Sword of the Tyrant

by Cebelius

  "To prove a point, just as she said," Yuri said ruefully as he lifted his head to look at her. "I was a fool. It was only for a moment, but that is long enough in a place like this to cost a life. She knows that, and chose to drive the lesson home."

  "I think I'm gonna be sick," Laina quietly admitted.

  "Take deep breaths and smile. Smile as big as you can. Do not ask me why it works," Yuri said.

  Laina nodded and did as he suggested. She did not puke, but Yuri could tell it was a near thing and turned away to spare her embarrassment.

  Euryale's mask was turned toward him, and her arms were curled in a self-hug as she said, "I'm um ... actually pretty glad that wasn't me. If it had been, I'd be down there somewhere trying to get that fucking thing out of my chest. Then I'd have to hope that area out there is connected to where the falls are, because flying against a waterfall isn't something I can do. Not to mention there's probably a lake down there, or worse: a river, and a bolt that heavy would have sent me straight to the bottom. I might have been washed away and pinned miles underground until the bolt rotted ... or until the water stopped flowing."

  She glanced out into the open, through the once more silent arch over emptiness. Her hands slid down until they were at her sides, and her claws tightened until he heard the metal of them squealing. Her voice had a slight tremble in it as she said, "Yuri? I can't wind up like that. Not now. Not when I finally have someone to live for."

  Her snakes stared intently at him, and that blank wooden mask couldn't conceal her worry ... her fear.

  "You need to come up with a better plan."

  16

  Give In To Me

  As it turned out, Terry did more than hold tiger men still while Mila worked on them. He was also required to lend her power to continue her work. Whatever it was that had been done to these men, it was deep-rooted.

  He didn't know much about the process other than it required him to hold each man still while Mila put her hand upon his head, chanting something over and over again until whatever it was broke. Some men only took fifteen minutes or so. Two took over an hour. All struggled mightily, but Terry was more than adequate to the task of keeping each mostly still.

  After watching them break the first few enchantments, Dascha had excused herself, claiming she had not slept for the better part of the last few days. Reassured by their progress, she left them the keys to the cells and departed, promising to have food and water sent for them and the men in their care.

  The process took most of the day, and it was grueling work for both of them. After a few hours, Terry had to channel some of his own strength into Mila so she could continue. He was careful about it, but noticed the looks she tossed him afterward, and the fact that her tail kept drifting higher whenever he met her gaze for more than a moment or two. A strange side benefit manifested in that whatever pheromones Mila started giving off after she got his power seemed to make breaking the tiger men of their enchantments easier.

  Terry had a rough time mostly because he spent the entire day listening to men scream at him about how what he was doing was wrong. They were in love. He had no right to do what he was doing. It wasn't fair. Most of them broke down and cried at some point.

  Even after their enchantments were broken, some of them looked so lost and depressed that it began to get to him after a while.

  When the last of the tiger men had been treated, the work was still not done. Everyone got fed and watered, but they were returned to their cells rather than released.

  Terry spent some time speaking with Mila about what was required, then spilled his blood crafting a barrier at the entrance to the cellway corridor that would keep the spell song from undoing all the work they'd just put in.

  Until the threat was dealt with permanently, none of the men could be trusted out in the open.

  As he crouched, painstakingly writing out the words, he began to notice a subtle tang in the air. It took him some time to recognize it, and when he did he glanced back to see Mila staring fixedly at him. Her tail was up and weaving with unmistakable sensuality behind her.

  "I thought you used all I gave you," he said, turning back to the task at hand.

  "I did," she conceded. "But while it is the magic that turns me on ... its use does not satisfy the fire it kindles."

  He grinned. He'd never heard her use that phrase before. She must have picked it up from Prada, or perhaps Shy. It took him another ten minutes afterward to finish his bloody finger painting, then he stood up and stepped back, reading the words to himself. It should work, but if it didn't ... well, that's why the tiger men had been returned to their cells.

  "This should do what we want it to," he said.

  Her reply was breathy. "You should ... use your Rod. The spell will not take hold until you speak it ... aloud."

  He quirked a brow and turned with a grin on his face. He'd expected to see her giving him a toothy grin and an inviting look. What he saw instead cost him all his words.

  She was seated in the chair Dascha had used. Her cream-colored robes were hiked up past her shamelessly spread thighs. She was leaning back, one hand pressed between her legs and flexing languidly as she looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

  Her breasts were straining against her cream and red robes. They still hadn't been properly adjusted to her larger frame, and he could see her nipples as hard bumps in the fabric.

  As he watched, transfixed, her jaws parted and she started to pant, still gazing fixedly at him. Her sabers and perfect set of predator's teeth did not make the scene any less ...

  "Hot."

  "Mmmm, yes, I am. You would not leave me this way, would you?"

  Terry opened his mouth, then hesitated.

  She noticed, and a plaintive sound escaped her as she whined, "I can control it this time ... I promise."

  When he still didn't move she went on in a rush, "Everyone else gets so much more of you and I do not mind, truly, but when I am like this ... Terry, I need you. Please?"

