by A. H. Lee
Jessica sagged against him. He removed his fingers, but kept his hand on her hip, still kissing her throat. After a moment, Jessica twisted to face him, sliding her arms around his neck. She was still a little breathless. “My lord, you have hidden talents! And I can’t help feeling a bit selfish right now.”
Dustin laughed, nose-to-nose with her. “I did it right, then?”
“You did it so right.” She kissed him on the mouth. Dustin returned her kiss—slow and soft. He did not try to stick his tongue down her throat. She only felt its soft brush now and then against her own. You may not have done much fucking, she thought, but you’ve definitely done some kissing.
His hands wandered over her body, brushing her breasts, her back, her shoulders, settling on her butt. Jessica entwined her arms more tightly around his neck, petting his hair and feeling the pleasant shifting of his well-built shoulders. His cock was pressing against her pubic bone. The angle was almost…
Jessica wrapped one leg around his waist and now his cock was pressing against her entrance through her gown. Perfect. Their kissing grew deeper and more urgent. Jessica tilted her head back and he ran kisses all the way to the hollow of her throat.
“I want to see you,” breathed Dustin, but he made an unhappy noise when she pulled away.
Well, you didn’t think I was going to take all my clothes off on the balcony, did you?
The interior of Dustin’s suite was softly lit. Jessica walked to the middle of the room, turned, and let her half-opened clothes slide to the floor. She was conscious of how the low light glowed on her golden skin, tracing the curves of her hips, breasts, and slender waist. Dustin stood before the blowing drapes of the balcony, drinking in her body.
Jessica felt strangely powerful. She was still wearing her panties, and she let him peel them off her as they came together again. He was still fully dressed, and she took a perverse delight in the feel of the expensive fabric against her bare skin.
She wrapped one leg around his waist and pressed herself against his cock through the fabric of his trousers. Dustin groaned. Jessica rocked against him, and his hands clenched suddenly and convulsively around the globes of her ass. “My lady, please,” he gasped.
Jessica giggled into his ear. “Are you going to come in your trousers, my lord?”
“If you don’t stop, yes.”
Jessica bit his ear. “Shall I make you?”
“Please don’t.”
“Mmm.” She nibbled. “Well then maybe we should take your clothes off.”
When he actually decided to begin, Dustin struggled out of his clothes with almost embarrassing speed. Jessica thought the process could have been improved by going a little more slowly.
His cock bounced free, standing up straight from his body. Jessica would have liked to examine it, but he seemed desperate to bring their bodies together again, and so she kissed him while stroking his member with her fingers. The skin was velvety smooth, the flesh beneath rock hard. A small amount of slick moisture oozed from the tip. So men get wet, too! I had no idea.
Jessica walked him backwards towards the bed. Dustin offered no resistance. His knees unhinged as he encountered the mattress, and he folded backwards onto the bed with Jessica in his arms. Jessica straddled his lap. She’d seen this position in the erotica manual she’d borrowed from Azrael’s library, and she found it intriguing. Dustin made no move to get on top of her, so she positioned herself over his cock and gently pressed down.
Dustin groaned as he sank inside her. “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. Jessica, you’re amazing.”
“You’re pretty amazing yourself,” she panted. His cock did feel wonderful. She also felt astonishingly powerful. The pressure was intense, and Jessica moved slowly, not taking it all inside at first. She rocked Dustin’s cock in and out of her pussy, getting a feel for the angle and pressure. Dustin moaned, his hands tight around her hips, but not forcing her down.
The prince opened his eyes and stared at her—a look of absolute reverence and awe on his face. This is the best thing in the world, thought Jessica. He was watching the sway of her breasts as though they were priceless treasures. He reached up to stroke and squeeze them.
Jessica moved faster, finally able to take him entirely inside. On the deepest edge of the thrust, she felt a twinge of pain, but it mingled with the pleasure in a way that she found intoxicating.
