Steel Sirens

by Maxx Whittaker

  “I’m starving. And exhausted. You must be, too,” I say to Siri.

  “Starving. Not exhausted though. Not after a century.”

  “Well, we can start with food and figure out the rest.”

  “Food and a room.” Echoes of Emeree in the Cock and Corset’s taproom, asking for the same, make my pulse pound hot in my veins.

  ***

  “You’re going to choke.”

  Siri lays on the carpet before our fire, wearing the silk shift a servant brought. On her back, she unapologetically drops berry after berry into her mouth with an empty goblet clutched to her chest.

  “I haven’t had food, drink, or cock in a century. If I die from any of the three, I’ll ascend with my soul at peace.”

  “Well,” I begin, admiring the flow of silk over her breasts, belly and hips, “You’ve survived two of the three.”

  She sits up so fast her goblet clatters into the grate. “Let’s see about the last.”

  I laugh; she doesn’t.

  “Just...just like that?”

  “What else is there? You want to talk? Hm mm.” She gets to her feet, auburn hair rippling. “Talk is for the road, the tavern. It holds a bond together. But after battle? Fight, drink fuck.” Siri rests hands on her hips, pulling the silk taut over her breasts. “Up.”

  My cock stirs at the command.

  We stumble our way to the bed, lips pressing, crushing, hands rogue.

  I reach for the buttons on my breeches.

  Siri stays my hand and pushes it away.

  “I don’t need you to work so hard.”

  “It’s not really work.”

  Siri caresses my chest, palm warm through my shirt. “You know what I mean. Don’t draw this out, not this time.”

  “You’re…aggressive.”

  She shoves me to the bed, banging the wall and kicking up a cloud of down. “I’m hungry, alive, battle-stoked.”

  So am I. I feel no guilt letting her take the lead.

  Siri peels my shirt off, catching my lip with her knuckle.

  “Oh!” She laughs, brushing a kiss on her way down. Her hands follow, strong and smooth over my muscles.

  She snaps my breeches down to my thighs and stops. Her move springs my cock free; I wince, half pleasure, half pain.

  She brushes my inner thigh with her nose, tracing electric lines up my shaft. Anticipation makes me harder. I close my eyes and rock my hips to the rhythm of her breath.

  Her tongue rolls thick, wet, and soft down the underside of my cock. She digs the tip at my root, probing. When Siri pulls back, I know what comes next.

  Getting onto my elbows, I watch her, holding my breath. Her thick tits brush the sides of my cock, stroking like fingers. Siri rests her lips against my head. Her blue eyes hold mine, challenging, defiant, eager. She grips my length and pushes. Her full lips roll, knead. Her mouth is hot, punishing.

  Rough buds scrape my skin, pulling it on a long lick. I swell in the clench of her fist with a need that defies my exhaustion.

  She climbs over me and her tits envelop my cock. She kneads me with them while her lips suck without mercy in quick, shallow tugs. Fine scars across the narrow plate of her breastbone create friction that radiates heat into my balls. Tips of her auburn locks dance over my thighs like flames.

  I bury fingers in her hair and impale her mouth on my shaft. Siri groans her approval and grinds me against the back of her throat.

  My muscles tremble, fighting for control. She smells it on me and pulls away.

  “I’m not used to taking time; I don’t prefer it.”

  I lay fingers at her shoulder and draw a line along the smooth muscles of her arm. Her body is strong and soft, thick in the hips and breasts.

  “No romantic wandering? All business?” I ask, brushing a palm down the full mound of her breast. She arches, dragging her nipple across my fingers.

  “Slower is not more romantic. Sometimes it’s the opposite. If our desire is to fuck, the deepest joining of two bodies, why delay it with less pleasurable things? To me, that says fucking isn’t enough. A lot of rolling around won’t make a joining last longer. I want to drink up every second of a good fuck, however long. If I need more…we do it again.”

  “How many is enough?”

  Siri grins. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”

  I circle her wrists and pull.

  She climbs over me like predator stalking prey, slow and hungry. She straddles me high on her knees, teasing my tip in wet passes like a lick of her tongue.

  I stop watching and feel.

