit up, and I blanch to see t
hat all four of the men are young. Two of them have beards, but all of them could be college kids if they were in my world. There's fear on their faces, but they're resolute, as well.

  Aron thinks for a moment, and then flicks a hand at me, suggesting I go to his side. I immediately jump to my feet and race over, feeling their eyes on me. Aron leans in, his breath tickling the dried mud on my ear. "I can say this properly. Tell them that I will be lenient if they betray me."

  I mull that, then nod. He's giving me a lot of power, letting me speak on his behalf, and I suspect that's as deliberate as anything else Aron does. I clear my throat and take a step forward, deliberately kicking the wizard. Just because. "All right, listen up, people. This is a new Aron, and we do things differently." I clasp my hands together, pitying the flickers of hope I see in their eyes. "If you can't follow him a hundred percent, we're going to leave your ass behind at the first city we come to. Aron's in charge, and I'm Aron's anchor. That means you listen to me as much as you listen to him, and if I say jump, you say how high. Understand?" I point at each one of them, feeling a bit like a schoolteacher speaking to naughty children.

  One man clears his throat and puts his hands to his chest, holding an imaginary weapon in Aron's gesture. "We followed the Lord of Storms because we are believers, lady. That has not changed. We still follow the Lord of Storms.”

  To a one, the men put their hands on their chests, bow their heads, and echo his gestures.

  I'm a little surprised—and pleased. "You're not mercenaries?"

  "No. We chose to serve our Lord of Storms," the first one says. He's beardless and can't be more than twenty. "There is no greater honor than serving at my god's side." The others nod.

  "Oh. Okay. We'd better be able to trust you, then." I turn to the woman. "What about you?"

  Her smile is sweet and guileless. "My lord Aron bought me to serve him and his wizard. I am a bed slave from the esteemed houses of Rastana. I serve my master in all ways he requires." And then she licks her lips and lowers her eyes. I could swear I see her arch her back slightly, thrusting her tits out further.