by Reed James
I wanted to flee my proxy and return to my body. Sven shook me again. He called for me. He had to know the truth by now. Greta would have told him. He must be furious with me. He must hate me, see me as scum, and yet...
Yet that thing wasn't with Sven. I could get away from it...
The creature stopped a foot before my father's desk, pausing about where Shevoin had stood. It lifted its head; those cruel, hooking mandibles opened wide. A green flight flooded out of its mouth, the harsh emerald painting the stones of the floor, deepening the shadows of their joints. The light reached up into the air, forming and swirling.
“Pater's cock,” my father gasped, bolting to his feet. His chair rocked back and fell over, the back crashing into the book shelf behind him.
He reached for the dagger on his belt as the green light formed into the appearance of a naked woman. She looked lithe and lovely, her breasts full and round. A green aura shone around her pale, hairless flesh. The smooth curve of her head gave her a strange, exotic air about her. Her hands stroked her body.
“Greetings, Prince Meinard,” the woman spoke, her voice sounding strange. It almost was like a buzz even though it had a sensuous purr. It echoed through the room. It didn't come from her, but seemed to come from everywhere else.
“What are you?” Father asked, his dagger whisking as he drew it. He clutched the length of steel in his hand, holding it low as he faced the naked woman.
“The Messenger,” the woman said while the thing projecting it trembled, its mandibles twitching.
“One of the Paragon's creatures?”
My father's question made my mandibles twitch. He knew about the Paragon?
“Yes, I am,” the projection said, her hands grasping her bountiful breasts. She squeezed them, wiggling her hips. “Things are growing more dire, Your Highness.”
“Oh?” Father asked, sheathing the dagger. “Your mistress has heard of my army's route in Anaopeth?”
The woman shook her head. “Your daughter has gone to the priests of Krab in Az.”
I let out a click of dismay. The Paragon knew where we were. The monstrosity was tracking our movements.
“And?” my father asked.
“Those who can build can also destroy,” the Messenger answered, the insectoid twitching, the projection pinching her fat nipples, twisting them and quivering in delight. “They also know how to manipulate.”
My father furrowed his brow.
“The Paragon is adding a condition to your agreement.”
“Really?” my father growled, leaning over his desk. “She wishes to renegotiate now?”
“It is not an onerous task. Destroy the Temple of Krab in Az and kill all its priests.”
My father's cheek twitched. “Done.”
I pressed my body low. My thoughts whirled. Everything changed in a moment. How long had my father known I was in Az? How long had he worked with the Paragon? How soon would it be until his forces arrived?
Flashes of Journeyman Carsina and Master Theophil exploded through my thoughts. We couldn't let them die just because I visited the temple. I had to go back to Sven. I had to warn him. I had to face the consequences of my actions. But... but...
Sven would hate me.
He would stare at me with such disgust. I couldn't face my betrayal. There was no man I could sleep with that would hurt Sven more than fucking my step-father. I pressed back into the crevasse as the projection faded away.
I just wanted to stay here. I would never have to see the hurt in my Sven's eyes. I squeezed my proxy's eyes shut. Darkness plunged around me. I curled my segmented legs beneath me, wiggling my narrow body down onto my belly, making myself as small as possible.
I could just stay here forever and...
And let those I care about be in danger...
Strong, masculine hands touched my body. I could hear Sven calling me. A finger touched my nipple, stroking it. My real form felt remote, the tingle racing through my flesh almost more a memory. I could ignore it. I could—
Sven whispered three words.
I love you.
I abandoned my proxy and opened my real eyes.
~ * ~
Sven Falk – Echur, Princedom of Kivoneth, The Strifelands of Zeutch
Ava's blue eyes opened as I stroked her nipple. I loomed over her sleeping form, my face inches from hers. Her arms flew around my neck. She pulled me down and buried her face into my neck. Her body shook. Her tears felt so hot as she sobbed into me.
“I'm so sorry,” she moaned between shuddering groans. “Please, please, don't hate me. I... I couldn't help myself. I'm so sorry, Sven. I love you. I do!”
