It hadn’t been the ending he had wanted with Dek, in fact it had left more questions than answers once again. Imi and Bune would take their new roles of power and keep him apprised when the council approached them.
For now, it was time to tie up the loose end that was the human girl. Dek’s execution would send shockwaves through the underground, ones that placed him at the epicenter. He didn’t expect retaliation since Imi would take over operations without a hitch, but he hadn’t survived this long letting his guard down or making assumptions. The sooner whatever this link was between he and Iscah was severed, the sooner she could be returned to safety with her kind.
Bu’u wasted no time tracking down the two via the scent markers both had left along the trail. As if he understood what Apoch had done could now impact the girl. That, or he had missed her company.
The vagabond’s cave was anything but what Apoch had expected. A main hearth set in the center of the surprisingly large, circular room that had a dripstone system set off to one side. The old male had built a stone basin for the water flowing off the stalagmite to fill, and the overflow was directed via a small trench to a pool large enough to bathe in.
Triki had set up various areas in the free space. One for sleeping, another for food preparation and wooden racks where herbs hung to dry. Shelves of various odds and ends lined the walls of the cave. He had everything he needed to not only survive but do it comfortably.
Apoch eyed all this before heading back out the narrow entrance, ducking the thick hide splattered with mud which served as a camouflaged doorway to go unpack Bu’u.
By the time the denimal was unbridled and free the mouth-watering aroma of mutton stew was wafting from the entrance, and he picked up the packs and shouldered them before going back inside the cavern to drop them by the entrance.
Triki and Iscah had waited for him, both sharing a cup of tea and holding a rudimentary conversation via sign language and dirt drawings. He sat down near her as Triki picked up the bowls and ladled out servings to them.
“Iscah and I were just talking about your adventures coming here.”
Apoch tucked into the food without a reply, finishing his bowl and serving himself up another nearly overflowing portion in the ensuing silence.
“Why am I here? Why do I have this useless girl trailing me, driving me insane in my dreams?”
Triki grinned. “She’s a warlock.”
He laughed viciously, shaking his head as he downed another heaping spoonful. “If that’s true, should I not execute her immediately?”
“Quite the opposite; you were chosen to be her guardian.”
At this Apoch set the bowl down hard, staring back at him in disbelief. He leveled a finger at the Triki, brows furrowed in anger.
“I’d rather shlith her throath than shtay a minute longer with thish...” His frown deepened at his slurred speech. “She’sh..”
Beside him Iscah’s bowl spilled as her hands grew limp, her upper body following suit as she rolled onto her side, unconscious. He witnessed it in stunned silence, focus snapping back to the elder and his grin.
In a heartbeat he was moving, Triki's gasp cut short as Apoch grabbed him by the throat. He stared bug-eyed into his smoldering glare, aware the Warlord had his dagger out with murderous intentions. Apoch’s movements suddenly became sluggish as he collapsed, releasing his grip as the drugs finally won, blacking out.
Triki inhaled a whining breath before coughing dryly, his old heart thundering in his chest at how close to death he had come.
“Yes Apoch,” he finally addressed the sleeping form between gasps. “I’m more than aware of what you think you want.”
After a moment to let the adrenaline wear off he ambled to his feet with the aid of his staff, crossing his abode to the rickety shelves where various magical items were cached. Lifting up a cedar box he brushed the dust off before returning to Iscah’s prone form. He cleared his throat one last time, leveling his free palm towards her.
“Cy’nath ragosh noch-k!”
There was no response.
Frowning he set his hand across her forehead, closing his eyes and exhaling a rattled breath. Below his palm faint blue light emitted weakly before guttering out. He sat back with a grunt of disappointment.
The spells inhibiting her were stronger or more complex than he expected. This was something else, something altogether out of his range of knowledge. A flicker of doubt passed over his face, wondering if indeed any of his brethren would be capable of unlocking the wardings.
No matter. There were others who were more powerful than him that might be able to assist in awakening The Key’s power. It had been a shot in the dark, and at least here in the isolation of his home, not a hit to his ego in front of the others.
It wasn’t what his task was, anyway.
He smiled wistfully at this thought, uttering another spell casually.
The two began to stir awake, Apoch rousing first and sitting up, rubbing his forehead before looking woozily up at him.
