Reaver of Souls

by Stephanie Burke

Gathering himself together, he turned towards the cliff and decided that getting down was a lot easier than getting back up. But with a sigh, he began to climb. He was his father’s son and a warrior in his own right.

  And one of the first things that he was taught was to never give up.

  * * * * *

  Mace sat straight up in the metal cage in which these small creatures had imprisoned him and his men. He would never understand these things. They looked like people, small people, but they acted like maniacs.

  Had Torn been subjected to this for the entire time he had been lost to them? If so, then he pitied the poor man.

  First after arriving at the scene, they encountered a brawl of epic proportions. Well, maybe that was a gross exaggeration, but it was a pretty good fight going on between these leather-clad warriors.

  Then following after the almost warrior-sized man they encountered, who had spoken in some strange garbled tongue, they came across Torn as the Reaver.

  The shock of knowing that the gentle quiet Torn was the Reaver still reverberated through him and his men, but knowing that the creature served the greater good eased their reactions and their fears. They had easily found their quarry and their mission had been completed almost before it began.

  The creature Torn held must have been severely tainted for the Reaver to mark him as the walking dead, but the shock on the faces of the men in that small walkway, especially the look of surprise on the small red-haired female obviously affected Torn.

  He took to wing before they could stop him and the strangely dressed men with the loud whistles and the small round sticks flooded the street. Well, actually it was only two, but they called to others of their ilk, and then they all wound up in this cage.

  He and his two men could have easily handled the small loud people, but he decided that it would be for the best if they all discovered as much about this place as they could before returning or contacting Terror. And what they found thus far wasn’t too promising.

  But maybe if they could find the girl…

  * * * * *

  “You are released,” a small female officer said to Sable as the clang of her keys announced her presence. A loud buzzer sounded and the door to her cell slid open. “You are free to go.”

  “Just like that?” Sable asked, sliding from the bed to her feet, the rather large pile of fuzz falling to the floor.

  If the woman noticed or even cared that she had mutilated local property, she gave no hint as she dispassionately waited by the door.

  “Yes, just like that. The judge decided that you and your friends, the two poofters, were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “If you are referring to Jack and Jill, the correct term is homosexual,” Sable bristled, but the woman shrugged absently.

  “Whatever,” she said in a bored tone of voice.

  “Whatever indeed,” Sable muttered as she stalked out of the cell and followed the woman to another set of iron bars.

  “The poofters, excuse me, homosexuals and their friends have been released.”

  “Friends?” Sable asked, but the buzzer again sounded, drowning out her question. She almost skipped to keep up with the woman as she was led to a desk and handed an envelope filled with the things she’d had on hand when she was picked up.

  “It’s all there,” the female officer said as she watched Sable count the money in her wallet. “And your friends will meet you out front.”

  With that, she escorted Sable through a set of glass doors and into a large room filled with desks, ringing phones, and the stale smell of days-old coffee.

  “You are free to go,” she said, and turned to walk back towards her lair of cages, leaving Sable to make her way slowly through a maze of confusion to a bench set up in the front of the room. The waiting room, she supposed as she watched the hustle and bustle in the room.

  Now, how could she find Torn? she wondered as she became lost in thought. She would get Jack and Jill, and then she would…

  “I’m telling you, I don’t know these men!” Jill’s aggravated voice sounded throughout the room.

  “I wish I did.” Jase added as an officer escorted the six men to the front of the building.

  “Yeah, yeah,” an officer said as he pointed to the front doors. “And I am Finn McCool! These men are the Finnians and we are here to right wrongs and create a utopia free of giants and one six-eyed monster. Just don’t leave town, leather boyos!” he added as his comment drew a few chuckles from the officers around them. “We may need you for further questioning.”

  Sighing his defeat, Jill latched onto Jack’s hand and pulled him towards the exit, Jase and the three strangers following closely.

  “Jill!” Sable called, drawing his attention, and the attention of his leather-clad honor guard as all heads turned in her direction.

  “Sable!” Jill exclaimed as he pulled Jack along, as he made his way to his favorite girl. “Are you all right, love? Did they do anything to you? You didn’t meet up with the business end of a broomstick, did you? I was careful not to bend over and pick up the soap,” he prattled as he released Jack to grip her shoulders and give her a thorough looking over. “I might have been tempted, but I had my baby with me.”

  “Jill!” Sable wailed as she tried to hold in her laughter.

  “Are you fine?” he asked again, looking into her eyes deeply.

  “I am,” she decided, knowing that he was asking after more than her mental and physical state. “I have to find him, Jill. I have to find Torn.”

  At her words, the three leather-clad giants, who had followed Jack, Jase and Jill, reacted.

  “Torn?” the largest one said somewhat urgently. “Tosa ke it to!” Take me to him.

  “Friend of yours?” she asked quietly, in awe as she stared up at the men. How many herds of cows did it take to cover even one of those bodies?

  “Torn,” he insisted again as he took a step forward, looking anxious and concerned.

  “Friends of his?” Jill pondered as Jack got between Sable and Jill and the men who came closer.

