The Barbarian and the Witch

The Barbarian and the Witch Sindra van Yssel www.loose-id.com The Barbarian and the Witch Copyright © August 2011 b...

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The Barbarian and the Witch

Sindra van Yssel

www.loose-id.com

The Barbarian and the Witch Copyright © August 2011 by Sindra van Yssel All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-61118-517-1 Editor: Jana J. Hanson Cover Artist: Tuesday Dube Printed in the United States of America

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Chapter One Myriel looked wearily around her. So this is how I’m going to die. She stood on green grass next to a small, clear spring. At the edge of her little oasis, where green gave way to gray and verdant growth yielded to drought, circled the dogs. The Abyssal hounds. She had thought them a legend told to frighten children into good behavior, but they were all too obviously real, unless her recent use of magic had drained her to the point where she was hallucinating. She wished she could believe she was. The dogs had come from the dry, scrub-infested hills around her, sent by Kerrah, no doubt. They were larger than wolves, with fur the color of dark wine, and the drool that dripped from their jaws hissed when it struck the ground like water tossed onto a heated iron pan. They advanced slowly, warily, as if she were dangerous to them rather than the other way around. But she had no magic that would do them or anyone else harm. Best not to know spells she would never use, and the karmic backlash from harmful magic was too great a cost to pay. Somehow, she thought the universe would turn a blind eye to anything she did to defend herself against the hounds, but it didn’t matter. She had nothing. She looked around, trying to see something that would enable her to at least draw some blood before she died. Her athame, the ritual knife, lay on the tree stump that had been her makeshift altar. It had never drawn blood, nor was it ever meant to. She picked it up. Dead, she’d be of no use in this once fertile land. With her athame defiled by the blood of the hounds, she’d be equally useless. She looked around for a better solution, and all she saw at first were the hounds drawing

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closer, now so close she could smell the sulfur of their breath and feel the heat radiating off them. Then she spotted the man. He stood on top of a hill, a hundred meters away. Kerrah? Doubtful. She would have run toward him, ready to hurl her knife, if she thought it was him. It was not the thought of a proper witch: to solve things by destroying an enemy. But Kerrah was responsible for all the blight around her, and she was going to die at the claw and jaw of the hounds anyway. Karmic payback would be accounted for, and it would be worth it. But Kerrah was supposed to be old, older than any man had a right to be. This fellow, from what she could see, was young, fit. Broad-shouldered. Bare-chested. He ran, not away from the hounds but toward her, his sword glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Perhaps he was one of Kerrah’s minions. Perhaps he was not. She couldn’t save her own life, but she could save his. “Run away!” she yelled. “Run for your life.” He kept coming. The hounds were barely a body length away now. Soon their jaws would rend her flesh from her bones. She yelled again, but if he even noticed, she couldn’t tell. Perhaps he was deaf. He was certainly fast. A hound jumped at her. The man swung the huge sword as if it were light as a feather, and almost before she could register the sight of burning blood, he had grabbed her wrist and pulled. She went sprawling, twisting to see as she fell. The two other hounds leaped through the area where she had stood and landed on either side of the man with the sword. Up close, he was even more impressive than he had been from a distance. His bare chest rippled with muscle; his arms were like corded steel. He slashed to the right, and the dog there fell back. He sidestepped into the place where it had been, standing between it and Myriel, even as the other hound circled around behind him. “Stay down.” His voice was obviously that of one used to being obeyed, and he spoke too perfectly for her earlier guess that he was deaf. She didn’t want to obey, but the words at least made her hesitate before scrambling to her feet. The dogs leaped forward at some unspoken signal, acting together as they had when they had


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moved to strike her. “Behi—” she started to say, and he slashed backward without looking, the sword whirring over her head to slice into the hound behind him. He kicked the other one in the nose as it jumped, but it nipped at his feet. His boot disintegrated in the acid of the hound's spittle, and she suspected the foot beneath wasn’t in very good shape either. But if he felt pain, he didn’t show it. The hound his sword had struck lay still, the blow a fatal one. She almost felt sorry for it and had to remind herself that these were no creatures of nature. Any natural pack-hunting animal would flee, but the one remaining hound stared at the warrior. For several long seconds, neither moved. Myriel set her athame on the ground and got to her feet. There still wasn’t much she could do, but she’d be damned if she was going to lie simpering on the ground while this muscular stranger protected her. In any case, he seemed to have matters well in hand. Then suddenly he crumpled to the ground. Steam came from his left foot. The wound was worse than she thought. The two corpses had caught fire, reminding her that they were not merely bigger versions of ordinary wolves. The remaining hound was still deadly. It was now her rescuer, not herself, who was unprotected. She could pick up her knife, try to get his sword from him, or fight with her bare hands. Or try to heal him, knowing she’d be vulnerable while she did. The hound had already turned its gaze to her as the greater threat. None of the other options seemed likely to save either of them, and healing him would at least let him fight for himself. She knelt, touched his steaming foot, and uttered the invocation to Kalana, the goddess of healing and growth. She ignored the stinging sensation in her hand. At least she didn’t have to prepare a sacred space. The small oasis of green that surrounded them had been created through her magic and was already dedicated to Kalana. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the demon dog leap for her. It was all she could do to finish her spell rather than commend her soul to Kalana’s mercies. But

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at least this man would survive. She had done what she could for the wounded land. Kerrah’s hellish minions were simply too strong. As she said the last word, the sword shot up, impaling the monster in the neck. For a moment, flaming blood ran down the blade to the pommel as the demon was frozen in midair and time itself seemed to stop. Then the man cast sword and dog aside with one mighty heave. “Overconfident little buggers, aren’t they? I’ve never seen their like, and I hope to never see it again.” His accent was thick, a northern dialect, she thought. The man spit on his arm where a drop of blood had scalded the skin, and then wiped it on his woolen pants. He propped himself up to take a look at his foot and raised his eyebrows. “I thought it was a lot worse.” “It was,” said Myriel. “Thank you for your assistance, stranger. I am Myriel, and without your aid I would have surely perished.” “Johan.” The man knitted his brows in puzzlement for a moment, still looking at his foot. He kicked off what was left of the ruined boot, and then took off the intact one on his other foot as well. Before their eyes, acid-burned flesh became smooth again, leaving a stretch of soft skin that looked almost delicate compared to the tanned and toughened skin around it. He doesn’t often wear shoes. Sandals, maybe. But he goes barefoot much of the time, or his feet wouldn’t look like that. “Those hounds’ magic must fade as their corpses burn,” Johan said at last. “But why did they come here? I wouldn’t think such hellspawn would seek water or eat plants, so this oasis would have little for them.” “They came to attack me,” Myriel said, still kneeling beside him. She was trying to look at his arm without being too obvious, but it was hidden by his body. He smiled at that. “I wouldn’t think they’d be attracted to pretty wenches either, but I have to admire their taste. Speaking of taste.” He put his arm around her waist, pulled her to his lap, and kissed her deeply. Surprised, she felt her lips responding, kissing back. Her breasts tingled at the unexpected pleasure.


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He didn’t even ask first. In Valon, from where she had come, one always asked and always made sure consent was given and received with every step of courtship. But she was far from Valon, and if this man wanted her by force, she would not be able to resist. She wasn’t sure she’d even want to. “You taste fine.” He let her go. Myriel was quite pleased at the compliment. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to continue his unasked-for kiss, or if she was relieved he had broken it off. Either way, his strong right arm was still wrapped around her waist, and she couldn’t move far. But she had to correct him on one thing, so that proper credit could be given to Kalana. “The magic of the Abyssal hounds did not wane, but I invoked Kalana to heal your foot. Without her tender mercies, I fear it would have become gangrenous and be lost to you entirely.” He stood up, spilling her to the ground. “Invoked? Sorcery!” He took a step back. “Isn’t this land bleak enough without practicing sorcery in this one pure refuge?” Another step back, and without looking, he grabbed his sword and pulled it from the third corpse, which caught fire where the blade left a hole. “I should have let you die in the maws of the dogs you’d summoned.” “I am no summoner of beasts from the Abyss.” Myriel angrily rose to her feet. “I’m a witch, and those demons came to kill me.” “Sorceress, witch. Hell turns on its own, as is well known.” She could see his arm now. There was a whole string of small burns on his right forearm. It was not nearly as bad as his foot had been, but it still needed treatment. “I have come here to renew this place from the damage done by he who lives in the Green Castle.” “Kerrah.” “The same.” “Ha. You and what army?”

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“Just me.” I was foolish to think I could do it. Amber knew exactly what she was doing when she sent me—getting rid of someone who had become an annoyance. “You must be a foul sorcerer indeed, if you have the power to fight Kerrah.” Not to fight, but to resist. There was a difference. “I’m a witch.” “Words alone. You invoke the powers. If you are not corrupt now, I should kill you, for heaven might yet take you. If you already are…” His muscled legs tightened, ready to spring. “Let me take a look at your arm. I can heal you.” Even as she said it, she felt a weariness come over her. Was he going to kill her? She couldn’t do anything about it if he was. She was tired from doing magic, and healing his foot hadn’t helped that. He was stronger and faster. She’d try to run, but she doubted it would matter. “Stay back.” He didn’t jump her. Didn’t do anything, in fact. He’s coiled for defense. He thinks I am going to attack him. If she’d had a little more energy, she would laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Instead, she simply sat down, crossing her legs one over the other. She straightened the skirt of her green dress so it covered her knees. “So what are you doing in this accursed place, Johan, if you are not here to heal it? You don’t come here to kill Kerrah, judging from the fact that you think I’d need an army. And there’s no one else but Kerrah to sell your sword to.” “I would never sell my sword to a sorcerer. I’m here on honorable business.” “What sort of honest business would that be?” She tried to keep her voice neutral, nonjudgmental as a witch should be. But she couldn’t help the doubt that crept in. “I’m here to steal a gem he owns.” “You’re a jewel thief? And you call that honorable business?” “I am oath sworn to it.” He sounded irritated, but he lowered his sword a fraction. “Have you been in the burglary business long?”


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“I’ve pulled a few heists.” He spoke with the air of a man reluctant to boast, rather than of one cornered into admitting his trespasses. He had rescued her. And he was certainly easy on the eyes. His long black hair would have looked good on a woman, but framing his rugged face and square jaw, it was gorgeous. The Grand Circle would never approve of him, a violent man, a thief. But no man the circle had approved of had ever intrigued her. He was looking at her. No, he was looking over her body, his gaze lingering on her curves. She was no great beauty, she knew. She was not one of those who tempted men to risk their freedom to spy on the circle’s sky-clad rituals. She was too short and a bit too heavy for that. But he seemed to appreciate what he saw. She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or pleased by that, but she didn’t try to hide. He covered the distance between them in two quick strides, dropping his sword as he did, then seizing her wrists. In an instant he had them gathered up and held in just one hand, behind her back. The breath whooshed out of her lungs. She had little enough defense against him even in perfect conditions. Perhaps he thought that holding her hands would stop her from casting a spell. It did make it more difficult. But if she could speak long enough perhaps—no. His face was just a few inches from hers. She could feel his hot breath. “I’ve never taken a woman against her will,” he said. “And I’m not going to start now. You have a soft, luscious body, and witch or no witch, I want you. Say the word, though, and I’ll tie you up, head back over yonder hill to get my pack, fill my skins at this little oasis, and when I’m done with my business, I’ll untie you, and you’ll never see me again.” “And otherwise?” “Otherwise I’ll still tie you up—but only after your clothes are off. And then I’ll show you what it’s like to be made love to.” “I’ve made love before.” It was true. She’d had sex a few, somewhat satisfying times, but her protestation sounded flat even to her.

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“Not really.” One corner of his lips turned up. Goddess, he was arrogant. Smug, even. If only she could resist finding out if what he said was true. No one tied their lover up in Valon. That sort of thing was found only in stories told about people in the East, who reportedly tied, whipped, and used all manner of strange devices in their lovemaking. Of course, the storyteller would always say those people didn’t know true love at all. But Myriel had always been fascinated by the stories and had felt disappointment each time they ended in a homily or a moral. The lust in them felt more real, more powerful than those about the gentle lovemaking of civilized peoples. It was like tasting candy only to be told it was poisonous to actually eat. “A hero is entitled to his reward, I suppose.” That thought came from other stories she’d been told, she realized. In Valon, no act could ever entitle someone to couple. There was a good deal of virtue in that. But she wasn’t in Valon now. Still, formal consent was always required. “Yes. I will make love to you.” To her surprise, he let go of her wrists. “Undress for me.” Lust showed in his eyes. She hesitated. She had no problems with nudity in a ritual, but this was something else entirely, and it made heat rise in her cheeks. “Don’t you fear my magic?” “I can stop you in time.” Again, that smug smile. And he’d thought the hounds were overconfident. But she supposed he was probably right. Magic wasn’t an instant process, although it could seem quite fast if the preparations were all done in advance. She felt the heat of his lecherous gaze as she untied the stays on her bodice. She was a little afraid he’d lose interest upon finding that her heavy breasts weren’t so perky without artificial support. Despite her comment about her experience, she’d only slept with three men, and she remembered how one of them had frowned at the sight of her topless. Johan was looking at her eagerly, but she wasn’t sure he’d like what he was about to see if she continued.


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When she had the bodice loose, he pulled her to him once more. He lifted her dress and pulled it over her head. Bare skin against bare skin. His was warm and wet with sweat. At the feel of him, her nipples tightened. He laughed. “You’re aroused already.” “It’s cold,” she claimed, but she knew how false it sounded. The sun was still beating down on the barren land, and while she’d been able to grow some grass and purify the spring, it would be a long time until trees grew again to give some shade. A couple of hundred years ago much of the land here had been forest, or so the historians said, but all that was long gone. “I don’t think so.” He captured her wrists and tied them together behind her back with the sleeves of her dress. She couldn’t help but thrust her breasts up against him when he pulled her hands back, even though the gesture seemed wanton. Ladies of Valon didn’t willingly give themselves to barbarians, not without civilizing them first. He wasn’t at all civilized. He smiled, letting her hands go now that they were secure, and grabbed each breast with a big, calloused hand. “These are very responsive, I see. Do they like being touched?” He rubbed his thumbs against each peak, and they started to ache in response. “No,” she lied. “You say one thing, but your body says another. I bet if I felt your pussy, I’d find you wet and ready for my cock.” She blushed. At his words, a tingle went straight to her core. Having control was supposed to make sex better. Safer. But not having control turned her on. He would find me wet and ready. But he wouldn’t simply— She didn’t have time to finish the thought. He thrust his hand between her legs. “Oh yes, witch, your body does indeed tell the truth that your mouth won’t speak. Tell me, are all witches liars?” “No.” How dare he suggest that! Every witch knew that lies were harmful. But he wouldn’t ask consent for each step he took; she’d said yes to making love, and

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now he’d do what he wanted. Which was making her far more excited than any lovemaking she’d done in Valon, where people were always so careful to make sure every touch was acceptable. “Better not lie to me again.” His finger stroked the center of her pleasure, enough to make her gasp, and then his hand withdrew. “Or?” She knew her voice had a whimper to it, which she hated. She couldn’t hide her need. And she had no intention of lying to him again. It was more than just her honor at stake; it was his whole opinion about her, the circle, and even magic itself. But how could she be expected to speak so frankly of such things? “Or I’ll spank you. Or deny you what you most desire.” “And what is that? You?” He laughed. “I’m not so full of myself as that. No. But I can bring you to the edge of ecstasy—and pull back or push you over. And your hands will be in no position to do anything about your desire.” As if I’d frig myself in front of him, just because he inflamed me. I’d rather die than suffer such embarrassment, no matter how turned on I might be. “I’ll tell the truth. I’ll show you that witches are not liars.” “I’m not sure you even know how to tell the truth to yourself.” He moved around her, his hands resting on her breasts while he held her back tight against himself. What did he mean by that? But it was true she’d never been quite able to face what attracted her to the erotic tales of foreigners and their ways. His hardness pressed through his breeches against her bottom. I’m not the only one who is aroused. She smiled in satisfaction. Apparently her body was good enough for him after all. She moaned as he caressed her shoulders, her sides, her stomach, and her breasts. “Now tell me the truth. Do you like it when I play with your breasts?” “Yes.”


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“And your peaks: do you enjoy it when I press my thumbs across them, like so?” His rough thumbs traced a circle, spiraling inward until they brushed the swollen nubs. “Yes!” “And now?” He pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of pain that seemed to go straight to her pussy, making her feel even more liquid there. He didn’t let go as she squirmed and tried to pull back, only succeeding at pressing her back against his rock-hard chest. Part of her brain was telling her it was pain. Part told her it was pleasure. She didn’t know how to answer. “I asked a question, wench. Not answering is as bad as a lie and will be treated as such. Listen to your body. Civilized people have such a hard time doing that. Is this pleasurable?” Listen to my body. Yes, it was pain, and her mind told her that pain was the opposite of pleasure. But her body, especially her pussy, was saying something else. “Yes. But please let go.” To her surprise, he did. “Take a deep breath, Myriel.” He cradled her gently against him, as tender as any lover she’d ever imagined. The touch of his forearms, now folded just under her breasts, supported her like the stays had. It felt as if the intimate contact was entirely natural to him. She wondered, with some jealousy, how many women he had bedded. At least the hardness against her rear showed that he was interested even if his voice seemed as calm as a tutor’s. She took the breaths he requested. “Now, wench, feel your body this time, and let yourself relax in it.” He cupped her breasts again, tickled the peaks, and then pinched both at once. The pain jolted her, but she closed her eyes and breathed. And yes, it was wonderful. She pulled back again, not to escape this time, but seeking more sensation, wanting some kind of pull. When he let go, it was worse than when he started, blood rushing back into the compressed nipples. He hoisted her up in the air and spun her around as if she were

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weightless, bringing her breasts level with his face. He sucked an aching peak into his mouth. Lovemaking moved so fast without all the formal words of asking, and it built her arousal up even faster. She relaxed in his arms, throwing her head back, admiring and luxuriating in his strength. In his control. One arm around her waist was all he needed to hold her in place. She wrapped her legs around him without thinking about it, and then blushed at what she had done. He pulled her in even closer. When he set her down again, she was out of breath and horny as hell. Thank Goddess he hasn’t asked me more questions, because if he decided to stop now because he wasn’t happy with my answers, I’d kill him, karma be damned. He took a step back, admiring the view. She wasn’t sure what she thought of being looked at like that. Almost like she was an object. It was humiliating and arousing all at the same time. Reflexively, she tried to move her hands to cover herself, but they were tied too well for that. There was nothing she could do about it. He must have seen the movement, because he asked, “Not used to being seen?” “Not by men. Not with the look that is in your eye.” “By women, then? Is it women you prefer?” “No, no, not that way, it’s just—” She didn’t want to tell him it was more to do with witches. He had enough issues with that as it was, clearly. Nor did she want to lie, so best to steer the conversation to better ground. “I prefer men. Strong men.” Now where had that come from? But it was true. All her fantasies were of strong, dominant men. Not the kind who asked about everything, but ones confident enough to assume. To know what she wanted and give it to her without words being exchanged, just because they knew. But those were precisely the kind of men she wasn’t supposed to like, that members of the circle were supposed to abhor. What he’d said was true. She had difficulty telling the truth even to herself about some things.