I scooped her up in my arms. I held her against me as she poured out her emotions. She clung to me with such desperation. I stroked her strawberry-blonde hair and rocked her. Anger rippled through me.
But not at her.
“Greta told me.”
“I... I cheated on you so many times,” she sobbed, her voice strangled by emotion. “I slept with him. My father! I enjoyed it. I'm such a whore, Sven. Such a filthy, disgusting hussy. Please, please, forgive me.”
“You didn't do anything wrong,” I told her.
“I did! I was his slut, Sven.” She lifted her head, her raw eyes staring at me as they swam with more tears. “I did everything to please him.”
“And?” I asked, keeping any of that anger out of my voice. She wasn't to blame.
She furrowed her brow. A sniffling inhalation shook her body. “You're not angry? Why aren't you angry? You should hate me. Think I'm filthy. I am filthy.”
“You're not!” I growled, unable to hide my fury. “It's not your fault a corrupted priestess put a spell on you.”
“But... but...”
“You can't help these amplified desires,” I continued. If I ever found the bitch who did this, I would wring her Las-damned neck. “You couldn't help that her enchantment drove you so wild with lust that you couldn't control yourself. It's not your fault. You have nothing to feel guilty about. I don't hate you. I'm not angry at you. It's not your fault.
“It's your father's fault. That bastard deserves to have Dauthaz's scythe cut off his balls for what he did to you before the God of Death rips out his soul and carries him to the Astral Plane to suffer for his crimes.”
She blinked at me. “But... but...”
I cupped her face and bore into her eyes. “You are not his whore. You are not his slut. You are my betrothed. No spell cast by a Las-fucking priestess will change that. And we're going to do something about it. We're going to break it.”
Her eyes widened. Something changed in her expression. Warmth billowed in her sapphire eyes. A tremulous smile grew on her red lips. Her arms tightened about me as she leaned closer to me. I smelled her musk. It filled my nose as she whimpered.
“Y-you mean that? You're going to free me?”
“Of course,” I told her. “Did you think I'd let one of my women be chained by a spell, let alone to your whore-poxed father?”
“Sven...” she said and then she kissed me.
Salt adorned her lips. She clung to me, her small breasts rubbing on my naked chest as she shook. Her tears spilled down her cheeks, seasoning the kiss as she trembled against me. I held her tight. I loved her with all my might.
I would make Prince Meinard pay. He had one more crime to answer for. I would yank out his guts and listen to him howl for what he did to his step-daughter. Such fury rippled through me. I wanted to march to Echur right now, ride day and night to reach there and plunge my dagger into his chest.
Ava broke the kiss. “Aingeal... She can do it, right?” The princess cast her gaze over to my faerie wife kneeling beside us, her butterfly wings fluttering behind her. “You can free me?”
“No, it's a powerful enchantment that's settled deep into your soul,” she answered. “It's subtle magic placed there by a god. By Las himself. My spirits don't have the strength to break it.”
“Oh,” Ava said.
“But a priest or priestess of Luben will,” Kora said. “The God of Love can counter his son's lusts. There's a temple here in Az. We'll go right away. We'll save you.”
“You won't be a slave to your desires for him any longer,” I told my princess.
“Thank you,” Ava said, a huge smile exploding across her lips. “I... I...” Then her body stiffened. “I almost forgot, but I learned something terrible while I was in my proxy in my father's study. He's aligned himself with the Paragon. They know we're here. He... He's going to burn this temple down and kill Carsina and Theophil. We have to act. We don't have time to break this spell.”
Her words whipped through me. I stiffened. Meinard and the Paragon... Of course that slimy, diseased bastard would align with the Biomancer's monstrosity. My mind worked through the problem, evaluating it, weighing possibilities. We needed to get into the Vault. We had to find the key to the Altar of Souls. It meant losing Kora, but...
