Darla.
My mind twisted and contorted in pain.
I stopped listening.
Darla was…
Everything.
My first wife. My first real bond. The woman who saw through all my self-hate and loved me anyway. Darla was the glue in our poly-marriage who made everything work.
She was the woman who was supposed to be mine forever.
When Azhadon had been overrun by enemy troops, I had died trying to draw them away.
It hadn’t helped.
No matter what I did, she still died anyway.
Her last words were... words of encouragement to me... to help me through Father’s torture.
I shouldn’t have listened to my Seer. I should have gone to Darla immediately and saved her no matter what the cost.
“Molli would have died, if you had done that,” Larosha intruded on my thoughts. “Devonika and Aric would have been victorious. Nagon would have been destroyed.”
Aric.
I fucking hated him.
He was Moli’s first husband... And my oldest friend.
Betrayer.
Backstabber.
I had burned his soul to dust in the crucible of my mind after he had hunted my family.
How could I have ever given my friendship to him?
And why did his death haunt me so much?
- 6 -
“Lexi needs you,” Larosha insisted, breaking through my scattered thoughts, again. “She will be executed, in Savaet, in three days. Her fate has been written by your Mother if you don’t return and save her.”
It always came down to me.
Maxwell, the Broken Hero of Nagon, Emperor of a country that hated and reviled his name.
Abomination.
Coward.
Shaking, tears began to stream down my cheeks.
“I’m no longer me,” I sobbed. “My dragon is gone. My magic is gone. My guns and allies are all gone. I can’t save Lexi.”
“Rose still lives,” Larosha said, trying to derail my tantrum.
Inconsolable, I blurted out, “Fuck… even my penis is gone.”
Larosha laughed.
“It was always essential to you,” she quipped.
“How can I help any of them... as a girl?” I wailed. “I can’t harvest sex magic... as a girl! I was an Erotis-Mage. I need my penis!”
Larosha shook her head, trying not to laugh at me.
“Your knowledge of magic is still yours,” she pointed out.
Touching my face, she added. “Woman can have sex as well.”
I looked at her in disbelief.
“I don’t want to be a girl,” I groaned. “They have… feelings.”
The angel chuckled. “Yes, it is terrible to be so emotional and… fragile.”
That word poked at my mind.
The women in my life were anything but fragile. They had withstood horrible trials and disasters. Moli had been born in the Ghetto of Malatorah, and she had risen to Domina Tyrannos, a position directly below the Emperor in power and authority.
Claire had overcome addiction to Demonic magic until my death drove her back into that black pit of despair. I prayed that I could fix my mistake and lead her back into redemption.
Adalisia floated through my desolate thoughts. She had withstood being alone since nearly birth, bucking the ghoul’s innate desire to eat human flesh without rules or structure. She walked the Path of Rebirth alone. Hell, she had even survived being killed, like me.
And… Darla had survived a brutal, savage father who wanted sons, not daughters. He had threatened to rape her, repeatedly. The bastard had beaten her and then shaved her head, calling my love an abomination not fit to breathe.
Killing him had been my wedding gift to her.
None of them were fragile.
Indomitable was a better description.
“They are all stronger than me,” I whispered. “My wives are not fragile or weak, even if Claire has given in to her addiction.”
“I know,” Larosha said, smiling widely. “I just needed you to understand that.”
Then, the Angel sighed, “My time is up. Three days. You only have three to save Lexi. Please use your time wisely..”
As she faded, she added, “Your name was Maxwell Nicolaus Torant…”
--M--
Rose flew over my head, circling the room in agitation. I laid my head down and tried to just think.
Larosha’s words resonated in my mind.
Maxwell Nicolaus Torant.
All my memories returned.
The good.
And, the bad.
Without all of them, I wouldn’t be me.
The bad taught my foolish self what not to do again. Pain was a persistent teacher.
Good memories encouraged me to live.
“Dick Head,” Rose cawed.
She landed on the pillow next to my face. Then, the little bitch hopped lower and jabbed my left breast with her beak.
“God Dammit!” I cursed, swatting at her.