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He stepped toward her and pulled her into his arms, wincing slightly as the acid-burned skin on his forearm touched her. That had to hurt worse than anything he’d done to her nipples, but it didn’t seem to lessen his desire. He lifted her by her butt, and she wrapped her legs around him like she had before. This time she was even with his hard cock, which she could feel rubbing her pussy through the leather of his breeches. He kissed her, taking possession of her mouth with his tongue. The kiss left her out of breath, rapturously dizzy. Was it just a matter of adjusting his hold on her that caused him to move her body against his so that her pearl of pleasure was being rubbed exactly the right way? Little sparks were shooting right to her core, building a flame of need, consuming her thoughts. That was no accident. He knew exactly what he was doing, building her pleasure to its very peak— And stopping. She growled in frustration. Hadn’t she played by the rules? He’d said he would only leave her wanting if she lied to him again. And she hadn’t. “Don’t worry.” His voice was husky, the only indication—besides his hard cock—that he was aroused by the way their bodies had almost joined together. He set her down onto the cool green grass. “But if you’re not used to being looked at with lust, I’m guessing no man has ever done this either.” He joined her, kneeling on the grass, and pushed her knees apart. He bowed his head between her legs, and the tip of his tongue flicked her tender bud. He was right; no man had ever done that before. The effect was electrifying. She’d been touched by the inexpert hands of young men and her own fumbling fingers, but his tongue was something else entirely, wet and slippery. The idea that he wanted to taste her amazed her. She couldn’t taste good, could she? And yet he seemed to be enjoying himself. She shivered, a breath choked off in her excitement. She wondered for a moment how he would feel if he knew that grass had been grown by her own magic that morning. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

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He pushed two fingers inside her. It was all happening so fast. She couldn’t process all the sensations, but it didn’t matter. It felt wonderful. This time, surely, he’d let her come. “Please.” She couldn’t believe the word came from her mouth. She begged no one for anything, not even Amber. It seemed to amuse him. He grinned at her. “Please what?” He stopped licking her pussy, which was exactly what she wanted him to keep doing. But his fingers didn’t stop moving. They reached deep, curling slightly to find another spot of pleasure inside her. “Please let me come,” she said. She didn’t care anymore about begging. As long as he didn’t stop. He smiled. “I won’t let you.” She didn’t know whether to keep begging or slap him. “I’ll make you.” He bent his head again, burying it between her thighs. His tongue swirled around her clit. His fingers thrust faster. He reached up with his other hand, seized her nipple, and squeezed. Each touch was like a white-hot flame, sizzling until it reached her core. Every time she thought she was about to find release, he slowed his fingers and withdrew his tongue. His hot breath on her pussy was almost enough to push her over, but not quite. “Please,” she asked again. “Mmm,” he murmured, sounding satisfied. “Come for me.” His tongue flicked across her clit, and his fingers found the spot he’d touched before in her pussy. The fire inside her blossomed and exploded in her core, and spread over every muscle and nerve in her body. She screamed.


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Chapter Two Johan held her while she rode out her pleasure. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman as responsive, as full-throated in her ecstasy, as this one. Maybe he never had. And to think the shy little thing was embarrassed to be even looked at. All that energy bottled up tightly inside her, all coming out in one delightful abandoned moment. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. She was more innocent than any Cymran woman or any tavern wench but more enthusiastic in her moment of release as well. Too bad she was a witch. He’d heard some sorcerers felt that sex, and especially the moment of pleasure, drained their magical energies. That was fine with him, although he’d not thought about it until that moment. The fewer magical energies in the world, the better. Maybe it made her a little less dangerous. He’d see to it that she was drained all right. And he was willing to bet she’d enjoy the process. She’d tasted sweet, with a tang that held his interest and made him want to lick her more. And her breasts were soft and heavy in his hands, plenty to fondle, their smoothness set off by the way her peaks crinkled and hardened at his touch. There was something sheltered about her that brought out his instinct to nurture and protect, even if she was a witch. He was starting to find that part hard to believe. Heal his foot, indeed. Probably the beast’s magic faded with time, and she thought she could gain something from him by saying she'd healed him. And yet, the idea of her being that conniving didn’t seem to fit any better than her trafficking in sorcery. She was confusing. A mystery.

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She was also enticing. The mixture of lust and curiosity was too much for him. He couldn’t wait to get inside her. Cymran men were taught to follow their instincts, and his instinct was to bury himself deep in her sweet pussy. He let her catch her breath while he stripped off his breeches and enjoyed her pleased sigh when his cock sprang free. He knew that fortune had smiled upon him, but even so, it was nice to be appreciated. It was certainly better than dealing with women who pretended he wouldn’t fit, or worse, who actually believed it. She parted her thighs for him eagerly enough. He liked a wench who knew what she wanted. He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and pushed. The blushing almost-virgin she’d been at first had melted, it seemed, with her orgasm. Her pussy fit around him like a tight but well-oiled vise, soft as velvet. He slid in, inch by inch, watching her eyes widen as he filled her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him forward into her. “That’s it, girl.” He put his hand behind her back, lifting her up. It wouldn’t be comfortable very long with her hands tied behind her if he pressed her down into the ground. And he wanted her chest against his so he could feel the hard points of her nipples poke into his flesh and the softness of her breasts between them. She shivered when their torsos touched. It wasn’t because he was cold. Fighting had been hard work, and he’d worked up a sweat. Coupling with her had only intensified it. Apparently her breasts were pretty sensitive, or he’d hit a particularly good nerve inside her. “Do you want your nipples played with some more, my little wench?” he asked. He’d expected an evasion, so the simple yes surprised him. He reared back and gave one a sharp pinch. “Aaaaaahhhhh,” she cried, pain and pleasure mixed in her voice in equal proportion. He grinned. She had a taste for rough, did she? If she didn’t, he would have been as soft as silk, but he definitely preferred his sex spicy, like a hot Cymran pepper. He tugged and held her to him as he sunk his teeth into her soft shoulder.


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“Yesssssssssss,” she screamed. She’d be heard for a mile around, but there probably wasn’t anyone to hear within five. Her sheath tightened around his cock. He drew his hips back for a thrust, then sank himself fully into her. She met him as he moved forward, hip colliding with hip. She had enough padding he probably wouldn’t end up with a bruise, but he didn’t mind if he did. Still, he didn’t expect it when she bit him back. His nip had been playful; she was drawing blood. He fucked her harder, dimly thinking in the back of his mind that a sorceress with his blood on her lips couldn’t be a good thing. All that was lost in the need to explode inside her and the determination to push her over the edge one more time. She loosened her grip on his neck when she came, and nearly deafened him with her scream. Her pussy squeezed his cock hard and suddenly, making it impossible for him to hold on any longer. He let go in her, feeling hot streams of cum jet from his cock until he didn’t think he had any more to give. He couldn’t remember ever coming so fiercely. For a moment he froze there, enjoying being inside her too much to move away. He wasn’t sure why. Her eyes drifted closed, and she smiled a dreamy smile. He untied her wrists and let her back down to the ground, but still she didn’t open her eyes. She was obviously satisfied. So was he. There wasn’t any reason to linger, but he did, watching her, listening to her soft, regular breathing. At last he slowly withdrew from her, not wanting to disturb her peace. He was still semihard. He didn’t think she’d appreciate being woken to satiate his pleasure again, and he had never been a selfish lover. He grabbed his sword, not trusting the strange barren land where demons had so recently walked, but he didn’t bother with his breeches. He walked over to the hill to retrieve his pack, keenly aware of the difference in how his feet felt on the dry, cracked earth compared to the soft green grass of the oasis. He refilled his water skins in the spring, drinking one dry and then refilling it. He dipped his arm in to bathe it. The water stung.

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He debated setting up camp somewhere else. But he couldn’t leave a woman alone, naked, unarmed, out in the open. Even if he could dress her, she had nothing but the knife to protect herself with. He examined it. It was sharp, but the blade was barely as long as the length of his hand. As for her purported magic, it hadn’t done her much good against the hellish dogs. He had to sleep somewhere; it might as well be here. He was safe enough from her, probably. He guessed that her magic, if she had any, was drained by lovemaking and not very powerful in any case. Besides, he was a light sleeper. He lay on his back against the cool grass, sword still in his fist, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. He awoke to find Myriel kneeling next to him, muttering in a strange tongue. He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, and she gurgled helplessly. She was looking at his arm where the acid had burned. It was entirely healed. He let go quickly. He would not apologize for reflexes that had kept him alive, even though he didn’t want to choke her. “What are you doing, woman?” She rubbed her neck. “I was healing your wound, you foolish barbarian. I’m not your enemy.” The sun had just peeked over the dusky hills. In its light the line between green and desolation was all too stark, the circle of the oasis all too regular. Sorcery. The oasis was sorcery; the spring from which he had filled his water skins was sorcery; the dark, dry land was sorcery; and the woman had healed him with sorcery. He leaped to his feet and pulled his breeches and what was left of his boots on. No wonder he had spent so long gazing at her like a moonstruck boy at his first love. She was more than a sorceress; she was an enchantress. But as soon as he got out of her sight, she would seem as plain as any other woman—wasn’t that what the legends said of enchantresses? He willed himself to feel nothing for her, but it didn’t quench the desire he felt. “Where are you going?”


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“To fulfill my oath,” he said, keeping any tenderness far from his voice. He lifted his pack with the water skins. “You’re a fool.” “A fool to tarry here any longer.” He set off at a comfortable run, eager to put distance between them, hoping to escape her spell. Walking or running, he would need water, and the water from the enchanted spring was all he had left. He’d need it faster running, but he’d need it either way. The sooner he was done with this accursed land, and the farther he was from her and her magic, the better.

*** By evening he had reached the castle. It was an imposing structure, gray stone walls streaked with dark green. Its outer walls were sheer and thirty feet high, but there were pockmarks and small handholds for an adept climber such as himself. He’d practiced climbing cliffs in Cymr before he was old enough to grow hair on his chin. He hoped to find an entrance to the inner keep, which soared even higher, once he scaled the outer wall. He’d only had a few nibbles of dry bread all day, but the water had been more refreshing than most. He was used to hunger. The winters of Cymr were not kind, and even the natives did not thrive in them but merely survived. His pack would not grow food by waiting outside the wall, in any case. He waited a short while until darkness had set in, memorizing the positions of the places that would afford his fingers purchase as best he could. When at last the sky was pitch-black, he dug his fingers into the first handhold and began the ascent. Once begun, there was no sense in turning back. He reached the top and watched. Even on a moonless night, his sharp eyes could make out the silhouettes of creatures moving between the wall and the inner tower. They corresponded to no natural animals he knew, nor did any one seem quite like the other, as if each had a deformity unique to itself. In less than two days he’d had enough of sorcery to last him a lifetime. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he tried to stay calm, suppress his primal fears, and analyze the situation.

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One thing was clear: there were no human guards, at least outside the tower. He waited, scanning the area around him. The stars shed a little light. He could discern the dim outline of an archway at the bottom of the inner tower, but he suspected it was filled by a door he could not quite make out, and that was probably locked, unless the tower’s inhabitant thought his menagerie of four-legged guards was sufficient protection. He stood still as a corpse. The creatures walking around were nocturnal, if they slept at all, or they would not be so active. They could probably see better than he could in the dark. The thought of Myriel came to him, unwanted. Her image had not faded from his mind. She was still beautiful in his memory, her soft breasts still comforting, her moment of ecstasy still burned in his brain. So much for relying on the truth of legends. He should be free of the enchantress’s spell by now. It was tempting to forget the jewel and go back to her. If she weren’t a witch, it would have been more tempting still, but he would not go back on the oath he had made with Gunnar, Rurik, and Gwen as witnesses, even though it now seemed foolishly given. They had wanted to come along for the adventure, but he intended a burglary, not a fight. At last there was a painful squeak and a flicker of light from the archway, as if a door had been opened by the narrowest of margins, and a lantern lay behind it. The lantern was carried by a man, of sorts. He was gray-skinned, with a misshapen head, wild hair, and sunken features. He tossed lumps as gray as himself out the narrow opening in the door, and the creatures gathered around, biting at what must have been rotten meat at best. Glimpses of some of the creatures reminded him of lions or bears or wolves, but none of them was shaped altogether right. Above the door were some outcroppings of stone that looked like they had once been a sort of decoration, but they were too chipped for him to make out exactly what they were supposed to represent. They were big enough to loop a rope around. That would get him to the door without having to traverse the courtyard on foot. If the door was as old and the hinges as rusty as the screeching seemed to indicate, he


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might be able to force it, even if it was locked. He wouldn’t have a great deal of time to make the attempt before he attracted the interest of one of the creatures. Whoever fed them clearly didn’t dare to come out to them, but they couldn’t force the door on their own to get to him once he was inside either. If Johan wasn’t able to open it and then secure it behind him, he’d have a fight on his hands. He smiled. Fighting he was good at. And he could leap up and grab the rope, if need be, and leave the way he came, although the commotion might attract the attention of even more dangerous denizens inside the castle, like Kerrah. Still, it had a chance of success, and a chance of escape if success was impossible. Life without danger was an illusion for children and soft men who fancied themselves civilized; better to face it head-on. The door closed. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark again, fetched the rope from his pack, and tossed it where he remembered the outcropping was. He knew he’d missed when he pulled at it, but he was sure it was his aim, not his memory. It took him three throws before he tugged and met resistance. He pulled some more until he was sure the rope was secure enough to bear his weight. He tied the end around a crenellation on the top of the wall. Once, perhaps, wooden platforms had been here to hold men who would shoot arrows from the top of the walls at invaders. The current resident of the castle obviously didn’t think he needed such defenses. Who would even want an old castle in the midst of such an infertile land? If the stories he had heard were true, Kerrah hadn’t needed an army to take the castle; why would he need one to defend it? The thought of such sorcery made him shiver, but he resolutely pulled himself down the rope, foot by foot. Hanging like a pig on a spit over a courtyard filled with odd creatures made his heart pound. But at least he didn’t have to look at them. Listening was enough; they continued to pace around, but they weren’t yapping or growling the way they had at the food tossed to them, and that was a good sign. For a moment something blocked out the stars above, and then it was gone. Whatever it was, it was too big to be a bird or a bat or any flying creature he knew

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of. It could be a valkyr, come to take his spirit to hell’s mead hall if he died in combat. The idea went from possibility to certainty in his mind. I might as well drop to the ground now, he thought, and see how many creatures I can take with me. But his mother had told him once that most men misunderstood the teachings of the elders; it was not battle but struggle the valkyr rewarded. Striving, even in the face of failure. He kept moving down the rope. A pack of the four-legged creatures passed by as he reached the end, and he waited. He’d never be closer to their noses than at that moment, if his plan worked. But the creatures wouldn’t look up for food, most likely. They wouldn’t hear his footsteps on the ground. It all depended on how they knew food was near. It was odd that they moved in packs. Not one of them was like another, not any more than cats were like dogs. But they still seemed to be of the same type on some level. The pack moved by, and he let out a breath he’d been holding. He hung down as far as he could go and then released the rope. It was a sixfoot drop, more or less. He cushioned it as well as he could, his knees bending as he struck, both to keep the noise down and to reduce the pain of the fall. Crouched, he stayed still for a moment and listened. So far, so good. There was a metal handle for the door and no keyhole that he could see. He felt the other edge for the hinges and ran his hand along them. They were rough with rust, as he'd expected. The screech they would make would signal the creatures that food was coming. He’d have only a moment to get in the door. He pulled on the handle. To his surprise, the door swung back easily. There was no sound of creaking hinges. It was as if the door used by whoever tended the animals and the door he opened were two entirely different doors. The first was as heavy as this door appeared and made the sounds this door should make. And the one he opened was oiled, balanced, almost weightless. Magic.


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He heard the footsteps of the creatures and saw the portal, suddenly ablaze with blinding light that seemed to emanate from no single point. The light revealed nothing more to his unadjusted eyes than he could see in the darkness. He pulled his sword from his scabbard, knowing it to be useless against so many under such conditions. At least with a doorway to defend he had a chance, but the light seemed likely to be some alarm, and soon he expected he’d be set on from behind as well. Still, he’d fight the enemy he knew first. If he drew back into the room he’d be easily surrounded by the creatures. He turned his back on the door and took a step backward, or tried to. His foot came against something solid. The real door, he realized. The one that creaks and has rusty hinges, the one I didn’t manage to open. No wonder the valkyr circled. To fight, to die—that was his lot. No. To strive. He jumped up and heard jaws snap at the place he’d been. He couldn’t reach the rope, so he grabbed the lowest part of the outcropping the rope was tied to and swung his legs up. He strained mightily, half expecting the rock to crumble and drop him, but he managed to get his foot a place in the stone. If he had been a less skilled climber, it would have been hopeless. He pulled himself up slowly, until at last he regained the rope. Again the valkyr flew overhead, a shadow blocking out stars. Its shape was like a bird’s, as much as his mind tried to fill in a woman’s body with the wings. It was just bigger, much bigger, than any eagle. A demon then, not a valkyr. It will taste my sword if it gets nearer. But its shape was more natural than any of the demons below. Then again, the hounds attacking the woman had been like dogs, except for their size and behavior. To his surprise, the bird flew off, leaving him alone. Secure for the moment atop the gargoyle, he watched its path by seeing the stars disappear and reappear. It was flying in the direction he’d come from. Toward the woman. Toward Myriel. I’ll never make it in time.

