by HP Mallory
Alaire leaned back in his seat, rolling his hand through the air. “Do you know that AE wanted me to return you to headquarters after you started your little tryst with Black?”
I did not respond so he continued. “But I took it upon myself to defend you. I told them it wasn’t every day that one of their mortal representatives could manage to catch the eye of the Master of the Underground City. So they agreed to adopt a wait-and-see approach with the understanding that I would report back any future developments.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I snapped.
“My point is simply that I have been protecting you and your interests long before your eyes ever landed on the crown,” he said with a shrug. “Sadly, although I agree with you on the necessity of Black’s imminent death, I need to tread carefully where he is concerned. This subject is a very sensitive one at the moment.”
My shoulders drooped. Something else he knew all too well was how displeased I was on not having my way. “I care not for your excuses, Alaire.”
“Regardless, your displeasure does nothing to change the truth. And the truth is that Tallis Black cannot die by either of our hands, not just yet. There are far too many other things that need to be done first.”
“Such as?” I asked in exasperation. “Are you ever going to inform me of these strategic plans of yours?”
Alaire had always been somewhat tight-lipped about the machinations if they involved my former employer. I never quite understood his obvious allegiance to them but then again, I held no love for AE myself. After all, I was just their errand girl. It’s true that they had rewarded me with material wealth and knowledge not many living people had any right to know. But the real prize was always dangled just out of my reach: immortality. Thus, I had to reach my own heights using my own wits, and now here I was, with no thanks or help from Afterlife Enterprises.
“In due time,” Alaire soothingly replied with one of those damnable knowing smiles. “As I said, it’s a… delicate situation at the moment; one that must be handled with absolute precision and tact.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of insinuating that I do not understand either precision or tact?”
“By no means, not at all,” Alaire answered all too easily. “I simply don’t want you to worry yourself with so many complexities so soon after rejoining me.”
I grunted my disbelief. While Alaire had a valid point, it did not take the venom out of his deception regarding Tallis. Alaire and Tallis both knew how I longed for immortality. Tallis had always been fully confident in the durability of his position, and he’d bluntly refused to give me eternal life. And Alaire, always waiting in the shadow of his former master for a chance to usurp power, had promised me immortality and a place at his side if I helped him gain control of the Underground City.
So far, both men turned out to be severely disappointing.
I eventually sat back down at my end of the table, stiff and silent as a corpse. I regarded the rich food in front of me with the same utter contempt I displayed towards Alaire. All this talk removed any pleasure I might have had toward eating. Now I wanted a different kind of pleasure altogether.
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand between my legs. Fighting a desire to climb over the table and take Alaire, right now, the anger I felt for him was far more palpable. True, I would have preferred to slake my sexual appetite on Tallis instead of his one-time toady any day. But relations with the Bladesmith were right out of the question now. I imagine he was so dazed from the painful experience of having Donnchadh extracted from him that it would render him incapable of staying hard long enough for me to enjoy him properly.
Fingering myself, I pondered who else there was in this blasted castle for me to enjoy. The lusty, little angel was still shackled in the cell next to the Bladesmith… but I could only shudder at that thought. I preferred being cast back into the crown’s icy embrace for another thousand years rather than lying with that wretched example of botched masculinity. That only left Saxon, the loyal, driveling fool who so readily sold out his fellow Retrievers for the promise of power. Not that he was entirely to blame for that, as I did have a certain way with members of the opposite sex. Still, I took great pains not to think about how his betrayal mirrored Alaire’s.
In truth, Saxon would have been just another replaceable idiot were it not for his invaluable knowledge of the world, which I’d been locked away from for so long. Another chill ran up my back as I remembered the dark void of the crown that was my home for nigh on two hundred years.
“What are you doing?” Alaire asked once he realized my hands were busying themselves below my waist.
“Nothing to do with you.” I pushed back from the table once more. “SAXON!”
Several moments passed before I heard the telltale sounds of scurrying. The doors to the dining room swung open and the object of my interest faced me speculatively.
“Yes, my Queen?” Saxon asked, bowing low enough to show me the appropriate respect. Saxon, despite his disheveled appearance, was a terribly handsome man. Granted, he was no Tallis Black, but who was? My personal Judas’s thin body was hard with knotted muscles and his long, unkempt hair was wild, something I also appreciated.
Given how heavily he was breathing, I surmised that he must have run quite quickly and from a great distance to reach his queen when I beckoned him. Such a good and loyal minion.
I stood up from my chair, leaning against the table and spreading my legs wide enough to pull the bottom of my skirt up past my knees. “Your queen needs you now.”
Saxon gazed at the place between my legs as though it were a cobra poised to strike. No doubt he could see that I was not wearing anything beneath the sparkling gown. He jerked back as if he were surprised just before an expression of desire overtook his countenance. Suddenly, he seemed like someone coming out of a daydream.
“Of course, my Mistress, anything you desire,” he muttered in a voice as hazy as his gaze.
As Saxon neared me with hesitant steps, I could feel Alaire’s eyes on my back.
Good, simmer in your anger, I thought to myself. Let it serve as a reminder that you can always be replaced… in every way.