“What did you do?”
“You’re in a state we call the Waking Dream. You’ll remember this, but for now, that incredibly congenial personality of yours is inhibited.”
As Iscah roused Apoch's attention on Triki's explanation waned, turning to reach for her with a relieved exhale. Without uttering a single word, he kissed her.
Triki cleared his throat to interrupt the two after a decent moment, and Apoch acquiesced, breaking away to toss a boyish grin over his shoulder to the Shaman.
He chuckled dryly, amused at the killer playing kitten. Rubbing his throat at the thought he opened the box, pulling out a calligraphy brush made of bone and two small alabaster bowls so thin they were near translucent.
As he set them down with an air of formality, Iscah shifted beside Apoch for a better look, head cocked curiously.
“What are they?”
Triki’s grin widened, aware that the girl was speaking in the old dialect now. Or more appropriately, in the old language; Daemonic.
“Elements for a binding spell,” Apoch answered for him. Iscah glanced back to Apoch for more explanation, but the Warlord was studying the elder now.
Triki could feel his heart stutter under that vicious scrutiny, and he wondered if the lambda pollen had failed.
“You’re a Shaman,” he finally stated, and Triki felt his anus disconnect from where it had lodged in his stomach from fear as he nodded in affirmation.
“It is a custom that is practiced rarely,” Triki said, continuing the explanation to try to keep the topic on subject. “Few are willing to bind themselves to another so completely that only death can sever the link created. It is a powerful spell, one that has many advantages. I’m surprised you knew of it, Apoch.”
“I’ve seen them on the fields of battle. Brothers linked, bearing the marks. Husbands and wives, children and sires. Fighting, dying side by side.”
As if it were a foregone conclusion Apoch removed his bracer, peeling his sleeve back over his forearm as Triki lifted a small obsidian blade. He took Apoch’s hand, cutting his palm and holding it over one of the bowls to fill it with blood. When it was full he pulled a white paste out of a small glass apothecary jar and swiped it into the gash to stop the bleeding.
Triki set the salve aside, lifting his right arm and taking the hem of his tatty robe he wrapped it around his wrist before holding it down single-handed ceremoniously.
With his garment no longer a threat of trailing into the fresh ink, he lifted the brush up in deference, watching with solemnity as the crimson bristles shifted to gold in the light of the fire.
Apoch took Iscah’s hand in his own and held it out to Triki as he dipped the brush in Apoch’s blood.
The silence grew somber, and both watched as the glyph began to take shape, noting how Triki’s shaking hands were not only suddenly quite steady, but also skilled.
“You had said something about battles?” Iscah finally ventured, her gaze tearing away from what Triki was painting on her skin. “There hasn’t been a war in generations though.”
Apoch snorted with a hint of his caustic personality as Triki tossed her a quizzical expression.
“There’s always a battle at your wall, and a true war at our southern quarters. Powerful demons we call Archfiends cross the Enders Desert from unknown origins. We’ve managed to keep them from continuing further inland, but at great loss,” he elaborated at her curious glance. “There’s times we need any advantage we can against devastating odds, like this one, but even then the fatality rate is still disparaging.”
“I had no idea,” Iscah whispered, shocked at the revelation of the Archfiends and the amount of bodies the cambions left rotting under the desert sun.
Triki finished and lifted the brush carefully, turning to set the tip into the fire to both their alarm. The blood flared bright, erupting into tiny bright sparks in a sudden flash. When he removed it from the flames the bristles were clear and unmarred.
Iscah held her palm out nervously, her swallow nearly audible as the Shaman picked up the obsidian blade once again.
“You’ve tortured me for weeks,” Apoch confessed abruptly, and her attention snapped from the knife to him.
“I have?”
“This need to touch you, taste you,” he purred. Iscah gaped at him, her cheeks and ears turning a bright red at the implications before jerking as Triki made a shallow cut into the meat of her thumb.
“Y-you could barely look at me, and I'm supposed to believe that?”
Apoch's low laugh made her stomach clench, and she tucked her chin to hide behind her curtain of hair.
“What does this binding do?” Iscah asked, desperate to turn the subject away. Apoch’s smile was knowing, but he allowed it now that Triki had been able to fill the other alabaster bowl.