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The gem forgotten, he raced up the rope he’d strung, relying on his instinct rather than his sight. There was the chance he’d fall, but if he did, he’d kill a half dozen demons before he died. Speed mattered. If the demon bird had to take some time searching for her, that might give him a chance. He reached the top of the wall, pulled himself over, hung by his hands for a moment, and let himself drop. He hugged the wall, using its friction to slow his fall so that at the end the impact was no more than his flexing legs could absorb, and then took off at a run across the scrubland. She’s bewitched me. But it didn’t matter. He might as well have been oath sworn. He was not going to let her die at the hands of a demon.


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Chapter Three Myriel looked up at the giant beak and the great golden eyes of the roc. It had come to her shortly after Johan had left. She had sent the roc out to scout the land, and while it could not speak, she could see through its eyes with her magic. Now the poor thing was tired, but her little patch of green was not the place for him. Rocs liked high places. She got to her feet and felt through its feathers for bugs that might irritate the beautiful bird. There were fewer than she expected; even on the lowest level, there was simply less life in this land. Perhaps the insects would flourish in the oasis. She would be leaving it in the morning, searching for the closest pool of water the roc had seen. She took her hands away, and the roc flew off, the wind from its great wings buffeting her face and sweeping back her hair. “Good-bye, friend,” she whispered. It would find her again after it had found food. Her own food had been in short supply, but the roc, sent by the circle, had brought more. Perhaps Amber had not intended for her to perish after all. The roc’s presence was a comfort, especially after that barbarian of a swordsman. He’d made love well enough, and she’d felt like the most beautiful woman in the world for a few minutes in his arms. Then he’d recoiled from everything she was as if she were monstrous. I’m not falling for his like again. But she’d dreamed of him in the night and woken up with her pussy moist and her body in a sweat. I’ll just have to swear off men entirely, because no one is likely to measure up. He was big all over, actually— tall, muscular. And the courage he’d shown fighting the Abyssal hounds showed he

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had a big heart, as well. She giggled, remembering the size of his cock. “No, no one else is going to measure up,” she said aloud. There hadn’t been anyone else to talk to but herself for a week, save for the interlude with Johan. And the roc, but the bird’s mind worked so differently from a person’s the conversation wasn’t the same. She’d taken up talking to herself as a way to keep her sanity. Letting her thoughts drift to Johan was no way to get back to sleep. She decided to sit instead. She found a place where the ground rose slightly and rested her bottom on it, folding her legs in front of her. Her palms rested on her knees, she began to clear her mind, focusing on her breathing. Despite her attempts to keep her mind blank, her thoughts raced. The despair the desolation brought her. The lush grass she’d made grow, so small by comparison to the area covered by the blight. Johan. Johan’s muscles, rippling with power. Johan’s cock, thrusting inside her. Thought. She acknowledged each with a calmness she didn’t feel, as if they were just passing strangers she’d not see again. Only the breath. One. Two. In. Out. “Face it, girl. That barbarian got to you,” she said aloud to herself. She took a deep breath, her eyes still closed, and set about focusing on her breathing again. “Good to know,” said Johan. Oh, great. I’m hallucinating. She opened her eyes. He was there, dark, tall, towering over her, his chest bare. He was too solid looking to be a hallucination. “I thought you were scared of me.” “I thought you were in danger.” She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed she wasn’t. But had he wanted to come to the rescue? She thought he hated her. “I suspect Kerrah will think his dogs have dealt with me until the great Lady uses me to bring life to his land again. What is it to you if a witch is in danger?” She had to steel herself not to get up. “Nothing.”


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“Well then.” She didn’t believe it, but she wasn’t going to waste her breath convincing him. “Or perhaps you’ve ensorcelled me to care.” It hurt he thought she would do that, but she laughed at it rather than show him her pain. The superstitions of barbarians. “That’s beyond my power,” she said. “I saw a demon coming this way. One of your pets, then?” He said it like an accusation. “Demons,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel, “are creatures from other planes, brought to this earth. They are a disruption of the natural order. I do not now, nor will I ever, have a demon pet. Nor have I seen one.” “I see. And yet you’re awake in the middle of the night.” “I had a nap earlier,” she pointed out. And a roc came to visit. She held her tongue before the thought came out. Rocs thrived in Valon, but there weren’t any east of there, nor any other birds that size. He’d probably think the roc a demon, damn superstitious idiot. “I see.” He smiled. She wasn’t sure she liked the smile. “So I’ve gotten to you, have I?” “You’ve disrupted my thoughts. Nothing more.” She had to end that line of talk quickly, or she’d end up wanting to make love to him again. I already do. Dammit. He sat down next to her, moving his face closer to hers. Her heart sped up at his nearness. “You’re not from around here. Not that anyone is, in this mess, but you’re not from one of the kingdoms that border this place either.” “No. I’m from Valon.” “Far to the west.” “Yes.” “Quite a trip,” he observed.

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“The desolation will spread until it is stopped. And the Grand Circle does not care only for those who are close to it.” “The Grand Circle?” She wasn’t going to hide things to save his sensibilities. “Of witches. The foremost circle of witches. There is one Grand Circle and smaller circles around Valon.” “And you’re a part of this…circle?” “Yes.” “Which makes you a grand witch?” “No, no, I’m just a—What the hell are you getting at?” For a barbarian, he had an awfully inquisitive mind. She liked that in a person. Usually. She just wasn’t sure she liked this particular line of questioning, not combined with his unreasoning fear of magic. “Nothing, everything. Are there any men in Valon at all?” “Of course there are men. How else would there be little Valonese?” He couldn’t be that stupid, could he? “Slaves. You could use slaves, like the Amazons do.” “They’d still be men.” “Not as the Cymr count men, they wouldn’t.” She knew she was going regret asking, but he had her curious. “What makes a man a man to the Cymr?” “Bravery. Courage. A desire to live free at all costs or die seeking freedom. Mastery of the skills of a warrior. Mastery of the women he beds.” His face was entirely too close now. His lips were almost touching hers. Mastery of the woman he beds. He means me. But men and women are equal, with equal rights to make decisions. She frowned. What if I want to be mastered? Is that my right, as well? A decision I can make if I want to as a free woman? “Men in Valon would not count as men, to the Cymr,” she whispered.


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“I didn’t think so.” He kissed her. Her lips parted for his tongue before she even thought about resisting. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her chest to his. She breathed his male scent deep. She could taste it on his tongue, feel it in the way he plundered her mouth and took what he wanted until he’d had his fill. “Do you ever ask first?” she asked when he finally let her mouth go. “Sometimes.” “When?” “When I think you’ll blush at being made to give an answer.” She looked at him. His face was serious, but his eyes danced. It brought out a mischievous streak in her. “Evil man.” He blinked, taking the comment far more seriously than she intended it. “Why do you say that? You’re the one who practices—” She kissed him, and he responded. His hands roamed her back, lower and lower until he could lift her ass from the ground, and she had to unfold her legs. His tongue played and twisted with hers. At least he’s distractible. I’m not giving up all my power here. She pulled back, but he wasn’t letting her go. Not for a few moments, anyway—long enough to establish who had control. Him. Why does that feel so good? She was so confused. “Why do you say evil?” “In my land, a man who wants to master a woman is considered evil,” she said. “In yours, a woman who does magic is considered evil. Maybe we’re both wrong.” “Maybe,” he said, grunting doubtfully. “Good and evil. Bah. I’m neither, woman, and I don’t concern myself with such things. I know what I want and leave debates like that for philosophers.”

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His arms were so strong, holding her. Her toes barely touched the ground. “I see. And yet you came all the way back to make sure I was safe, merely because a roc flew overhead.” “Who said anything about rocks or stones or anything like that?” Myriel laughed. He could be so ignorant sometimes. “A roc. A giant bird.” “That was no mere bird. Birds don’t get to be that big.” “It was, and is, a bird. Sent from Valon to help me, in fact.” “It’s unnatural.” “It is not. Let me go.” She wiggled in his grasp, expecting him to exert control to still her. To her chagrin, he actually did let go, and she reeled backward, windmilling her arms to stop from falling over. At least he didn’t laugh at her. He squinted and then nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. I didn’t think elephants were very likely either, just a legend. I’ve heard people of the west talk about large birds, but I thought the stories were meant to frighten children or mislead them about how children are conceived.” She laughed. “That’s storks, about the children.” He shrugged. “Have you actually seen an elephant?” She knew there weren’t any in Cymr but far to the south and east. That this mere barbarian might know something about the world she didn’t made her look at him a little differently. Maybe he wasn’t entirely ignorant. Maybe he just knew different things. From what he knew, his conclusions about magic might even be logical. “Aye. And a dragon too, although just once and from a good distance. I can imagine a bird, and I know enough about pigeons to know they can find a path and be used to help. But what good is a giant eagle? For defense? It was nowhere near you when the dogs from hell were attacking.” “It came later. It’s intelligent, after a fashion. It can see places. Even lift me and carry me short distances, although such use strains it.” Her eyes widened, in


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the sudden grip of an idea. “You could fly it to the top of the tower if you wanted to kill Kerrah. And get the gem.” The gem. That will motivate him. He frowned at her. “I’m not using sorcery.” “It’s not exactly sorcery. It’s just a good solution to the problem.” And it would keep her own hands clean, although that seemed odd to her. Wasn’t planning and enabling someone’s death, even Kerrah’s, just as bad for her karma? It certainly seemed it ought to be. He took a step toward her. “No. No eagle would consent to be ridden without magic.” He seemed so sure of what eagles wanted for one who’d never talked to one. And yet he was right. It was magic that compelled the roc to do as directed, and while that control had its limits, there was a decidedly gray aspect to that magic. “But—” she started, not sure what argument she was going to make. But it didn’t matter. He kissed her again, without asking, and didn’t let her go, even when she pounded her fists against his massive chest. She felt obliged, somehow, to resist, even though his kisses felt so good. Her hands seemed so small. And he acted like he didn’t even notice her blows. He was so solid. Where she ought to have craved freedom, instead she found his strength comforting. He lifted her up off the ground with one arm. Then he struck her bottom once, hard, with his open palm. She yelped. “Like that, do you?” “I didn’t say I liked it, you evil man. Now set me down.” She wiggled, but this time his grasp held. “No. You struck me. It’s time for you to take your punishment. How may blows did you give me?” She didn’t know what the count was. But surely he didn’t intend to spank her like that for each one. She’d have bruises if he did. “I don’t know. It’s not like they did anything to you.”

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He laughed. “This will do something to you, however.” He slapped her buttocks again, and while it felt a little lighter, it still stung. The worst part, however, was that she could feel her insides melting at the roughness. There wasn’t a thing she could do to stop him. And it was such an intimate place to touch, let alone to strike. It seemed so wrong to be aroused at being struck, but her body had its own ideas. He spanked her again and again, and it only made her crave him more. None of the tales she’d heard had prepared her for this. Her pussy was wet, so wet. She wanted his tongue, his cock, anything, to touch her there. A glance at his smile showed that he knew of her desire. She hid her face by burying it in his shoulder, deeply embarrassed. He responded by lifting the skirt of her dress and tucking it into the rope belt she wore. The cold evening breeze on her bare ass was a bit of a shock, but he warmed it quickly enough with a few sharp swats on her backside. Then, suddenly, she felt a callused finger at the entrance of her pussy. He slid it in easily. He knows. He knows that the spanking is exciting me. No. Dear Lady, no. “Look at me.” She pressed her face harder against his shoulder. She couldn’t look at him. She just couldn’t. He withdrew his finger and gave her another swat on her naked bottom. This one really stung. “Look at me,” he ordered sternly. She turned her face toward him, closing her eyes to stop the tears that were forming in her eyes. It wasn’t the pain as much as wondering what was wrong with her. He swatted her again, just as hard. She knew what he wanted. She opened her eyes, and the tears flowed down her cheeks. He angled his head and licked a drop from her cheeks, tenderly. For a long moment he didn’t say a thing. His hand moved on her bottom, patting it. As sore as it already was, even that stung, but it was gentle too. The tears kept coming. Now she almost welcomed them, as if each drop rolling down her cheek carried away with it a little stress.


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“Being spanked makes you excited.” It wasn’t a question, but his intent gaze seemed to require an answer. “Yes.” She knew she was blushing. His finger slipped into her again, easily. “Brave wench, for admitting it. It bothers you, doesn’t it?” “Yes. I’m not supposed to get aroused by something like that.” “Why not? You are what you are, and I am what I am. There’s no use fighting against our own selves, Myriel.” She rubbed her face against him. “You don’t understand. It’s against everything I was brought up to believe was good and right.” “Philosophers have a lot to answer for.” He smiled at her. He wasn’t entirely serious. But then his eyes were intense again. “Does my finger feel good?” He moved it inside her, touching all the right nerves. “You know it does.” “Do you want more?” “You know I do.” She felt helpless, with her body telling her what it wanted, rather than her mind telling her body. Yet it was a delicious kind of helplessness, and she yearned to surrender to it totally, to feel with her body and her heart and let her mind be quiet for a while. He set her down and untied her rope belt, letting it fall to the ground. She raised her hands to help as he pulled the dress over her head and tossed it next to the rope. She stood there, bare to his gaze, with only the darkness for a covering. “Lie down, and spread your legs for me.” She did as she was told. She’d mocked him in her mind, but doing as he requested came naturally to her. He was strong and powerful and intelligent, and that would be attractive to any woman. But he took control as if it were his right. She knew no one had rights over another, and yet still she didn’t want to resist him. She wanted his touch too badly to fight it.

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He pulled off his breeches, and even in the starlight, she could see that his cock was huge. She knew how it felt in her, how it filled her completely. As much as the spanking had excited her, she wasn’t sure she was ready for him now that she could see his thick, hard cock. He knelt down between her legs and entered her with one terrific thrust. She gasped, expecting him to go slow. But he hadn’t needed to. Her pussy stretched, eagerly welcoming him. He slid back, almost withdrawing, and then filled her again. It was almost too much. Or just right. He felt so hot and good inside her. “I almost forgot you like a little pain with your sex.” He grinned at her. “I don’t,” she protested. But when he sucked her nipple into his mouth and she felt his teeth against the sides of the tender peak, she knew she’d lied. A little pain. Just a little, please. His teeth tightened around her, and bolts of electricity shot straight from her nipple to her pussy. She bucked her hips, half in some reflexive attempt to get away, half to meet his hips as they rose and fell. His fingernails scraped on her side, a white-hot streak of heat to her nerves. She couldn’t believe it just made her more turned on, but it did. She was too aroused to care. As long as his cock keeps pounding inside me, that’s what I need. Her pleasure blossomed inside her, and she came violently, her body spasming out of control. She moved her hands, one to pinch her unattended breast, the other to scrape hard on his back. She didn’t care how hard she scratched. That didn’t matter. She wanted more, wanted the moment to obliterate all propriety and logic. She felt so good, her pussy still swollen, her breasts heavy, and she wanted to feel that way as long as she could. He knew it too and didn’t stop. His teeth were everywhere: on her breasts, her chest, her shoulders, her neck. His fingers were wandering as well, scratching, pinching, teasing, pulling. She couldn’t keep track of all the sensations, just that they were all overloading her brain and feeding her frenzy. “Mine,” he told her, his voice low and intense.


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“Yoursssssss,” she cried, coming again, squeezing around his massive cock, which forced its way forward despite the tightening of her channel. Her breasts felt warm and full, their tips like they were on fire, and each time he thrust again her bottom stung as it pressed into the grassy earth. And she still wanted more. She wanted him to take her, utterly and completely. And yet she couldn’t imagine him filling her any more than he was or driving any deeper. She’d never felt such intensity as she did when she was with him, and it was addictive. She clawed at the ground, dirt filling under her fingernails. She moaned at the touch of his hands, bucking her hips when they left her torso and grabbed her wrists, holding them far apart against the ground. She couldn’t go anywhere. She didn’t want to. Not when every nerve in her body felt so alive. She screamed out into the night when she came again and felt him jetting hot deep inside her womb. It seemed like he would never stop. His face contorted with his pleasure, and for a moment she got the sense that he could no more say no to the urges of his body than she could. He gasped and breathed hot and heavy when he was finally done coming inside her. For a long moment, they were still. There was no sound but their own breathing. She smiled. He smiled back, let go her wrists, and rolled off her, grabbing her and pulling her with him. He squeezed her so hard she lost her breath for a moment, then kissed her deeply. The momentary feeling of light-headedness transformed to a feeling of wonderful, serene pleasure. She didn’t expect to have a future with this man, yet she felt so utterly content that it didn’t matter. “Yours,” she said. The moment was enough. Right then, she thought she’d do anything he asked of her. He smiled. “Clean me off.” She reached for her dress, and he grabbed her wrist. “With your mouth.”

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“Your cock? In my mouth? After we just…?” She felt the fire in her face. How could he ask – no, tell me—to do such a thing? But she was too curious about what it would be like to say no. He hadn’t hurt her yet, not really. And she loved having him in control. Despite her protests, she already knew that she was going to do as he asked. “Yes. Taste us, Myriel, and then come and kiss me and share what we taste like together.” She shuffled down his body and looked at his cock. It was still hard, still jutting up proudly, although a little less so than it was when he’d first stripped. Even in the dim light she could see that it glistened with their juices. She couldn’t decide whether that was disgusting or lovely. It’s just sex. It’s natural. She pressed her lips to the head and slid them over, flicking out with her tongue to taste. It was salty and tangy and altogether strange. His cock twitched and grew harder again in her mouth. This turns him on. He’s under my power now. The thought made her giddy. She took him out of her mouth and licked down his shaft, all the way to his balls, and then back up again, her small hand holding his cock. Harder and thicker. He’d said to come up and kiss him after, but he does want me to do a thorough job, doesn’t he? She loved the way his cock twitched, like it was trying to escape, when her tongue passed over the head. He’s sensitive there. Very sensitive. She made sure that spot got extra clean. He grabbed her, pulled her away from his cock, and kissed her. She surrendered her newfound power with only a little reluctance. She hung on with her hand, sliding it up and down his shaft. “I’m going to come again if you keep that up,” he warned. Myriel grinned. “Can I watch?” She’d felt him come. Tasted him. She wanted to know what it looked like. “You’re insatiable. Yes.”


