The Fellowship: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Harbinger Book 2)
Page 19
She didn’t think of the others as she felt Light unstrapping his pants. No, they were so very far from her mind as she felt something new and warm between her legs. She closed her eyes, even though it was utter darkness, and let out a short sigh as she gave herself completely to the Elf who once claimed to find her smelly and revolting.
After, and once it was an acceptable hour to talk aloud, Faith would have to make fun of him for that.
It was beyond clear he did not find her smelly and revolting now. Now, it was only his hunger for her, his thirst and his passion equaling hers, if not surpassing it. Faith surrendered herself to him, wrapped her arms around him as they became one. It was both like and unlike everything she imagined it would be. Like because it was painful at first, and unlike because it was so much more than that.
It was everything.
Faith ran her hands down his back, wishing she was touching his skin and not his leather shirt. She wanted more. She wanted to see him, look into those deep blue eyes above her. She wanted to see the lust there. She wanted more.
But they were restricted right now. This was all they had, all they could do. And, even though Faith wanted more, it was still everything. A toe-curling, lip-biting, moan-stifling everything.
Chapter Thirty
The Elf on the floor before him was dead. A nameless male, some nameless Court-less Elf his people found wandering the beaches nearby. The Elf’s skin was severely mutilated, deep, long cuts carved into his soft, flawless flesh. Beneath the cuts laid another substance, a substance that grew near his kingdom, that most living races were deadly allergic to.
Aether.
But that was full, undiluted aether. When it was watered down, most creatures could accept the aether into their system. The key, he found, was the amount. Too much, and the subject died instantly, much like the lifeless Elf before him. Not enough, and the subjects remained as they were before. Neither of which he wanted, nor did he need. The…Diren, as his lover dubbed them, were a unique breed.
What he needed was a weapon that heeded his every command. A weapon that no one could touch and no one could go against. The Diren would be that weapon, his living, breathing army.
He stepped through the shadows, easily heaving the Elf’s body over his shoulders, dropping him down the hole that sat on the edge of his workspace. It went to the caves, where the sullied were, those maddened by their urges to feed beyond the point of sanity. He wouldn’t abandon his kind, even though they were not worth his attention.
He went to the metal door, fist curling before he pounded on it and commanded, “Bring the next one in.” Humming to himself, he returned to his station, where bloodied tools sat. He worked to clean them, inspecting the metal in the dim light. Glowing stones hung on the wall in place of torches and candles, which gave him all the light he needed. Truly, he didn’t need any light, but he found the fear in their system was heightened when they saw what he was doing to them.
Fear was a powerful tool.
It only took one of his men to drag the next subject in the room, tossing him in the center. A rather frail boy, his body shook as he crawled to his hands, glancing at the fresh blood on them. He wore the same battered uniform that the other subjects still did. He wouldn’t for long. The Human boy’s stare rose to meet his, and he felt a smile spread on his face. A new race to experiment on, and he had plenty more. The boy was already so fearful that he urinated himself as he backed up a few feet, though there was nowhere to run. The Humans his mistress sold him were a wonderful surprise, and much needed.
Perhaps the Humans were just what his tinkering needed. The answer could very well lie inside them. There was only one way to find out, wasn’t there?
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Book 3, The Dread King, will be out soon, so keep an eye out!