But the amulet had to be destroyed. Especially if the Paragon knew about us. Knew we were here. I didn't miss that implication. If Prince Meinard knew enough to destroy the temple, we must be being watched. Probably by the Paragon. And now he knew where we were.
But Echur was days away.
“We have time,” I told her. “We'll break the spell, conceive a child, and find the key to the Altar of Souls. Then we can send Carsina and Theophil into hiding or something. We'll be out of Az here long before your father's men can arrive.”
Or anything else the Paragon might send.
Chapter Fifteen: Faith in Love
Zanyia
My tail swished as we entered the Temple of Fidelity. It had a stodgy air about it, like this place was adverse to fun. It made my ears twitch and my tail prickle. I wanted to scamper all around the temple and rub my pussy on every inch of it. To drench this place in something naughty.
Everything was made of white marble streaked with black or black marble streaked with white. Everywhere I looked, the colors alternated. The pillars out front holding up the roof of the porch went from boring light to dull dark. The stones formed a checkered pattern of the walls, the floor, the ceiling. It hurt my eyes staring at the patterns.
“I don't like this at all,” I said as I scampered beside Master.
“It's the blending of the feminine and the masculine in perfect union,” Kora said from my other side. “Luben believes that true harmony can only happen when a man and a woman unite their lives together and work hard to make what was two become one.”
“A man and a woman?” My tail twitched. “But what about two women? Can't they be happy together? Or a man and his wives and sex slaves?”
“While Luben is the God of Love, he's also the God of Fidelity and Marriage,” Kora said. “And his view of marriage is one man and one woman.”
“So boring,” I said, shaking my tail.
“Yes, that's how lust views love,” a woman said.
I felt eyes staring at me. Two figures approached, a tall and slender man with a brown beard dusted with age who walked next to a motherly woman with short, blonde hair. They both wore priestly robes, his black and trimmed with white, hers the opposite. Just like everything here.
I rolled my eyes at the judgment I felt in their gazes as they stared at my naked flesh.
“Lust seeks to pervert the purpose of our bodies,” the man said. “We were formed to unite together like Pater unites with his wife Slata, to form a perfect union. Thus, by our act of love, we create new life.”
“Lust makes things more fun,” I muttered. “I like women and men. Especially Master.”
The woman smiled. “Luben understands that love can take other forms, but he sees the love that creates new life to be the strongest, the one that should be striven for, but the one that most mortals cannot ever achieve, no matter how hard they strive. For the temptation of Las abounds, especially with his descendants in the world running around naked.”
“The world deserves to see how beautiful I am,” I said, proud that lamia were birthed from Las's masturbation..
“Yes, spreading Las's lust,” the priest said. Then his eyes slid to my Master. “You walk with many women. Another who has found a lesser form of love.”
“Lesser?” Sven asked. “I love all these women here, and you call that lesser? I unite with them. Procreate with them. I think you'd celebrate that.”
“Interesting perspective,” the priest said. “Would you care to discuss it over tea? We could talk about the pitfalls of polyamory and its weaknesses versus monogamy.”
Sven smiled and gave a rueful laugh. “I very much doubt you could convince me that sticking to one woman is at all in my interest. Not when there are so many out there in need of my charm.” He grinned at the priestess and winked at her. “Though, perhaps I could talk with your wife on the matter.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You are a cocky one.”
The priest just laughed. “I think that would be an... enlightening conversation for you, son, if you survived her tongue.”
“Oh, I always enjoy a woman's tongue.”
“Brother mine, stop antagonizing the priest,” Kora said, giving him a look over my head. “We're here for a reason.”
“Yes,” Ealaín added, her armor rattling as she folded her arms.
Aingeal only giggled. “It's a shame. Your wife would really enjoy sparring orally with my husband. He is quite skilled with his tongue.”
“Please,” Ava said, her voice tight. “I... I need your help.”
Sven stiffened and nodded his head. His cocky smile vanished. “I apologize, priest. I can't help myself sometimes. I was born to flirt with a pretty woman. Of course, I wouldn't try to seduce your wife from breaking her vows of fidelity.”