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He supported her back while she pumped her hand up and down on his cock. A bead of precum formed at its tip, and she bent down to lick it off. “Mmm,” she said, licking her lips and grinning at him. “Good gods, woman,” he said, looking a bit desperate. She grinned some more. His hips shuddered, and she looked back at his cock. It burst forth like a geyser, spurting onto the green grass. The rest trickled down his cock, lubricating her strokes, and onto her hand. She lifted her hand to her mouth when he was done and watched him as she licked it clean. He stared at her intently. What she was doing seemed to please and fascinate him. She enjoyed having the power to captivate him. It made her more content with the fact that he could captivate her. She kissed him, pushing her tongue in his mouth, making him taste himself. She expected him to back away, but he didn’t, just kissed her harder. It seemed he could take as well as he gave. Just stay in my life. She knew it was an impossible demand, so she didn’t voice it. They were there for different reasons and had to go their separate ways. She didn’t think highly of either of their chances of avoiding Kerrah’s fatal wrath. And anyway, Johan was everything she was taught to reject. Yet I’ll miss him. At least we had this time. Thank you, dear Lady.

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Chapter Four “The water in this pit isn’t drinkable,” Johan said, frowning at the water hole and her in succession. He had walked with Myriel several miles to the watering hole the roc had found for her. She wondered how he’d react when the hole gushed forth clear water and the gray land sprouted grass and saplings. Vile sorcery, that’s what he’ll say. “You’re right. It’s not, yet.” He frowned at her again. “What do you intend to do?” “First? Gather seeds that have fallen on dry ground and bring them here.” “What sort of seeds?” “Any I can find. Who am I to choose the form that nature takes?” Johan shook his head. She knew he wasn’t stupid. He could figure out what she intended. “Maybe,” said Myriel slowly, “you should leave before you see things you don’t want to see.” “Maybe I should,” he agreed and dropped his pack right next to the fetid pool. He sat down on a nearby rock and avoided looking at her. “Thank you for the advice.” “You’re welcome.” She set down her own pack and rummaged in it, taking a small, empty cloth bag and her favorite herbing sickle. She doubted she’d find anything alive enough to make a plantable cutting from, but if she did, she wanted to be prepared.


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She uttered a quick prayer to the Lady and walked away. She didn’t really know what to say to Johan, who’d been taciturn the entire trip. He was constantly walking ahead or lagging behind with his head downcast or running to the top of a hill and looking around for trouble. She suspected trouble would come later. She’d done only minor magic since creating the oasis, and Kerrah probably thought that his hounds had done their job. She wandered about, finding a few seeds that had fallen on the dead earth, most probably many seasons old. Good soil and water alone would not bring them back to life, but it was easier to start with something than with nothing. She recognized the hull of a maple seed with its half wing ragged and torn, and smiled. How long had that been sitting there, waiting for her to pick it up? Somehow what starving animals were left in the land had missed it. She heard footsteps behind her. Johan. She looked up. His face seemed softer and somehow kinder, and it made her smile. “You followed me.” He smiled back. “I did. I want you, Myriel.” It was almost impossible to resist the smoldering look in his eyes. That he found her desirable was intensely pleasing. “But I have work to do.” She didn’t sound convincing, even to herself. “A few more minutes of lovemaking won’t hurt.” “I don’t have time,” she protested. “We’ll make time, Myriel.” He was so close she could feel the heat of his breath. Had he found a chance to take a bath somewhere? He smelled so sweet. She didn’t resist as he lifted the dress off her shoulders. She shivered, though. There was something about being out on the wasteland that seemed far more exposed than making love on the green grass. “I want you.” He wrapped his arms around her. He was surprisingly tender. She wanted that from him. At least I think I do. She pressed up against him, the words I’m yours not quite escaping from her lips. She had work to do. It wouldn’t be responsible to give it up just to be this man’s

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plaything. But the idea of being under his control was so intoxicating. It would be so simple. All she had to do was surrender. “I want to possess you completely, Myriel.” He pulled at her ass, and the tip of his finger found the sensitive nerves surrounding her anus. It seemed like such a violation to be touched there, but she didn’t pull back. Completely. That was just what she wanted. For him to possess her so totally that all the world’s aches and pains would go away. For nothing to matter but sensation and pleasure. It was so tempting. “I’ll take you whenever I want, use you for my pleasure, make you come for me.” How could he make her so wet with just words and a few touches? “Yes.” “I’ll own you, Myriel. You’ll be my slave girl.” Oh my Goddess. It was like he pulled her fantasy right out of her mind. Could she really have all that? Would it really all work out, or would she be tossed aside when someone more beautiful came along, her life thrown away for nothing? “Please.” She wasn’t sure whether she was pleading him to take her or to let her go. He scratched her back, his nails harder than they had been before. She thought they might even be drawing blood. She should care about that, but she didn’t. She just wanted to surrender. She slipped her hands down to his pants. She’d show him how much she wanted to submit. She’d take his cock in her mouth and make him spend down her throat. She pulled his breeches down and started to lower herself, closing her eyes against the pain he was causing her. His fingernails are so sharp. But I’m so totally his. Nothing else matters.

Johan looked around. Myriel had long vanished from sight behind the hills, and he hated to admit it, but he was starting to worry about her. He’d never met someone like her. She’d been taken aback by his command to clean him with her tongue, but she’d set about it with a passion, and she’d been eager to please. She hadn’t had experience, but she had enough imagination to taste him and kiss him


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afterward. He hadn’t expected that. She was so innocent, yet so responsive to his touch. He’d never had much patience for innocents before. And certainly not for witches. Magic corrupted the soul, he’d always been told. But she was one of the least corrupt souls he’d ever met. Which simply meant the corruption hadn’t gotten to her yet. There was still time to save her. He just didn’t know how the hell he’d do it. He could tie her up and drag her back to Cymr and keep her there. The Cymrans took slaves as spoils of war, so that would be simple enough. He’d have to keep her tied, and probably gagged, all the time. He shook his head. It would be fun to restrain her for a while, but she wouldn’t be the woman he wanted. He’d break her, and he didn’t want to break her. Was a broken soul better than a corrupt one? That was another one of the sorts of questions philosophers liked, wasting their time talking about which of two unacceptable outcomes was the better. He’d settle for neither. Myriel’s choices were her own, and she’d have to deal with the consequences. He took a deep breath and got up. Sitting around pondering wasn’t his preferred pastime. He’d done enough. He’d find Myriel and tell her that he was going to Kerrah’s castle again. In the daylight he might be able to make out some high tower window, and with enough rope, he might be able to go there directly from the wall. He certainly wasn’t trying the ensorcelled door again. He followed her tracks with ease. She didn’t make any attempts to disguise them, just like she hadn’t on the walk from the oasis. She was either foolish or ignorant. He swept her footprints away for stretches and dragged the few pieces of rotting vegetation he found across her path to disguise the scent. He had no idea whether demon dogs tracked the way their natural cousins did, but he figured it paid to take precautions. “Ohh!” He heard the moan in the distance, and he quit worrying about the tracks and ran toward the noise. It sounded more like a woman in heat than in distress, but

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regardless, it sounded like Myriel. Nothing happening to her in this desolate land could be any good. He couldn’t see her until she was a hundred feet away. Something the size of a man was holding her, its skin the red of bricks, mottled and bumpy. Its claws raked her back, and blood streamed down her flesh. Its tail was wrapped around her ass, its tip probing her rear entrance. Its obscene, knobby cock jutted forward against her thigh. She was slithering down, as if she intended to take the thing in her mouth. She was more corrupt than he thought, taking a demon for a lover. His eyes clouded with jealousy and anger. He cursed himself for being so foolish as to think a witch could be as innocent as he had thought her, or that magic could be separated from evil. His blind rage didn’t allow him to figure out whether he intended to rescue her from the mauling her back was getting, strike out at his rival, or simply deprive her of what she looked like she was so thoroughly enjoying. The creature spun to face him, tossing Myriel aside. Its tail, even longer than he thought, wrapped around his legs and threw him off balance. Holding his sword in two hands, Johan put every bit of muscle in his arms and shoulders and chest into swinging it, trying to adjust for the fact that he was falling. He missed its head and struck its chest, delivering a gash that would have killed any mortal man instantly. The demon reeled from the blow, and Johan managed to escape from its tail. He turned to face it, his back to Myriel. He wanted to see how she was, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the demon. Its tail lashed out, the forked end biting into his flesh as it tried to wrap around his arms, but he managed to swing one-handed and slice the tail in two. “Not very bright,” he told it. He could hear Myriel behind him, chanting. Trapped between a demon and a sorceress. He’d kill the demon first, if he could. He grinned. Life wasn’t about


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survival; it was about striving. He charged, knowing he’d have to take care of the demon fast before Myriel could finish her spell. The thing moved awkwardly, as if its legs were hampered by its giant erection. Sick thing. He feinted a low swing, knowing his momentum would carry him within reach of those sharp claws and that he had little time for cleverness. The creature moved back, one hand ready to receive the sword blow in order to protect hell’s family jewels. Silly demon. Johan twisted his sword upward and lopped off its head. It toppled over. That’s what comes of thinking more for your cock than your brain. He turned to face Myriel, who’d stopped her chanting at an awkward, unresolved place. She was shaking, and her face was as white as the snow on Mount Grym. She didn’t look very dangerous now. Damn witch. He walked forward in spite of himself. Now who’s thinking with his cock rather than his brain? He knelt down next to her. Her beautiful back had become a mess of angry bleeding lines. “It looked like you,” she said, her teeth chattering. He grabbed her discarded dress and wrapped it around her. Then he picked her up, slung her over his shoulder, and ran back to the ugly watering hole. He had a blanket in his pack, and that would help. She had more clothes in hers. He could build a fire. There was no way she should be cold, not with the sun up and beating down on the dark gray ground. Blood from her back had stained her simple white cotton dress by the time he got her back to camp. He bundled her in a blanket and piled clothes around her. She stared at him, her eyes glassy. “You should choose your partners better,” Johan told her, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Myriel’s response was almost too quiet to hear. “Thought he was you.”

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“Not much of a resemblance.” He looked around, gathering up scrub to start a fire. There wasn’t much, but at least it was dry. She closed her eyes. “No, no you don’t.” He dumped the scrub in a pile near her and held her chin, slapping her gently. “Don’t you go on me yet. I don’t know why I’m saving you, but I am.” “I thought he was you.” “You’ve said that already.” “It took from my mind.” She breathed in and out frantically, but at least she was keeping her eyes open. What she said didn’t make any sense at all. He rubbed flint and iron together, sending sparks that he hoped would cause the smallest twig to light. “Come on, dammit.” “My greatest desire.” Poor woman is babbling. It really did take from her mind. He smiled as a flicker of flame appeared and blew gently on it to keep the airflow going. He remembered when, with his grandfather, he’d been too enthusiastic about blowing and had to start the whole process over again after his grandda had given him a few whacks. He had to admit he was motivated to learn the lesson quickly. He had heard some wise fool expound on the “all things in moderation” when he was in Vestia, preparing to liberate the Sapphire of Sacres, as if it were horribly profound. Hah. Not all things, just some things, and what ones were which was something a child could be taught. He bet the man was lousy in bed. “You,” said Myriel. He ignored her babbling. The fire was going, even if it would only keep going for an hour with what little he had gathered. He would do a wider sweep and get


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more to burn soon. First he was going to have a look at her back. He pulled back the blanket. It didn’t look very good. The wounds might not be fatal, but they were working on it. They needed to be cleaned so they wouldn’t turn rotten. He didn’t have much water left. He covered her up. He pulled out a water skin and heated it over the fire until it was warm, then pulled the blanket back again. For a moment his gaze wandered to the sight of her bare breasts, but he quickly got himself back on task. She’d be dead if he didn’t save her, and dead women weren’t sexy, no matter what their bodies were like in life. He poured the water on her wounds, letting it cleanse them. He knew better than to use the water from the watering hole. He’d drink it, if he had to, before he poured it on her back. He repeated the process, warming another skin and emptying it onto her back, before rushing to gather more wood. Her eyes closed. He hoped she was comfortable and that the immediate danger was past. He sat with her by the fire, once he had it built up again. There wasn’t much more he could do. He wasn’t into praying. He never figured the gods cared one way or the other what happened to people, unless they found the people entertaining. Entertaining the gods would be a dangerous business indeed, for their tastes weren’t the tastes of mortals, and mortals could be bad enough. “The demon looked like you, Johan. Until the moment you attacked it, and I saw you and it at the same time, it looked just like you.” “And afterward?” “It looked like a disgusting mockery of a man with a long, long tail. But I couldn’t see it for what it was until you came.” Johan wrinkled his nose in doubt. “Maybe.” “It read my fondest desire and used it to suck me into its embrace. It would have killed me, slowly, for the nature of such demons is to enjoy suffering. It was the perfect trap for one such as me.”

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Then maybe you shouldn’t have summoned it. But maybe she hadn’t. Kerrah, setting another trap. “Your fondest desire, eh?” was what he said aloud. “Well, that’s what the books say about such demons. It might not be perfectly accurate.” It sounds like she’s back to her normal self. He supposed that was a good sign. “And who would you rather have seen?” “My sister Seluna perhaps.” “Is she a witch too?” “Yes.” “Pity, I was thinking she might be better company myself.” Myriel sighed. “I don’t know why it chose you.” “Perhaps because its creator or summoner or whatever it is—Perhaps Kerrah has seen me, and I assume he hasn’t seen your sister.” He let Myriel think about that, although he didn’t know why the matter required much thought. It seemed obvious enough to him. She shook her head finally. “No. It read my mind, I’m sure of it. It wasn’t like you. It had more of a way with words. More sophisticated.” He laughed. “I’m sure you think that’s an insult. Words are for speaking the truth, and that doesn’t require any great skill. If it read your mind, then maybe it was because I showed you that pain can mix well with pleasure, and it wanted more than your suffering. Or perhaps…” “Perhaps what?” “Perhaps you’re in love with me.” He wanted to see what sort of response it got from her. Myriel glowered. “I’m not that mad.” “A shame, really. The crazy ones can be incredibly hot in bed.” Her look darkened. “I didn’t know you had a complaint.”


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“I didn’t. But I’ve never tried it with you in a bed either.” Myriel turned her back to him and the fire and pulled the blanket higher. They spent the next few hours in silence. She fell asleep. He watched her, fascinated at how her shoulders moved when she took a breath, at the glimpses of the side of her breast. He’d wanted her to say she loved him. It was amazing, just being able to watch her sleep. “Bah!” When he realized what he was thinking, he got up and stretched his legs. Watching her sleep, indeed. Next I’ll be thinking of setting up house. She’s a good lay, that’s all. Her fondest desire, huh? He’d never been shy about his prowess in bed. But not everyone enjoyed the things he liked, and Myriel clearly did. No woman had ever gotten to him the way she had. He’d seen the look on her face when the demon held her. Absolute surrender. And that was for him? He’d no business getting delayed from his objective. He needed a slightly longer rope, but he could splice that together if he used her rope belt. He just needed a few extra feet. Then up to the upper window, silent as a cat, find and steal the Ruby of Souls, and back out he’d go. Simple, effective. He’d bring along some meat in case there were more guardians inside the tower like the ones that roamed the courtyard, and for that he’d have to leave the wasteland and go hunting in the southern forest. Which, admittedly, would be easier with a bow, but his bow had broken and been discarded. He’d catch food with his bare hands if he needed to, and the sword was some help. It just took longer that way. There was only one problem. Strange, how I have no qualms about stealing a jewel I don’t need, and yet I won’t take a bit of rope from this witch. If he had to buy rope, he’d have a day’s trek to the nearest village ahead of him, and a day’s trek back too. He didn’t have any coin either, so he’d have to work for it or steal a little. Myriel wouldn’t like that.

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Who the hell cares what she likes? He let out a breath. Damn fool woman. She’d be getting herself killed while he was gone too. Some demon or other would get to her. He’d just have to take her with him. He touched her forehead gently. No fever. He sat down on the dirt, stretched out his legs, and put his back against the rock. He’d sleep lightly, but he wasn’t getting himself anywhere now. He woke up when she stirred. Dawn was just beginning to turn the sky pink. The fire had gone out, which was fine; they were harder to find without it, if demons cared about such things. Mortals did, and long-lived or not, Kerrah was mortal. “You’re still here.” Myriel sat up, pulling the blanket with her to cover her breasts. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her other hand. “Aye.” He certainly wasn’t going to tell her he stayed to keep her safe or anything like that. “I need to go back for my pouch of seeds. I’d feel a bit safer if you came with me.” “Oh, I’m not all that safe.” He grinned at her. “Oh, aren’t you?” “No. Drop the blanket.” She stared at him. He didn’t make a move toward her. He didn’t want her feeling threatened or thinking he’d use force. He stared back. She dropped the blanket to the ground, and once again he could see her breasts with their lovely sensitive pink nipples. “Happy?” He grinned. “It’s a nice view. And yes, I like it when you do things I tell you to do.” “You want to master me.” “Yes.” “And once you’ve succeeded, then what?”