  "Mila, it wasn't a question of whether I was going to satisfy you or not, just if I should do it right this minute." He waved a hand at the bloody inscription behind him. "Kinda need to actually activate this thing."

  "Oh, that. Use your Rod ..."

  She was making no effort to hide her arousal, or the fact that she was still lazily pleasuring herself as she rolled her tongue lasciviously behind the cage of her teeth. He could smell her, that spicy scent he'd long since associated with her. And if he could smell it, it was a good bet every tiger-man in every cell was being downright tormented.

  That thought should have made him feel a bit guilty, but instead, it gave him a bit of a thrill.

  "You just want to see it do that thing it does to me whenever I pick the damn thing up," he said, grinning.

  "Mmmm yesss ..."

  Terry moved to his pack, then — with a supreme effort of will — tore his eyes off the salacious show Mila was giving to retrieve the Rod of the Heart.

  He expected his semi to give up the ghost pretty much immediately as soon as he pulled the damn thing from his pack, but the fire that flooded through his system did nothing to quell his arousal. In fact, it did pretty much the opposite.

  Terry shuddered as he straightened, and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the blank wall in front of him.

  It amplifies what I already have inside, he remembered — too late, of course — as he desperately struggled against the overwhelming urge to throw the Rod of the Heart away, tear his clothes off, and fuck Mila seven ways from Sunday right there on the dungeon floor.

  Mila moaned brokenly from behind him and her voice had that slow, feline rowl to it as she purred, "Terrrryyyy ... I know you cannot see, but you look so, soooo good ..."

  Terry leaned the Rod against the wall long enough to smack himself twice, hard, with both hands. The sting did its job of distracting him as he grabbed the damn thing and stepped over to the ward he had drawn. He was careful not to catch any glimpse of Mila, who had gone
back to panting fitfully while obviously not waiting for him to get started. The slick sound as she drove fingers into her sex almost cost him his mind.

  He focused with all the intensity he could muster on the words of the spell and began to speak in English. As he did, he channeled his power into the ward. It was almost exactly the same thing he had done back in Florence, casting the spell that had banished the brainiac — and him — to the Deep Court.

  The blood he had shed for the ritual began burning with an unearthly royal purple radiance. The words flickered and rose from the floor, their letters twisting into a circle that began rotating unsupported in front of him, glowing with the color of his aura.

  Then, though the spell was complete, its words did not fade. They simply rotated, filling the space of the corridor between him and the cells.

  The spell had worked. Of that he was certain, but he was far from satisfied.

  He turned from the ward, and very deliberately looked at Mila. She was panting wantonly, thrusting fingers into herself as she gazed at him with wide, pleading eyes.

  "Terrrry, you ... oooh fuck me!"

  He set the Rod of the Heart aside. Now that he knew what came next, it paradoxically returned some measure of his self-control. He shucked his shirt, and as he worked on his belt said the only thing left to say.

  "Yes ma'am."

  He had no idea how much time had passed. Mila — wanton as she had appeared — had been able to keep her wits about her enough to present herself facing away. In rearward positions it was difficult for her to bite or claw him, and he'd managed to get through with only a few light gashes on his thighs and a shallow cut on his tongue from an abortive kiss. After the first hour or so they'd been able to face each other, but her lusts seemed unabated despite her obvious weariness. They had enjoyed each other in a variety of positions, but the one they'd settled into left him on top, her beneath him on her belly, head couched on her crossed forearms. His legs were inside hers, and her tail brushed his stomach and chest, its tip wrapping around his neck as she made quiet, pleased sounds.

  She did not purr, not quite, but the sounds she made were obvious in their intent. She lay with her head tilted so she could look up at him out of one eye. Her lips were parted, and she just stared at him with an expression of such obvious adoration that he couldn't help but please her for just as long as she'd let him.

  In the beginning they had been frantic, but now he moved gently, slowly. It was a mutual savoring rather than a drive toward orgasm. Neither cared about climax. Both understood that this was time spent just for the sake of being together.

  "I love you," he murmured, bending to kiss the spot just behind one of her ears, which flickered, batting his cheek.

  "I ... love you, Terry," she sighed. "This is the thing I never knew I wanted. Having it now ... I understand so much more. I will talk to Shy. She said she could help me with control."

  Terry grinned. "You seemed to do all right."

  She sighed and shook her head slightly. "I cut your tongue when we kissed, and scored your thighs. I can still smell your blood, feel it smearing into my fur. I just ... cannot help myself."

  "I can barely feel that," Terry said, though the cut on his tongue did sting.

  She rolled her hips languidly underneath him and the feel of being inside her felt ...

  He blinked.

  It felt, wrong?

  Now that he thought about it, the long, shallow cuts along his thighs did bother him. The feel of her fur, of the individual hairs pricking at the cuts ...

  He gently pulled from Mila and settled onto his knees, his expression fading into one of confusion as his arousal died.

  Mila's tail followed him, brushed across his chest, but the contact brought him no comfort. The spicy tang of her sexual flavor made him wrinkle his nose.

  It pained him to admit it, but as he looked at her rolling languidly to her side to gaze back at him, he felt nothing but a vague annoyance.

  "I'm ... done, I think," he said quietly, still confused. "I don't ..."