“It gives abilities beyond normal,” he replied, holding out his arm and eyeing the pen skeptically as Triki dipped it in her blood and began scrying the same intricate symbol around his forearm.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“The binded I’ve witnessed fought like berserkers to the edge of death and beyond, until death would finally win and take them both, or not. If one is healthy enough, they can bring the other back from what can be fatal circumstances. But the binding is to one, and one alone, for this lifetime. Friends or siblings who commit never part to find mates, if they live that long anyway.”
Triki nodded in agreement to Apoch’s explanation, Iscah frowning at the implications. “You make it sound like they expect to die regardless.”
“Whenever an Archfiend rises up, the earth is drowned in our blood. They know the power the spell can give them which might save other lives, and also its penalty.”
“Your Apoch would know first-hand, Iscah. He was a Warchief— a General— in his own right.”
Iscah felt her face flush again at the endearing ownership Triki had bestowed, but it quickly faded as what he had divulged sunk in. She met Apoch’s gaze and he stilled in that predatory way of his, as if waiting to see what her reaction would be before responding in turn.
In the sparse knowledge she had gleaned from books and the stories her father had told, there had only been one Warchief that had kept the tribes united. If he truly had held that honor, it meant he had lead the Tribes of the Cambions into battles, winning that merit by deeds she could only imagine, deeds he had actually lived.
Her father had named him Assassin, but he was so much more than that. This male was not just another cambion, but one respected by his kind and feared by hers. She bit the inside of her lip, realizing his body and mind had been shaped by two wars she knew nothing about. Yet he was here with her, those crimson eyes softening as they saw the newfound respect and understanding in her own.
“Let my strength protect you so you have nothing to fear.”
Triki barked a laugh at his words, shaking his head when both looked at him questioningly. “Such arrogance! What makes you think it’s merely you protecting her?”
“Oh? Am I binding myself to a wolf in a lamb's skin?” He grinned mockingly back to the Shaman, the sarcasm faltering when Triki’s grin widened. Iscah looked between the two, her brow furrowing in confusion by Triki’s words.
“The hearts cannot hide their intentions, even if the ego wants to doubt it,” Triki mused before Iscah could ask, abruptly changing the subject without answering him. “Very well you two, let’s get this done before the drugs wear off and Apoch tries to kill me. Again.”
Apoch admitted to himself it was more of a work of art than the simple markings he had seen before. The two lines were even and unwavering, looping and joining in a complex pattern that circled the back of their wrists.
Triki cleaned the brush in the fire one last time ritualistically before setting it down and lifting up the depleted bowls of blood, offering them forward.
“Drink.”
“You said to one and one alone,” she murmured, not taking the proffered bowl as she let her gaze drop to the floor. “It sounds like this is even one step further than marriage vows.”
“Marriage?”
“A vow, in my culture. A promise between two people of a lifetime of partnership.” She bit her lower lip, voice quieting to nearly a whisper. “And love.”
He lifted her gaze up with a gentle knuckle beneath her chin, letting her see the emotions in his eyes, reading the nervousness in hers. “It is.”
“So, we will be married?”
His attention dropped down to her lips as his thumb rubbed along her jawline.
“Marriage, married…call it whatever you want to, Iscah. It doesn’t change the fact no matter what I do, I can’t stay away from you,” he confessed gently, turning his wrist to trace the back of his fingers down her neck. She held her breath, hoping he couldn't feel how her pulse quickened beneath his touch.
She hesitated still, too distracted with his exploring fingertips. Clearing her throat to try to remove the huskiness in her voice she took his wandering hand in her own, if only to be able to focus.
“Yes but marriage is not come to so quickly. There is a length of time, months or years of courtship, and only then the man asks for her hand.”
Apoch tilted his head to the side, amused by her explanation.
“This 'courtship' sounds like another word for a waste of time. Either you know they are the one for you and you delay for propriety’s sake or they aren’t and you delay until you can find a decent enough reason to call it off. I have no doubts, do you?”
“No,” she managed softly.
“Besides,” he drawled teasingly, the corner of his lip rising in a half smile to bare a flash of canines as he pulled her closer. “I am not a man.”
