The group had continued on to the next shelter, arriving earlier than they normally would have without any slaves in tow. Those corpses had been dragged away from the trail, the hunters picked over for any valuable items by the three cambion’s before joining their victims in a shallow grave.
It had always been mostly quiet when she had traveled with the two, but now the silence was a different sort. One that weighed on her as they sat around the fire, waiting for Toad to declare the pot of salted pork stewing in lentils finished as Ram baked hand-pressed bread on a metal tray.
“Ram,” Iscah tried, winding her fingers together tightly. She had been trying to figure out what to say to them all day as she processed her own thoughts. In the end, the best answer seemed honesty. “I’m sorry that they died, for what it’s worth.”
His attention drifted away from her and back to the bread, flipping the piece over before it could burn. Iscah could see the firelight glimmering in unshed tears.
“Was hard, to watching them die,” he replied, voice rough with emotion. “Is big loss.”
“Why do you do it, why kidnap us? I understand you can’t have children, but don’t your kind live for centuries anyway?”
He shook his head, lips pursing. “We can long live, yes, but many not; we all dying.”
“From what, disease? Famine? War?”
Ram opened his mouth to respond, but Toad jabbed him in the ribs with his wooden spoon and spat a reprimand, as if they were no longer allowed to talk. Ram retorted with an explanation that escalated into a frenzied quarrel which abruptly ended as Apoch stepped out of the darkness. As if his very presence demanded obedience both of them seemed to wilt, looking anywhere but his direction. He glanced between the two before eyes the same colors as the embers slid across to her.
“What did she say,” he asked softly, tone that of an alpha used to being followed. Ram shifted uneasily, still staring sullenly at the ground.
“She was sorry, for the breeders death. She wanted to know why we need them.”
The little chit had enough of a spine to continue meeting his gaze, though he could read the tension in her shoulders, in the tightness of her lips.
Silence reigned again as Apoch dropped his saddle bags and sat down across from her and Ram, the pop of the occasional log interrupting the simmering of the stew.
“Furr-rr.”
The group shifted their attention to her.
“Fai-urr,” she tried again, pointing to the flames and trying to ignore her embarrassment.
“Fire,” Ram corrected with an approving nod, dusting his hands off as he set the last piece of browned unleavened bread aside. Toad grumbled in disapproval, but didn’t badger him as they resumed language lessons. Apoch studied the two silently, and when Ram caught him watching his genial smile faltered.
“She picked up the word ‘fire’ on her own,” he explained with a little shrug.
“Is she quick?” Apoch asked curiously. All he knew of her was from the small bits and pieces he had seen of her life. The university room had shown a vastly different individual than the one the country manor had. A motley of cumbersome dresses had all hung unused in the oversized closet, while simpler garments were tossed haphazardly over any furniture backings available. Books had been piled around a well-used couch in front of a hearth topped with empty tea mugs. Even her toiletries in the bathroom consisted of bare necessities and very few luxurious goods.
It told of a girl hungry for knowledge and caring little for social propriety. A girl whose life was vastly different than the one her parents had created for her at the estate.
“Incredibly so. I wish I had more time to teach her,” he admitted, and Toad snarled in response as he pulled the pot off the fire.
“Yes, please tell us how you wish you had more time with this girl who cost us our haul and has put our lives in mortal danger,” he groused, ladling out the thick stew. “I swear, your tender soul would see us in the bellies of scavengers and our bones cleaned by maggots.”
He handed the first bowl to Apoch, who passed it to Iscah. Toad hesitated, filling another bowl for the Warlord before ladling himself and his partner noticeably smaller portions from the remainder. Iscah waited until they all had their servings, confused about how they were expecting to eat without utensils. She watched as the three males tore their flatbread apart to use as scoops, and mimicked the method.
The first taste was even better than it had smelled. An unusual blend of warm spices and peppers was mellowed by the bread, and she moaned in delight at the strange mix of flavors. Toad’s scowl softened at her sound of appreciation and Apoch froze mid-bite, his focus shifting entirely to watch as she took another dainty mouthful to savor just as noisily.
“It is good,” Apoch muttered after clearing his throat. Toad grunted as if the praise didn’t mean as much to him as it truly did.
“I served under Eiken,” he offered by way of explanation, and Apoch looked up in interest.
“The chef Eiken?”
“The one and only asshole. Threatened to cut off my parts more times than I care to remember for not seasoning something or another perfectly. Still though, managed to learn a thing or two.”