Rose was mostly bad memories.
Laughing, she dodged away from me and took off in a squawking mess of feathers.
But, before Rose had died, I had discovered that Mother had stolen her empathy, making her a compassionless, soulless monster. Mother had wanted a machine in human flesh, capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty, and she had succeeded with my sister.
Mother thought that emotion discouraged a monarch from becoming the best she could be.
I had given Rose her emotions back, just in time for her grisly death at the hands of a giant who she had abused.
Karma was a bitch.
That should become one of my mantras, right next to… cowards always lose.
- 7 -
“I’m sorry,” I wheezed out.
My female emotions were threatening to reduce me to a sobbing wreck. I just didn’t know how to deal with so many thoughts and feelings. My chest tightened, and I felt flushed. Instead of just feeling one idea, or thought, I was swamped with dozens of speculations and deliberations, all at the same time.
Should I do this… or that?
If I did that, what would be the consequences?
Who would I hurt?
How would it make them… oh fuck… how would it make them feel?
I was doomed.
Rose glided to a stop on the table and cocked her head at me, looking like she wanted to peck me again.
I opened my mouth, and she clacked her beak together, stopping me.
“You remember my death?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Dick Head,” she spat out. “Not your fault. Mine.”
A tear dripped down my cheek.
“Don’t cry for me!” the crow shrieked as she began to stamp across the table, kicking things off of it.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, unable to control myself. My insides quivered in overwhelming grief.
“Grab hold of yourself!” Rose cawed. “Or… I will peck you harder!”
I gripped my arms and tried to calm down again.
It was so much harder than it should have been. In the past…
I had been a man.
“Focus on vengeance,” Rose hissed, “Not tears.”
“I’m tired of vengeance,” I whispered. “I just wanted to forget.”
“And how well did that work? Dumbass!” the crow pestered me, kicking another nicknack off the table, before launching herself into the air like a demented cat, hopped up on catnip.
I didn’t answer, because it was apparent.
“You always focused on yourself,” Rose insisted. “Never on me.”
I laughed, her words mirrored my past.
MY emotions had always been the most important thing to me. Strategy, clear thinking, other people’s needs… always came a distant second. If I was sad, everyone needed to be sad. If I was angry, burn the world.
Even by hiding, I had put myself first.
My grief.
/>
My pain.
Me. Me. Me.
“I deserve this,” I whispered. “I am a horrible person.”
The crow nodded dramatically, waving its head up and down.
“Yes, you are,” she added, stamping her foot.
Silence filled the air.
Then, Rose flew over and landed in front of me.
“However,” she admitted. “You are Not a complete bastard.”
Clawing the pillows, she added. “But, if you stay here any longer, you will be.”
She was right.
I fucking hated when Rose was right.
“What do I do?” I asked. “I have no magic, no dragon, and no guns.”
“You have me,” she said, sweeter than I remembered her. Though Rose was talking about herself, which was always her favorite subject.
“Mother is… occupied… right now,” Rose said. “It is a good time to leave.”
Occupied was code for having sex.
Orgy level sex.
It was a family pastime.
“Follow me,” she instructed.
Then, impishly, she added, “Sister.”
Have I mentioned that I hate her?
- 8 -
I tried to strangle Rose--the crow--but, she had cawed and flew away from me.
I wasn’t her sister.
I was Maxwell, her older brother.
Rose flew down several hallways devoid of guards. There were no guards because Mother was supremely confident. I had bound myself willingly in her chains of sex and oblivion.
Coward.
I heard the word reverberating in my mind.
I hated that I felt so… weak.
Mother had taken my body, my dragon, and my link to my wives.
And… I had encouraged it all. Fuck. I had been a willing participant. Like a coward, I had fled all sense of responsibility. Now, I didn’t have any power or connections, and I was trapped in a stranger’s body.
And why had I chosen a woman’s body?
She was so full of emotions.
And why were there so many colors now?
Instead of white walls, I suddenly saw cream, ivory, vanilla, and eggshell.
How did women stand… noticing every fucking thing?
Grumbling, I stomped down the corridor.