  “They sound like Torn,” Sable breathed, still starring at the three.

  “Torn!” he repeated again, looking more worried than before.

  “I think I just figured out how to find him,” Sable said as she eased out of Jill’s arms and walked around a cautious Jack.

  “Torn?” she asked, head cocked to the side as she had seen Torn do so many times.

  The three started nodding, looking a bit relieved themselves.

  “Okay!” Sable said as a huge smile broke across her lips. “You know Torn and probably can’t understand a thing I am saying. But you are going to help me find him. I want my man back,” she said, and Jill began laughing. “I want him back and I am not going to let him go, no matter what he is!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Terror paced in the hall, his gaze skittering past Nello and turning to the room that would give him all of the answers that he needed, yet held its secrets.

  “What is taking them so long?” he growled as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, pressing his palms to his face. “They know that they should report in! Something is wrong!”

  “You had a nightmare,” Nello soothed as she watched her mate wear grooves in the stone floor. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “You, of all people,” he said, pausing in front of his mate, “know better than to believe that. There are no such things as dreams, Nello.”

  Sighing, Nello lowered her head, her eyes tearing up as her mask of confidence began to shatter.

  “You are right, Terror,” she began, but held up a hand to stop him when he would have tried to comfort her with a hug. “But I have confidence in my son. I have…to…”

  But she could not hold it in any longer. Nello, the wise and strong one who always supported Terror and tried to do the right thing to aid everyone, finally broke.

  “If I was there for him,” she sobbed. “If I was there, he would s
till be here!”

  “Nello…” Terror began, reaching out to enfold her in his powerful arms, but she rejected his touch, jumping back holding out one hand as the other clenched at her chest, trying to hold together the pieces of her heart.

  “No, Terror!” she said in a broken voice, breath rasping as she struggled to get the word out. “If I had stood up to my father, if I had taken him with me, if…”

  “Don’t live for what-ifs, my love,” Terror cut her off, reaching out and pulling her against his chest. She resisted for a moment, resting her head against his chest and jerking her hands away from him, but his greater strength and arm span overcame her objections.

  “Nello,” he crooned.

  Then she let her tears fly, stopped trying to hold in her pain and suffering, her guilt.

  She rested her face against his chest as broken sobs exploded from her chest.

  “I should have been there,” she repeated over and over. “I should have been there for him! I should have taken him home with me!”

  “So that your father could have killed him?” Terror asked, as he gripped her shoulders and pulled away from his mate, staring her in her eyes.

  He’d had enough of the self-doubt and the pity. It was time to regain order over this situation.

  “You don’t know…” she began.

  “I know,” Terror stated with finality. His gaze bore into hers, forcing her to see the truth of his words. “And if you had taken my son away, I would have stormed the gates of the Magic Realm to reclaim you both. If you had taken Torn away from me, I would have died, Nello. There were times when my only comfort was to look into his face and see you!”

  “Terror, I made such a mistake,” Nello sobbed, her eyes red and puffy, her face stained with the passing of a thousand bitter tears.

  “We made mistakes, Nello. They are not exclusive to you. I became so ashamed of what I forced on my son, of what was done to him because of me, that I could hardly stare him in the eyes. This, after one of the sweetest memories I had of him was when he wrapped his soft pudgy baby arms around my neck…” His voice broke as he blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. “He put his arms around my neck and said that he loved me, Nello. He said that he loved me and all I could do was stand there, mute, my child clinging to my arms. And all that I could think was that he had no right to love me after I cursed him, tainted him with my blood!”

  “No, Terror, no!” Nello said, her voice rising with her intensity as she reached up to cup his cheeks.

  “Your father took the darkest parts of me, the blackness of my soul, to create the Reaver!”

  “There are no black parts of your soul, Terror,” Nello said assuredly. “My father took a dark part of you to create the Reaver, but what he took was partially your sense of justice and your fighting spirit. There never was any evil in you, Terror, as there is no evil in Torn.”

  “No evil?” he nearly shouted, after closing his eyes and gulping a breath of air. “No evil in me, Nello? I could not even tell my own child that I loved him, and you say there is no evil in me?”

  “Confusion, my love, and guilt and maybe fear, but no evil, Terror! Your son, the Reaver, is made up of qualities that were and are the best of you.”

  Terror dropped his head at his wife’s words. He knew that she made some sense with her logical mind, but his soul was castigating him for his wrongs.

  “You feel him, Terror, because a part of him, a major part of him, is from you. You know your son. You feel him every day. You know that he holds no hate for you, that he loves you.”

  “But he is in pain,” Terror whispered as he forced his eyes open.

  “He is hurt?” Nello gasped, forgetting for a moment that if Torn were in any physical pain, nothing and no one would have kept Terror away from his son.

  “He is in pain, I can feel it. He is confused and hurt, Nello. Not physically, but the pain is almost as deep.”

  “We will get to him, Terror. We will bring him home. Soon,” Nello stated, regaining her composure and her self-confidence. “We will go and get him together. We will bring our baby home.”

