I’m not fickle in love. All my lovers died before I took another one. It can’t be helped that my dagger pierced their hearts—my weapon is jealous of my lovers.

~Aine, Goddess of Love and Vengeance

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Crow’s bloodied fist kept punching the wooden training posts, but he did so without using mana or Qi. It was a cathartic activity and reminded him of his younger years when his father taught him to fight. Besides, it was easy to develop bad habits by introducing techniques and Qi-related body cultivation.

Even now, he spent a few hours undoing some of his bad habits and reinforcing his foundations in Bataireacht. Druids never wanted to kill in the first place, so their original fighting style was the Art of Stick-Fighting. Later, they adapted it so that boiscin, or stances, focused on other weapons. However, the core of the style remained the same.

Traditionally, it was taught using a shillelagh, which was usually made from a long stick with a knot on the top of it, like a club or mace. They were about a meter long and disguised as a crutch or walking stick. Their initial purpose was to be used in self-defense, but as the style matured, it became more powerful over the years.

Crow intended to Soul Carve one once he could find a thousand-year-old piece of blackthorn. Legends claim that a blackthorn shillelagh contained mystical properties. It was more out of curiosity that he was interested in making one. However, he also wanted to perfect some formations to etch them into the wood while Crow Soul Carved it.

He spent the last two days here because Munro leaving left him with some doubts. Eventually, he grudgingly admitted his childhood bully wasn’t the same person he grew up with. This trial was the first time Crow trusted his old nemesis, and it wasn’t betrayed. It created a conflict he attempted to resolve but didn’t know the question, so seeking an answer seemed foolhardy.

Dong.

Crow stopped punching and looked around. He’d never heard that sound before.

“Hello?” Crow queried, wondering if the Sanctuary would answer him.

“Let me in, dumbass.” A voice called out, and he realized Hooligan was attempting to enter his room. He didn’t even know that was possible.

“Uh, enter?”

The wall where the gate was rippled, and Hooligan stepped in. She saw him stripped down to his underwear, sweat covering his entire body, and his knuckles dripped blood. Hooligan gave him an odd look before pulling out a cloth from her Shield and cleaning away the blood and shredded flesh on his hands. Next, she applied a green paste he’d never seen before, and the stinging sensation in his knuckles disappeared.

“Want to talk?” She asked.

“Not really.”

“Come with me,” she said and pulled him into the bathroom before pushing him into the shower. Turning it on, she joined him, and her clothes dropped to the ground, piece by piece until all that was left was the wrap covering her face. She reached for it, but Crow’s hand grabbed hers.

“Are you sure?”

“You are looking at my naked body. Do you think seeing my face matters more than my purity?” Hooligan laughed and gently pushed his hand aside while she undid the wrapping. “Before this comes off, you better be the man I think you are.”

Nervously, she turned away from Crow as she finished removing the cloth. When it dropped to the ground, she still didn’t turn, and Crow placed both his hands on her shoulders and hugged her to him. He didn’t make her turn around, nor did he attempt to peek. Instead, his hands roamed her body, covering it in soap while massaging her breasts longer than was necessary.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Even though his underwear was still on, his cock had long hardened, and his breathing labored. Hooligan’s butt pressed back against his manhood, nestling it between her well-toned ass cheeks. Whether instinctual or on purpose, she ground her hips back and slid up and down ever so slightly. Crow nearly lost himself and took her right then.

Trying to calm himself, he finally spoke.

“Are you seducing me, or am I seducing you?” He chuckled into her ear, and she shivered, unable to speak. “At least tell me why you came to see me.”

“I… I don’t know much, but I know you never second guess yourself. You haven’t shown up for dinner these past two days, so I-I…Mnnnn.” She moaned, unable to stop when Crow’s hand roamed down, and his fingers brushed against her wet tunnel. Her legs were shaking from the sensation, and she feared if his other hand wasn’t wrapped around her waist, she’d have collapsed.

Crow chuckled once more and whispered into her ear. “You are very sensitive. Just that little bit caused you to orgasm.”

