Tania

by Daniela Jackson

  I scratch his earlobe with my teeth. “Tight and untouched.”

  “Mine,” Arnau growls and it’s the most primal growl I’ve ever heard. My mother would say sexy, but I kind of don’t grasp this little word.

  I kiss the corner of his mouth. “Untouched mouth. Untouched cunt. Untouched ass. Interested?”

  “Very interested.” He grunts, his eyes threatening like a river after a bad storm. “Mine.”

  He draws me closer to him as our lips meet in an impatient kiss. I feel his hand slip under my shirt and touch my breast. His fingers twist my nipple, causing me to whimper.

  “You really love me, Arnau?”

  “I said I did. I’m not gonna repeat myself.” His heavy breath puffing on my neck causes a tingle to run down my spine.

  “My mother—“

  “It’s never been her, Isabella. It’s always been you. Only you.” There’s passion in his voice I’ve never heard before. “She came to Zaria so she could give you to me.” He nibbles on my earlobe as the tip of his tongue and his teeth make me feel like I’m insane. “Only you. Always.”

  “You are a romantic.” I cup his face in both my hands. “Fuck me.”

  “No.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “It’s dangerous here. We have to go.” He shoves me off.

  I growl my frustration but that only makes him grin.

  Arnau

  We gather up our blankets and extinguish the fire. Isabella snorts and rolls her eyes each time our glances meet. She wants me. She’ll want me more and more with each lunar triad that passes. I know what she wants from me—what she wants to hear from me. I will feed her slowly with my words and touch. I’ll make her sizzle for me.

  I smack her ass lightly. She squeals, turns to me and raises her finger in a threatening gesture. I lean towards her and kiss her on the mouth. Her arms wrap around my neck.

  We should move, but I can’t tear my mouth off hers. She presses her soft body against mine, and all my rationality evaporates without a trace. I can focus only on her breasts and ass. On her lips attached to mine. Her tiny hand slips under my trousers, and her fingers close around my cock. I am at her mercy. I sizzle for her. It’s not a bad feeling though.

  “I love you, Isabella.”

  She purrs. “You can be sweet.”

  “You are my z’onny.”

  “Say that again,” she gasps, her cheeks flushed, eyes wild.

  “I’m not gonna repeat myself.”

  She strokes my cock up and down as her tongue touches my neck. I almost cum.

  “I’ll go mad, woman.”

  “I can see.” She pecks my cheek. “Say that again.”

  “I love you, Isabella, you are my z’onny.”

  Her lips mould to mine as her hand works my cock faster. I kiss her deeper and she works me harder. She’s not very experienced, yet it’s the hand job of my life. Heat shoots to my toes and they curl. My balls tighten, and I explode.

  I’m deaf for a moment. A thought stirs in my hazy head.

  She should tell me she loves me. She doesn’t. She pulls away from me, her face white. Her lips turn greyish. The hairs on my back rise.

  A deep growl travels to my ears.

  “Don’t move,” I mouth to her.

  Isabella

  I can see four punnicas. Their grey eyes gleam with an urge of murder as they expose their fangs of a pale blue colour. Their silver bodies exude the aura of primal ruthlessness as their hard muscles bulge under their short mottled fur. Four. One can smash us within an instant and there’s four of them.

  Arnau glances at me, his face rigid. “Run.” His lips move, but no sound comes out of his mouth.

  “No.”

  One of the punnicas moves closer, stops, and tilts his head. They’re playing with us. They love playing with their prey. They sometimes make their prey die of fear, just by glancing at them.

  They can love. They can mourn their mates. A mix of contradictions. Some say punnicas are the true rulers of Zaria.

  A cold sweat pricks my back. My heart thumps in my ears.

  “Run,” Arnau growls.

  He holds his swords, drawing them from the sheaths and turns around. The biggest of the punnicas leaps at him, rising on her back legs. She’s almost as tall as Arnau. The smallest of them leaps at me—it must be her son. I jerk my body back. There’s only the emptiness of air beneath my feet. I gasp as my body starts speeding down.