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He hadn’t even thought of it. He’d have his way with her, and they’d both be pleasured. Would he leave her then, adding the memory to those of all the other women he’d been with? Damned if he knew. He’d make sure she was safe. “That would be for me to decide, wouldn’t it be?” She turned her face. “Yes, I suppose it would.” He got to his feet and walked around her. Her back looked better than it had before. Far better than it ought to look, actually. He grabbed her arm. “Why are you healing so quickly?” he asked sharply. She turned her head to look at him. “My wound was demon-caused. What they do here on earth fights against nature, and nature fights back.” She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp. “You’re hurting me.” It made a sort of sense, he supposed. Magic wasn’t supposed to make sense. He let go of her arm. “You sure do attract a lot of demons.” “It can’t be helped. I do magic, and Kerrah can sense it, more so because it is opposed to his own. Now I have more to do.” She stood up, turning her back to him. It was hard not to stare at her naked body, so Johan didn’t even try. She was lovely, well fed, plenty to hold on to. “What do you intend?” “To bring this spot to life again, as I did the place where you found me.” She talked about magic so calmly. He’d have reacted if he hadn’t already guessed that she’d done something to the oasis where they met. “And he’ll sense that.” “Yes, I imagine so.” “And send more demons after you or come himself to finish the job.” “Probably.” She grabbed the bloodstained dress and put it on. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I look like out here, does it?” “No, you’re dead either way.” Maybe if she faced that, she’d run away and be safe.

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“But not until after I’ve made a start at ending his sway. Nature returns to this place, and the forces of the Abyss will not defeat the Lady on earth once she is given a foothold.” Johan laughed. Myriel put her hands on her hips. “What’s so funny?” “Spoken like a man from Cymr, if you don’t mind the details. We’re not so different after all. Your lot is to strive, and if need be to die in striving?” She sighed sadly. “It seems too much to ask for more pleasure to mix with it all. But thank you for what you gave me. I will commend you to my Lady.” Could I possibly be bungling this more badly? A moment ago she was about to surrender to me, and now she’s telling me good-bye. I don’t want to say good-bye. This woman has gotten to me. “You need to get out of here, Myriel. When I steal the Ruby of Souls, I’ll sell it and split the take with you. You’ll live a good life on that money, I promise you.” And I’ll run through my half in a few weeks of debauchery. Not for me to sit on my hands and live off my money. “I don’t expect a jewel thief to understand.” “You’ll be killed here.” “Yes. My body will fall to the earth and decay, and the Lady will bring life again from it. It’s the way of things. First, however, I do some good. I do believe my seeds are that way.” She walked off toward the rising sun. It was a fair approximation of where he’d found her, but she’d miss it. He hurried after her. “I’ll pick you up and carry you away, if you won’t see reason.” “Then I’ll come back, once you tire of me.” She had to be the most exasperating wench he’d ever fucked. “Are you so determined to die, woman?”


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She shook her head. “I’m so determined to matter. Think of it as an oath. No more foolish than yours, and I’d say less so, and no more likely to succeed.” She stopped and turned to face him. “I wish I’d met you earlier. You’re thick-headed and ignorant, but on the whole, I like you much better than any other man I’ve ever known.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Be mine, Myriel.” It was an impulsive decision, but he was used to following his instincts. It felt right. She pursed her lips, and for a moment he thought she might cry. But she gathered herself and looked him in the eyes. “I want to be. But I have to do this too.” He nodded, slowly, and let her go. He had to respect her decision, no matter how much he wished she’d said yes. He was proud of her, but that only made it harder. They both turned away. There was nothing else to be said.

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Chapter Five He wasn’t far away, Myriel knew. He was watching over her. It was harder now. She’d remembered how much she’d been willing to give to the demon. Her body, her soul, her life, just to please him. And all because she thought he was Johan. She couldn’t let him know he’d gotten to her that much. When he’d asked her to drop the blanket, to bare herself, she wanted so badly to surrender everything to him. She’d hoped he would order her to give him pleasure, whether or not he gave her some in return. But then they’d argued again. It would never work: a woman from Valon and a man from Cymr, together. They were too different. I’m in love with the idea of him, the fantasy the demon showed me. Not with the real man. But even as she told herself that, she knew she was lying. The real man was more than just someone who wanted to possess her and dominate her, to drive her crazy with lust. He was the man who bathed her wounds, who wrapped her in a blanket, who even now watched at the edge of her sight, making sure she was safe and trying not to be seen doing it. She wondered what the Lady thought of what he’d awakened in her. The Lady was no prude like some gods and goddesses. She loved sex in all the forms practiced in Valon. Whether it was between two or more than two, it was sacred. Even if it was just playing with oneself, the Lady smiled on the pleasure received. But what was between her and Johan was not sex as it was known in Valon. It was something more primal, more immediate, and less orchestrated. Even if the Lady herself told her it was wrong, she knew her response came from something deep inside her, and that somehow Johan matched her perfectly. She enjoyed feeling soft, yielding.


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Having someone hard and dominant seemed a natural complement. Could such desire be so very evil if it was part of her nature? Even when the fox kills the rabbit or when the roc kills the fox, the Lady smiles because the fox and the roc are being true to themselves. I’m no worse, surely? It took her two hours to find the little red cloth bag of seeds. Johan lurked behind the hills, watching her. Every time she thought that maybe he’d given up, she’d spot him again or see some kind of movement that in this lifeless land was unlikely to be an animal. She walked back toward camp, using the sun as a guide. He’ll never want me after he sees this. But she couldn’t change his superstitions. She removed the bloodstained dress. The less that came between her and the Lady, the better her magic would work. She held her athame in one hand, sprinkling the seeds on the ground. “Great spirits of earth, I invoke thee. Great spirits of wind, I invoke thee. Great spirits of the waves, I invoke thee. Great spirits of fire, I invoke thee.” She walked a circle around the area where she’d sprinkled the seeds, chanting, and then moved to the center. “Goddess, bring once again this place to life. Let seeds flourish and the spring run clear. Let what is desolate within this circle give life, and let what is barren be fertile. Please, oh blessed Lady, I invoke you.” She wondered if Johan was fleeing yet, but she pushed the thought out of her mind. She had to stay focused, to be a channel for all that energy. She held her hands up high, knife in one hand to represent the masculine power, her other hand cupped and open to represent the feminine. She repeated her prayer. Then she lowered her hands to point them at the ground and concentrated, all the power the Lady had given her focused on the ground below. She gave of herself and took the darkness in the ground into her body. And she felt the depth of it and knew it was more powerful than a dozen of her. Kerrah.

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The seeds dug into the ground and sprouted, tender shoots at first, then a carpet of grass and wild strawberries and peonies. A maple tree grew next to the water hole, which overflowed with water, spreading its murky fluid on the ground until it ran clear and healthy. Thank you. She didn’t know what part the Lady played or what part was the elements or the Lady’s Consort. But she added her energies to their own, and the plants thrived. Kerrah would notice magic like this, for sure. And he would send more than three Abyssal hounds or the incubus that had come to her. Perhaps he would stretch himself and bring about his own destruction, but that death would not be laid to her. The demons would come after her anyway, and her body would make the ground more fertile yet. And Johan— Johan will try to protect me and die. “Run.” She tried to scream it, but she was too weak. It was barely a whisper. The ground was still drawing life from her. Her legs felt like rubber, and she collapsed, falling onto a bed of carmine flowers where once only rocklike dry earth had been. Run.

“Myriel!” Johan ran forward. He’d watched the whole ceremony. Even if the results were sorcery, he had a hard time condemning it. He didn’t quite manage to catch her as she fell, but he knelt beside her and lifted her head to his lap. Her body was covered in sweat. He wanted to get out the blanket for her, but he didn’t want to move. She was so beautiful, and he wanted to hold her in his arms forever. But the blanket, he knew, was more sensible. Before he moved, her eyes fluttered open. “You broke the circle.” He could barely hear her.


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“I broke what?” She looked up at him. “The circle. You ended the spell. The plants can’t feed off me anymore.” He ran his hands through her honey-colored hair. “They’d fed enough. They’ll make it from here on out the normal way. You gave what you could.” She shrugged and sat up, but leaned against his shoulder. “Maybe. Kerrah will notice, you know. He’ll send demons.” He put his arm around her. “I’ll protect you.” She looked at him earnestly. “You should run before he kills you too. He’s stronger than we are. I could feel it.” “I think I was giving this speech a little while ago. I’m no less brave than you, Myriel. I’m staying. I’ll protect you.” He swallowed, thinking of what he was about to say. “I’ll help you take back more land until he comes himself to deal with you. And then he’s dead.” He chuckled to himself. Who would have thought it, Johan of the Cymr, protecting a witch so she can do more magic? She stared at him for a while. Finally she said, “You really mean it.” “I don’t say things I don’t mean.” “No, I suppose you don’t.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think that’s why I’m yours.” He snorted. “If you were mine, you’d be away from here by now.” She nodded. “I’m sorry I can’t give you everything. But I love the way you are to me. I—” “What is it?” She took a deep breath. “When I was with the demon, thinking it was you, he said he wanted to possess me. To make me utterly his. And there was nothing I wanted more, Johan, than to be completely yours. But I have work to do. It stops me from being what I want, and I only hope that you can understand that.”

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In Cymr, a woman had no work more important than her lover, unless she had children to feed. He had to admit he found women in the civilized world a bit more interesting. He’d always assumed it was because he liked variety. But there was a reason he grew tired of his decadent lovers. Even if they loved to please, enjoyed the games he liked to play in the bedroom, and obeyed his directions, they never had a goal higher than their own pleasure. First and foremost, they were always deeply in love with themselves. He supposed that was human nature. There was more to Myriel. A lot more. She was like no woman, Cymran or civilized, that he’d ever met. “You won’t rest, will you, until the whole land has recovered? Until Kerrah is bested?” Myriel shook her head. “I suppose not. And I’ve felt his power and know that I can’t best him. But I can still try.” “I want you, Myriel. I want to possess you. To own you. To show you what it means to have a master.” He kissed her, unsure what to do with the strength of his own feelings. He was used to lust, anger, strong emotions. But this was deeper. “I won’t rest until I do.” She shivered and smiled at him sadly. “I’ll fight you with everything I have, even though…even though that sounds like a life I might enjoy living.” “I don’t want to fight with you. I want to fight for you. If we can drive Kerrah from this land or kill him, then will you submit to me?” “I’ll not be responsible for your death. I should put some clothes on.” She started to get up, but he grabbed her arm. She sank back down to sit with him. “I like you like you are. My woman should be as unclothed as possible, and you are beautifully naked.” She looked like she was going to argue the point but didn’t. “I’m not going to encourage you to stay and die.”


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“You don’t need to. Just answer my question, and tell the truth. I’ll decide what to do with your answer. I’m a free man. And I will always be a free man.” She smiled at that. “I can’t imagine you any other way, actually. Yes, Johan. If Kerrah were not here and if someone didn’t need to stop him, I would happily submit to you and call you my master. But now…” Myriel’s eyes glittered. “But now what? Should we move to another place with water, so you can cast your”—he gritted his teeth—“magic again?” “I was thinking that you and I might perform another kind of ritual, actually, and dedicate it to this spot. It is one of the Lady’s most prized of all rituals. It is a most high magic.” She looked at him sideways, a smile on her face. Tolerating magic was one thing, doing it another. Johan shook his head. “I’ll let you cast your sorcery, but I won’t be a part of it. And I want nothing to do with your Lady; I know better than to draw the attentions of the gods.” She kissed his lips. “The ritual I referred to is sex. And we can do it in exactly the way you desire. In this at least, I can submit to you now, completely, without waiting. Surely you wouldn’t deny us the pleasure of such magic?” “Sex isn’t sorcery, wench.” He kissed her back, roughly, taking her breath away. The feel of her body against his aroused him. She pulled away. “No. Sorcery is the bending of the unnatural to work the sorcerer’s will. Witchcraft is the bending of the natural. But I assure you, sex is magic. No other magic could have enchanted me so.” She bit her lip. “Master.” Sex is magic? And people claim Cymrans are superstitious.

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Chapter Six Johan’s cock pointed straight at Myriel’s nose as he hovered over her on all fours. She remembered how readily she had wanted to take him in her mouth when the demon-Johan had appeared before her. Now the real thing was right there, and she hesitated. His chin tickled her mound as he licked her clit. Days in the wilderness had made his face scratchy, and the touch made her hips jump. He put a hand on her thigh, stilling her. “Easy, girl.” “You need a shave, Master.” “When we have a knife sharp enough, we’ll both get one. Then there will be nothing but smooth skin between my chin and your sex.” I don’t need to shave. Then she realized where he meant. She wondered how that would feel, being bare down there. “In the meantime,” he said, “think of it as another instrument of pleasure or pain or both.” He shifted forward, rubbing his chin deliberately against her inner thigh. If it had been an accident, she would have winced, but because he did it on purpose, she shivered instead. “Oh my.” She spread her legs a little wider for him, anxious to get his attention focused back on her clit, as long as his attention didn’t involve his nascent beard. Not there. That would be way too much. “Or perhaps next time it will be for punishment, if you don’t do as you’re told. Suck my cock, pretty wench.” She opened her lips, and he moved down, sliding his long, thick cock into her mouth. This wasn’t like before, when she was on top. She couldn’t control how much


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of him went in, and she sure as hell couldn’t take all of it. Inch by inch he pushed in farther, making her tongue get out of the way. She felt the crown slide down her tongue, and just when she was about to gag, he stopped. She closed her lips around him and sucked, eliciting a satisfying groan. He must have been happy with it, because she didn’t feel his scratchy chin, just his warm, wet tongue on her clit and his fingers probing her pussy. He slid what felt like two of them inside her, stretching her. He curled the fingers up toward her pubic bone, finding a spot that made her shudder with pleasure. His tongue spiraled around her pearl of pleasure, tickling it. Her clit was swollen, shooting jolts through her body every time his tongue or his lips came in contact with it. How he could do all that to her, confusing her every nerve, and maintain the concentration to raise and lower his hips just enough to fuck her mouth without gagging her, she didn’t know. It was all she could do to keep her lips tight around his shaft and swirl her tongue in the hopes of hitting nerves that would feel as good as hers were feeling. And he was in absolute control. In the circles, sex was seen as an imitation of the Lady with her Consort, but did the Consort and the Lady ever have sex like this? Yet it seemed heretical to think that they’d found a way of pleasure that the Goddess wouldn’t know. It felt so delicious to be overpowered, and yet she trusted that if she pushed him to get his attention and shook her head, he’d move out of her. He slid a little farther down her throat, almost gagging her, and she raised her hand. He pulled back just before she tried to stop him, and immediately she wanted his cock again. She raised her head and swallowed him back inside, taking him as deeply as she could. I want his pleasure. The thought of him coming in her mouth while she was unable to move or draw back sent a delicious shiver down her spine straight to her pussy. Her hips quivered, and she couldn’t help but put her hands on his shoulders to try to force his lips against her. Just a little more. Just a little more. Oh my Goddess.

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A thrust of his fingers, the feeling of his tongue dragged across her clit, and that was it. She arched, her pussy pressing up against his stubbly chin for an instant. Her tender flesh stung in a hundred places, but she just wanted more. She wrapped her legs around his head, squeezed his face against her, and let out a muffled scream. It seemed to be his signal, because two quick thrusts with his hips and he was coming in her mouth, salty cum flowing down her throat as she swallowed. Mine. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t quite get it all, not when he slid his cock back. He rolled off her, and she laughed. Mine. Such a strange thought to have when I’m supposed to be doing the surrendering, but this man is all mine, and I don’t intend to share him with anyone. They both sat up to try to turn the other way, and then smiled at each other. Myriel rubbed a little cum off her chin. He grinned and kissed her. “Mine,” he said. “If we win.” “Which we will.” She shivered in spite of herself. She wanted to believe it, but he hadn’t felt what she’d felt. He didn’t know the depth of Kerrah’s power like she did. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, and she snuggled up against his hard, muscled chest, laying her head on his shoulder. It felt so good to be naked with him. It wasn’t at all like being sky clad with the circle, before the Lady, but it felt every bit as right. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of his body, so she looked around as best she could from her position cuddled against him. She didn’t think it was her imagination that the blues and reds of the flowers were brighter, and the grass stood taller. She wondered if he could see the same thing she did. It may not have been as gentle as they preached sex to be in Valon, but the Lady was pleased. It was indeed high magic.


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At last he let her go. “You’re not used to this much sun, and you have a fair complexion. You’ll get burned if you don’t put your dress on.” She supposed he was right. His own bronzed chest suited him, and it was probably impervious to the sun by now, but she wouldn’t look or feel nearly as good if she was bright pink. She stood up. She had the one blouse and skirt that didn’t have bloodstains on them. “I should wash first.” She lowered herself into the spring, confident the water would keep her protected from the sun for the moment. The water was remarkably warm. For some reason that was the way with water that came from deep inside the earth sometimes. He grinned at her. “Looks comfortable. Did you want company?” “Sure.” He walked over to her, obviously not the least bit shy about being naked, and she watched him. His semierect cock jiggled when he walked. He was beyond tall; he was huge. Enough to block out the sun. She shook her head. That’s not his shadow. She looked up. The thing flying overhead was as big as a roc, maybe bigger. Its leather wings stretched farther than a man was tall on each side, putting the entire new patch of life in shadow. Its flesh was a sickly green, covered with scales. Its head, by contrast, was furry and large like that of a lion, with but one glimmering red eye in the center of its forehead. The end of its tail was like a spiked club. It was diving straight at her. Johan whirled and saw it too and reached for his sword a few feet away. He had to take two steps to get to it, though, and that was two steps too many. It grabbed Myriel by the shoulders with yellow talons. She hadn’t intended to scream, but she did, loudly. The moment it touched her, she could feel its demonic energy, and the claws bit deep into her skin.

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It swooped up again. Johan slashed at its belly and then ducked to avoid its swinging tail. That was the only chance he got. It soared high, until Johan, huge reliable Johan, was a tiny, helpless-looking figure futilely waving a blade in the air. She guessed where she was going. The winged demon turned toward the tower at the center of the desolation she’d been fighting against. She didn’t know what fate had in store for her, but somehow she thought she’d be far better off dead than alive. She tried to struggle free, even though she knew she would drop hundreds of feet onto the ground below, but struggling only made the talons gouge her shoulders more deeply. Dear Lady, keep Johan safe.

