Temple of Cocidius: A Monster Girl Harem Adventure: Book 3

by Maxx Whittaker

  When the first tremors of her climax start, she grabs my face, grinds my lips to hers and cries her satisfaction into my mouth.

  I cum. My hard cock spurts heat deep into her tepid body; she lashes me to her with lean arms and cums again, our bodies straining, writhing for every last drop.

  “Ohh,” she melts again, cool check pressed above the thunder of my heartbeat. “That was worth the wait.”

  “Other benefits aside?”

  “Meaning?” she asks, perking up.

  “You know, you gain a little power each time. And so do I-“ I thrust my fingers; nothing happens. “So do I…” No flames. Not a spark.

  “It’s not a gesture, it’s a feeling. Consume.”

  I flick my fingers; a small flame dances at my fingertip.

  Etain smirks, flips her hand and sends a column of flame that could ignite the bower.

  “Well. No pressure-” I yawn, worn out by a day that feels like years, “Anyway, the more we bond, the more we benefit. Just something to keep in mind. No reason.”

  “I will keep it in mind.” She sits back, luminous eyes on mine. “There are others. Finna, and you’ve coupled with more.”

  “They’ll be waiting in the garden.” I hedge, gauging her reaction.

  Etain licks my bottom lip, her mouth sweet and tasting vaguely like my cock. “As curses go, this is one of the better ways to break one.”

  She kisses me one last time, tongue running over mine.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  -The Garden-

  We stand before the portal, hands twined. Etain seems truly uncertain for the first time. I squeeze her fingers, reassuring.

  “It’s going to be good,” I promise. “It’s a lot like your garden here.”

  We step through.

  On the other side is flame and death.

  We stumble onto a cobbled street, one torn by war. Bodies, common folk, shopkeepers, women and children; they lie strewn in the gutter, and blood flows thick between stones I would recognize in my sleep. The buildings next to us are destroyed, some burned, some torn by magic, others looted by pillaging soldiers.

  But between the buildings, something is off. I see elements of the garden; trees slowly moving in the wind, the bust of Cocidius perched in the broken window of a shop.

  But I don’t care, can’t think of anything but the sound of a crowd. One that I hear in my dreams, every single night.

  Am I dreaming now?

  No.

  Etain’s hand grips mine. “Is this the garden?” Her eyes run wild over the chaos.

  “No, no...Something is wrong. Something…” I can’t speak, fall to my knees. I’m shaking, can’t stop, and I vomit.

  “Lir! Lir, what’s happening?” Etain’s sword is out, blazing.

  But she can’t stop what’s about to happen.

  Nothing can.

  I rise, stagger forward, know what I’ll find. Walk a street, feeling the same horror and shock I did the first time, a year ago, a lifetime ago.

  Etain trails after me, turning, looking for our enemy, sword in one hand and flame in the other.

  At the end of the street, we turn, clear the broken buildings. Somehow, the hot spring where I found Freya and Meridiana rests under the awning of a cobbler’s shop. Next to that is the corpse of a butcher I knew, bought venison from for Esmanth’s birthday, pinned to the wall by a spear of magical light that blinks in and out of existence.

  The Oryllix are close. I grit my teeth, confusion and fear forgotten, and draw my blades.

  We clear the street and bump into the tail end of a frothing crowd, roiling with rebellion. Above them, the walls of my family’s keep. I breathe deep, know what I’ll see what I raise my eyes.

  My father, in chains, bent over the edge of the wall. His face is peaceful, accepting, dignified in the face of imminent death. My mother is next to him, pale, hands clasped before her, her golden hair framing a face drawn with sorrow. Next to them, my brother strains at his bonds, a face that is a mirror of my own shouting words lost in the noise of the crowd.

  And over them stand the Oryllix and Mynogin. One holds my father’s chains, his arm raised high, waiting to deliver a sentence already determined. His blade, Bloodmoon, is a curved length of crimson that hisses and steams in the sunlight. Two is behind them, a spear of reality warping magic in her hand, face impassive. Mynogin stands on the other side of my father, proclaiming something to the crowd, but I can’t hear him over the blood pumping in my ears.

  My father’s steward surges from the crowd, shouts something about the rightful rulers of Loria, something no one else dares voice. He rushes the wall, fist raised, spittle flying from his lips.

  I strain, try to stop him, push against the crowd. I know his fate, have seen it in my dreams.

  He’s already dead.

  Two doesn’t even look at him. Her delicate finger raises, and even as he clears the edge of the mob, he stumbles, falls to the street, and starts to scream. Screams that no amount of liquor will ever help me forget. His skin melts and his flesh boils, his body convulsing and unravelling against the stone as his wails echo against the walls of my keep.

  My fists lights with fire, weak but still deadly, and I reach forward to push my way through the crowd.

  Etain’s grip pulls me back. I turn, mindless, ready to kill whatever is between me and my vengeance, but the terror in Etain’s eyes stops me, makes me realize what I was about to do, brings me back to reality. “Not yet. Not now,” she says, voice urgent. “Not against them.”

  And then she looks up, eyes wide with sorrow.

  I turn, already know what she’s seen.

  At the edge of the wall, in the doorway of one of the battlement’s towers, is my sister. Esmanth, her face pale, shouting, straining against a guard. His fist raises, lowers, impacting the back of her skull. She falls, boneless.

  I move, my blades hissing from their sheaths, Etain’s gift lighting them with fire.

  This time is different.

  This time, I’m ready.

  Hey!

  Thanks for reading my serial. I appreciate your time and money, and respectfully ask one last favor: that you leave an honest review. Your feedback helps me write the stories you want to read, and a rating helps others find great books. (Goodreads does not, unfortunately, cross-post, as much sense as that would make).

  You can review it here.

  Temple of Cocidius is a five-week, five-part serial before the release of my harem novel Gentleman’s Guide to the Ladies of Londum. Keep an eye out for that one in November 2018, followed by a second monster girl harem, Half-Drowned & Hanged.

  Thanks again for reading. If you’d like some occasional updates about sales, and free content including short stories, early access, and teaser chapters, you can sign up for my mailing list. I don’t spam and I try not to bug you more than 4-6 times a year. Yay.

  -Maxx

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