  Memories flash through my head. I see my mom, my dad, and my sisters. My little son, Tancred. I know I’m going to die. My body hits a branch. Thorns jab my chest. I scream, my hands searching for something to hold on. But there’s nothing. I tumble down. Another branch. A rough piece of rock. Pain. I see blackness in front of my eyes. My body hits a cold surface. I black out for a moment. Wet coldness wraps around me and strangles my throat. It invades my lungs. I can’t breathe. There’s a rumble, the sensation of twirling and tumbling, my primal fear. I can’t breathe. A thousand icicles jab my body. No, they’re not icicles. They’re my death. It’s dense, heavy, wet. So cold.

  A force yanks me up. I jerk my arms forward. I catch nothing as my lungs fill with air. Pain paralyses me. I cough as the force hauls me on uneven ground. I choke, cough, and retch. Cough again. I realise I’m coughing up water. I stop moving. A face wavers above mine. It’s a woman’s face.

  Blackness cuts me off from reality. I drift in greyness. Red flashes whirl in my head. I drift in whiteness. Green flashes dance in my head.

  “Wake up,” a deep female voice says.

  “Arnau,” I murmur, my eyes closed, a whirl of white, black, and red flashes in my head.

  “Open your eyes,” the woman says.

  No, she’s commanding me.

  Nausea surges through my stomach as my throat becomes itchy as though a horde of ants is walking down it and biting me. I inhale deeply and my lungs hurt. My body hurts. No, it’s an agony in every cell of my form. Every muscle feels like a real fire has seized it. I cry out.

  “Arnau,” I gasp.

  “There was only blood left,” the woman says, “and one dead punnica. The mother.”

  “No.”

  “You’re young. You’ll love again.”

  “No.”

  An herbal smell invades my nostrils. I manage to open my eyes and a flickering light causes me to squeeze them shut. A finger lifts my eyelid and then the other one.

  “Your brain is fine,” the woman says. “You’ll have a few scars on your chest and one on your cheek.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. Where is my husband?”

  “I told you.”

  “No, he’s not dead.” I lift my head and nausea pins me down.

  My eyes sweep over a ceiling. No, it’s not a ceiling. I’m looking at a rock roof as though I’m inside a cave.

  My eyes sweep over the woman’s face. Time is chiselled on her cheeks and around her mouth. Grey hairs mingle with golden ones and slip out of the flowery scarf on her head. Heavy hoops adorn her ears as a flowery dress hugs her curvy body.

  “Aria,” the woman says. “My name is Aria. You’ve got my nephew’s brand on your back.” Her green eyes turn glassy for a moment. “My other nephew, Agnar, will take you as his wife to honour Arnau.”

  “Tell Agnar I’m gonna chop his dick off if he dares touch me.”

  Aria erupts into laughter. “My nephew married such a filthy mouth? Interesting.”

  I lean against my elbows as my eyes roam over my surroundings. I am in a cave in fact. The brown rock glitters, licked by the light dispersed by four torches. I’m lying on a thick mattress made of seaweed.

  “Arnau is the best warrior on the Continent,” I say. “He needs a wife who can be his equal.”

  “He is dead, girl.”

  “Have you seen his body?”

  “I’ve seen his blood splattered on the ground. And two of his fingers. One had our tribal tattoo.”

  Pain crushes my heart. “No.”

  I
collapse on the mattress and blackness cuts me off from reality. I float in oblivion interrupted by moments of pain. I wake up and fall asleep. It’s a blur.

  I wake up and see Aria sitting by my mattress on the red rug spread on the rock floor. She puts three cushions under my back and feeds me with soup. I manage to gulp five spoons. Aria helps me roll on my side and puts ointment over my wounds. I look myself up and down—my naked body is covered with cuts and scratches. My right ankle is twisted. My left knee is swollen and painful.

  “How long have I been in here?” I ask.

  “Seven lunar triads.”

  “Arnau—“

  “Forget about him.”

  “No. Never.”

  My mind spins out of control, and I pass out. As I wake up, the cave is dark and I’m the only occupant. I cry and pass out again.

