Dan the Warlord

by Hondo Jinx

  “Yes, my friend,” she laughed, “and you need me, too.”

  But her laughter died when she glanced to the east and saw puffs of black smoke rising like writhing demons into the sky.

  No, she thought. Not now. Not yet. It can’t be.

  But Thelia had learned through hard experience that what she wanted and what was real could be very, very different things. She wouldn’t make the mistake of confusing those things again.

  In one smooth motion, as if she were born to it, she swung onto the great eagle’s back.

  Thelia pointed to the throne room balcony and commanded the eagle with her thoughts, Take me to my family. I must warn them.

  The eagle must have understood her—thank the eternal flames—because he leapt from his perch, and a second later, she was soaring through the air toward the balcony.

  This first flight would undoubtedly have been exhilarating under different circumstances. But in this moment, Thelia felt nothing but the hot flames of purpose.

  She would warn her people and then give her life, if necessary, to protect them.

  The Duke of Harrisburg’s train would arrive in minutes, bringing with it fifteen thousand invaders.

  War had come to Freedom Valley.

  32

  Double Down, Savage

  A short time later, as the monster army mobilized, Dan’s battle fever evaporated, and a leaden wave of hopelessness crashed down over him.

  He gripped Granite’s reins in his fist and squinted toward the east, where his wives would soon be under attack. If only he could warn them. But Zamora was unconscious and would be out of commission for hours, possibly days.

  Riding beside him, Nadia put voice to the nightmarish truth crushing Dan. “We’ll never make it in time.”

  Dan shook his head. “No. We won’t. We can’t.”

  “Fortress is strong,” Ula said from atop her painted mare.

  Dan nodded. “They might be able to hold them off until we get there,” he said, not believing it for a second. The duke’s wizards would breach the fortress walls, and fifteen thousand troops would flood inside.

  He couldn’t even hope for Holly and Thelia to be taken hostage.

  Manrose, who had apparently bribed the Duke of Harrisburg to secretly double-cross the Duke of Philadelphia, had been clear on that point: Kill his wives.

  “We’d better ride hard,” Nadia said.

  Dan nodded.

  “Yes,” Ula said. “We ride hard. But not too hard. Must stay strong to kill.”

  Again, Dan nodded, but he remained dejected. Yes, he would kill the Duke of Harrisburg. He would Kill Blivet. He would kill Razah. And he would kill thousands and thousands of invaders.

  But in this moment of stark and merciless clarity, Dan cared far less about killing those he hated and far more about saving those he loved.

  Only he could see no way to do that now, no way to save his women, his people, his home.

  My unborn child.

  My son.

  Fear and rage filled him then. Fear and rage and a choking revulsion at the thought of someone murdering his son and wives.

  Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw gentle waves lapping at the shores of the empty bay. It was if nothing had happened.

  Yes, he had destroyed Manrose. But what of it? All that killing had removed a problem, but it had done nothing to help him save his people.

  Shadows were lengthening now, the day crumbling toward dusk. And there in the dimming distance, the fantastic river of purple light writhed along the southwestern horizon.

  Snarling at the Royal Borealis, Dan thought, You could help me. You alone. I did your killing, protected your Wildervast. But I need your help now. Come! Come and help me, and I will soak the Wildervast in the blood of those who wish to destroy your creation. His thoughts raged, their voice rising to a bellow in his skull and in his heart, until his final thought boomed out not as a plea but as a thunderous command. Come, Illandria, come!

  And he jerked to a stop.

  Beneath Dan, Granite had seemingly turned to his namesake.

  Nadia had likewise frozen. And Ula. As had the wagons, the army, and even the breeze.

  Did I just level up?

  But he heard no blasting trumpets, no roaring insults from his barbaric mentor.

  And yet time had stopped. Everything had stopped.

  Everything but Dan.

  Then he heard her voice, a voice unlike any he had heard before, a voice lyrical and dark, velvety and rich, a voice that tickled up his spine like a lover’s kisses.

