Unless she’d somehow managed to fake that...
He’d never heard of a human being able to send an ogre into Pyra before, but it could be possible that they’d finally figured out a way to ruin even something that Holy. They had ruined everything else, so he really wouldn’t put it past them.
But again, he didn’t overly much care about that either. A fake Pyra was better than no Pyra at all.
And either way, she was gorgeous. Her hair was the color of hot coals and seemed to have a life of its own, bouncing as she rode, like her breasts.
His eyes cut back to her breasts.
He’d never seen a human girl’s breasts before, and he found himself unbelievably curious to see what this one’s looked like. What they felt like clutched in his hands.
He wanted them. He wanted to caress them and love them and make them his.
His entire being seemed to demand it with every breath.
His struggle not to touch her grew more difficult by the second, and was now only kept in place because of his concern that he’d scare her.
She was small and undoubtedly frightened easily.
He needed to maintain control and be as calm and gentle as he could with her. At all times.
Don’t scare her.
He silently repeated it to himself like a mantra, terrified that he’d slip and she’d leave.
He had waited his entire hellish existence for her, and now that she was here, the only nightmare he had which had not already come to pass for him in life, was that she’d run away and he wouldn’t see her again.
The Sacred Mountain had given her to him as a reward for his patience, and for his faith, and as an apology for forcing him to endure decades of torture by dishonorable hands.
Destiny had fucked him over.
This girl was its way of saying, “Whoops! Sorry about that, mate. Here’s the best little treasure I got, as an apology.”
She was his mate, ordained by The Mountain and confirmed by The Pyra. He had no idea what the Mountain could possibly be thinking by sending him such a tiny and breakable human, of all things, as a mate, but he wasn’t going to question the gift too much. She was everything he’d ever been promised. More. So much more. And she had been given to him. Sent to him as his rescuer, mate, and prize.
Him.
As such, the girl’s breasts were also his now, to do with as he pleased. Wherever, whenever and however he wanted. After all, she was currently imprisoning him and doing what she wanted to his body, wasn’t she? She seemed to understand how the system worked…
He frowned at the idea, again reminding himself that he needed to be strong for her, so that he didn’t panic the girl. Yes, she was his. And yes, she had no doubt noticed that she was experiencing The Pyra as well. But she seemed to prefer to pretend that wasn’t happening.
And if that’s what she wanted from him, then he could play along.
For a little while, anyway, until his control snapped.
He would try his best, but it was so hard to keep from pulling her close.
She was, in a sense, a sacrament. Her body and high-pitched little voice were proof that his creator loved him and finally realized that he deserved happiness. She was his connection to the Divine and the other half of himself.
Her bewitchingly human breasts included.
His eyes remained focused on them, as they continued to bounce, tragically hidden from his gaze and worshipful kisses.
He liked watching them bounce. They were almost joyous in their movements. They made him happy.
He began praying to the Mountain for a very rough road between here and the girl’s capital, so that they’d bounce and dance for him all the more. He was reasonably sure that everything about them would be in the same places as an ogress’ breasts, but the unknown and mysterious element of it excited him a great deal.
Such a thing was utterly forbidden by ogreian law, of course. If it was even suspected that he was consorting with a human woman, death would have been a mercy for him. It was the worst crime a man could commit, both because humans were not to be trusted and because their women were so small that sometimes they were simply crushed while in the throes of ogre passion. Generally, the humans didn’t much like hearing out an ogre as he tried to explain that one. The ogres didn’t either, particularly since mating without The Prya was a sacrilege, and they viewed any such pairing as a sin against the entire kingdom and every ogre in it.
But at the moment, he was the only ogre left who could possibly be offended by such a union.
And he was fine with it.
It was perhaps the only up side of being the last of his kind.
Plus, The Pyra confirmed that she was his and the word of the Sacred Mountain trumped the laws of the Old Way every time. Human or not, forbidden or not, Old Ways or New, she was his. He could feel it with every breath he took and every bounce of her delightful human breasts.
He watched her breathe, reminding himself that she was in fact real and alive and his.
She was the other half of his soul, and since his current position in life had left his soul in rather ragged condition and questioning his existence at all, he was so relieved to find her. He had almost burst into tears with gratitude, in fact. He needed her to survive and her survival was now his whole mission in life.
And the most important piece of that was not frightening her off.
He needed to be calm, and gentle, and let her see that he meant her no harm. Let her get used to him before he acted to take what destiny had blessed him with.
He took a deep breath.
He could do this.
Don’t scare her.
“Well, what’s this mean then?” The girl held the Mace of the Kings like it was a new toy she’d found, turning its sacred length over in her tiny hands as if searching for a way to get to the chocolate she thought must be hidden inside.