Saxon paused, looking past me to Alaire. “Will the master be watching?” He hesitated a moment more before adding, “Or will he be participating?”
I leaned my head back to see Alaire’s reaction, which inadvertently exposed more of my bosom to his expressionless gaze. He let out a humorless chuckle and waved his hand desultorily. My hands balled into fists and my chest heaved in preparation to yell at him for being so casual about his queen being taken by someone else. But when Saxon dropped to his knees and I felt him pulling my dress up to my waist, my anger melted away. My sex positively tingled with anticipation. I felt Saxon’s hot breath against my nether lips, the moisture of his steaming tongue enhancing my own wetness.
My legs quaked as he licked and kissed my body’s moist slit. I threw my head back far enough to arc my back in a half-circle. The entire time, I looked at Alaire, my eyes taunting him. He stared back at me with contempt and, dare I say it? Boredom!
“Persephone, enough of this,” he finally uttered with some disgust. I was keenly aware that he never took his eyes off me. “If you so desire, I can take you to bed….”
Ignoring the “master’s” petulance while keeping my eyes locked on him, I told the man at my knees, “Mmmm, yes, my faithful servant, you must pleasure your queen.” I ran my hand through Saxon’s lengthy hair, grabbing two clumpfuls of it with my hands. “Keep going, don’t stop… don’t…”
I felt a fire building inside me, climbing to a crescendo. The desire for release weakened me and I began to writhe across the table, pushing priceless glassware onto the stones below where they shattered.
Was I playing up my desire a bit? Absolutely! After all, I wanted Alaire to see what he was missing. I needed him to understand that I, too, could play mind games. And he needed to realize that if
I were not happy, neither could he be.
His narrowing eyes and tightening jaw told me everything I wanted to hear.
But really, this situation was his own fault. When he first found me after I took over this body, his desire for me was all-consuming. He would take me repeatedly, anytime and anywhere (including this very table, truth be told). His lust seemed unquenchable. However, over the last few weeks, he was bedding me on fewer and fewer occasions. It was enough to make me wonder if he were quenching his interests elsewhere.
Saxon continued to sing his silent song against my hard little mound, the pleasure so intense that I finally closed my eyes. Part of me wanted to scream but I didn’t want to upset Alaire too much. It was one thing to make a man jealous, and another to make him get rid of you altogether.
Saxon’s head moved with slight bobbing motions as his tongue lapped at me, each caress bringing me closer to unbridled release. A scraping sound brought me back from the brink. I opened my eyes and focused on the empty chair where Alaire was sitting. A scream, but more importantly, the ceasing of cunnilingus between my legs forced me to sit up at once.
Alaire had Saxon’s head between his hands. Saxon grappled and struggled as much as his strength would allow but Alaire was far and away the stronger of the two. My lover’s fingers hovered over Saxon’s eye sockets.
“Lily is mine, you sniveling, little toad,” Alaire spat between his gritted teeth, his thumbs closing over Saxon’s teary eyes. “You have no right to her innocence. NONE!”
Alaire used her name. Alaire dared to call me by… her… name! A fury so palpable, I could feel it heating up my skin, began to wind through me as the entire room became tinged in red.
“Please, Mistress!” Saxon pleaded, reaching out towards me. I ignored him and his pathetic begging. All I could focus on was the name Alaire used, the one name that should have been nothing but a distant memory by now.
I felt a finger grazing my leg as I watched Alaire push his thumbs into Saxon’s skull, making him jerk back. The piercing scream that left the traitor Retriever’s gaping mouth wasn’t even human. It sent another cold chill down my back but I still could not find any tenderness for him. Saxon flailed and scratched at Alaire’s hands as they crushed into him. He kicked out in a weak attempt to get away but the current Master of the Underground City’s grip held true.
“Just shut up and die!” Alaire screamed at him. A squelching noise followed by a crunch cut off Saxon’s urgent screams. The fight went out of his body as his arms dangled like a hanged man swaying from a tree limb. My hand moved to my open mouth and my legs writhed and twisted repeatedly.
I had never been so aroused in my lengthy existence. Blood and clear brain fluid leaked over Alaire’s hands as he continued to squeeze Saxon’s head. I could hear his bones and teeth cracking. By all the heavens and hells, I needed Alaire inside me now.
“Enough,” I said meekly as I waved away his histrionics with an unconcerned hand.
Alaire was fixated on the dead man, his hands deftly crushing Saxon’s skull.
“I said enough!” I yelled again, finally finding my courage. “You’ve proven your point.”
Finally, Alaire dropped the body. The freshly mangled corpse landed with a thud at his feet. Fluid gushed from Saxon’s ruined head all over the stone floor. I looked down at the resulting mess with unmasked distaste.
“You better have one of your… servants… clean this up,” I demanded, making certain he did not assume I would.
“Are you not dismayed?” Alaire asked me and his chest heaved with his increased respiration.
“No,” I answered and it was the truth.
Saxon had been nothing but a tool, and a rather dull one at that. Deep down in my body, however, I felt something stirring, something not unlike sorrow. The most troublesome and frustrating part of this faint, odd feeling was that I couldn’t find the source for it. What reason should I have to be disheartened by the death of this fool? He meant nothing to me...