The priestess gave a snort of disdain. I breathed in and... smelled only amused contempt from the woman. Not a stirring of lust at all for my Master. I furrowed my brow and wanted to glare at her. She should be dripping wet for my Master. She should be honored that he wanted to give her pleasure. Every woman should.
I wanted to pounce on her and kiss her and lick her and drive her wild until she begged for Sven to take her and...
Ava. We were here for Ava.
“I am sorry, too,” I said, bowing my head, my ears drooping. “I... I just like having fun. You have to help Mistress Ava. She needs it.”
“Please,” Ava said, stepping forward.
The priestess cupped Ava's cheeks and stared into her eyes. The priestess groaned. “Oh, I am so sorry that happened to you, child. How terrible. Of course we will help you. I'm Thea, and this is my husband Otmar. Come, come with us.”
“What has happened to her, wife?” Otmar asked, fatherly concern crossing his face. He stroked his gray-peppered beard.
“Swanhilda,” Thea said, her voice thick. The sour scent of anger poured off of her along with a prickly emotion. I breathed in deeply, parsing out her musk from the others around me, cataloging it with my sensitive nose.
Was it guilt?
“Who is Swanhilda?” Sven asked.
“The rogue priestess who enchanted your, uh, paramour,” Thea said. “I can feel her twisted enchantment on the poor girl's soul.”
“You know about her?” Ava asked. “Swanhilda?”
“Aye,” sighed Otmar. “She was a promising priestess of Luben. She was raised in the faith, met a male acolyte, and started a courtship. They married as their final stage of initiation into the priesthood, uniting their lives together. They seemed happy. They took up the care of a village temple in western Zeutch.”
“And then she met a passing bard, one of those graduates from Az's famed college,” Thea said, her voice tightening.
I didn't care much about the story of this Swanhilda, my head darting around. I noticed a mural on the wall that made me blink. It was made of the same whites and blacks, the darker colors adding deep shadows and lines to make the white figures stand out more. A sad man watched on as a woman lay in the passionate arms of another man.
<
br /> My head cocked. As Thea explained how Swanhilda abandoned her vows to have a torrid affair with the bard, I found myself drifting towards the mural, padding along on all fours. This picture didn't fit here. It was clearly a woman doing exactly what this Swanhilda did.
“It broke her vows to our God and twisted her priestly connection,” Thea was saying as I reached the mural. “Las stepped in as he always does when one of his father's servants becomes weak. She dedicated herself to lust, becoming such a hussy. After she tired of her dalliance with the bard, she moved onto other vices. But she needs money. She rents our her magics, prostitutes herself in every way imaginable. She put a spell of ardor on Ava, giving her an unnatural attraction to another.”
“My step-father,” Ava whispered.
“Did you make a mural about Swanhilda?” I asked, standing only a foot away. I peered at the sad man. “Is this her husband watching her cuckold him?”
“No, no,” Otmar said. I heard the padding of feet, the rustling of robes. His scent grew stronger. “That is Luben witnessing his wife, Biaute, lying with one of her many lovers. If you notice the slight curve to her belly...”
“She's pregnant!” I gasped, staring at the representation of the Goddess of Beauty.
“The only child she ever conceived for her husband, Luben,” Otmar said. “But her wanton ways corrupted their son. Las was birthed brimming with desire. But Luben loved her still. He was faithful to her, welcoming her back after her trysts.”
“What a fool,” I said, my tail slashing behind me. “Why would anyone want to be with someone who cheats on them and hurts them? Look at how sad he is.”
“Very...” Otmar said, his voice thick. I smelled shame bleeding off of him. “Just like Swanhilda's husband, our God made an oath. He could not break it. Nor could he change how his heart felt. He could only hope that Biaute would one day stop hurting him.”
That sounded utterly foolish. Why be with someone that caused you pain? My last Master hurt me all the time. But Sven... I chose him to be my owner. He didn't hurt me. Well, he did, but in a way that made me feel even sexier. But he didn't injure my heart.