But again, he didn’t care about that. Typically, the sight of his people’s most holy and important object in the hands of a human filled him with an irrepressible rage. In her hands though, it looked… right. He had no quarrel with the girl doing anything she wanted to it. Everything which belonged to him, belonged to her.
She used her hand to rub something which marred the rod’s length… and his mind began to imagine her tiny human hands rubbing other hard lengths.
His fingernails dug into his palm, trying to maintain his composure, but the girl was making it so difficult!
It was like she was trying to drive him wild!
She pointed at something written on the Mace of the Kings. “Are you sure this isn’t a ‘This Magic Wand belongs to blank?’” She turned slightly in her saddle. “Maybe this is a clue to your name and you’ve just forgotten it or something.” She turned more in her saddle, rotating her hips and leaning closer to him. “You’re sure this isn’t your name?”
Oh, Mountains most Sacred!
She had hips! Tiny, tiny human hips!
He tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better look at her hips as she ground her body in the saddle. She worked her hips back and forth, and he began to envy that saddle more than he’d ever envied anything else in his entire fucking life. He wanted to be that saddle. Feel every inch of his human’s little hips and body rubbing against him…
“Uh-huh.” He heard himself saying. “I think you’re right.”
He began to wonder how humans operated their clothing. Ogres always preferred to keep clothing simple, given the intensity of their feelings. Clothes just slowed things down. The force of their passions could become a very real danger if left unsatisfied for long, and no one took the kind of risks inherent with adding an obstacle to that. They didn’t do flirtation or spend time engaging in the ritual of “date” or whatever the humans did with their mates. The Sacred Mountain told them everything they needed to know about each other, put them on the path towards union, and granted to them The Pyra so that that gift could grow as their years together passed. An excess of clothing
, especially on unattached ogres, simply stifled that and was an affront to the Mountain’s holy plan. Why would you question what you could feel on such a deep level? Why would you waste even a second of your life with your mate, and insult her by not immediately recognizing her and being willing to act on it? Why would you endanger you both in a very real and very physical way, by denying the Pyra?
And why was he suddenly asking “why” about so many things?
That was odd.
But the girl seemed to wear a depressing and dangerous amount of clothing and he wasn’t sure how to go about removing it, save ripping it off her. And that might scare her. Humans scared easily, probably because they were so frail. But seeing her in all those layers of entirely unnecessary fabric was quite literally painful and the closer she got to him, the more it hurt. Made his skin crack and burn, aching for her touch. He needed to feel her skin against his.
The Sacred Mountain had given him this treasure as a deliverance from his suffering. And she was right there, within reach…
But again, that would scare her.
And he didn’t want to scare her or try to take something she wasn’t yet willing to give. He would honor her wishes until she was ready to act. Perhaps she just wanted to risk the effects of ignoring the Pyra? That would be exceptionally foolish and most likely fatal, but humans weren’t known for making good decisions.
He found that he did like the idea of going slower and enjoying the task of removing her silly human clothes though, so if that was her plan, it did have advantages. Removing some pieces of her clothing while keeping others on. Stripping them off of her and getting an up close look at what every inch of a human woman looked like. His human woman. Explore her and claim her as his own, forever.
The jumpsuit would go, he decided. It would get in the way and covered her small form’s most interesting features. He wasn’t really sure how it came off, but ripping it was looking more and more like his go-to option on that front.
The boots would stay. They were tall and came up to her knees, where they folded over into wide cuffs. He liked the boots. They were a very human thing for her to wear, and seeing her in them while spread wide before him… hot, wet and ready… would drive home the forbidden and exciting nature of taking her small body. Losing himself in her and letting her heal his tired soul. She was a human, wearing human boots, and her body was his. Her heart was his. Always.
He didn’t care one way or the other about the helmet. She could keep that on if she wanted. He didn’t know why she would, but he wasn’t going to be the kind of mate who made selfish demands of his wife.
If the metal hat made her happy, then it made him happy.
But any underclothes she had on were totally gone. That wasn’t even up for discussion as far as he was concerned. They were practically an insult, shielding the most intimate parts of her from his gaze and touch. It would be unheard of for her to continue wearing them around him now that they were so obviously mated.
The thought of something lacey and soft so close to his little human’s smooth skin drove him mad though. He began to wonder what the fabric would feel like if he…
“Great!” The girl beamed as if she’d just cured Spinewood Fever. “I told you we’d figure it out!”
“Huh?” He shook his head slightly, mentally redressing the girl and still trying to ignore the instinct to reach through the bars and pull her closer. “We did what now?”
“Discovered your name!” She pointed at the Mace of the Kings like it was a coloring book, and read aloud a section of its holy words. “’Dominion.” She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling in triumph. “Can I call you ‘Dom’?”
The word was most assuredly not his name. It had been etched there uncounted centuries before in the pact ending the first Valley War between the ogres and the first human tribes which had started filling the area.
But he didn’t much care about that.