  Somebody’s gentle touch tears me out of my oblivion. I open my eyes and see Aria sitting by my mattress. She rises to her feet and walks off. She returns with a bowl and a few pieces of cloth. I feel grateful because I can smell myself. She washes my body and helps me relieve my bladder.

  “My family needs your people,” I say. “We are desperate.”

  “We heard some rumours.”

  “Will you help us?”

  “No.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Sleep, you filthy mouth.”

  The next lunar triad, I get up and have a walk around the cave. Aria gives me a flowery dress to put on, and I eat a meal at a low table made of black marble. Aria watches me with curious eyes as I pop the food into my mouth.

  “If you don’t want to help me,” I say, “then at least give me one man to guide me back to Nassara.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Agnar wants you to stay here.”

  “I’m not gonna marry him. I told you.”

  “You either marry him or you die, girl. Our village is safe because nobody knows its location.” She nods several times. “You can’t leave, you understand?”

  “I understand.” Everything inside me stiffens.

  The village is hidden in the Silver Forest. Hunters catch the Eligorians who exit it to search for food and clothes. The tribe hunt deerrhana and pick up roots, leaves and berries, trade with mobile sellers, paying with precious gems.

  The Eligorians are imprinted to know the location of their home just like Zaria’s birds. No torture can get this knowledge out of their genes. The Silver Forests is spread over the central and northern part of the Continent. I know because we’ve had two lectures on its geography at school. Arnau’s village is surrounded by a delicate disturbance of time and space and only the Eligorians out of all Zaria’s races can use it. That disturbance obscures the village. The truth is that the village can be located in any point of the Silver Forest—in the heart of it, along the border, everywhere. That is because the disturbance works as a four-dimensional gate—that’s what they teach us at school. Surely, it must be visible from our gods’ spaceships. The motherfuckers don’t share their knowledge with us though.

  Our gods use similar four-dimensional yet more advanced technology.

  So, the Eligorians can let you in, but they’ll never let you out. Unless you’re one of them.

  I’m fucked.

  “I will marry your nephew,” I say.

  There’s no other way. I need to marry the dick and convince him to help my family.

  ***

  Three lunar triads later.

  I’m standing in the centre of the village. It’s the biggest cave in the whole underground system. A hundred of torches give it a shimmery misty aura. I sit on the red stool and lower the straps of my red gown. It has a beaded bodice and a draped hem that reaches to my calves.

  Agnar is going to add his brand above Arnau’s. Tears prick my eyes. My back will be Arnau’s tablet.

  Agnar is not a bad man. He is nice and gentle. He hasn’t touched me yet, because I asked him to give me more time.

  He said he’d take care of me to honour Arnau. He said I was beautiful. He said he wouldn’t share me if I didn’t want that.

  He looks almost like Arnau and that breaks my heart.

  Fifty-five Eligorians surround me—thirty men, ten women, and fifteen children.

  I know they’re good people. They don’t want to hurt me—they just want to protect their children.

  Agnar kneels down behind me, unlaces the back of my gown, and dips the needle into the ink. I turn my head to face him.

  “Ready?” he asks and winks at me.

  Chapter 13

  Isabella

  “Are you ready, Agnar?” I ask, my voice raspy.

  He chuckles as Arnau would and tears trickle down my cheeks. His hand rises, and I close my eyes, dropping my head. It must be done. I want to live, and I want to go back to Nassara. My family needs me.

  I take a deep breath and pull myself together. I don’t fucking believe Arnau is dead. I need to find him. I will find him. I’d have felt his death. I’m his z’onny. I’d knew if he was dead.

  I will spread my legs for Agnar and the dick will help my family. He will help me find my husband. I can be a sweet girl, right? I can persuade a man. I will.

  “You fucking touch my wife and I twist your neck, brother,” a furious voice rumbles behind me. “I swear. Hands off my wife.”

  I turn around and fall off the stool. “Arnau.”

  Gods of the Continent, my husband looks like shit. He sways as two men jump to him and support him. I scramble to my feet and shoot towards him, but my feet tangle with a rug, and I fall down.

  Arnau starts laughing.