  Her clit brushes me on each pass. At the furthest point I feel the depth, the passage just beyond me before she rocks again.

  “Watch,” she whispers, rocking. “Watch me take you inside.”

  She lowers. My cock disappears in the thatch of flame between her thighs.

  Her pussy gloves me. She slides me home with a sharp drop of her ass. Her bright hair tangles with the dark hair at my root. Her flesh is bronzed against my olive. We’re combatants, the contrasts in our bodies symbolic. Her body strangles mine with violent need and I stab at the heartbeat deep between her thighs. Siri rocks her hips, wetting me before she raises up. Air cools the dampness she’s left on my shaft; she lets me suffer this before she drives me into her heat again.

  Our bodies find a hard rhythm.

  Siri closes her eyes, head lolling gently with each drunken thrust.

  I close my eyes too, cradle her tits and feel them in a way I wouldn’t with sight. Smooth skin, the heft of them at their tips. She arches; I take a nipple in my mouth. She tastes like salt, leather, and spiced oil from a century ago.

  One fills my mouth, damp and faintly salted with sweat. I crush her breasts together and lick until she arches and grinds me.

  I have nothing left, not after the day, the fighting. I’m at Siri’s mercy.

  Our chamber is still, and the passages beyond. This magnifies a lewd thump-thump-thump of our bedframe against the wall.

  Siri plunges down my cock, thick ass grinding the bones above it. Her first tremors of climax tease my shaft and tighten my balls, dragging a conclusion from my worn body.

  I don’t know her. We’re strangers. I’ve never been with a woman I didn’t know; even Emeree and I have a strange but full history. I’m bedding a stranger; the idea excites me until my cock feels hard enough to split.

  I raise between her thighs, hold her fast and crush deep inside her. Her slick ridges pull at the rim of my head.

  My body twists and my cock erupts deep inside her.

  Energy crackles between us; my body is a well, spilling over even as a flood replenishes it. Siri flows into me through our bond and I flow into her, hot and bright, pumping until I’m spent.

  She moans, body writhing, bucking free of my hands until the last desperate clench of her pussy.

  She collapses to my chest and we lay sweat-soaked and tangled.

  I draw her face up and lick her bottom lip. Siri takes my tongue into her mouth in time with my cock, still sliding idly in her passage.

  “Ready to start on the next one?” I flip us before she can answer.

  She yelps and her body softens to take all of me again.

  I brace my arms on either side of her, trap her and thrust.

  Siri’s moan vibrates through our bodies. She looks up at me, half-closed eyes filled with lust and defiance. She wants to be in charge.

  I lower my full weight onto her, holding her fast. Siri’s wet thighs cling to my hips and she wriggles in protest.

  “No wasting time,” I rasp, cheek buried in the sweat of her neck.

  Siri makes an animal sound and arches, trying to throw me off.

  I impale her, fuck her with the smack of tight wet flesh.

  “Mm…mm…mm…”

  More.

  I grip her ass, raise her from the sheets and turn animal.

  Brutality sends her over the edge.

  Siri grinds up until the flesh across my
hip bones burns.

  We come, my last thrusts hot, long, and wet.

  I roll beside her. Unlike Emeree, it doesn’t feel right to put my arms around Siri. If she wants that I think she’ll make it clear. Instead we lay hip to hip and simply exist together.

  I’ve almost drifted off when the thread between us trembles. I open my eyes and look at her.

  “I think we understand each other.” Her meaning hangs weighty between us, musked by the scent of battle and sex.

  18

  Pounding.

  In an exhausted sleep I don’t know the source, the reason. All I know is danger. I’m on my feet, bow at the ready.

  “Master Cuinn?”

  Brecan. I lower my bow but don’t put it down.

  Siri rolls over and stares up at me. There’s murder in her eyes. Not for me, but for whoever interrupted our sleep. She rakes her eyes over my body and bites her lip.

  “Master Cuinn?” He knocks harder.

  “Better answer.” She crouches on the bed, ass high, and gives my cock a quick suck.

  I’m hard before she sits back.

  “Godsdammit.”

  “Ask him to come back later.” Siri leans in again and takes just my head between her thick lips. When she pulls back it pops from her mouth with a wet smack. My knees buckle.