“You can call me anything you want, Tay-Lore.” He told her calmly. “Anything at all.”
****
“…anyway, that’s why Ryle and I are in the army now.” She explained, finishing her story.
“I see.” He nodded slowly. “And your people, they don’t mind the fact that you’re over here unaccompanied?”
If the girl had been his mate, he would accompany her everywhere so that he’d be there to make sure no jealous males tried to abscond with her and take her for themselves. In fact, she was his mate and even he found the near suicidal level of self-confidence evidenced by her walking alone around so many unattached males, such as himself, to be foolish. He’d have a talk with himself if he were him.
He paused to consider the logic of that, realizing that once again that it was a very human way of thinking. Illogical and with little grammatical sense. He didn’t think things like that. Ever. It was all very confusing.
“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but there are only a few of us left.” She admitted. “At one time, the village was filled with people, but…” She trailed off.
He nodded. “I understand.”
And he did. If there was one thing in the world he understood, it was the desolation which came from watching everyone you’d ever known killed in front of you by an invader.
“And you hope to stop your people’s war by taking me to the capital?” He asked.
She nodded. “Well, the others do, yeah.” She scooted closer to the cage as it sat in the back of the human wagon. “But I think the king could free you. Give you back your lands.”
He hadn’t seen the Sacred Mountain since he was a boy. The thought was certainly an interesting one.
“What makes you think your human king would care about me? None of the others ever have.”
“Oh, he’s got to!” She proclaimed. “I mean, it’s what’s right.”
He nodded.
Nope.
The girl was delusional if she ever thought he was getting out of this cage.
“You’ll see, Dom. Everything’s going to be fine.”
His brow compressed. “Who?” Then remembered that was his name now. “Oh, right. Me.”
At the moment, her people were transporting him along the river towards where their human king lived. They had stopped for the night though, because their tiny human legs weren’t made for travel. In fact, now that he really thought about it, just what were human legs made for, anyway? They were like little twigs, fumbling around a world which was so much bigger than they were.
His mind began to ponder that idea, then came up with the perfect use for human legs, as he imagined his mate wrapping her tiny but shapely legs around him tightly and pressing herself against him. Pressing herself around him and pressing him into her.
Yes, that’s what human legs were for. It was the only explanation.
He put his head against the back of his cage, his elbows resting on his knees inside the cramped space.
All in all, it could have been a worse trip, he supposed.
He watched the light from the fire dance in the girl’s hair, causing the deepest red highlights in the silken strands to sparkle in the shifting illumination.
Much worse trips, in fact.
She was just… magical.
“You’ll see, Dom.” She enthused, rising to her feet to go speak with her impossibly puny looking brother, who by all logic, should have been picked off by wolves years ago. “We’ll get you to the capital and then we’ll figure out a way to get your freedom.”
She bounced off into the darkness, leaving him alone again.
The cage once again seemed a prison, now that she was gone. No one to talk to about human stuff. No one to watch out for while they did incredibly ill-advised things. No one to think about naked, in all her forbidden and alien splendor.
He’d never felt so alone in his entire life and immediately began wishing that he’d see her bright little scarlet-tinged head come bouncing back through the underbrush to be with him again.
His life was once
more empty and dark.
He rested his forehead on his knees, trying to pass the time until she returned.
Her kooky but clever way of seeing things was just delightful.
The world was so… boring compared to her.
He silently prayed for patience and the strength he’d need to keep himself from acting on his near overwhelming desire for her.
All he wanted was to hold that girl. To tell her the things he’d never told anyone. To bear witness to the wonder of seeing her move through the world.
But in order to do any of that, he needed to be calm.
She couldn’t see him as the monster who murdered her people.
He couldn’t scare her, no matter how desperately he needed her or how scared he might be that she’d leave him alone.
He had a mate now. At long last, he finally had a mate.
And her needs came first.
He heard something in the trees to his left and immediately looked towards the sound, in hopes that she had somehow circled around the wagon and was now approaching it from the opposite side, for some reason. Which was really stupid and obviously a symptom of his desperation, but he didn’t care.
Instead of a stunning redhead though, he found one of the human males standing there. The man didn’t look anywhere near as interesting as the girl looked in that silly brown jumpsuit. In fact, on him, it looked ass ugly.
He wasn’t at all curious about what this human looked like out of it.
The man smiled widely, evidently in an attempt to put him at ease, but which just made the guy look even more sinister.
He had been around humans a long time and knew instantly that this was going to be trouble. There was a glint in the man’s eye that said that there was about to be a beating.
The man, whose name was something like “Buggan” or “Buggten” or “Baggan”… Something. If that was even the right guy. Frankly, all humans tended to look alike after a while, unless they were in some way memorable, like being his mate or his mate’s substandard little brother.
Travels With a Fairytale Monster Page 7