*** “So you’re the witch that’s been causing me so much trouble.” The man perched on the black marble throne was thin and too small for it. His skin was gray, almost white, and lacking in any other pigment, and she didn’t need much imagination to think she could see his bones and his skull through it. His eyes were sunken black pools that seemed to look everywhere and nowhere at the same time. His velvet robe was torn and tattered and looked nearly as old as he was; patches of the scarlet material had faded to pink while others had darkened to black. So this frail, half-dead thing is the mighty Kerrah. She knew his appearance was irrelevant. He had power. She could feel it from where she stood, twenty feet away from him. Demons that looked almost like men, save for their horns and tails and hooves and bloodred skin, had shackled her wrists and ankles, and short chains ran between them. The demons lurked at the two doors on the left and right of the flat side of the half-round room. She could do nothing to cover herself, or to run. “There was a time once when I would have enjoyed taking you to my bed, lovely little witch. You’d be chained there. I have a rather remarkable variety of implements of pain from my younger days, and I’d make sure you were used most regularly. You’d stay there until you gave birth. I love children, don’t you? They keep one young.” The lick of his lips chilled her. Whatever his love for children was,


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it wasn’t wholesome. “That’s part of how I’ve lived these many, many years. Hundreds. I’ve lost track actually. And you’ve been so kind as to bring a child to me. It will save me the trouble of sending one of my minions to scour the villages.” She said nothing. What child had she brought him? Oh. Oh. The ritual of fertility applied not just to the ground beneath her feet. Although it could have happened anyway. Johan. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to feel the spark of life within her, hoping it wasn’t there rather than be at the mercy of such a monster. But she was attuned to all growing things, and she knew he did not lie. He looked at her, opening his hands in a mockery of welcome. “You’re not very talkative, are you, witch? Is it possible that you, so proud of how attuned you are to nature, were unaware that you’re pregnant? It’s true that life has only just begun inside you, but I too cultivate life. It must be nurtured, isn’t that so? So hard in such a desolate land. It must be brought to flower and then”—he raised his right hand, closed it suddenly into a fist—“snuffed out.” “You’re sick.” “I’m alive, and all my contemporaries are dead. I most definitely and most literally have had the last laugh, witch. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you still have at least one eye to watch what I do with your child.” He laughed, a dry crackling sound like burning twigs. “You should look at yourself.” “Do you not find me beautiful?” He opened his mouth as if shocked, but the gesture was so exaggerated, she knew it was meant to mock her. “You’re a pale, wizened thing. A time once, indeed. I bet your cock doesn’t even rise anymore, and you couldn’t take a woman to bed if you tried.” He smiled. “It’s not an unusual problem in the very aged. I was fucking women well into my hundred and fifties. And it’s far too late to convert me with your sweet, loving words.” He coughed twice, a tinny, ugly sound. “I doubt your little magics

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pose much danger to me. You don’t have any great talent, and you’re not old enough to have any great skill. I sense little power in you. Still, I would not choose to have you draw the attention of your whorish slut, so I’m afraid I’ll have to put something in your mouth for now. You’re not much for conversation anyway.” He waved, and a demon lumbered forward, carrying a rag bunched up in his fist. She moved back out of instinct, the heavy chain between her ankles clanking on the stone floor. Whorish slut. He means the Lady. He’ll pay for that. There was nowhere to run, even if her legs were free. The door behind her was obviously heavy, and she’d never get it open with her arms bound. And in any case, it only led to the parapet where the monster that had brought her lurked, and then to a long and deadly fall to the beasts below in the courtyard. All that might be better than what Kerrah had planned, but her suicidal impulse had left her. Now that she had seen the man, she knew she simply had to find a way to stop him, no matter how unlikely it might be. The demon grabbed her around the waist and then pinched her nose until she gasped for air. He stuffed the rag in her mouth. “You look better that way,” said Kerrah. “Don’t swallow too much. It’s better to drool, makes you less likely to choke. And you must, must take care of that baby for me.” He laughed again. Myriel glared. I’ll see you in hell.


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Chapter Seven Johan wasn’t used to feeling helpless, but as the great beast flew away with his Myriel, all his strength and skill seemed completely worthless. He watched as the demon flew toward the castle with Myriel in its claws. She was still struggling; at least that meant she was still alive. He ran a few steps after the demon instinctively before he realized that was foolish. He needed a plan. Assuming Myriel was in the tower in the center of the castle, rescuing her was not that much different from the first part of acquiring the Ruby of Souls. The exit would be a bit harder. He didn’t expect Myriel to be of much help, and she might be in bad shape. Escaping down a rope line would be much more difficult. He didn’t have time to go back to civilization and buy rope and food to distract the demons in the courtyard. Even if he stole a horse, Myriel would have been there for nearly two days by the time he got back. The ground darkened again, and he looked up. The giant eagle that Myriel had called a roc flew a slow gyre above the camp, each circle bringing it a little lower. The witch had said it wasn’t a demon. In fact, she’d implied it was somehow loyal to her. He lowered his sword and watched it land a few feet away from him. It stared. He stared back, and for several minutes, neither of them moved. Finally, he sheathed his sword in its scabbard on his belt. He doubted it understood words, but he tried anyway. Talking was comfortable, and it helped him think. “We need to rescue Myriel.”

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The great bird lowered itself closer to the ground. It looked like a natural bird, other than its size. Did he trust it enough to get on it? He knew he really didn’t have much choice. He walked past its staring eyes to reach its side, and the bird didn’t object. At the very least, it had decided he wasn’t a threat. He swung his leg over it. There wasn’t a saddle or any obvious place to sit. He just had to make his best guess. With a lurch, the great wings spread, and the roc ran forward. The sudden acceleration almost threw Johan off, and he grabbed the bird’s feathery neck just in time. Then it took to the air, wings flapping. He still wasn’t sure whether it was taking him where he needed to go or just trying to throw him, but on the idea that it was the former, and that it could understand him, he told it, “The tower. She’s in the tower somewhere. Just get me there, and I’ll do the rest.” The roc was already flying in the right direction. Perhaps it understood him, or perhaps it could sense where Myriel was, which would be even better. It wasn’t as fast as the demon. Kerrah could have already put Myriel to death. He just had to hope she was still alive. And that he didn’t fall off. On the parapet around the top wall of the tower, the flying demon sat. As soon as he could make it out, the demon’s leathery wings unfurled, and it launched itself toward them. Oh shit. He reached for his sword, holding on with just one hand, hoping to make himself useful in the aerial battle he foresaw. But the roc dived suddenly, and he found himself hanging on for life with both hands again before he ever seized the hilt. The demon passed overhead, its great clubbed tail swinging mightily. If he’d been sitting upright, rather than stretched against the back of the roc’s neck, it would have hit him. The roc turned right, still diving, and then to its left. Johan looked back, and the demon was turning around. It might be faster, but the roc could turn better. The demon was gaining altitude, though, and that seemed bad to Johan. Both creatures


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had talons to attack from above while they dived. The flyer on top had the tactical advantage. Then he realized what the roc was doing. Its path took it to the parapet, but not directly. If it intended to land, it could have flown straight and reached their destination faster. Instead its path seemed designed to spend as much time as possible directly over the parapet. Oh gods. He had only a split second to divine its intention, and then he needed to act. He let go, and the bird banked, sending him flying through the air. He was almost too late; he hadn’t compensated for the fact that he’d still be traveling forward at the speed he’d had while riding the roc. The edge of the parapet was walled, fortunately, just high enough for a man to fire a bow over it, and it was that short wall that stopped him from skidding off and plummeting to his death. He took the blow on his shoulder when he thudded against it. Thankfully nothing broke. The roc kept flying and diving, building speed. It wasn’t flying remotely toward the demon. Instead, it did a neat S around the tower and disappeared from view by the time Johan got to his feet. The demon hadn’t disappeared, though. It was heading straight toward him or the roc; he didn’t know which. Fine. He drew his sword and retreated until his back was against the outside wall of the tower, right near a massive door that appeared to have been bolted from the outside. Yet there was no one out here except him and the demon. Which meant the demon had enough brains to work a bolt. That doesn’t improve my odds. It’s bigger, stronger, faster. The cold calculation didn’t change his confidence, however. I’m going to find a way to win. The demon roared, its great leonine mouth stretching wide to show sharp teeth. It landed on the edge of the parapet, and the reptilian neck sprang forward to let it take a bite out of Johan. Johan waited until the last minute and then dived down, curling his body in a somersault. He rose up under the thing’s belly and thrust upward. He’d hoped that spot was soft, but his sword barely penetrated. The scales were like overlapping metal plates. If it attacks from above, it needs its armor

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below. But the whole of its body seemed covered with the scales, except for its oneeyed head. He kept moving. And so did it, flapping its great wings and taking to the air again. Its tail swung down like a pendulum, and Johan got to his feet just in time to dodge to the side. This isn’t going well. It has all the advantages and can choose whether to fight in the air or the ground. I need to take away those advantages. He ran to the wall again. It gave him fewer options to dodge, but the thing couldn’t extend its talons so easily into the corner between floor and tower. The tail, however, was more flexible and probably able to reach. The monster turned its rear to Johan, looking back over its wings. With just that one giant red eye, it couldn’t see very well except straight ahead. It could barely even bring the side of its eye to bear on him. From that angle Johan noticed something about the eye; it wasn’t curved round like any natural eye, but rather it was faceted, like a giant red gem. The Ruby of Souls. Surely there can’t be two giant red gems in Kerrah’s possession. The macelike tail flew through the air, the menacing spiked club heading straight for Johan’s head. He waited until it was almost on him and then swung out with his sword, wielding it two handed. The scales were smaller on the tail, and he had hopes of doing some damage. He didn’t get entirely out of the way. The tail collided with his left shoulder with a sickening crunch as he swung. His sword bit deep into flesh and bone, and then was free even as his left hand lost its grip. The spiked ball that had been at the end of the tail skittered along the stone, dragging with it a stub of the tail. His sword had bitten clean through it. The monster roared with fury. One option down, and now it’s mad. And mad things make mistakes. He held the sword in one hand, still waiting. His left arm was useless; there were bones broken in his shoulder, and his hand felt numb. The beast landed and stalked toward him, much as it had done the first time, although


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it kept its weight lower to the ground. He wouldn’t roll under its jaw this time. He had to stake everything on a single blow. It opened its mouth and snapped at him, and he swung, springing forward, pushing off from the wall. With just one arm he needed every advantage of leverage to make the strike count. He swung his sword in from the side, where he suspected the single eye could see least well. For a moment, his foot balanced on the lower teeth of the creature’s wide mouth, and his sword dug into flesh just to the side of the eye. He leaned forward and pushed it, using it like a lever. The huge red gem, as big as his fist, sprang forth. The body of the beast turned black as night, and then it dissipated like so much smoke, leaving behind a sulfurous stench. He’d accomplished his original quest, but it seemed empty now. He reached down and managed to close his left hand around the ruby. Something surged inside him, full of energy. His arm still didn’t feel right, but the pain receded a little. “Lucky me.” He sheathed his sword, lifted the bar from the door, and pulled it open. Despite its size, it took surprisingly little force to pull. It must be well weighted. All thoughts of the door vanished. In front of him sat a wizened old man, barely more than a skeleton. Myriel was naked and chained at the side of the throne with a rag stuck in her mouth, her wide-open eyes speaking of pain. On each side red-skinned, muscle-bound brutes stood, with curved horns on their heads and forked tails. In their hands were long halberds, but it was Myriel who had his attention. The only time she should be restrained is when I choose to restrain her. For a moment, surprise showed on the old man’s face, but it was replaced by a look of cold calculation. He twisted a lock of Myriel’s hair in his hand, and she winced with pain. Get your hands off her. Anger burned inside him, which he knew was precisely what his opponent wanted. He gritted his teeth and took a breath.

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“Ah, little warrior.” Kerrah smiled a toothless smile. “You defeated my manticore. Most impressive. Good of you to join us.” His gaze flicked to the gem in Johan’s hand briefly, bravado replaced by a momentary concern, and then he seemed to dismiss it. “You have a choice. I could use a man with such talents. You can join me and enter my service, or I can summon legions of demons to fight you, until you are dead. Slay as many as you like, it doesn’t matter to me. Eventually you will tire and fail.” Johan spat on the flagstones. “I’ll never serve you.” “Ah, but I’ll let you use the girl.” You’ll let me? That’s my woman you’re talking about. Mine. “Go to hell, old man.” He avoided Myriel’s eyes. I mustn’t let him know my weaknesses. “She means nothing to me.” Kerrah signaled the two demons at his side. “Take care of him. I’ll play with the woman.”


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Chapter Eight “She means nothing to me.” The words stung for a moment until Myriel realized he had to be lying. He’d come through the door with the gem in his hand. There was only one reason for him to keep going, and that was for her. The two demons surged forward. Johan’s gaze flicked between them. He looked distracted, and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Don’t worry about me. Protect yourself. She tried to call a warning to him, but all she succeeded at doing was making an unintelligible noise through the soaked rag. She couldn’t turn away; Kerrah held her head in place by pulling on her hair, and even twisting would be intensely painful. She worked at the gag with her tongue, trying to dislodge it from the rope tied around her head. She just wanted to get a few words out. There wouldn’t be a chance for a proper spell, just a heartfelt prayer to the Lady. The two demons swung their halberds in broad, sweeping arcs, the axe blades at the end of each seven-foot pole whirring toward Johan’s head. He ducked one and parried the other with a clang of steel. Then he ran toward the demon on his right. Close in, the halberd was nothing but a pole, the spearlike point and the axe blade at its end useless. The demon dropped the halberd and raised its claws, but only after Johan had jammed his sword through its neck. The other demon had readied his halberd for another swing, but Johan hadn’t stopped moving. He held on to the sword, continuing his run, the impaled demon twisting lifelessly. Kerrah laughed. Myriel looked at him, despite the pain it produced in her head. His smile showed a twisted amusement, but not his eyes. His eyes were

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focused on Johan with shrewd calculation. He’ll need his hands to cast his best spells. That would mean letting her go. She couldn’t do much, but she was prepared to throw her body at him if need be to disrupt his rhythm. I can only buy him a second, at most. It had only taken Johan a second to dispatch the demon. But now he was outside the halberd’s range. He moved to the side, farther from her and Kerrah, and she wondered what he was doing for a moment. He’s using the demon to shield him from Kerrah, so he can focus on the one enemy. Still, if he advanced, the demon was ready to strike with his poleax. If he didn’t, the demon was very cautiously advancing on him. Johan’s face revealed nothing of his thoughts or intentions. “You really would make an excellent minion. My spells can provide you with the eager services of as many women as you desire, all devoted to indulging your every whim. You’ll live like a king, save for a few days a year that I need your swordplay.” Kerrah’s hand was shaking. There was something he didn’t like about the battle, something that made him nervous. That gave her courage and hope. She kept working at the gag, managing to get a little bit of it outside her mouth. Maybe he doesn’t have anything left, if Johan gets through the demon. “Why would you trust a dangerous man like me around you?” asked Johan. “All that I can provide you will be done with magic; kill me, and you’ll lose paradise itself. You’ll have too much to lose.” “Odd, I don’t believe in paradise.” “Ah, yes. Your grim religion has no place for such Elysian dreams. All the more reason to get what you can in this life. You cannot win. All there will be is more fighting until you die, if you continue.” “I accept,” said Johan. Myriel blinked. In the instant her eyes were closed, Johan had sprung forward, past the axe the demon didn’t use, and with a mighty swing of his sword he lopped the demon’s head off. Johan pushed the demon’s body out of his way and grinned, still running forward. “Fighting until I die sounds like a good option.”


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Myriel readied herself for a distracting lunge, knowing she’d have to be careful not to get in Johan’s way. But one word in some ancient-sounding tongue was all Kerrah uttered, and two more demon guards like the first appeared between him and Johan. Johan had been too intent on killing Kerrah, and together the demons knocked him sprawling across the flagstones. “I have a rather long-term arrangement with the masters of the Abyss, barbarian. I’ve been providing them what they like most for a very long time, and they don’t want the relationship to end. You see, they too are dangerous, but they benefit from my magic too much to be a threat to me.” Myriel’s heart sank. If Kerrah could summon demons that easily, what hope had Johan of succeeding? At least he managed to get to his feet before the demons got on him. They were unarmed, but they still had their claws. Now it was Johan who had the longer reach. The demons knew it too and started moving to either side of him. Any move by Johan, and the other would surely pounce on him. Kerrah’s attention was firmly fixed ahead. He said his word again, and two more demons of the same build flickered into being in front of him; but he didn’t lose sight of Johan, not for a minute. He let go of her hair to grip the arm of the throne as he leaned forward. One side of the gag slipped loose. She was almost there. The rest came easier. She pushed with her tongue, stretching her mouth as wide as it could go, leaning downward to make sure it fell out rather than in. It slipped under the rope that had held it fast. One of Kerrah’s demons could silence her with just one quick blow. She formed the words in her mind and got ready to call for the Lady. She knew deep down that no goddess would come and rescue her or Johan, but it was good fortune to die with the Lady’s name on one’s lips. I’m caring more about how I die than living. Kerrah’s afraid of something. It’s not the Lady. What is it? Johan jumped to the side, and with a lightning-quick blow, he slashed the sword through another demon’s throat. But now all three remaining adversaries

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were circled around him, and it was all he could do to whirl in place, keeping each at bay in turn. He would tire quickly doing that. Kerrah said the word again, and two more demons came into being. They moved slowly, ready to take the place of any demon who fell. He seemed rushed, but she didn’t sense any great outpouring of energy. He could do this all day, as far as Myriel could tell. Johan certainly couldn’t. Still, Kerrah fixed his gaze on Johan, even though he had backed up farther than ever. His fingers opened and closed about the arms of the large throne, and one eye twitched. She followed his gaze, trying to see what he saw. “Johan! The ruby! Destroy the Ruby of Souls!” Kerrah cuffed her with surprising strength for a man with so few muscles, and she went sprawling, stunned, tasting blood in her mouth. Then Kerrah stood up, moving his arms, chanting words she did not understand. Nor did she want to. There was something unnatural about the syllables, as if the language came straight from the Abyss. Johan dropped the red gem to the stones and swung down with his sword. Shards of blood-colored crystal flew from the spot. One struck a demon, and it hissed with pain and burned in a sudden white fire. The other demons backed away carefully and then, one by one, vanished. Kerrah kept his chanting, his words becoming more excited and frantic. Johan reached down, picked up the largest piece of what had been the Ruby of Souls, and hurled it straight at the sorcerer. Kerrah screamed when it struck him. It was a broken, screeching sound that made Myriel want to cover her ears. His pale skin, already stretched tight on his bones, shriveled and cracked. Held together through the centuries by sorcery, Kerrah’s body collapsed until all that remained was an awkward pile of bones, clothes, and some dust on the flagstones. Myriel tried to get up and run to Johan and feel his strong arms around her. But she’d forgotten about the shackles on her feet and stumbled before she could


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fully stand. She managed to land on her ass, at least. In an instant Johan was at her side. Between the sudden relief at seeing Kerrah defeated and Johan safe, and the foolishness of her pratfall, Myriel started laughing. Johan’s arms encircled her, his warm, sweaty body smelling of musk, so human and natural compared to the charnel house smell of the castle. She kept laughing, shaking in his arms, tears streaming down her face. “Easy, wench. It’s all right.” “Yes, it really is, isn’t it? Do you think there’s anyone left alive in this tower?” “I doubt it. Why would anyone come here? Unless perhaps they were working for Kerrah, but they’d have been here by now. It’s over, Myriel. You can do your…whatever it is that you do and bring this land back to life again.” “My magic.” Johan nodded. “Aye.” I said that if Kerrah was defeated, I’d be his. She remembered his words. “I want to possess you. To own you. To show you what it means to have a master.” The idea excited her and frightened her at the same time. She looked up at Johan and saw him smiling. Was that the thrill of victory? Or did he take what she had said as a promise? There was still work to do. Could she let him have her, totally, and still do what she needed to do to bring the land around the Green Castle back to life? What if I can’t live up to his expectations, and what if I grow old and uninteresting? “Any idea where the key is to your shackles?” “I think they’re in a pocket in his robe.” “Makes sense.” Johan let her go and walked the few feet over to where what was left of Kerrah lay. He knelt down, and then rose back up, smiling, jingling the keys in his hand. He took one look at her and froze. “You look troubled. What is it?”