  “I like your idea.” I lace fingers through her hair. She purrs in triumph and rubs my cock against her lips. My hips tighten, anticipating a thrust to the hilt.

  This time Brecan bangs with both hands. “Master Cuinn! I’ll come in if you can’t come out!”

  Siri draws back. “We’d better see. This isn’t exactly a safe place.”

  All I can manage is a sigh. Wrapped in a sheet, I stumble to the door and crack it.

  Brecan opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He stares over my shoulder and I already know what I’ll see before I turn around: Siri gathering up her small clothes, passing back and forth across our chamber.

  Brecan coughs. “I’m sorry. My father sent me up; if it wasn’t urgent–”

  “It’s all right,” I say, casting an accusing glance at Siri. She purses her lips and crosses her arms, which only make things worse.

  Unrepentant.

  “What’s happened?” I ask.

  “He needs you on the western ramparts. There’s someone at the gates.”

  “And he needs me?”

  “Master Cuinn, whoever it is, they’ve come for you.”

  Siri's eyes meet mine, questioning.

  You smell like the forest.

  Myranda.

  “On my way,” I say, shutting the door.

  “We shouldn’t have stayed,” I mutter to Siri, grabbing up my clothes. “We could have moved until night fall and bedded down in one of the hamlets.”

  “Slow down,” she instructs. “You couldn’t have known.”

  But I did. When Myranda questioned me about Thom, when she caught the scent of the Fortingall.

  “It might have thrown her off our trail if we’d moved.”

  “Who’s her?”

  “Myranda.”

  “Ahh, Myranda. I’ve heard her, and heard of her. She hated Arkis. Funny, because they’re so much alike.”

  “Guess we’re about to find out how much.”

  Siri gives me a reassuring smile. “Let’s go.”

  We make our way through dark room after dark room. A full moon hangs bright in the sky as we pass unshuttered windows, all that lights our way. Castle Lowe is more abandoned than ever with Carven dead. Hostages of every sort have fled.

  “It must be midnight,” says Siri, studying the sky above the parapet.

  “Myranda went straight to gather forces.” I don’t regret last night, but I curse myself for a naive fool. The world moves faster than life in Braemar. I have to adapt, or I’ll always be prey.

  The castle is hushed under the blanket of night as we pass through it, and we don’t see another soul until we emerge into the darkness along the wall. Ahead of us is the corner tower, a shadow against the blanket of stars and the moon behind it.

  Straithe isn’t in the tower when Brecan guides waves in. He has a sword and cuirass now, no longer a boy. He looks like a young, skilled captain. “Wait here,” he whispers, nodding to the doorway leading to the front wall. “Father says stay out sight.”

  Siri and I flank the open door, waiting and watching.

  Straithe stands above the main gates, exactly where we watched the girls depart. He’s flanked by a thicket of blades and spears. His loyal men are sadly few. Two score, maybe. They hold like the best trained warriors, steady and blank faced, but that doesn’t change odds.

  “How long does it take to wake up a duke?”

  Myranda. Her voice is rich, sultry, as it floats up from the square. Magic floats thick with it, trilling across my skin like butterfly wings, and I can hear her words like she’s standing right next to me. “Arkis can’t get Carven’s cock up, but surely he can rouse the body.” A rumble of laughter shakes the air, the laughter of at least two hundred men.

  “Too many,” Siri mouths.

  I nod. We’re not fighting our way through this, not with Emeree still recovering.

  “I’ve been informed Lord Arundel is dead,” Straithe shouts, fists balled on the battlements. “Minster Lowe will have a duchess.”

  Siri and I trade looks.

  “Perfect. Well past time,” Myranda declares. “I’ve already heard whispers he was murdered in his own hall. Between friends, Straithe, tell me it’s true.”

  “I can tell you anything; that won’t make it fact. Carven was withered, broken. It was bound to happen and soon,” Straithe says, neutral.