“His honey cakes started more fights than the whores did,” Apoch replied wistfully, using his finger to wipe the inside of his bowl clean. Iscah offered her half-finished meal to him, fanning her mouth that was burning from the dried chilis. He took it and proceeded to sip the remainder down since she had used all her bread to try to tame the heat.
“I learned how to make them,” Toad boasted, grin turning sly at Apoch’s look of incredulity.
Half of the warriors swore the only reason they would fight to survive was for another taste of the flaky pastries soaked in honey, and it was well-known the chef zealously guarded his recipe and method for making it.
“Didn’t say he taught me, at least voluntarily. I could make them for you, if you were inclined to continue traveling with us for a few more days.” His attention slid to Iscah who was leaning back on locked arms, enjoying the satisfaction of a full belly. “It’s always nice to cook for those that appreciate it.”
Apoch assessed the way Toad and Ram seemed to lean towards one another as both looked upon Iscah with affection. Despite what had happened, she had still managed to win them over by simply being herself. A few more days and she might have them tied up around her pinky finger.
He almost snorted at the notion.
Stacking the empty bowls he placed them in the iron pot, the offer remained hanging as he stood with the dirty dishes. “I’ll do clean-up and take the first two watches.”
Iscah jumped up to follow him, motioning her intent to help as they headed out into the pitch black of the forest. She slowed, steps becoming unsure and Apoch turned in time to catch her by the arm as she stumbled on a root he had easily avoided. Making sure she was balanced again he realized just how limited the human’s night vision was as she blinked eyes that were too large and staring at nothing.
Escorting her patiently to the stream they both squatted at the water, washing the dishes in comfortable silence. Apoch glanced up at the small view of the sky they had from the bottom of the ravine just in time to catch the brilliant ending of a falling star.
Bu’u chirped in greeting as he joined them, and he scented Iscah’s fear as she stood up and backed away. He rose and turned to the denimal, reaching his palm out for Bu’u to press his snout against.
“Iscah, come here, he will not attack you. Come,” he repeated, motioning her over.
Biting the inside of her lips nervously she took a few cautious steps closer, and Bu’u lowered his head, offering a soft peep to her. She glanced at Apoch for confirmation as she lifted her arm the way he had, and he stepped aside as Bu’u moved closer to sniff her trembling fingers. He licked her palm and she exhaled a startled laugh, shifting her stance to reach his nose and explore the warm, keratinous bumps armoring his muzzle. Bu’u moved closer, slow and non-threatening as he offered his ear towards her to scratch.
“Bu’u,” he explained by way of introduction, patting the denimal’s shoulder fondly. She seemed to understand, rubbing at the base of it which earned her a rattled purr of pleasure from the predator. Bu’u pushed his skull against her hand, demanding more attention and she gave another breathless laugh and complied.
Apoch returned to scouring the iron pot with sand from the stream as he observed the two, keeping his features neutral despite his surprise. In the decades together, Bu’u had never taken to anyone so quickly, so easily. Even Giss had worked to earn his trust, whereas Bu’u seemed to be eagerly attempting to earn Iscah’s.
Why? What was it about her that seemed to draw all of them closer?
The denimal kept her entertained while he finished the dishes, standing to rescue her from a night of endless affection. Iscah followed him back carefully, and he kept his pace slow, intentionally making enough noise for her to follow.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
As they entered the room again he glanced back to catch her trying to finger-comb the snarls out of her long hair, breaking away from the three as Toad poured them herbal tea to retrieve the silver comb he had stolen from her parents estate. He handed it to her before sitting down to take his warm cup, aware she had stiffened in surprise at the item she now held in her hand. Quickly she turned to Ram, firing off a tense question.
“Warlord, she wants to know if you took this from her home?”
At his nod her eyes widened as all the implications that meant sunk in. He had come for her. He had gone to her home, been in her bedroom, her bathroom. Had he been there all along, watching the misery she had been going through with Korette and her family?
“You were already gone,” he offered without waiting for her to ask, monitoring her worried expression over the rim of his cup as he let the steam tickle his lips. She lifted those dark eyes to meet his, the dread of her next question already causing tears to glimmer in her lashes.
“Did you kill her family? Anyone there?”
He shook his head slowly, relief rounding her shoulders and bending her head momentarily before she scrubbed the tears away.
“Thank you,” she whispered in their language, and set her comb to the knots with a sniffle, asking no more.
[https://i.postimg.cc/ht3bqpkV/blue-moon.jpg]
They stood upon a raging sea of blood. Azure moonlight turned the chaotic, frothing peaks a bruised maroon, the horizon an endless scape of violence. Apoch faced her with a look of such adoration it bordered on zealotry, his hand guiding hers upwards where she gripped a white dagger. He slid the blade into his chest, eyes rolling back in ecstasy even as blood began running over his lips and chin, the trickle turning into a river as he moaned in a voice not his own.