His lips canted over hers before she could respond, tongue flicking against her closed lips, pressing, insistent, until she parted them to him. Her pulse slipped, becoming erratic as chills flashed through her limbs before settling into warmth.
His tongue brushed up against hers before retreating momentarily, blood flooding her mouth, coating her throat. Before she could react he sucked her tongue into his mouth and pierced it with a fang carefully, drawing her blood to mingle with his.
Iscah stiffened, a low moan escaping him even as she writhed in pain as the glyphs flared red-hot, turning a deep rust as they seared permanently into their skin.
“I’ve never tasted anything like this,” he groaned, licking the blood smeared on his lips and teeth before searching her dark blue eyes.
“You aren’t just a human, are you?”
“That she is not,” Triki replied for her.
As if remembering the Shaman was there Iscah felt the tension more than observed it from Apoch, and their host seemed to sense it too. With a grunt and the aid of his staff he stood, clearing his throat overly loud.
“I just remembered there is a herb that blooms at night that I'm running low on," he explained to the two, fetching his burlap bag and a lantern hanging by the exit. “I'll be back in a few hours, then.”
“Morning,” Apoch corrected for him, an undertone of threat in his voice.
“Ah, right. I'll be back in the morning,” he nodded agreeably before stepping outside.
[https://i.postimg.cc/ht3bqpkV/blue-moon.jpg]
With Triki gone Iscah felt a small alarm, though for the life of her she couldn't remember why she should be worried at all. The male holding her felt so right; his scent, his taste, the way he felt against her.
This was how it was supposed to be, this was why the dreams had led them to each other.
As if reading her thoughts he pulled her in for another kiss. Her heart was stammering, breaths mingling with his own as his tongue slid back in her mouth, fully exploring until her lips were red and swollen.
She felt a tug at her back, her dress loosening as he leaned away, sliding it down her arms. He tracked its slow progress, drinking in the sight of the flesh being exposed.
“That first night, I watched as that boy put his hands on you.”
His hand slid across the silk she had wrapped her chest in, finding the tucked end with such ease she instantly knew the night he spoke of had not been the only time he had watched her.
“I was so jealous, maddened by this overwhelming need and raging against it all at once,” he confessed, tugging the silk loose and letting them fall, exposing her small but tight breasts. “It needed to be my hands on you.”
She pressed her arms over herself to hide, but his touch slipped beneath her grasp to brush their undersides, feather-light and devastating. Iscah gasped, eyelids falling closed as the sensation shot another ache straight down into her core.
“It couldn't be my hands on you.”
A warm breath was her only warning, and then he was dragging his mouth across the swell of her cleavage, nibbling towards the peak of a guarded breast. She surrendered when he nudged at her arm with his cheek, his lips molding around an already tight nipple.
Iscah came undone, gripping him by the hair as her head fell back, the world tilting in a strange way as he flicked his tongue across the hardened tip, tugging on that string tied to her core.
“Apoch, I need…” His mouth receded, her thoughts returning from their unraveled state only to scatter again as he latched onto the other nipple she hadn’t even known she had let go of.
She was lost in the growing anticipation, unconsciously moving in his lap. The beautiful torture abated, coolness trailing in the wake of his tongue as he ran it over skin she could've sworn was burning.
“I know what you need, little lamb.” He lifted his head, carding his fingers through her hair before cupping the back of her skull. “You’ve complicated everything, and I’ve tried so hard to deny what every part of me already knows to be true."
Her confusion was swallowed as he crushed his mouth against hers hungrily, whimpering as his canines raked over her tongue carelessly, nearly scoring again. She tried to pull away, a feral growl rumbling up his throat before he twisted, spilling her onto the furs and pinning her beneath him.
Still cradling her nape he forced her head to the side, uneven breaths searing the skin along her neck, tracing the vein pulsing down its length. Iscah stiffened, unable to move or wedge an arm between them to protect her exposed throat. Fangs scraped the flesh above her collarbone, the flexed muscles caging her in shuddering as he teased at his intention.
“You are mine.”
Pain blazed across her shoulder as he sunk those primary canines into the muscle. The taste of her more powerful a narcotic than anything ever tried in the addict dens. An electric tingle sour on his tongue, sparking down his spine to make his balls tighten. His groan vibrated through her chest even as her back arched, trying to buck him off and only succeeding in pushing her mound against him.