Dustin’s hands clamped on her hips again. He gave a wordless cry. Jessica fucked him harder, driving each thrust deep. Dustin started to buck up against her, losing control of himself and that, too, was intoxicating. Come on, shy boy. Let’s see if I can make you scream.
He babbled something incoherent. Jessica felt that electric charge of warmth in her belly—something she dimly remembered from her encounter with the werebeast. She was lost in her pleasure, lost in her head, fucking Dustin so hard that it felt like his cock was somehow hitting the center of her being, as though she could draw him inside herself in more ways than one.
The orgasm that swept over her seemed to rise from deep in her core, curling her toes before clenching her pussy, pulling her abdominal muscles tight. Jessica groaned and slumped forward. She was damp with sweat, trembling, and she could feel from Dustin’s softening cock that he’d climaxed, too.
She opened her eyes, smiling. “Dustin, that was—”
Dustin was staring at the ceiling. He was slack-jawed, glassy-eyed, and not breathing.
Jessica screamed.
Chapter 11. Lying
Jessica huddled in an overstuffed chair, wrapped in a fuzzy robe, watching the stars through her bedroom window. A pile of tissues lay on the little table at her elbow, but she’d stopped crying. The elaborately carved clock on the wall gave a soft chime for midnight. Jessica couldn’t remember ever hearing it when she was in bed. She wondered whether an enchantment kept it from making noise when the lights were out. She wondered what other sorts of enchantments lay hidden in these rooms—how much Azrael could see of what went on.
Will he think I killed Dustin? Did I?
She jumped as the door to her room swung softly. Jessica whirled and peered over the back of her chair. She half expected to see Tod with more tissues and tea, but instead she saw the dark, severe silhouette of Lord Azrael. This time, the panther made no attempt to hide, but paced into the room beside his master, silver collar flashing in the low light.
Jessica stood up, shaking, pulling her robe more tightly around herself. Before she could say anything, Azrael spoke, his voice soft and low as usual, “Sit down, Miss Jessica.”
“My lord, I didn’t—” she began.
“Prince Dustin is alive,” said Azrael. “Sit down.”
Jessica sank into her chair, dizzy with relief. Azrael folded himself into the chair opposite her. The panther lay down at his feet.
Jessica stared at them, uncertain of what to say. She knew her nose and eyes were red from crying.
Azrael steepled his long, pale fingers. “What happened?”
Jessica told him, haltingly. As she outlined their liaison, Azrael waved his hand. “I am not interested in the petty details of your lovemaking, Miss Jessica. I want to know what magic was used. I accept that it may have been innocently intended. But I need to know. What was used?”
Jessica stared at him. “Nothing, my lord.”
Azrael’s dark eyes bored into her. “I am not playing, Miss Jessica. This is very serious. Magic other than my own can have disastrous consequences within these walls. Magics can mingle in strange ways. If you tell me what was used, I can make sure this does not happen again.”
Jessica felt lightheaded. “I don’t even know how to use magic, my lord. I swear to you I don’t!”
Azrael drummed his fingers. “Mal,” he snapped, “is she telling the truth?”
The panther rose, his enormous head coming up over the edge of the table. Jessica felt a jolt. Your name is Mal?
He came slowly around the table, moving delicately for such an enormous creature. Jess
ica scooted back a fraction as the panther stopped right in front of her. He leaned forward and looked directly into her face, his nose inches from her own. She could see every whisker. His green eyes studied her so intently that Jessica felt as though her soul were being examined. Mal’s pupils lost their focus.
And Jessica saw him.
Trapped. For decades. A source of energy, a river dammed and harnessed. Lightning in a bottle. A trace of cunning. A trace of kindness. A trace of darkness. A trace of light.
Mal is not your name.
The panther blinked rapidly, and the link between them broke. His eyes dilated with an expression of… Confusion? Fear? Surprise? Jessica couldn’t tell.
Then his ears came forward, his face relaxed, and he turned to Azrael. “She is not lying, my lord.”