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“I told you I’d be yours, and…you deserve it. You did everything to rescue me. You’re like a hero from the legends.” “But it makes you unhappy.” He knelt down beside her and unlocked the shackles around her ankles first. He set them carefully aside, chains still attached. “I still—The land still needs my help.” Johan nodded. “More magic. And you’re worried I’ll stop you.” “Won’t you?” “No. No, I won’t. You’re a strong woman. You’ll always be free, even if you’re mine. I know that doesn’t make sense, and it’s a bit confusing for me too. But I made my choice to fight Kerrah, in spite of the fact that you practically told me to run. I don’t think you could turn a blind eye to the devastation here any more than I could forswear my oath or leave you in danger. So no, I won’t stop you.” He took her hands in his, pressing the cold metal of the key against her palm. “I can’t forswear what I said either. I said I’d be yours.” She took a deep breath. “Master.” He smiled slightly and unlocked her bracelets. “But you still don’t want to be.” He turned his face away from her, got up, and took a step away. In that moment she realized that she feared losing him far more than she feared everything else. He suited her so well. Beneath his desire to master her was a stronger will to seek her happiness, and he’d showed that when he’d unlocked the bracelets. A man like that she could trust with her soul and her heart. “Johan. No.” She needed to be brave to get what she wanted. Johan turned. “I love you, Myriel. I want to see you happy.” “I love you too. I’m just scared, that’s all. Scared I won’t measure up. Scared that I’ll grow old and ugly. Scared that you’ll find someone else who is better for you.”


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Johan crouched down to be at her level. “You’ll grow old. Never ugly, not in my eyes.” He laughed. “You think you’re the only one with those fears? I think every bride in history has had them. And probably every husband as well.” “You don’t have those fears.” Oh, you measure up, all right. She smirked. “I’m special.” He grinned at her. His boyish confidence was reassuring. “I’ve never taken a slave before. And I won’t split my attention between two of them. You’ll be my only woman, and I take that promise just as seriously as you southerners take your weddings. I have a responsibility to make you happy. I doubt very much if I’ll be happy if I don’t succeed.” She blinked twice, not sure how to respond. And then a feeling of peace came over her. She turned to him, spreading her knees on the floor, putting her hands behind her back. It seemed right then like the most natural thing in the world, even if the hard stone made her knees sore and her posture made every private part feel vulnerable. “Master. Please take me to be yours.” Johan smiled. “Mine. Totally, absolutely mine. My lovely little witch. I do take you, magic and all, exactly as you are. I promise you this, because you are uncertain, and brave: if you aren’t happy in a month, I will let you go. But now, as much as I want to push you up against the floor and fuck your right here—” “Yes?” Having him inside her sounded wonderful. She was surprised how little she liked the sound of being let go. It was exactly the kind of escape route she should want, and yet a part of her still didn’t like knowing it was there. “I think we should see if this place holds any more surprises. It looks like the demons are gone with the ruby’s destruction, but I don’t know that I entirely trust it. And you’ve been badly used, so as much as I’d enjoy taking you against the cold stone, I think I’d rather see if there’s a bed somewhere. Stand, slave girl, and save your knees for another day.” “Yes, Master.” She got to her feet, still very aware of her nakedness before him. If they were going to explore the castle, it was odd not to be clothed, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. The only clothing in the room was Kerrah’s robes,

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anyway, and she didn’t like the idea of having anything that had been on that on herself. It was hard to think of Kerrah as even human after watching him crumble. His sword drawn, Johan opened one of the doors into the rest of the tower. She stood behind him. She remembered what Kerrah had told her, about there being a child growing inside her. Johan’s child.


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Chapter Nine Nothing but the two of them stirred in the castle. A library of ancient books, a circle inscribed on the floor of one room, and some old bloodstains were the only signs that once the place had been the source of such magic. The enchanted door at the bottom of the tower was just an old door with rusty hinges now. The courtyard was as deserted as if it had not been walked on in a hundred years. There was a bed. Kerrah’s bed, Johan supposed. The posts were wrought iron, and the sheets were old but clean. For all his magic and for all the destruction he had caused, Kerrah did not live in luxury. All it had gotten him was a near eternity of loneliness. Surely death was preferable. There were clothes there too, more robes of the type Kerrah had worn. Something to wrap Myriel in later. Right now, he liked her exactly as she was: naked. He enjoyed looking at her lush breasts and wide hips. But he enjoyed feeling her even more. He pulled her to him, enjoying the way her soft body gave when pressed up against his own. She came willingly, tilting her chin upward and offering him her lips to be kissed. He tasted her, crushing her lips against his as his tongue swirled with hers. He felt his cock hardening. He’d never wanted any woman so badly. The way she knelt before him, without even being taught, spoke of her need to submit. They were suited together perfectly. He lifted her and dropped her playfully on the bed. She laughed. “What does my Master have in mind?” As if she didn’t know. He peeled off his breaches, releasing his hard and aching cock. It had become almost painful, having it trapped inside his clothes. He climbed

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up on the bed after her. She spread her arms to the side and opened her thighs in mute invitation. They had found a chest containing gold and silver in a room upstairs. It was all theirs now. Whoever had owned the coins once was long dead. There had been a chest in the bedroom as well, and he had blocked Myriel’s view of it and had told her it contained more of the same. He hadn’t been entirely truthful. Inside were whips, clamps, an oversized ivory dildo, and other things designed to bring both pain and pleasure. Some of what was there, he could imagine using with Myriel, and some he would never touch a woman with for love or money. There was a dark side to wanting mastery over a woman. Perhaps in that way it was not that different from magic. He crawled up between Myriel’s legs. My slave girl. He caressed her breasts, watching the way their peaks responded. All it took was a touch to make her areola tighten into ridges and her nipples harden. The idea that he could do as he wished with her was a heady, almost overpowering feeling, but all he really wanted at the moment was to make tender love to her. He slid a finger in her, and she moaned. Her eyes were closed, as if to shut out all senses but touch. She was slick with arousal, ready for far more than a finger. Had she been in need the entire time they’d explored the tower? Or did she simply respond that quickly to his touches? In any case, she was ready for him, and he didn’t want to wait. He positioned his cock at her entrance, and she responded by opening her eyes and spreading her legs wider. She grinned. “What makes you smile, my Myriel?” “Your big, thick cock is going to enter me. If you knew what it felt like, you’d smile too.” He pushed and entered her with one thrust, feeling her stretch around him. Her smile was replaced with an O as she felt him come in. “Yes!” she cried.


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“You’re going to come for me,” he told her. He could outlast her. He would have to outlast her, because he wanted to feel her pussy as it squeezed him uncontrollably. “Are you going to come inside me, as well?” “What do you think?” Her hips moved in rhythm with his as he thrust in and out of her. He played with her breasts, drawing her nipples into even harder sharp points. He wondered if they ached like his cock did when they were hard. He was betting they did. “I think that you can come in or on me anytime you wish, Master. But if you say I will come, I believe you—Oh my.” Her face crinkled in an expression of agonized pleasure. Yes, her nipples definitely ached. He decided to let them. He lowered himself onto her body, her breasts squishing under his chest, the points digging into his skin. His lips an inch away from hers, he told her, “One of these days I’ll come so deep inside you we’ll make a baby together.” She smiled at that. He wasn’t sure of what reaction he was going to get, but her eyes flickered with amusement. “And would you like that?” “Oh yes.” He quickened his pace, the bed creaking under the force of their coupling. Her eyes grew a bit wild. She was close, he was sure of it. “Good. Because we already have. Oh Goddess.” Her eyes closed again as her body arched under him powerfully, pushing his abdomen up for a moment despite his superior strength. Her pussy clenched his cock suddenly. His concentration lost for a moment as he took in her revelation, his body took over, and all at once he was squirting hot seed up her body, again and again, pumping all he could into her. Her arms wrapped around him, squeezing him close. She wasn’t very strong, but her arms felt good anyway. He felt secure. He’d assumed it was his job to make her feel that way, and he’d always accepted that his own security would come from

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within. The idea that this soft, fragile woman could make him feel even more so was strange and amazing. We already have. I know more about fighting than I do about being a father. But I can do it. “You okay?” “I’m more than okay,” he said. She smiled. “I thought it took a while for a woman to feel a baby inside her.” The smile vanished. “Yes, well. Kerrah told me. He…he…he said…” He grabbed her and held her tight. Something was really bothering her. “He’s dead now.” “He should have been dead long ago. He was doing something with babies to keep himself alive. The bloodstains. Our baby. I think he was going to—Ugh.” “It’s not going to happen. Not to ours. Not to anyone’s, ever again. We stopped it. This place is going to be alive again, and I’ll do everything a poor jewel thief and warrior can to make it so.” He blinked, a sudden thought coming to him. “Are you going to be able to do your magic? Is it safe for the baby?” She smiled at him, weakly at first, then growing stronger. “I told you. Sex is magic. The Goddess loves it when people make love, and delights in life growing inside a woman. Don’t worry about my magic. It’s not like Kerrah’s. Every act of sexual desire that happens here will help the land come to life again. It wants to be whole.” “It’ll all help, huh?” He grinned back at her, giving her a broad wink. “I’ll just have to do my part for the team then.” She laughed. “It will help if you leave me able to walk now and then.” “Hmm?” “But it’s not precisely necessary. And it isn’t for me to decide.” “Darn straight.” He felt himself hardening again inside her. Obviously she felt it too. “Oh Goddess. I thought men had to recover first.”


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He grinned. “I do. It’s been several minutes.” He arched his hips, pulling halfway out and then holding himself there. “All recovered now.” “Oh my.” “After the first time, it does take me longer, though. We’re going to be at this for a while.” “Goddess deliver me.” But she was grinning back at him, and she let out a little gasp as he thrust back into her, hard and deep.

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Chapter Ten Myriel leaned up against the merlon on the high parapet of the tower and looked around her at the land below. Her dress fluttered in the strong wind. A few patches of green dotted the landscape, and they made her smile, but they were just a few. It would take a long time for the land to recover. She heard Johan’s footsteps. He could have easily sneaked up on her, if he’d chosen, but after a couple of experiments with that, he’d learned to make a little noise. She regretted some of the elbows she’d thrown when surprised. He put his arms around her waist and nibbled on her neck. She felt the kisses all the way down her body. She leaned back into his arms, secure. Safe. “How goes the magic?” He no longer said the word magic through clenched teeth. And when he’d realized their sex helped her magic, he’d been insatiable. Well, possibly he was anyway. She smiled. It wasn’t as if she minded. It was a pretty nice way to live. She sure did miss him on his trips back to town to buy food, though. He’d be gone for two days, even with a horse, and his lovemaking was addictive. It had never really bothered her to go without, before, but— She realized she hadn’t answered his question. But her thoughts were interrupted by his hands, sliding up from her waist to cup her breasts. Her nipples responded, bunching up under the thin cloth of her dress. “I haven’t taken you up here yet,” he told her. “It’s a long way down.” “You won’t fall. I want you. Now.”


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She smiled back at him. “That’s simple, then.” She lifted her dress off and let it fall to the stone floor. She was half tempted to let it get caught by the wind and fly off, but she wasn’t sure whether he’d fetch it for her or if he’d make her do it. Naked. She wasn’t even sure which she’d prefer. Sometimes following his orders could be pretty difficult, but they always made her want him inside her when she was done. She didn’t always know why they had that effect, but that was okay. She trusted him. He guided her to face away from the tower, put her hands on the edge of the merlon, and nudged the inside of her calves to get her to spread her legs. She never knew whether he’d be taking her pussy or her ass when she was positioned like that. She wanted him inside her pussy, but the fact that she didn’t know, and that it was his choice, made her wetter than ever. He’d put that lubrication to good use, one way or the other. He glided into her sex, stretching her, and then he just rested there for a moment. His hands ran over the front of her body, never staying in one place very long. When his callused fingers brushed over her nipples, she wanted more. When his hand rested on her shaved mound and he diddled her clit, she wanted a lot more. She tried to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help the little sighs he was able to draw from her. Then he began to move his hips, taking her deeper, sliding in and out. One hand squeezed first one nipple, then the other, to aching points. The other held her hip, pulling her onto his cock on each inward thrust. There was something in the hand on her hip, she realized. She wondered what it was, but her attempts to look back and see it were in vain. “I have something for you.” “For me?” “For your tits.” Uh-oh. “Close your eyes.”

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She closed them. It was tempting to try to keep one open, just a slit, and hope he wouldn’t notice. But he always noticed things like that, and she really didn’t want her fucking to be interrupted by a spanking. Besides, she was sort of hoping he’d let her come, and that never happened when she misbehaved. Not that he let her spoil his fun. She had the sense, though, that even if he was coming in her eager mouth, he’d rather be making her scream in ecstasy. So for both their sakes, she tried hard to do as she was told. The sudden pinching sensation on her right nipple almost made her open her eyes in shock. It felt like it was on fire. She didn’t remember his pinches ever feeling quite so hard. She breathed, trying to get her regular rhythm back. She just about had it, too, when her other peak shrieked in pain. “You can open them now.” She did and looked upside down at her sore, dangling breasts. Each peak was adorned with a little steel clamp, and between the two stretched a long iron chain that formed a U as its center was pulled toward the ground. “Like it?” She wasn’t at all sure. “It’s too much, Master.” “No, it’s not.” Oh. The pain was receding, and once it did, her nipples sent signals that made her belly flutter. Why was he always right about such things? It seemed he knew just what would turn her on, even if she’d never have done half the things to herself. He started moving again. At first his cock slid slowly into her pussy, barely moving her body as it filled her completely. He started to pick up the pace, holding her hips. That wasn’t too bad. In fact, it was darn good, his cock so big and thick inside her, his balls tickling her clit with each thrust.