“D-don’t tease me.”

“Oh? Should I take you to the bed then?”

“En,” she nodded decisively. Ever since she met Crow, she’d been drawn to him. It was an indescribable feeling, and when he showed her more attention as a woman, she decided to risk it all.

Crow scooped her up from behind, one arm cradling her neck while the other her legs. Her hands continued to cover her face as she nuzzled it closer to his chest. He could see her dark curly hair that hung just past her shoulders, and her full, round breasts remained high on her chest without even a slight bit of sag. Their perfect shape looked firm, and he’d have thought they were fake if he hadn’t felt them.

She was as beautiful as he saw her when he did the Soul Carving. He didn’t rush or get impatient, which showed his experience. Instead, he moved unhurriedly to help her calm down. He could feel her heart thumping, and the hardened nipple of her left breast could be felt against his chest with every step he took. Laying her down on the bed, he lightly stroked her body until it shivered, and a moan escaped. Crow didn’t feel any need to rush the process and mount her. It was her first time, and he wanted it to be memorable.

Using one hand, he pushed aside her labia and slid a finger into her warm opening. Her legs clenched around his arm, but his fingers didn’t stop moving in and out of her. His thumb pressed against her swollen clit and gently rubbed in circles until her breathing increased.

At this point, her moans were turning into the occasional scream of ecstasy. In the throes of her orgasm, she forgot about her face and reached down to grasp at anything to prevent her body from drifting away. One hand dug into Crow’s flesh while the other gripped the bedding. Her body arched upward, trying to pull away from Crow’s hand, which drove her toward madness and pleasure. There was no way he would let her escape.

Crow almost stopped when he saw her face but never let on that anything was wrong. He knew now why she kept it hidden all this time. Scars crisscrossed her cheeks, jaw, and alongside her ears—twenty-three scars in all. Crow registered those but realized they couldn’t take away from her powerful sex appeal. She was like a little demoness that radiated sexuality. The scars couldn’t detract from her high, angular cheekbones. Nor could they hide her prominent, sensual nose and how her nostrils flared during her orgasm. Her eyes appeared even more exotic.

It was strange that the scars didn’t touch her mouth, eyes, or forehead. Even the sexy dimples from her upturned lips remained untouched. Whatever happened to her, he knew she wasn’t raped because her hymen was still intact. His touch didn’t repulse her either, but he couldn’t fathom who would viciously cut her face.

After she stopped shuddering, he removed his fingers from inside her and grasped and slid on top of her. Lightly, he kissed each of her scars before kissing her deeply and sliding his tongue into her mouth. She eagerly accepted him, and her arms wrapped around his chest until her fingers dug into his back.

Crow pressed the tip of his cock at her opening and whispered to her, “Hooligan, if I do this, you will be my woman. This is your last chance to back out.”

Her eyes snapped open, and Hooligan realized he’d seen her deepest wound. The scars weren’t just on her face but on her soul. It was her biggest shame.

“You’d have me even though I’m hideous?”

Crow stroked her scarred-covered face.

“We all have scars, some deeper and more profound than these.” He held up his palm, letting her see the white lines he refused to heal. “They don’t make us ugly or flawed but add to our beauty. Enrich our lives with life and meaning, but it is up to us whether we let the scars hold us back or—”

Hooligan pressed a finger to Crow’s lips while tears leaked from her eyes. “No more talking. I was right about you, so I do not fear standing by your side.”

“You say that now, but…” Crow bit her ear lobe and slid his manhood inside her. She was so focused on the sharp pain from her ear that she barely felt her hymen being torn apart. When Hooligan realized he’d made her a woman, her hips were already thrusting against him. Hooligan wrapped her legs around Crow and locked her feet together. Her fingers raked his back, unwilling to let him go and wanting to meld their bodies together permanently.

The moans, screams, and slapping of flesh continued until Crow was sure she couldn’t take it anymore. He collapsed back on the bed, and she curled in his arms, her face rested on his chest.