The sorcerer watched them with his head on one side.
Jessica spoke up, “My lord, is Dustin alright? He was a very kind young man. I would be sad if he was hurt.”
“Prince Dustin is perfectly well, Miss Jessica. I was able to revive him. I believe he remembers…most of the evening.”
Jessica winced.
Azrael crossed his arms and drummed his fingers against his shoulder. “Like you, he seems to be telling the truth about not using magic, which is vexing. Perhaps the charm was something innocently placed on his clothes or person and then forgotten. Or perhaps it was something planted by one of my enemies. My wards should have caught it in either case, but… Perhaps one is defective. I will look into it.”
Without changing his tone or expression, Azrael asked a question that took Jessica off guard. “Have the two of you spoken to each other since your performance the other evening?”
He was looking at Mal when he spoke. To Jessica’s further surprise, the panther’s long, dark tail curled around her ankle beneath the table, and he said smoothly. “No, my lord.”
Azrael did not bother to wait for Jessica’s answer, but stood with a shake of his head. “Well, this is all very mysterious. I do not like mysteries, Miss Jessica.”
“I can’t say that I do, either, my lord.” At least not in real life…not when they involve handsome young men expiring between my legs.
“You will begin lessons with the rest of your cohort tomorrow,” said Azrael. “Perhaps I have pushed you too hard too fast. There will be no more assignments for a while. Get some sleep.”
He turned to go, and the panther followed. In the doorway, Mal glanced over his shoulder, and Jessica could have sworn he gave her a feline smile. I didn’t lie, she thought, but you did.
Chapter 12. The Library Again
The next day, Jessica joined a group of twenty other young people, all about her age, from various kingdoms. They had skin ranging from deepest ebony to palest milk and eyes in every human shade. They’d been chosen for their intellectual qualities as well as for their looks, and they made pleasant company.
Jessica befriended a girl from the island kingdoms. Together, they attended lessons in horseback riding, tea ceremonies, and singing. After that, they played badminton in the topiary garden until dinner. Guests strolling nearby stopped to watch, but no one was actually permitted to approach. Jessica enjoyed herself.
On her third day of lessons, they were officially introduced to the library. “Lord Azrael’s library contains copies of nearly every book written in the domains under his protection,” said their guide. “However, the many grimoires housed here create unpredictable effects on time and space. More staff and visitors have died of accidents in the library than in all other parts of the Shrouded Isle combined. People also go missing here—permanently missing. So watch yourselves. Librarians can help you find specific books. If you browse, always go with a companion and never leave the reading room. If you do those things, you will have a pleasant library experience. Remember, you are encouraged to read widely in order to broaden your minds and make more interesting conversation with guests.”
As they strolled around the reading room, Jessica searched covertly for the illusory stream. She remembered how the panther had come flashing out of the stacks along its banks, and she had some vague idea that the illusion was connected to him.
She didn’t see the stream, however. She didn’t even recognize any of the books at the ends of the shelves where she thought the stream had been located. “Settle down,” whispered a voice in her head. “Have fun. Forget about him.”
Jessica bit her lip. I can’t.
* * * *
Why can’t I just forget about her? Mal lay beside Azrael’s chair on an outdoor balcony, listening with half an ear as his master spoke with King Vandergriff of Aspiria. “Your neighbor believes that his separatists have hired a necromancer to raise a corpse army.”
Vandergriff huffed. “I don’t see how that’s possible, my lord. The separatists are poor, and necromancers are expensive.” He was a chubby, but cheerful king, and at the moment, he was preoccupied by three young women and two young men—all nearly naked—practicing an elaborate dance on the patio beside their table. The king stared, mesmerized, at their shimmying hips.
Humans are so simple, thought Mal. Even when they had some idea of how the magic worked, few could shut off their sexual responses completely. Mal saw no sign that Vandergriff was trying. His desire opened a tiny channel of energy that Mal could use to read him or to offer suggestions or impulses, to fan the flames.