  "It is all right," Mila said, her voice throaty and content. "You were exactly what I needed."

  You aren't what I need though, he thought, and immediately checked to ensure that the boundary separating Koschei from his mind was still intact. As far as he could tell, it was.

  Mila turned and set her hands on his thighs as she spoke soft words of magic.

  Even as his cuts faded away, it took effort not to pull away from her. He managed it though, and said, "Thank you."

  "Thank you. We should get dressed. While I have no doubt Shy is aware of what has happened and will have told the others, we should still not be rude."

  "Yeah ..."

  As he put his clothes back on, Terry examined his feelings. He considered his relationship with Mila, and wondered what he'd ever seen in her.

  Sure, she'd been there for him, been kind, been a friend, but how had he ever been attracted to her as anything more than that?

  It just ... didn't make sense.

  He picked up the Rod to replace it in his pack, but the appreciative murmur he heard from Mila only increased his annoyance. Sliding it over his shoulder, he gestured that she go first down the hall, but instead, she smiled at him and took his hand in hers.

  As they walked together, Terry realized things had reached the awkward date level, and he found himself wishing there were some Celestine equivalent of the emergency bail-out call from a buddy when you realized things had gone to hell in a handbasket.

  I wish Shy were ...

  The thought trailed off as he realized he did not want Shy to be the one to bail him out. Hell, Shy was the reason he was in this mess. If he'd never met her, he wouldn't be running all over creation neck-deep in trouble having to deal with all these crazy monster girls out to use him.

  There's gotta be a girl out there who isn't a lunatic, who wants me for something other than what's between my legs. If only I could find HER, I could be happy ...

  The closer they got to the open air, the more apprehensive Terry became. The other girls were out there. They'd want to talk to him, or worse.

  There was a yearning in him for company, but as he thought about those who awaited him, he felt only a deep psychological distress. They weren't what he wanted. What he needed.

  "Do you hear that?" Mila asked.

  "Huh?"

  Terry used the distraction as an opportunity to take his hand back, though he was careful not to wipe it on his pants. That would be too obvious.

  "That ... sound."

  Mila suddenly turned and gripped the sides of his head with both hands, staring intently into his eyes.

  Something broke inside him, and he jerked himself free and snapped, "What the hell?!"

  "Oh no, Terry, you need to hold still for me."

  "Jesus, Mila, haven't I done enough today?" he asked, turning to continue toward the exit. "I already have to deal with all the others now too. It's like there's no end to this shit."

  To his surprise, Mila didn't argue with him. Instead, she raced away down the corridor, shouldering past him in her haste to get ahead.

  "Good riddance," he muttered, deliberately slowing his pace to let her go, though he kept walking.

  He saw side rooms, and hesitated as he wondered if he shouldn't take one of these to sleep in tonight. At least he'd be alone.

  But he didn't want to be alone. He wanted ... someone. He didn't understand it, but that tiny part of him that had never steered him wrong kept him walking. His gut was telling him that what he wanted was out there, somewhere close. All he had to do was go find it.

  Find her.

  He hesitated. He had eight women, just counting those who seemed to want to stay with him. What the hell would he need another one for?

  The moment passed. His urge to find a room and hole up for the night passed as well, and he found himself walking toward the exit. He didn't know where he was going, not really, but he knew that what he wanted wasn't here.


  He had too many women. He'd always known it, but for some reason it had never stopped him. It should have. A good man wouldn't have just ... farmed himself out as Terry had done. He was like the neighborhood bicycle, taken for a ride by everyone, and it made him feel dirty. One woman. Just one was enough, as long as she was the right woman.

  He hadn't found her yet, but he sensed she was close. He'd find her, and she'd be all he needed.

  He took the last set of stairs and walked through a dilapidated entry hall toward the open double doors that would let him out into the world.

  They stood there, facing him. Halla stood in the middle. Shy was on the oni's right, Isthil on her left. Prada stood on Isthil's other side, and Mila stood next to Shy. Together, the five of them blocked his exit.

  His annoyance and irritation began to flare into anger as he stopped about twenty feet away. Always there was something. They gave him no peace, never left him alone.

  With a supreme effort, he sought to master himself and asked, "Something wrong?"

  Shy took a step forward and he focused on her with laser-like intensity. She must have seen something in his eyes, because she stopped and held her hands up, palms toward him as she gently spoke.

  "Tee, the music is playing. Can you hear it?"

  "What music?" he snapped, then winced and clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger in check. They might be annoying, but they'd stood by him. He owed it to them now to be civil at least.

  "The music that has plagued the tiger-kin here," she said, still speaking softly. Her voice, always such a sensual delight, grated on his nerves now in a way he couldn't explain.

  "All I can hear right now is you," he said. "I need to go outside. I need space. Air. You understand?"

  I might have to use magic to get out of this, he realized. They aren't going to let me go.

  "Tee, we need you to let Mila break this enchantment. Will you let us? Please?" she asked.

  "I am not enchanted. I don't hear a damn thing. I'm just annoyed. I spend every minute of every hour of every FUCKING day with you people. I just want to ... to ..."