Damn it all, what was troubling me then? It wasn’t because Alaire killed my subordinate, who had outlived his usefulness anyway. Perhaps it was simply Alaire’s slip of the tongue when he called me by her name? But, no, I didn’t attribute my current feeling to that circumstance either.
Suddenly, I noticed a taste in my mouth. Metallic, it sat on the tip of my tongue and left my stomach yearning, even hungry. Although I hadn’t partaken of it recently, I would know that coppery taste anywhere.
It was Tallis Black’s blood.
“I was agniz’d of one, who by the skirt caught me…”
- Dante’s Inferno
THREE
Persephone
Leaving Saxon’s body behind, Alaire guided me to his personal bedchamber in the castle. The events of the dining room stimulated me with anticipation for what was still to come. And the taste of Tallis’s blood faded away for the time being. The questionable emotions I experienced while witnessing the end of Saxon’s life were buried beneath more familiar and enjoyable emotions, like lust and desire.
As the worn wooden door to Alaire’s bedroom swung open, the rough, stone hallway gave way to a starkly white modern suite with all the amenities one could ever hope for. A canopy bed with black, satin curtains was positioned against the far wall. The matching satin sheets were made up so tightly, I could have bounced a copper coin off their surface. A sofa set was arranged in the middle of the room around a polar bear rug. Flames crackled from an imposing brick fireplace, the opening of which was easily taller than I.
Alaire left me at the door to make his way to a wash basin that was set into the wall a few paces from the bed. His dress shirt was splattered with Saxon’s body fluids and his hands were covered in filth.
“I need a drink,” I stated, making my own way to the bar. It was at the far end of the room, opposite the imposing bed, and just as impressive. Leave it to Alaire to spare no expense in his wine collection. The vintages dated back hundreds of years before the last time I was whole. The cabinets below and behind the bar were full of casks, bottles, decanters and clay jars hundreds of years old. This evening, I was in the mood for something a little more recent.
“How does the Chateau Latour 1961 taste?” I asked over the sound of running water. The bottle was cold to the touch and the paper label was an aged yellow, like ripe fruit. It positively reeked of money.
“It’s quite flavorful, my dear, but I should warn you: modern wines have a different taste to what you were accustomed to before your… accident.”
I laughed as I pulled the cork out. The smell was intoxicating, clean and fruity. I poured a glassful and downed it immediately. Then I poured another and swallowed it almost as quickly. The liquid was sweet and different from what I expected, and the aftertaste barely burned at all. It wasn’t as raw or harsh as the wines from my heyday but I still quite enjoyed it.
“An accident? Is that what we’re calling our failed power grab?” I asked him with a smile over my shoulder as I downed another glass. I still waited to feel the telltale blurring of the edges of my mind.
“Was it a failure in the end, though?” Alaire asked, still scrubbing his hands. “Am I not the king of this marvelous land, and are you not my queen, just as we planned?”
I shrugged, turning back around so I could sip the Latour. Despite now occupying a perfect body with almost everything I ever wanted, I only wished it hadn’t cost me hundreds of years in a freezing hell.
As if reading my mind, Alaire added. “Yes, I know your time in exile was awful. But don’t they say that the end always justifies the means?”
A rustle behind me drew my attention. Alaire was out of his ruined clothes and now lying on the bed stark naked. The perfect folds and creases of the smooth satin were disheveled.
“Shall we begin?” he asked, spreading his bare legs. His confidence was certainly matched by the girth of his penis. He had every right to wear that smug look on his face.
“I suppose the end did justify the mea
ns after all,” I answered, tossing the crystal glass behind me. Hearing it shatter against the bar made me glance back. I noticed the stem of the bottle had snapped in two.
With a devious smile on my face, I began wiggling out of my dress. One strap and then the other before the sparkling gown fell to the floor with a slight rustling sound. I stepped out of the pile of fabric and flicked it to the side with the same casual attitude as when I tossed the glass. I sauntered over to the bed, swinging my hips in obvious exaggeration. By the way he was growing, I could tell Alaire was more than a little pleased with me. In a few moments, he would feel how pleased I was with him.
I climbed onto the bed, scooting forward until I was right in front of him. “Do you want me now, my King?” I ran my hands down my body, then along his leg before I clutched his hardness. He nodded impatiently. I swung my leg over him, effortlessly sliding onto his erection as I did so. We both let out an audible gasp as I settled on him and began thrusting my hips forward. Alaire gripped my waist.
The same hands that gripped Saxon’s head before killing him.
The thought came from nowhere and took me out of the moment, disrupting my rhythm.
“Are you feeling well, my dear?” Alaire asked, moving his hands away.
“I’m fine, my darling.” I said, hoping my lie sounded convincing.
I once again began gyrating, while pushing that intrusive thought out of my head. His hands slowly moved back to where they were before. I tossed my head back as I rode Alaire. Small gasps of pleasure escaped my mouth with every thrust. Alaire pumped his hips in time with mine, our movements synchronized as lovers should be.