  “You are bold, barbarian, to call my name.”

  Dan turned toward the voice and was instantly, achingly erect.

  Standing ten feet away within a shimmering portal rimmed in crackling blue light, was the most beautiful and terrifying woman he had ever seen.

  Of course, he had seen her before, but there really is no comparison between an image upon a tapestry and the flesh of the woman herself.

  Her face was heavenly, but her wicked beauty was clearly forged in Hades. As her gleaming black eyes looked him up and down, she arched one navy eyebrow, and her ruby red lips curled into a lascivious smile. Atop her long, sin-black locks, just above a set of curving, black horns, sat an obsidian crown topped with bright red, heart-shaped gemstones that boiled beneath the surface like bright and bubbling lava.

  Shining crimson hoop earrings cut of similar lava stone hung from her earlobes, the tops of which rose to points higher and sharper than Holly’s.

  Her throat was long, shapely, regally straight, and, like the rest of her body, blue.

  Beneath this regal neck, covered only in knee-high black boots, a tiny black bikini, and a twisting equation of dark symbols, blossomed an impossibly curvaceous blue-skinned body of such unparalleled perfection that it demanded not only worship but sacrifice.

  As Dan gawked, her gigantic black batwings spread slowly open, blotting out the sun.

  His lizard brain wanted to turn and run away as fast as he could. His man brain—centered not in his head but lower on his anatomy—wanted to sprint straight into her dark embrace.

  But his thinking brain—or at least the part of it that hadn’t boiled away at the sight of her—grabbed his emotions by the throat and throttled them into submission.

  He could afford neither to run from her or toward her. He needed to face her. Needed to make his stand.

  “You’re Illandria,” Dan said.

  “Yes,” she said. “The great and glorious Illandria, creator and queen of the Wildervast, long may I rule.” The succubus queen’s voice was bored, but her black eyes searched him with shining interest. Though he couldn’t read her expression. Was Illandria was amused or enraged at his omission of her full title?

  In that second, Dan realized that he was at a crossroads.

  Illandria had just corrected him, reciting her full title. Sure, she had sounded bored about it—like the title had gotten a bit old over the millennia—but she had thrown it out there. His reaction had to be immediate, and it would change everything.

  Should he throw himself on the ground, beg her forgiveness, and ask again for her help?

  No.

  He was done groveling. He would fawn no more, even before this ancient and powerful succubus queen of unparalleled beauty.

  Partly because he was through with bullshit. And partly because he had come to understand that no woman likes a man who kisses her ass.

  And Illandria was all woman.

  Femininity came off her in heady waves, filling the air, filling him. In her presence, there could be no thought, no discussion, no action that did not concern the pulsing attractiveness of the sex goddess.

  Only she wasn’t a goddess. She was a demon. An ancient demon of unspeakable power.

  But that didn’t change the fact that she was hotter than Hades.

  Realizing that he was still standing there, gawking at her with the biggest erection of his life straining against his jeans, Dan squared h
is shoulders and spoke. “Yes, I called you. I need your help. So I called. And you came.”

  “Not yet, I haven’t,” Illandria said. One corner of her luscious mouth curled slightly. Even that small gesture thrilled Dan to his bones.

  She could force me to blow my load merely by smiling, he realized. She could drain my balls with a halfhearted chuckle.

  He steeled himself against her wiles. This woman had known thousands of playthings. Thousands of thousands. He couldn’t simply ride that slide straight into oblivion. So he braced himself. It was his only chance to save the women he loved. “Why did you send that golem after me?”

  “To collect your essence, of course,” Illandria said. “I’ve been curious about this young firebrand carving his way across my Wildervast. There’s something different about you. I’ve sensed it since you entered my lands, and I smell it now, even from this distance.”

  He shrugged. “Killing is sweaty work. And I haven’t had a shower in a while.”

  Illandria chuckled—a lovely, alluring sound—and Dan was relieved to realize that his decision to resist her had at least kept that enticing laughter from making him pop.