Mal didn’t think the king was lying, but he let Azrael decide what to do about that. His mind wandered to deep blue eyes, wheat blond hair, golden skin, a delicious scent like vanilla… The panther shook his ears. I am immune to this sort of thing.
Are you? asked a mocking voice in his head.
“What’s your name? I have to know your name.”
Mal shifted uncomfortably. She’s going to get herself into trouble.
Not my problem.
Well, it sort of is.
No, it isn’t.
Another voice deep inside him whispered, You could use her.
Which is why I should stay away from her.
Above him, Azrael said, “He believes that you are funding the separatists and their necromancer.”
Mal felt the snap as Vandergriff’s entire attention shifted to Azrael. “Utter nonsense, my lord!”
“But you do have sympathies with the separatists?”
The king drew a deep breath. “They have a cultural heritage in common with my own people, sir, as you well know. Yes, I do have sympathy for them, but I would never cause trouble that way, Lord Azrael. I certainly would not bankroll a necromancer.”
Mal could feel Azrael drawing on the power Mal created, probing to see whether the king was telling the truth. The sorcerer preferred to assess people himself, although employing the magic this way used more energy than simply asking Mal to do it.
Mal smirked. It’s as though he doesn’t trust me.
Mal didn’t think Vandergriff was lying. He could tell that Azrael was coming to the same conclusion. At last, the sorcerer sat back, drumming his fingers. “Well, if you hear anything about this necromancer in your own court, I trust you will alert me?”
“Of course, my lord.”
Azrael stood up. “Thank you for your time, Sire.” He glanced at the dancers. “If any of those young people are interested, you have my permission to invite them back to your room.”
Ah, humans, thought Mal as Vandergriff beamed and stood up. So predictable. Just as well, though. I could use a boost.
Sexual energy vibrated in the air as the lithe young people traded giggling comments with the king. Azrael glanced down at Mal. “You can join in if you like.” It was the first time since Mal’s uninvited dinner transformation that Azrael had given him permission.
Mal flicked his ears. “Not today.”
Azrael raised one eyebrow. “You’re turning down sex?”
“I can feed off what they’re doing without getting involved.” And besides, he thought, none of them are her.
* * * *
; Dear Mother,
Everyone here is very kind. I have been taking dancing classes. They are invigorating. I am also learning to play the lute. My new friend, Yuli, who is from the islands, has offered to teach me how to swim. In fresh water, I mean, and not just dogpaddle! It has all been great fun.
I wish you could see the clothes they wear here. I have been given some of the most amazing dresses for parties. I have drawn one of them below. It has dagged sleeves and is slashed with silk. Everything is pretty, even the underwear. I wonder if the embroidery was done by magic.
I know you think that life here must be full of unpleasant tasks, but I swear it isn’t. Most of the time, my friends and I are just something beautiful for guests to look at. Other times, we make silly conversation with interesting people.
I did have one assignment date dinner engagement conversation with a young man, whom I will not name because we are not supposed to mention the names of guests in our letters. He was very kind and polite. I want you to know that I am not mistreated. Still, it did not end quite as I could have wished. And then before that, there was this other person, whom I really want to see again, but I don’t think I ever will. You can’t fall in love with someone you’ve hardly traded three sentences with, can you? Not even if he’s had his tongue inside you?
Jessica stopped and chewed her pencil. Like I’m really going to say that in a letter to my mother. After some consideration, she scribbled out the entire last paragraph. She sighed and set down the paper.
It was just after dinner. Jessica and Yuli had retreated to the library. Yuli was writing a story about an imaginary world where magic wasn’t real, but machines could do fantastic things like send your voice across continents. Jessica started to ask Yuli how much she told her mother about “assignments,” but Yuli seemed engrossed in her story, so Jessica didn’t interrupt. She was about to start writing again, when she caught the whisper of…water.