Iscah woke to adrenaline pumping cold fear through her limbs, disoriented and unable to recall where she was.
A noise grabbed her attention, helped her center once more; low grunts of pleasure. Craning her neck over the blanket she saw bodies in motion in the low light of embers, Ram’s horns visible over Toad’s arched back.
Mollified she flipped back over, shoulders scrunching around her ears as the metric slapping of flesh intensified. Struggling free of the blanket, she fled out of the underground room and into the forest, taking in steadying lungfuls of cold, crisp air.
Movement out of the corner of her eye had her jerking in fright, and she backed away as a shadow loomed, amber eyeshine rising to tower over her before stepping out into the thin starlight.
Apoch.
Her lips parted, taking in another breath past a constricted throat. He approached silently, head tilting in a question she had no words to respond with. Pausing, his nostrils flared with an audible inhale before his gaze slid to the entrance of the tunnel, mouth quirking as he realized the source of her apprehension.
Understanding dawned on her; the male could smell exactly what the situation she had been in such a hurry to escape from was. Is that how he had been able to track her down? She had so much to learn about him and his kind if that were true.
“Akhee,” he murmured, reaching a palm out towards her expectantly. It was the same word he had used before.
Come? she wondered, placing her sweaty palm in his. His fingers curled around hers, swallowing her hand and reinforcing just how much larger he truly was than her. Carefully he lead her down a game trail, until they came to a break in the trees, exposing a sky full of stars. He pulled his cloak off and spread it on the tender spring grass, motioning to her to join him as he lay down on his back to stare up at the celestial theatre.
She sat down on the edge of it, shuffling until she could lay beside him without touching on the material still warm with his body heat. A shiver tickled its way down her spine as the cold air bit her exposed hands and face.
Apoch pointed up at the brightest star in the sky; the north star.
“Ish’lan,” he named it, waiting as she nodded.
“Polaris,” Iscah responded in a scratchy voice, wrapping her cloak around her tighter. She jerked as a shooting star flashed in the blink of an eye, another following close on its heels. Awed, she watched as tiny flashes winked in and out of existence, so quickly she wondered if she had even seen them at all. A large one streaked across the sky in a trail of emerald, as if confirming their existence, and she laughed, turning to see if Apoch had seen it too.
But his gaze was not on the heavens, it was on her. The tension that normally narrowed his eyes and lended cruelty to his mouth was gone, replaced by intrigue. They shared a fragile moment, untainted, before he looked back up and began speaking slowly, finger tracing over the constellations. She couldn’t follow what he was saying, but she got the impression he was telling her a story.
Did the cambions have legends about the stars too? Gods and religion? None of the books really offered anything about their mixed race, save for that they were a people of ruin. Yet as he continued she could almost imagine it:
A fable of a Goddess whose daughter had been abducted by a God. Taken to a foreign sky and claimed by her kidnapper, yet from the nefarious act love had grown and life had taken root to create the world. So when the mother finally tracked down her daughter, she had found a beloved wife rather than a victim. Returning to her distant heavens she stood on their edge to shine brightly, her light a beacon of eternal love for her child to always be able to see.
Iscah let her eyes close, the deep, lulling cadence of his voice weaving a suppressive spell over the memories that had turned her dreams to nightmares. Sleep came peacefully, and this time there was no more blood.
[https://i.postimg.cc/ht3bqpkV/blue-moon.jpg]
“Well?” Toad asked as they finished a breakfast of boiled oats topped with evaporated milk and dried pieces of fruit.
Apoch paused, picking a wedge of apple stuck in his back molar free before shaking his head. “We’re returning to our lands, not back the way you’re going.”
“Ah, well that’s understandable,” he nodded, pursing his fat lips. “A shame you don’t have a map or I could mark the stockrooms along the way for you two to enjoy.”
“She has one,” Apoch remarked, secretly bemused when the two males jerked in surprise. Ram looked at her and switched languages, questioning if it was true.
Iscah’s face blanked too quickly, and she shook her head as she answered.
“She says she has no map, Warlord,” Ram summed up uselessly.
“Yes, she does. Give me the map,” Apoch demanded, holding out his hand expectantly.
Iscah’s expression turned petulant, snapping another negative reply Apoch needed no translation to understand the context of.
The silence was almost physically painful as she met his glare stubbornly.