  Illandria sniffed the air. “Yes, you reek of man sweat, of strength and rage and blood, but there’s something else as well, something beneath these other smells, something alien, something—oh!” Her black eyes flashed with interest, and her smile widened. “You’re not from this plane of existence.”

  “No,” Dan said. “I’m not. But this is home now.”

  “Home,” Illandria said, drawing out the word and turning halfway back toward the portal, through which he could spy a wavering red land. “I know what you want, barbarian, but I don’t help just anyone. You must earn my assistance. You must impress me. Can you do that? No—before you answer, know that in all my many, many years, no man has ever managed to impress me. Many have tried—so, so many—but none have succeeded.”

  “I’ll do anything,” Dan said.

  Illandria smiled. “I don’t need you to do anything,” she said. “I need you to do everything. I need you to fuck me like I’ve never been fucked in one hundred thousand years of constant fucking. I need you to make me scream—and to fill me with essence more powerful than any I have ever devoured. Do these things, and you will have your vengeance on the invaders.”

  She gestured behind her, and the red world zoomed into tighter focus. Dan saw rank upon mesmerized rank of empty-eyed men, thousands and thousands of them, naked save for collars around their necks, all of them masturbating in perfect unison and staring up at a pyramid of red crystal shot through with black veins and topped with an enormous, lava-stone heart, illuminating the land with its pulsing, garish light.

  “If you fail, however—as all others have failed—you will dwell forever in a land beyond time, where you will join the ranks of my cum-slaves and become just another nameless meat puppet who exists solely to fill my baths and goblets with hot seed.”

  Dan stared in horror and disgust at the army of collared slaves eternally lost to lust.

  “Within the shade of the dream dwells the nightmare,” Illandria narrated. “These men surrendered to their passions. They wanted me and only me. And lucky them—they got what they wished for: me and only me.”

  Repelled by their damnation, Dan turned from the lost legions.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, barbarian,” Illandria said, her sensuous voice full of dark humor. “My pussy is wet and empty. Are you man enough to fill it?”

  What were his chances of satisfying this ancient and powerful succubus queen when all of those others had failed?

  Slim to fucking none, those were his chances.

  But chances didn’t matter now.

  The only thing that mattered was his wives, his unborn son, and the people he loved and had sworn to protect. He would never reach them in time, would never save them, without Illandria’s help.

  Dan forced a cocky grin onto his face. “I’m gonna fuck you like a savage.”

  33

  The Dream within the Nightmare

  When Dan took Illandria’s hand, the mere touch of her flesh made his balls scream for release. But he fought against this urgency, knowing that a quick finish would literally be the end of him—and the end of his loved ones.

  “Come, barbarian,” the succubus queen said, tugging him toward her. She was nearly as tall as Dan. “Kiss me. Let me taste you.”

  Dan leaned forward, heart pounding. Her scent was dizzying: wild and warm, heady and exotic, floral and feral and oh so feminine.

  As his lips brushed hers, Illandria shuddered.

  That was a surprise, coming from a succubus queen.

  He pulled her close, thrilling as her warm flesh pressed into him, and kissed her with passion. Her lips parted, and their tongues met, sliding and swirling like lovers in her mouth. She was hot—literally hot, like a woman with a high fever—and tasted sweet as a sun-warmed peach.

  Her hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him into her kiss, which grew faster and hungrier, filling him with desire. His erection throbbed painfully, threatening to tear free of his jeans.

  Illandria broke the kiss, breathed in deeply through her nostrils, and trembled. “You smell delicious,” she said, her black eyes shining greedily. “I must know your secret. Tell me where you’re from, barbarian.”

  “After,” he said. “I don’t want to talk now.” He pulled her mouth to his and ran his hand up over her smooth hip, past her narrow waist, and up the soft flesh of her side.

  “You have a soft touch for a man with calloused hands,” Illandria sighed.