  “Home,” Terror sighed as he wrapped his arms around his mate, still feeling the frantic beat of his heart against his breastbone, but knowing that a resolution was coming, that his child would not suffer very much longer.

  But the feel of her soft breasts pressing against the muscled wall of his chest sent his heart racing for a very different reason.

  “Nello,” he whispered, just before his mate reared up and smashed her lips against his.

  This was no kiss, this was a taking, a sharing of pain, and he understood that it was as cathartic as well as erotic.

  He moaned and parted his mouth as her teeth worried at his lower lip, her tongue quick to soothe away the pain, but aggressive in getting what she wanted.

  Giving into her demands, he rose lifted her in his arms and rushed back to the bedchamber, rushing them both into the center of the bed, reclining and arranging them so easy access to both their bodies were attainable.

  Her body rose over his, making him growl as he spied her breasts hanging over his chest.

  He had to touch them, to reaffirm that they were his and that he could do just about anything he wanted to do with them.

  Nello was his, and soon their child would be home and they would be one big happy family, a family done right this time.

  “Terror,” Nello gasped as his hands reached out and palmed her breasts, rolling the nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Get closer,” he growled as he moved to help her swing both legs astride his stomach.

  He felt his erection surge, his cock throb in time with his heartbeat, his breath rasp from his throat as he felt all of her surround him.

  He wanted to be lost in his Nello, surrounded by all the magic and mystery that was uniquely woman, but definitely all Nello.

  “Closer,” he growled again, and his hands clamped around her waist, pulling her to sit on his abs as he urged her to bend down, to hang those delectable tits over his mouth.

  Nello threw back her head and cried out as his lips attached themselves to her right nipple, sucking the bud deeply into his mouth and the areola around it, into the hot wet heat.

  Her hands tangled in his hair, her breathing frantic as she pushed to get closer.

  She felt the juices from her sopping cunt leak over his stomach, giving enough lubrication for her hips to begin a desperate slide, the friction teasing her clit as she spread her legs and tried to get closer.

  Terror arched up into her slide, adding more friction as the hot wet stickiness covered him. This is what he wanted, he mentally growled as the musky scent of her sex filled his senses. He wanted his Nello a panting, grasping, wanting thing of need; need for him and for what he could do.

  His hands slipped down to knead her ass as he pulled from the right nipple and pressed a series of nips and licks to the left.

  Her moans were growing more audible, more delicious to his senses as he worked his way up to her neck, biting and sucking at the skin, leaving his marks so that the whole realm would know to whom she belonged.

  “Creator, I need you,” he rasped into her ear, his tongue lashing out to lave the delicate bit of flesh that made up her lobe. “I need you hot and ready and greedy for my cock. Tell me!”

  “I’m ready,” Nello whimpered, trying to rise up, but growling as his hands held her in place.

  “Tell me you want me!”

  “Creator, I want you, Terror,” she managed as she struggled to break his hold. Her nerves were on fire, her body a furnace of need and he was playing these games? How dare he deny her what she wanted, what truly was hers?

  “More,” he purred as he began to grind upwards as he eased her back, the long hard shaft of his cock nestling between the cheeks of her ass, teasing her with his wicked heat and his thick length.

  “Don’t fuck with me!” Nello growled, trying to slide back more, writhing as his wiry pubic hair
teased the delicate rosebud of her rear passage as her clit bounced along his muscled abs. “Give it to me now!”

  “Take it,” he finally allowed as he felt the beaded dew of his pre-cum bead up on the head of his cock and slowly began to leak down, mixing with her juices that now covered them both.

  He relaxed his hold and instantly, Nello was rearing up, hovering over his cock, the wet sucking nether mouth just teasing the purple head.

  Reaching down, he grabbed the base, stroking it a few times with the combined lubrication of both their bodies, slicking the way for her, then he waited, his eyes wild and dazed as they bore into hers.

  “Oh Creator, Terror…” Then she was lowering herself, letting her weight drag her body down, eyes widening as she was parted and filled, and stretched and filled some more.

  “Sssss!” Terror hissed as he threw his head back, breaking eye contact with his frantic mate, unable to watch her take what she needed from him and maintain some of his control.

  He knew that this session would not last long; they were both filled with too much panic and need. But it was what each of them needed, and because his job was to see to her needs, he would try to hold on a little longer.

  He gritted his teeth as he felt his cock enveloped in the most wonderful, almost painful, wet hot tightness that pulsed and writhed around him.

  His hips automatically thrust up, impaling her a bit more, getting that last inch within her sugared walls, driving a wringing cry from her arched throat.

  “Nello!” he growled as he forced his eyes open, drinking in the sight of her head tossed back, the feel of her long hair teasing his balls, the helpless sounds she was making as she began to rock her hips from side to side, circling, grinding him in deeper.

  “Move,” she managed as she slowly brought her head up, her trembling hands reaching out for his shoulders as her body fell forward, covering him in both lust and longing. “Move for me.”

  And he moved, slowly at first, still stretching her and making her ride a bit easier for them both. Then his hips were slamming up, pressing deep before a long slow guide out.