by Renard, Loki
“There’s going to be a next time?”
“With you? Definitely.”
Chapter Thirteen
One month later...
It has been three months since I last bled. One month since I threatened to go and reclaim the city of Dallas. The men have forgotten about the idea, but I have not. As my belly begins to show a small swelling of pregnancy, I become ever more desperate that my child should have a better life than I did. It weighs on my mind night and day. It makes me nervous and even nauseous. The men put it down to hormones, but this is more than a matter of chemistry.
I know better now than to talk to the mercenaries about it. They are my lovers and my protectors, but they are not willing to risk anything for the future. All they care about is keeping me safe. It’s noble, but that is what my father tried to do, and I already know that plan does not work. We need power. We need money. And I know where a great deal of it is stored.
The plan I have is risky. So much so that it is borderline impossible, but I am hedging my bets. I am female and with child. Nobody would dare harm me in this state. I am untouchable. At least, I hope I am.
The weapons Alexios gave me have been hidden well, along with a change of the clothes I used to wear—the ones that allow me to pass for a male. I am careful about making my preparations. I sneak food away, water, matches. I make a little nest of provisions at the very corner of the camp, and when the moon is at her height, I make my move.
I make sure to leave a note on my pillow. It reads:
Be back soon.
Please don’t worry.
—T
I know it won’t stop them worrying, but it assuages my conscience somewhat, and at least they will know that I intend to return.
I take the same path I did the day I was discovered. I am careful. I keep an eye out for soldiers, looters, scavengers, bandits, in other words: men.
There is much to watch out for, not just in the direction of the city that lies ahead, but on my tail. The mercenaries will come for me. I likely have no more than a matter of hours on them, and they will overcome that lead quickly. My only advantage is that I know this land better than they do. I know the secret paths. The short cuts. I know the ways that avoid the coyote trails and the smuggling routes.
By the nightfall of the first day, I am almost certain they are on my trail. I see flashes of what looks like the shape of men out of the corner of my eye. I hear the occasional distant shout. If they catch me before I get back to Dallas, they will punish me and hold me captive. I will be trapped in the prison I was born into. I need to get to the city. I need to secure funds. I need to go back to where the tragedy unfolded, to where our life began. I need to make things right.
Perhaps I am not entirely rational. Maybe it is hormones. I don’t know. What I do know is that I am being called back to the city. Something in my gut is telling me to move. Like the animals I have watched all my life, I know when I must follow my instincts.
The mercenaries will not understand. I know I will be angering Alexios and Silver and Pharaoh. They will think of me as foolish, or perhaps even mad.
With my ears trained on the world around me, interpreting every slight sound in the dark as the approach of a predator, I light no fire and I sleep in a bush.
It is no short journey to the city, but I make it as short as possible by keeping moving, barely resting. I am driven by desire for so many things, riches, revenge, some kind of resolution. My story will not end pumping out offspring into the wasteland until I pass away from the ordeal.
I am elated when I see the walls we fled from, but that is short-lived. Sadness sinks in. The last time I was here, those who cared for me were dying. I am returning to the scene of a great tragedy, and I am going to have to keep it together as I execute my plan. It involves heading right back into the lion’s den, and taking what is ours.
To my surprise, Dallas is peaceful. There are no signs of war. I once worried that chaos would spread across the nation because of me, instead things seem to be calmer than ever. The mech soldiers who terrorized the place on the night we were attacked are nowhere to be seen.
I am not interfered with as I walk, disguised through crowds of men going about their business. The mood of the city has changed. When the sheriff was in charge, there was a darkness and an urgency. Now I feel a lightness. People laugh, banter. There are performers on every other corner, singing and dancing and telling stories.
The transformation is a source of much bewilderment to me. I have been laboring under heavy guilt that I destroyed not just the lives of several brave men, but all those who live in the city, and instead I find a place that just three months after the battle seems to be experiencing a rebirth.
The royal building is far more open than it used to be. There seems to be little concern about security, as citizens mill about amid soldiers, who keep a casual eye on things.
How quickly things can change. I hope they haven’t all changed. I hope the money is still kept in the same place it used to be. I hope the secret passage we used to get out of the royal building is still there.
It is. The grate in the dry river bed opens to my fingers, and I slip into it without being noticed. I start to smile to myself. It has been a long journey, and I have had little reason to believe in myself, but I think this is going to work. I am going to get the money we need to begin a real life as a family. We are going to have the riches to set up a proper home, with real fortifications. We are going to have the life we deserve. I learned one thing in my time in the city: with money, all things are possible.
The passage runs right to the sheriff’s quarters. The new king, whoever he is, may or may not use them. As I slip out of the hidden closet door, I keep my wits about me. This is the hard part.
The rooms seem to be empty. Whoever the new guy is, he’s not using them. I hope the stash isn’t.
Moving on tiptoes, I steal into what was once the sheriff’s horde. It used to be a well-guarded room, but there aren’t guards on it anymore. That’s not a good sign. There are still several chests there, which I suspect hold a great deal of currency. Even emptying the contents of one into my pockets could give us what we need.