  “Bastard,” I growl as Aria helps me stand up. “You think you can die and come here and laugh at me?” I realise I’m yelling.

  All eyes turn to me.

  Arnau laughs even louder as he lowers to sit on a green rug and three men start looking at his wounds. I pull forward, but my legs are so spongy that I fall to my knees. I start crawling as tears blind me. My hand searches for Arnau’s and our fingers lace. I see that his other hand misses two fingers. It doesn’t matter. He is alive. That’s all that matters to me.

  I move closer to him, settling myself between his splayed legs.

  “Don’t do this to me again,” I growl. “I love you too much, you dick. I forbid you from dying.”

  “You look good, Isabella,” he mumbles as though he’s drunk.

  “You look like shit, no offence.”

  Arnau’s eyes roll back, and he passes out.

  My eyes meet Agnar’s, and I see a shadow of disappointment in his kind gaze. Then he leans over his brother and joy fills his eyes. We slide our arms under Arnau’s and with two more men, we move my husband to a room that Aria chooses for us.

  Arnau wakes for a moment and drifts off again. Aria examines his wounds.

  “Everything is fine,” she says. “Dry and closed. Interesting.”

  Arnau

  Her shaky persistent voice tears me out of the darkness holding me captive, but my eyelids are too heavy for me to lift them.

  “How are you feeling?” she sobs.

  “Fine.” It comes out in a rasp.

  “Bullshit.”

  I have a comfortable bed, my wife by my side, and an intact dick. I’m fine.

  Finally, I open my eyes, and Isabella’s face blurs above mine. Her tears drop to my cheek.

  “Why are you crying, woman?”

  “They told me you were dead, you know.”

  “I’m not dead.” I’m all alive; and my dick is even more alive.

  “I almost married that dick, Agnar, you know.”

  “I was just about time.”

  Her soft, wet lips brush against mine, and my dick grows rock-hard. Screams for her virgin cunt.

  “You could ride me, Isabella.”

  “Sleep, Arnau. You need to heal.”

  I guess, being pronounced dead is not enough for your wife to be eager to ride you, so I allow myself to drift off to sl
eep.

  Isabella

  I cover him with a patchwork blanket and exit the cave that was allocated to us by Aria three lunar triads ago. My husband was unconscious until today. I washed him and helped Aria to clean his wounds. They are not infected, but he needs plenty of rest, so I go to visit Aria. I’m still learning about this underground maze of caves—runes mark the walls and torches illuminate my way, but I get lost twice. One of the women shows me the right passage then a kid points his finger to majestic stalagmites. Finally, I enter the second biggest cave in the village and see Aria sitting by the edge of the largest of hot springs. I strip and jump into the shimmery green water. Aria peels her clothes off and stands opposite me. She holds my hand in hers, as her eyes sweep over the lines that cross my left palm. Our glances meet. Her eyes shine silver. It means that she can see things now. Yes, we’ve had a lot of time for chattering. Some of the Eligorians are very gifted people, but they have no control over their gifts. Their powers come and go.

  Aria is their queen, but they’re a very democratic community. They share everything. They speak freely. They choose freely.

  “What can you see, Aria?”

  Steam rises around us in thin serpentine streaks. The smell of minerals is all-pervasive.

  Aria runs her fingertip along one of the lines. “A lot of things, filthy mouth.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The gods were,” she says. “They are and they will be. They have to do their job and the humans have to do their job. Sometimes bad things are not bad when you look at them from a different perspective.”

  “They’re ruthless monsters,” I hiss. “My mother almost died because of them. My friends from school…” Now it stabs me. Drills into my heart with fury. I’ve kept all these emotions on a leash, but now they’re flooding me. “My sister…” It comes out in a dry whisper. “I hate them.” I choke back tears. I feel hollow.

  “They’re guardians.” Aria strokes my head. “All the worlds need guardians. Don’t think about them. Think about your husband. He loves you like mad.”

  “I know.”

  “Love him like mad and give him children. That’s your job, Isabella.”

  “I know.”

  “The gods will sort things out. As always.”

  “I thought my school-mates and I could change the world.”