The fingers controlling her head vanished, and grabbing her skirt he jerked her dress up roughly so it was gathered at her waist without ever breaking away. Cloth ripped, her underwear shredded and discarded, the kiss of cold air against her soaked core.
The ache at her shoulder had been superseded by the ache between her legs as he ground his pelvis into her, his cock straining against the leather pants keeping them apart putting such exquisite pressure on her nerves. Teeth were replaced with tongue as he laved the puncture wounds clean, until her blood had clotted. Pushing up onto his knees he stared down with molten hues that now glowed in the dim light.
He unfastened his armor unhurriedly, shrugging his shirt off in a way that had his muscles flexing arrogantly, knowing how the sight of him naked affected her. How much smaller the human men were in comparison as they played at being warriors. Releasing the ties of his pants still slippery with her wetness his cock sprung free, a desperate noise escaping her at the sight of it.
“Peace,” he commanded soothingly as he pushed his pants off. “I have no intentions of your first time being in this shit-hole of a hovel, with the smell of a lesser male surrounding us. Besides,” a sinful grin curved his lips at her sound, canting his head playfully. “Morning is not nearly enough time to do with you what I want.”
“What?” She blurted, but he was already moving, taking her knees in either hand and shoving them wide open so she was completely exposed.
“Oh Gods, no—”
“Yes.” Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head at the first lash of his tongue across her sex, his moan vibrating against her in a way that had her making the same sound. She felt his lips form words in a way that had her shuddering, barely capable of paying attention to what he was saying with the way he was using the simple act of talking as torment. “You’ve consumed my thoughts for weeks, it’s only fair I get to return the favor.”
There was no more finesse to his movements; he feasted from her. Sucking on her flesh until it was clean of her essence despite her humiliated cries. Iscah tried to cover herself but jerked at his warning growl, hiding her face in her palms instead, as if it would protect her from enjoying the debauchery.
“No, Iscah.” He released her, pulling her arms away so she couldn’t hide. “No shame in this, stay with me.”
He didn’t give her an opportunity to question his meaning as he settled back down, dragging his mouth against her once more. Gone was the uncontrolled feeding, replaced now with a skill that had her mindless with need.
No matter how she twisted or mewled he gave no quarter, tracking what her body responded to until he had her mastered, his tongue playing over her clit that had her go utterly still, strung tight as a bowstring. Her breaths turned harsh and limited, hips lifting of their own accord before she was screaming as a climax drowned her, writhing, lost in the sensation.
When she finally returned to awareness she found him towering over her on his knees again, one hand denting the soft curve of her thigh, the other pumping his member he had yet to impale her on.
Hypnotized with fascination that bordered on dread, she watched as he worked the thick head dripping with need, using it as lubrication along the handfuls of his shaft.
“Innocent mate,” he began gutturally, his breaths unsteady as his pace increased and more fluid ran from the tip in a constant stream. “Let me show you what I will fill you with soon.”
Goosebumps raised across her body at the implication, at the claiming title. The sight of her anticipation was his undoing, baring teeth stained pink as if she was to blame for this denial.
His seed arced, spurting lines across her stomach, drenching her in his essence. His grip finally left her leg to rub it into her skin, across the thatch of pubic hair before sliding a soaked finger into her still virgin core. She moaned unabashed, her insides gripping the invading digit, causing him to chuckle darkly.
“So eager,” he murmured with a lazy, triumphant smile, gaze lifting to meet hers once more. Still his eyes were molten, twin orbs of living embers in the low light as that smile shifted to a promise of pleasure and pain.
Her knees pressed together tightly in response, and with one last stroke inside of her he slid his finger out. Choking on another whimper, her body twitched involuntarily as he nuzzled the hairline at her temple, palm coming to rest along her hipbone.
“Sleep, my Iscah.”
“No, there’s so much I need to ask you,” she murmured, lashes fanning out over her cheeks as her body sunk into lethargy despite her protests.
“What did you mean, not just human?”
“I’ll explain later, we have time,” he managed, entwining his limbs in hers and conceding to the uncontrolled free fall into the darkness the drugs were inducing at last.