I try the lid of a chest. It doesn’t budge. Locked.
I try another. Also locked.
Cursing beneath my breath, I berate myself for being so stupid. Of course they’re locked! Was the new king going to just leave his money lying around for anyone to take?
I need to find a key. It will be somewhere. Possibly on the king’s person, or maybe in a servant’s possession. I need to blend in with the palace staff. I need to...
“Oh, fuck!”
Before I can get any further with that plan, huge arms sweep around me. I scream in fear as I am turned around to face a massive man with deep brown eyes, a thick shock of dark hair, and a build like a colossus.
“What are you doing here, Trissa?”
“How do you know my name?”
There’s a short laugh. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
I scan his face. He is familiar, but at the same time, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him before. Deja vu assails and confuses me, and my panic does not help the situation whatsoever.
“Let me go!”
He doesn’t let me go. He holds me in those big hands of his and he keeps me looking at him until I start to twist and turn and work my teeth into a position where I can bite him to get free.
“Still a wild little thing,” he smiles, handling me easily.
I stop struggling as realization dawns. It can’t be. He looks so different. Or does he? Does he look exactly the same, just much more healthy and dressed in the manner of a warrior rather than a eunuch?
“Mattias?”
“Mhmm.” He smiles down at me and I see what my mind would not allow me to see. It is him!
“Oh, my god, you’re alive!” I throw myself into his arms and squeeze him. He was my captor once too, but in this fucked-up world, any friendly face may be an ally. “You
look so different.”
“The implants have been removed,” he says. “I am the man I once was and more.”
“More?”
“Mhm. Quite a lot more.”
“I thought you were dead,” I gasp, holding him tight.
This is unbelievable. I never expected to find anyone I knew alive. I expected to mourn, to suffer, and to grieve. Finding myself in Mattias’ arms is too good to be true, and yet I have to trust my senses. It is him. Somehow, he survived.
“Almost,” he says, hugging me back.
“I can’t believe you’re alive,” I babble. “I hoped that someone was. Did Elias...”
He shakes his head, and immediately a darker mood settles over me. He is alive, and that is good, but he has suffered and lost just as the rest of us have.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I am so sorry for all of this. You were right. It was my fault. I should have stayed out of trouble.”
“Yes, I can see you subscribe to that philosophy now,” he smiles, not unkindly. “Trying to steal money, Trissa?”
“Well, I, uh, need some...”
“She doesn’t need money. She needs a fucking whipping.” A rough voice makes me go tense in Mattias’ arms. I close my eyes as footsteps round the corner.
Oh, fuck. Oh, no. This can’t be happening. This is a nightmare. This is...
Pharaoh, Alexios, and Silver walk into the room behind Mattias. Oh, god. My heart sinks into my stomach. I have no idea how they did this, but they did, and I know I am in more trouble than I could possibly imagine.
“We’re trained mercenaries, girl. We move a lot quicker than you do. We knew where you’d gone the minute you left. Couldn’t find you in the wild lands, you’re too good to be found out there. So we came here directly and petitioned the king for his help,” Alexios says gruffly.
“The king agreed to help you? Why?”
“The king owes us a favor,” Silver says, his gray gaze stormy.
“You know him?” I am confused. Perhaps the new king is one of their patrons. Perhaps they may be able to get their money. Maybe...
“We do. As do you,” Silver says. “You’re cuddling with him right now.”
“What?” I am so dull-witted that for a moment I don’t understand what he is saying. I’m not cuddling the king. I’m hugging... Mattias...
I stare up at Mattias. “You’re the king?”
“It would seem so,” Mattias says, looking down at me, those handsome stern features composed in spite of the fact I can see the slightest twinge of humor around his lips. “And you’re in trouble.”
I look around at the four men in front of me, and that statement rings entirely, utterly true. Not one of them is pleased with me. Mattias is pleased to see me, but that is not the same as being happy about what I’ve done.
“Uhm...”
“If you wouldn’t mind, gentlemen,” Mattias says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Get comfortable. Find your new quarters and let the outfitters know what you need. I have missed this little girl, and I’d like to handle her.”
Little girl. The word makes me quiver to my very core.
I called him Daddy once. He feels more like a daddy than ever. There is something stern but caring about him, even in this new form. I have not known him like this, unleashed in his full masculinity. He is truly incredibly handsome.
“Good luck,” Silver waves as he leaves. Alexios and Pharaoh don’t say goodbye. I am certain I will see them very soon, and I am just as certain that I will be in pain when I do.
“Uhm...” I repeat myself nervously.
“Come here,” Mattias says, taking me by the hand.
He leads me into what has become his palace. What was once a great building of industry is now his realm. It is the same building the sheriff once occupied, but it is transformed in ways big and small, mostly by his presence. He was always elegant in his bearing. Now he is regal.
We move through the place, and the atmosphere is even more noticeably changed in here than it was in the city outside. The oppression that hung in every hall is gone. The guards are at attention and proud to be there, they are not cowering and simpering and vicious-eyed as they were before.