The house was empty at the moment, at least this floor was.
But… I could feel… sex.
It radiated from the walls, from the floors… hell, I could even feel it leaking out of the ceiling. The orgy upstairs was in full swing. The floor was squeaking like a spring-loaded bed being bounced on by way too many people.
The power that it was releasing was intoxicating. It began to drive all of my thoughts out of my head, igniting my womanhood instead. I began to drip inside, as I sucked in all the raw power.
The euphoria. It was intoxicating.
All I had to do was go upstairs.
Ick.
Mother was there.
That killed my vibe and made everything… yucky.
Looking out the windows, I could see the guards outside. They walked back and forth on the wall that surrounded the building. The men were armed with rifles and pistols, which surprised me. Then, I remembered that Mother’s guards were armed with modern weapons like mine had been. Neither of us were traditionalists, at heart.
I looked left and right out of the window, suddenly realizing how big this building was.
Mother had built a massive whore house…
Suddenly, I recognized several of the ruins outside.
The Grand Library of Viraharce.
The Colosseum of Champions.
Tall structures loomed all around me. They looked chewed up and gnawed on by monsters that must have been god-like in their stature.
Smoke still rose in the distance.
It was Nagon. The capital city of my Empire.
The dragons had returned to their home… to fuck.
The lunacy of the whole thing struck me. Mother had made a magical generator out of my sex life, and I had let her.
How fucking sick was that?
I must have been out of my mind to allow this to happen.
Empty rooms that still smelled like sex, alcohol, and illicit drugs surrounded me. Each of them was filled with beds, swings, and other devices that I knew I had used. One room even had a teeter-totter for adults. Whips, paddles, ropes, and chains lay neatly organized in racks, and bottles of lubricant were everywhere.
But where were the whores?
Upstairs I realized.
They were all with Mother.
I nearly gagged.
The thumping above us became even louder.
It was rhythmic and familiar.
Rose cawed, “Quiet.”
She flew into an empty room and bade me with her beak to shut the door behind us.
They… all of the whores... male, female, and somewhere-in-between... were having sex upstairs. I touched a wall, and I could feel the power flowing out of their bodies...
And, into me.
I gasped.
Swallowing in disgust, I drank down the power that she was creating--And--sending to me on purpose. I was just one big sexual battery that she was trying to fill.
I leaned against the wall and slid down onto the floor.
The energy was laced with euphoria, release, and excitement. All of my favorite feelings. I didn’t need to worry when I was using my favorite drug. Nothing hurt anymore when it was filling my veins.
I was an addict, running from reality and responsibility to my beloved and cherished distraction. I craved and desired it like a fish needed water; like I needed air.
The power poured through me, burying my emotions and replacing them with… glee, exultation, and intoxicating bliss.
No responsibilities.
No consequences.
Only pleasure.
But, this time, I felt everything as a woman.
It overwhelmed my soul.
It felt like I had been blind, but now I could see. Everything was so much more vivid and meaningful.
How could women survive this onslaught of feelings?
Everything wasn’t buried under miles of denial and compartmentalization.
Now… I just had to allow myself to feel.
Pleasure raged through my mind while my body responded by growing wet and ready.
“Shield,” my sister insisted, landing by my foot.
When I didn’t answer, she pecked my knee, hard.
“Fuck! That hurt!” I hissed, pulling my knee up to my chest.
“Shield,” she insisted again.
It was hard to do in this body. This woman’s flesh didn’t have the mystical muscle-memory that my old body had acquired over years of practice.
I had to focus and fight to block the pounding waves of sexuality that were assaulting my mind.
Most of me didn’t want too.
Feelings brought grief and responsibility.
But, not shielding brought pain. Rose made sure of it.
“Better,” Rose finally said with approval.
I hated her.
She was trying to make me care again.
Caring brought agonizing grief.
I leaned against the wall and kept breathing hard.
My body was flush with lust.
My breasts felt warm and… my nipples were erect. Their tips grazed the silk of my dress, driving me wild. By merely moving my shoulders, so the silk would slide against them, I almost climaxed.
My Lady of Bones Page 3