  Myranda sighs. “How tiresome. How bureaucratic of you. Uston, I expect better. It’s almost like we’re not friends.” I can’t see her, but whatever magic amplifies her voice also carries the sharp clacks of her boots as she paces. “Or maybe you want to play a game. Yes, that’s it. I’ll guess and you tell me if I’m right. I think you got tired of him parading your boy around like a prize steer. Yes?” She pauses. “I’ll take your silence in the affirmative. I think you grew tired of being poor, neutered, and forgotten while licking Arkis’ chamber pot. Mm? As I thought!”

  More pacing.

  “I think you took care of everyone’s mutual problem.” She laughs, and her voice is liquid, delicious. “You’re a godsdamn hero, Uston.”

  Straithe grits out his next words. “So I am. And that is why I am in here and you are out there.”

  Siri winces.

  Myranda laughs. “For now. But aren’t you lonely and scared being shut up with Arkis?”

  She’s such a skilled fisherman, she should move out to the Wilds.

  I can hear Straithe’s smile. “I’ll get him for you.”

  “Just send my regards. I want the ranger, and I want that sword, and I will be at the Firth by daybreak. No matter what.”

  Sword. Siri nods at me. This means Myranda only knows about Emeree.

  Her words chase Straithe as he draws back from the wall.

  “He’s gone. He was gone before the fighting. He took the sword and a priceless axe. I can’t make it plainer, Lanlath.”

  “And I can’t make plainer that if you continue chipping away at our friendship with your lies, I’ll have to consider you an enemy.”

  “Be reasonable.”

  She doesn’t hear him.

  “For each man you lose, I gain. Each person you force me to butcher in this city grows my army. Now,” her voice cracks the night like a whip, “Let me in or I’ll send Boulder to knock. He doesn’t know his please and thank you.”

  “Get the ranger,” she bellows.

  Straithe ducks into the passage.

  “What the hell is a Boulder?” I ask, shaking the hand he proffers.

  “Her pet rock golem,” he says. “And it’s not much of a pet so we need to move.”

  “Any thoughts?”

  “Brecan will guide you through the dungeons. He can s
how you the old gate into the warrens. They’ve proved fatal for more than a few; don’t get complacent just because the dragons have gone.”

  “What moved in after the dragons?” asks Siri.

  He shrugs. “We keep it double-gated and locked.”

  “Ominous.”

  “But it’s your only way out,” concludes Straithe.

  I search the terrain. “How did she get past the city gates?”

  “Magic. Half an hour ago she just breezed in.”

  Siri grunts, gripping her axe like she’ll use it at any moment. “Your people are in place?”

  He nods. “My men have a perimeter, but we’re thin on the ground. Most of my army is along the West Leighs. I can have two thousand here by morning.”

  “But?” I ask.

  “But you’ll be dead before sunrise.”

  “Well, that’s no good. What’s the plan?”

  “Leave,” he says. Baroness Oranna has moved your horses outside the walls. Valk and a handful of others moved supplies to the cave’s terminus. I’m sorry I can’t spare men for you. Just make it to the foothills and you’ll have what you need.”

  I shrug. “Not the worst task I’ve had.”

  Straithe leans close. “The Inquisition are everywhere, installing themselves like they did here. Thus far, the King Emrys has kept them from his court, but for how long? They do as they please, undermine countries. I’ve heard of mass executions, entire cities burned to slag.”

  Emeree pulses at my back, her worry and anger a mirror to what I see in Siri’s eyes. The thought is terrifying. Dozens, hundreds of Arkis’ across the world? “After what I’ve seen here, I believe you.”

  “We’re here. You say you’re with the Sirens, then I’ll do whatever I can to help.” He pauses, gaze heavy on Brecan.

  “We’ll stop them.”

  For the first time, I realize that I believe it. Gone is the boy who wandered the Fortingall, avoiding responsibility under the guise of long hunts and solitude. I’ve seen enough, done enough… That part of me is dead.

  What’s left? I’m not sure, yet. But I know that the idea of taking on the world with the Sirens at my side doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as it once did.

  Siri’s smile is fearsome.

  “All right,” Straithe nods. “I’ll stall as long as I can. I have to let her in eventually. She doesn’t know about the warrens. I don’t think Carven has been in a state to remember them since before Myranda first came here. Once you’re in, you should be clear of her until you exit again.”