“Leave us,” he purred. Without a word the two cambions fled the storage room, and as Iscah went to follow Apoch rose to block her path. Her head tipped up to meet his eyes, and she took an inadvertent step back as he intentionally crowded her.
“Give me. The map,” he repeated, voice low and threatening retribution if she did not submit.
But he could already see the fearless obstinacy in the pout of her lips and scrunch of her brows. He lunged forwards, her retreat ending abruptly as her back hit the wall with a startled yelp. Snagging her flailing hands he pinned them above her head in one of his as the other frisked down the side of her body all the way to her ankle.
Iscah shrieked in defiance, jerking her knee up to catch him in the jaw but he leaned out of the way casually, her knee bouncing off the thick armor of his chest muscle. With ease he flipped her so she was face-first towards the stone, switching his grip on her wrists to check down her other side.
This time he felt the edge of the paper as his hand slid over her belly, tracing the square outline of the folded document despite her incessant wiggling. He pulled her dress up, exposing the oversized drawers she wore beneath, and with a quick tug to the drawstring tie he jerked them loose so they fell to the ground. Sputtering with outrage the little hellcat reared back and sunk her blunt teeth into the arm holding her wrists.
His snarl boomed through the larder, drowning out her protests as he shoved his chest against her back and bit her neck in retaliation. The body beneath him froze with a gasp, her attack on his bicep relinquished.
Immediately he was aware of her, of everything about her. The taste of her skin still caught in his mouth, her scent filling every breath. The bare flesh of her waist under his palm. How little she was beneath him, yet that petiteness was no longer disappointing; it spoke of all the things he could do to her.
In an instant the violence stuttered, shifting as he relaxed his jaw slightly, her jugular bracketed between his fangs pulsing erratically.
Hungry for more, his touch slid across her lower belly. The strangled sound she made in response drowned every logical and spiteful reason he had been feeding himself why he didn't want this. Forced him to acknowledge just how long it had been since last he had found release. All because of her. This tiny thorn embedded between his talons, unable to be removed.
No, that wasn't true, he knew how to rip it free. It began with the girl whose head was arched back against his shoulder, lost in the turmoil of unfamiliar pleasure. The temptation caused him to run his tongue across the unbroken indents left by his canines on her neck as his fingers dipped lower, teasing over the top of curls that felt softer than down. She shook her head, unaware he could scent her arousal rich as honey in the air despite her husky denials.
“Warlord?” A meek voice echoed from far off, dousing the haze of lust from his awareness. His exploration stumbled, sobering to a toxic mix of horror and disbelief. Altering course he snagged the map and pulled it free, releasing her and backing away as she collapsed against the wall. The girl clutched at it before sliding down into a trembling pile of limbs, hiding in shame behind the curtains of hair as she kept her head bowed, shaken just as badly as he.
Fuck me, this is dangerous. So, so dangerous, he thought to himself, the paper crackling noisily in his clenched grip. His heart was thrumming through his veins, cock straining against the leather pinning it to his stomach. If Ram hadn’t interrupted—
Carding a hand through his disheveled hair he abandoned her, walking out to where Ram and Toad waited by the trail nervously. He tossed the map towards Toad and stalked away, trying to rein in the need roaring through him.
“Is she—”
“She’s fine,” he snapped roughly, pacing as he waited for his nerves to settle. Rolling his shoulders he cracked his neck side to side, their wide-eyed stares irritating him. “Mark the map and be gone.”
Toad obeyed quickly and set it on the ground between them, unwilling to get within arms reach. Iscah still had not come out to say goodbye, but neither wanted to ask The Warlord for permission to go to her. Instead they simply shouldered the few supplies they carried with them and left, following the path north where they would begin the process of escorting abducted humans all over again.
Their cravenness only inflamed his temper more, though for what exact reason he couldn’t understand. This girl was making him lose his mind as well as his mettle, it seemed.
Whistling for Bu’u he retrieved the saddle and packs from inside, ignoring her intentionally, as if that would somehow negate the hyper-awareness he had of her now.
By the time his mount was bridled and ready Iscah finally came outside, her arms wrapped insecurely around her middle and lashes damp from tears. Glancing around her surprise morphed into hurt when she realized their companions had departed without a single word. A glint of accusation flickered through her eyes as she met his stare, knowing it was his fault. As if those two were allies, and wouldn’t have sold her at a hefty price to any of the slave traders.
The bidding war would’ve been unprecedented for her unique features and beauty. And the fact she was a virgin? Even her father wouldn’t be able to rescue her from the greed of the Favored who would simply plead ignorance as they pocketed the significant profits.
Apoch doubted even he’d be able to save her if that happened.