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Then he let go of her hips and thrust again, hard. Deprived of his support, her body shook from the force as he buried himself inside her. The chain on her nipples swung, pulling on the clamps, which pulled on her tits. Which in turn made them feel like they were on fire again. This time the pain didn’t have to subside for her to start feeling it all the way down. Her breasts had more than enough, but her pussy called for more. Her traitor heart agreed with her pussy. She wanted to come, the way he could make her come, again and again. “Master, may I?” “Yes. Come for me.” The chain swung faster and pulled. His hand pressed against her mound, lightly enough that it didn’t slow the swinging down at all, and his fingers walked their way down to her little bud of pleasure. The moment they touched her clit, the pressure that had been building in her core shattered. Her whole body shook. She barely kept her grip on the stone in front of her as the dizzying wave of pleasure overtook her, and she was grateful for the arm he wrapped around her. She wasn’t sure she’d have stayed on her feet without it, although the way she felt, even getting bare knees scraped on stone would have been worth it. She caught her breath in gasps. He was slowing down now, not speeding up. He hadn’t come yet. “Do you want me to suck you off?” “No, not this time, slave girl. I want one more orgasm out of you.” He thrust into her, hard, and the chain wiggled again, reminding her of the stretching ache at the tips of her breasts. “I think I’ve had enough of these…things. You want to take them off?” “Careful what you wish for, love, but I will when you’re ready.” When I’m ready. Oh, not ready to get them off, but ready to come. That’s what he means. Careful what I wish for? His fingers were stroking her clit again, but the other hand was cupping her breasts, alternately, and letting them go. He let the chain slide between his fingers, so when he held her breast it felt like even more of a pull at its peak. Doesn’t he know he’s driving me crazy? But the clamps on her tits were still sending an ache all

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the way to her core, and she knew he was right. She was going to come again. Which probably meant that he’d decide she liked the damn clamps, and he’d use them again. She didn’t know whether that was bad or good. Maybe I don’t even care. She realized her eyes had been closed, and she opened them to watch the chain swing again, a mesmerizing pendulum that corresponded to the tugs and aches on her nipples. I surrender, Master. She was getting close, so close. She wasn’t sure why she always waited to ask for permission until the last minute. Maybe it was because she liked the spankings she got when she didn’t get the question out in time. She never thought of herself as a person who enjoyed walking close to the edge, but even though there were consequences, the edge was safe with him. He knew she was close too. He slowed down just a little, keeping her close but not letting her be satisfied. She wanted it more with every touch. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her to ask. And she wasn’t proud, not anymore, not with him. “Pease, Master, please let me come.” “Oh, good girl,” he purred. “I’ll help you with those clamps too.” Finally! “Please.” He fiddled with one, pulling on it, making it hurt the way it had hurt when he’d first put it on. And then, suddenly, it was off, and she sighed, expecting to feel relief. She wasn’t prepared for the white-hot pain when blood suddenly flowed back into the previously constricted peak. She hadn’t even absorbed that until another jolt came from the other one. Sweet Lady! “Now!” She almost couldn’t feel what he did to her pussy with all the nerves at the tips of her breasts screaming out, but she knew it was right, whatever it was. The word from him commanded a response from her body that went beyond conscious obedience. Her hips bucked against him as she shuddered, clutching the merlon for dear life. A scream of pain and pleasure escaped her lips. Her pussy


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squeezed the cock inside it as tightly as any clamp, every nerve in her channel rubbed and satisfied. As he poured his seed into her, she sighed in satisfaction. “Master!” This time she did let go. He had total command of her, and they both knew it. She gave his cock one more squeeze and then let herself collapse, exhausted. He lowered her down gently and then sat down next to her. She remembered the first time she’d taken his cock into her mouth, how she’d tasted them both together. She remembered thinking it was gross, and then, once she did it, not gross at all. She leaned over to him. She didn’t ask. If he didn’t want it, he’d stop it, simple as that. She held his cock in her small hand and slid her lips over the tip. He tasted tangy and salty, partly him, partly her. She suckled on his cock like a baby with his mother. “So sex makes your magic work better, hmm?” She didn’t want to let go, so she nodded. Was he still stressed about what she did? “Maybe we should do something for you, then,” he said. Uh-oh. She loved every moment, but she wasn’t sure she could face much more. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. She looked up at him and shook her head. Surely he didn’t have the stamina either? “Don’t worry, I’m not sharing you. And I’m not going to be taking any other woman to my bed either. They’d never measure up.” Her heart pounded. I love you too. She was tempted to take his cock out of her mouth to say it, but it felt so darn good. He ran his fingers through her hair. “Am I making you happy?” She smiled around his shaft and bobbed up and down.

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“I think that’s a yes. Ohhhh. Keep that up and I, well, I may be making you keep that up.” She grinned and licked the sensitive tip. It always made him twitch and look like he was jumping out of his skin. He wasn’t the only one who got a little sadistic at times. He responded by wrapping his hands in her hair. She knew if she kept teasing him, he’d either pull her off, probably by her hair, or push her onto his cock until the head of it was too deep to swirl her tongue on. She looked up to him with mischief in her eyes. She wanted to push him, to get past that calm authority that insisted on being on top to the primitive who needed to be. He pushed her to the point where she lost control and instinct took over. The least she could do was return the favor. She slid her tongue over the opening at the end of his cock and lingered there. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds, and she found herself swallowing just to avoid gagging at the cock lodged deep in her throat. And then he was fucking her face, thrusting in her mouth, still just in control enough to know how deep he could go. His strong, powerful hands gripped her, not letting her escape. She was totally under his control, and she was going to please him, just like she wanted. He groaned as he came, so deep she could barely taste it, only swallow as the hot jets hit the back of her throat. He gasped to catch his breath when he finally let her go. “Myriel.” The way he said her name, it was as if he were swearing or calling upon a goddess. She leaned back and smiled. “Master.” “Sometimes I wonder who is really in control here.” She grinned. “You are, of course.” He laughed. “Mostly.” He reached down and picked her up. She struggled instinctively, but it didn’t do her any good, as he swung her over his shoulder and walked back into the tower with her. She had thought he was out of breath, but apparently not. The clamps and the iron chain that connected them lay on the


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stone, forgotten for the moment. Perhaps he’d never remember them again. She didn’t know if she wanted that or not. It was so confusing, the mixture of pain and pleasure. And so wonderful. He ducked to get her kicking body under a doorway and kept going. He headed to the bedroom, and when he got there, he dumped her on the bed. She stared up at him. It was so much warmer in the room, and the sheets he’d bought on last week’s trip felt soft and comfortable. Maybe he just wants to rest and desires company. He got on the bed, on his knees, grabbed her legs, and forced them apart. Or maybe not. She felt his tongue slid along the lips of her pussy. “I think after being such a bad girl, you really deserve a tongue lashing,” he said, and proceeded to show her exactly what he meant, pushing his tongue deeper within her folds, each long lick ending at her most sensitive spot. She sighed. She didn’t feel a bit like she was being punished. And she knew he knew better too. “Oh yes, Master. I’m such a very, very bad girl.” He snorted. “Witch,” he said with gruff affection. And then he put his tongue to better use.

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Chapter Eleven She’d been in the bedroom all afternoon, alone, at his command. In case his command wasn’t enough, he’d shackled one wrist and fastened the other shackle around the bedpost. She thought she could probably work the shackle off the bed if she wanted to, although it would take some time and effort. Clearly, however, she wasn’t supposed to. She was bored, and worse, she was a little nervous. The wooden stairs creaked with regularity, far too often to be just Johan, even if he was running sprints up and down for exercise. She thought she heard voices, although she couldn’t make out any words. The news had probably spread from the village Johan had gone to for provisions that the master of the Green Castle was dead. Even with the land still mostly blighted, the castle was bound to attract attention. Johan couldn’t possibly hold it himself. She would be of little help in that regard. Had he seen danger coming and locked her up to keep her out of the way? If it was kinky games he had in mind, he’d have left her naked, not wearing her best, although somewhat translucent, dress. There really needed to be a shift under it for it to be decent, but she wasn’t going to let decency stop her from busting a few heads if it came to it. So much for my karma. But if he’s in danger… She started to work on getting free. The inside of the shackle was almost exactly the size of the ball that adorned the top of the iron post on the corner of the bed. If she pushed and pulled, she’d probably be able to get it off, although iron didn’t give. Then she’d be free, and she’d have a weapon swinging from her hand. “Trying to get free, my little witch?” The accusation that had once come with the word was totally absent now, after nearly a month of living in the castle. Now it


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was affectionate. He appreciated what she was doing and encouraged her. She had some idea of how hard it had been for him to shake off his prejudices. “Um, no, Master. Of course not.” “Don’t lie to me, slave girl.” He kissed her and unlocked the shackle. “You’ll be punished for that later.” It sounded more like a promise that he was looking forward to fulfilling than a threat. “What are all those voices out there? I was scared. I was going to come out swinging if you were hurt.” She moved her shackled wrist to demonstrate, and the shackle on the other end flew through the air, not in the harmless arc she’d intended, but straight for Johan’s jaw. He caught it. “Good thing I’m not. I might have gotten hurt worse.” He gave a rueful smile and caught her wrist in his other hand, pulling it backward. In a second he had her other wrist shackled and the chain behind her back so she couldn’t move them forward. “There. I think you’re less of a danger to yourself and others that way. Come. We have company.” He picked her off the bed and set her on her feet and then walked away. Obviously she was expected to follow. Damn him. If he thinks I’m going to walk out this way with strangers in the tower, he has another thing coming. But her feet were moving anyway. She sighed. She’d do exactly as he asked. The month wasn’t up. Until right then, she’d wanted it to last forever. The room where Kerrah had died was full of people. There were a few women dressed in low-cut gowns that displayed their charms, some her age, some quite a bit older. Village people, she suspected. Whores perhaps? And men too, one who looked like a fine noble, dressed in silk and velvet. The others wore coarser clothes. Furniture had been added too. There were couches, four of them, positioned around the long, curved wall that led to the outside. From the looks of them, the cushions on them were made of velvet. That must have set him back quite a bit of money, but then there had been a huge amount of wealth in that chest. She was willing to bet they weren’t made in the village he went to, so he must have sent

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word for them to be brought in from farther away on his first journey back for provisions. He’d have had to put money up with an intermediary. “Ah, Lord Johan, a fine entertainment you’ve provided us with,” said the welldressed man. His arm was around one of the younger women, a blonde, and his hand was squeezing her breast. Lord? “I’m glad you’re pleased, Lord Tercel.” Johan’s voice was cool, although she didn’t think Tercel realized just how cool. “And is this another plaything for us?” Tercel eyed Myriel speculatively, up and down. She blushed. “No. She’s my wife.” This time the coldness was unconcealed. His wife. When did that happen? She felt like she couldn’t breathe for a moment. Perhaps it was all part of the show. Johan had some sort of scheme in mind, she was sure. Despite his strength and ferocity, he preferred to plan when possible. She wished she knew what he had in mind. His wife. “A pity,” said Tercel. He gave the woman he was with a little squeeze, and she giggled. Johan walked to Kerrah’s throne and sat in it. It was the first time she’d seen him sit there. He’d always avoided it before, as if Kerrah’s presence on it had ruined it. But now it made a statement that he was lord of the castle. There was a pillow next to it, slightly in front of him and to his left. He caught her gaze and then nodded down to it. She knelt there, looking up at him. Her heart was hammering. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into. He doesn’t know what civilized people can be like. I have to be alert. The other men were mingling with the women in the center, kissing and groping. Tercel and his woman joined the revelers. They parted just enough that she could see that near the door there was another couple. The man was tall, wiry,


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wearing a bit too much black leather to be a villager. The woman was black haired, well fed, and on her knees. It took Myriel another parting of the villagers to realize that she was sucking on his cock, and that she was pregnant and showing. She too wore a collar, although this one was brown and plain. She seemed enthusiastic, though. So I’m not the only one who enjoys doing that. “So let the orgy begin,” said Johan, placing his hand on her wrist. Something cold and metal was in it. The clamps? Again? Here, in front of everyone? “Although I see some of our guests have a jump start on it.” He nodded toward the couple at the door. “Actually, I was thinking we might want to change the rules a little.” Tercel let go of his woman and walked toward the throne. He stood deferentially, bowing slightly, but Myriel didn’t like the looks of his smile at all. “How so?” Tercel snapped his fingers. All but one of the men she had taken for villagers walked forward, leaving the ladies behind. “I know you said no weapons, Johan, but you really should have searched them.” Each man pulled a dagger from his sleeve, and one pulled out two, handing one to Tercel. There were six of them, counting Tercel, and they formed a half ring around Johan and Myriel. Soldiers, not villagers. Oh no. The women shrieked, backing up as a group. “How unfortunate.” Johan’s voice was calm. She heard a little click behind her, and one of the shackles fell off her wrist. That metal in his hand had been the key. She had her weapon, after all. His calmness was reassuring, as he moved his hand from behind her. He wasn’t armed at all, as far as she could tell. “Such good hospitality, providing us with women and all. But you see, we can have all of them, and your wife, and take the castle for our lord, the King of Karinda. For which he will reward me handsomely. Already this land recovers from Kerrah; soon it will be back to what it once was, and this castle will help us hold the

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surrounding towns. And their whores. And everything else. But first, Johan, you must die.” Lady protect us. “Would you mind if I gave you some advice first, Tercel?” Still that calmness. “I’ll gladly grant a dying wish.” Tercel sneered. “When you’re in hell, don’t pick any fights with Cymrans.” Johan jumped up from the throne and aimed a powerful kick at the head of the closest of the soldiers. The man went down before he had a chance to do anything with his dagger, and there was a snapping noise that didn’t sound healthy. The man who’d been mingling with the villagers before let go the two women he’d had his arms around and moved nearly as fast, grabbing two soldiers' heads and slamming them together. Myriel rose to her feet. “More souls for hell!” yelled the man who had been enjoying the mouth of his pregnant slave girl. He had two big swords, one in each hand, and he was charging. One of them he threw across the room. The soldiers moved like they were in slow motion. Tercel ducked, even though the sword was going to miss him anyway. Johan grabbed the hilt of it out of the air and grinned. “Four of us, and four of you. Now it’s an even fight.” Myriel swung her shackle in a broad arc and caught Tercel in the head. He went down. “And now it isn’t. Not to mention that Gwen could probably best any of you in a fight too.” He nodded in the direction of the pregnant woman, who didn’t seem to mind that she was naked, lounging against the door with her arms crossed and a dagger in her teeth. Johan must have stacked a whole armory down near the door. The three men still standing backed up toward the corner, daggers held out defensively. Johan and the other man with the sword advanced, and their other ally picked up a couple of daggers from the people on the floor and then hurried to catch up. Myriel collected the other two unused knives, just in case.


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One spoke up. “Don’t kill us.” “Why would we do that? This is a party, and we’re short on men,” said Johan. “Not that these guys really qualify,” said the big man with two daggers. His hair was dark and his skin deeply tanned, like Johan’s and the man with the sword. They weren’t quite alike enough to be brothers. But close. “They might be able to please a woman, at least halfway, though,” said the man with the sword. “I presume they have cocks.” “You could cut them off,” called Gwen from the corner. “Please!” said the man who had spoken up. It sounded pitiful. “Please let us go.” Johan grinned. “I’ll tell you what. Some of these women are going to be unattended as it is. I’m spoken for, and Gunnar has his hands full with Gwen. Rurik is quite the stud, but I don’t think he can handle all eight remaining women. So if one of them wants you, and you’ll do absolutely everything she says, well, then I suppose you can keep all your parts.” He glanced to the village women. “How about it, ladies? Any of you have a use for a slave?” Two women, the blonde Tercel had been molesting and a lively-looking brunette, stepped forward. “Hey, two out of three will save most of you,” said Johan. “Drop your daggers now, and only the one who doesn’t get picked will lose his manhood.” All of them dropped their weapons. Lady. Is he really going to do it? She knew she had to try to save the men. Killing them wouldn’t have been too bad, but this—this was barbaric. “Really, they’d still be able to do the job with their tongues,” said Gwen, who walked forward until she was at Gunnar’s side. “Johan, may I speak to you for a moment?” said Myriel. The Cymrans all looked in her direction. She’d said something wrong, she was sure.

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“Um, Master?” she tried. At the smiles from Johan’s companions, she relaxed a little, but she knew she couldn’t let him win this one. “Not right this minute,” said Johan. Shit. “Heck, I’ll take a slave boy,” said a large middle-aged woman with huge breasts. “But he better be good.” “Saved at last.” Johan swept the daggers aside with his feet, and Rurik collected them all. Each of the women made their selections. Rurik rejoined the women who were left, and Johan moved back to the throne. I definitely need to talk to him. Gwen and Gunnar walked forward. “What would you like us to do with the unconscious ones?” asked Gunnar. “Lord Johan.” Lord was said with derision, but the rest was said with honest respect. “Toss them out the front gate. I know Tercel’s type. It will have been an army of Cymrans that held the tower against him by the time he returns with the story, so that no one will try to succeed where he failed.” Gunnar grinned. “Soft, little southerners.” He grabbed two, and Gwen one, and they dragged them off. “Should she be doing such work, I mean, with child and all?” asked Myriel. Johan chuckled. “Even her master knows better than to suggest she shouldn’t. Now what did you want to talk to me about?” Myriel took a breath. “Were you really going to emasculate those men?” “Cut their cocks off? Trust a southerner to have a fancy word for it that makes it sound harmless. No. If there weren’t three women who wanted them, I’d offer one of them a chance at having two. The blonde would take me up on it, I think. If not that, then we’d find a use for him. The only thing he was in danger of was missing out on the orgy.”


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“You’re not going to…um, pass me around, are you?” “Not even if you begged. You’re mine, witch.” “Your wife?” She had meant to find a more elegant way of asking, but it just came out. “Yes. My wife. That is what southerners call their slave girls, isn’t it?” She knew he knew better. “It’s more of an equal thing. Well, in Valon, anyway. In the rest of the world, I think, well, yes, it does sometimes amount to the same thing. And you treat me better than most men probably treat their wives, but—” “But what?” Her heart thumped. She knew there wouldn’t be any turning back if she said the words, and her month wasn’t up. She could think on it more if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to. “I’m happy being your slave, Master.” He smiled. “You’re sure?” “Certain.” “Completely?” “Totally.” “Take your dress off and come up here on my lap, then. I want to make our baby grow some.” Myriel blushed. “In front of everyone?” “Look around.” Myriel looked. On one couch, Rurik had a woman bouncing on his lap, and two more with the tops of their dresses pulled down. He was taking turns kissing them and groping them. On another, two of the women were riding one of the “slave boys”: one on his cock and one smothering his face. One man knelt before his mistress, licking her pussy. Another fucked his woman from behind, while she yelled at him to do it harder. She shook her head. “Nothing like this happens in Valon.” “Good thing we don’t live there.” Johan grinned.

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“You know it doesn’t really make a baby grow, don’t you?” “Do you think I’m an uneducated barbarian?” He laughed. “Of course. But it’s a good excuse. Now obey.” Myriel shook her head, but not in disobedience. She just had a hard time believing what she was willing to do for him. And how wonderful he was for her. She lifted her dress off, undid the laces on his leather pants, and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. His cock was hard, and she held it at her entrance. “Yes, Master,” she said, and lowered herself down on him. He let her take her time, slowly inching into her. He moaned as she finally lowered herself all the way down. “As far as fucking not really being necessary to make babies grow, Myriel?” Maybe she should let him believe it, if he wasn’t convinced. “Yes?” “Don’t tell Gunnar and Gwen.” Myriel laughed. And then, serious for a moment, she asked, “Will you still want me when my belly is all round?” “I’ll always want you, my dearest witch.”

Loose Id Titles by Sindra van Yssel Purple Passion Secretary for Two The Barbarian and the Witch The BONDAGE RANCH Series Roped In Pushing Limits Moving On

Sindra van Yssel I live in Northern Virginia with my partner, my teenage son, and a lot of fish. For many years I was active in our local BDSM community. Yes, people really do the things people do in my books! By day I work in a public library, where I get to meet all kinds of readers. I've a soft spot for happy endings and characters who learn more about themselves, but I enjoy torturing my characters along the way, too. Hopefully you'll enjoy watching them squirm as much as I do.

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