“How did this happen? There was war...”
“Don’t worry about that,” Mattias says. “Worry about you.”
It is impossible to be worried about me. With him, I am safe. I have always felt it, and now I see the protection I felt when I was with him extended to the city as a whole. I have been sensing his presence since I entered the city, I just didn’t realize it.
He brings me to a room with a balcony, a view over the old city. It is reclaimed in large part by the wilds now, and we see trees and vines and bird life making the most of the wreckage of the old world. It has a melancholy beauty to it, new life rising from ruins.
Mattias wraps an arm around me and together we stand in the silence of the reunited.
“I missed you.” He rumbles the words. His voice was always nice, but it is deeper and richer now. It holds more command.
Those three words bring a flush of tears to my eyes. “I missed you too. I thought you were...” I take a deep breath.
“I know. I am sorry.”
“You tried to warn me. You tried to show me. In that field. But I didn’t listen, and...” Hot tears are running down my face. He was right all along. He must be so furious at me.
“You did what your instinct told you to do. You were wild and untamed. Nobody bears you any ill will. It was what it was. You changed the course of our fates and the world is better for it.”
“It’s not better for Tore, or Keanau, or Zen, or Cowboy, or Elias. So many dead...”
“They chose to be near you. They knew the danger. We all saw the blood spill from the sheriff’s neck and we knew what that would lead to. They chose their fate, Trissa.”
I sniff. “So... none of the others survived?”
Mattias is a miracle, and I know I am being greedy, hoping for a second and a third and a fourth miracle to match.
“Those three mercenaries of yours held back the mech invaders for a good hour,” Mattias says. “The three of them saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives. They died, but they are heroes to us all.”
I take a deep breath. The grief will always be with me, but this is a life of pain and I already know none of us will emerge unscathed.
“Now,” he says. “The question of what is to be done with you rises again.”
The tears begin to dry on my cheeks as I sneak a nervous glance up at him. I have never felt so very many emotions before. Sad, glad, relieved, joyful, nervous, scared.
“You are handsome like this,” I mumble.
“Thank you,” he laughs, a smile breaking over his face. “But flattery will not save you.”
“Will it save me a little?”
His eyes darken and he leans in, his lips just inches from mine. I hold my breath as he gives me his answer.
“Not at all.”
There is a bench nearby, positioned so people can look out at the once-tamed wilds. Mattias sits down on it and my heart starts to pound. I know what is coming, even before he says it.
“Come here, wild little thing.”
He lifts his big hand and crooks a finger at me.
I swallow. I don’t want this—but I need this. I have missed him so much. I have craved what was lost.
“I am so glad you’re alive,” I whisper.
“Mhm. No stalling.”
“But I am.”
“Over my knee.”
He takes me over his lap, his big arms cradling me in the submissive position as I give myself to him. It is as it always was—nobody spanks like Mattias. He has a fatherly gravitas that makes me feel small and reminds me what it’s like to not have any cares in the world. I used to feel like this all the time, like nothing bad could happen to me.
“How did you become king?”
His big palm smoothes over my bottom. “I’ll tell you that another ti
me. Right now, I’m dealing with you. You have to be more careful, Trissa. You have to stop taking these wild impulses to their conclusions. You’re going to be a mother.”
“How did you know?”
“You’ve been gone months and filled with cum more often than not, I’d wager,” he says, his palm clasping my ass possessively. “And there’s going to be more.”
A tingle of excitement rushes through me. More cum. His cum. Inside me.
He runs his hand over my bottom and between my thighs. “You’re wearing far too much clothing,” he says, stroking the flat of his palm against the crotch of my pants. “This has to come off.”
And come off it does. It all comes off. With me over his thighs, Mattias strips me of every bit of clothing until I am utterly nude and vulnerable.
“You’re beautiful,” he purrs. “You’ve always been beautiful, but you’re even more so now.”
He is caressing me, his hands roaming my body, finding my breasts, my belly, my thighs. He is making the punishment become pleasure, swift stinging slaps finding my cheeks intermittently between caresses that slide down between my legs and tease the lips of my sex.
“Daddy...” I moan the word.
“Yes, little girl,” he growls right back. He slides his fingers up and down my pussy, stroking my outer lips until I am so desperate for something, anything to be inside me I become a whimpering, moaning mess.
I lose myself in his touch. I get to be small. I get to be lost in desire. I get to be a slave to my base needs—and to him.
“I need you,” I moan, my hips bucking over his lap with each fresh slap that lands time and time again, not letting me forget that this is a punishment, and I am a very, very naughty girl.
“You have me,” he rumbles back. “You will always have me. I will never let you go again, Trissa. I let you go once. I gave you what you thought you wanted, and you came back. Now you’re mine.”
He emphasizes the words by slipping a finger slowly, deliberately, deeply into my sex. I let out a sigh of pure relief, even though it is not entirely what I need. I need his cock. I need the thick rod that I can feel prominent against my hip. I need him to forgive me—and I need him to fuck me.