  Dan’s fingers traveled over the rumble strip of her ribcage. Cupping the underside of her breast, he growled at her firm yet oh-so-soft perfection.

  Illandria moaned at his touch. “This is going to be fun.” With a quick yank, she tore his shirt down the middle. A short jerk whipped the ruined garment aside.

  Which made no sense, of course. The shirt should have snagged on his arms.

  But he wouldn’t think about that particular glitch in reality. He wanted this woman—burned with desire for her—and he wouldn’t be troubled if things didn’t make complete sense.

  Not because his desire eliminated concern. Quite the opposite. He could not allow himself to be distracted, could not afford to forget what he was doing or why he was here.

  So yes, he would ignore anomalies and stick to the middle of the road—Bost ul ta falil, as Ula would say—and stay focused on the job at hand: fucking Illandria with every ounce of strength and sexual stamina that he had.

  Without getting lost in the fucking himself. That was the key. He had to ride the edge. Had to give her everything—except himself.

  Toward this end, it was good to think of Ula, whom he loved. He withdrew into his thoughts for a moment, cycling through a carousel of images, picturing each of his wives, holding each woman in his mind until he felt his love for her boiling over.

  Hold onto that love. Hold onto them.

  That was easier said than done. Illandria purred as her hands explored his naked upper body now.

  “You have a wonderful body, Dan,” she said, her voice as dark and rich as fine wine. “The body of a hero.”

  “I’m no hero,” he said, and squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  Illandria gasped, and her folded wings shuddered, sounding like someone shaking rain from an enormous umbrella. Her sharp nails dragged down the muscles of his back, leaving tingling scratches in their wake. “Are you a villain, then?”

  “No,” he said, “unless someone’s my enemy. Then, yeah, I’m a fucking villain. But really, I’m not a hero or a villain. I’m the Warlord of the Wildervast.” He lowered his hands and growled again as he squeezed the luscious curves of her firm ass.

  “That’s what Bannon called himself,” she said, tracing the line of his square jaw.

  “Bannon was corrupt. He let himself be tempted by the invaders. I will never do that. I will k
ill them all.”

  She lowered her head and planted a single soft kiss on his biceps, then gave a similar kiss to each of his chest muscles and the other arm. “You certainly feel strong enough,” she said, her voice purring again before lifting into a teasing tone. “But I thought you didn’t want to talk?”

  Dan grunted laughter, hooked a finger through the string of her bikini, and yanked sharply, tearing the tiny garment away from her hot flesh.

  Illandria gave a little yelp of surprise that disappeared into a peel of girlish laughter, this hundred-thousand-year-old succubus queen playing the part of a cavorting girl.

  He ripped away her bikini top and pulled her into an embrace, crushing her perfect cleavage against his naked chest.

  He covered her laughing mouth with his, throwing everything into the kiss, kissing her with all of his desire, all of his fear, and all the love he had for the wives he was trying to save. The kiss was fast and needy, hot and eager, breathless and furious.

  She broke first, leaning back with a gasp. “Oh my,” she said, licking her lips. “That was… different. Frankly, your otherness is intoxicating. I feel like I’m teetering at the edge of a deep well.”

  “That’s not my otherness,” Dan said. “That’s me. It’s my desire for you, and it’s the love I feel for my wives. I want you with every fiber of my body, and I love them with every fiber of my soul. I’m going to fuck you with all the lust and love in my body and soul.”

  Reaching around to the top off her perfect ass, he gripped the base of her tail. It was like grabbing a muscular snake.

  His free hand slid up into her armpit.

  Illandria giggled. “That tickles!”

  Then he hoisted her up, spun her around, and planted her ass against his lower abdomen.

  Illandria squirmed, protesting playfully.

  He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her there while he opened his fly and let his rock-hard erection spring free. Then he lowered her so that his rigid length slid across the slick heat of her silky labia without actually penetrating her. Adjusting his grip, he took her by the hips and held her there, positioned just above his manhood, and waited for her to speak.