The Cage King

by Danielle Monsch

  He tangled her arms in the sleeves of her shirt, the fabric trapping her and not…letting…her…touch, damn him. His grin was unmistakable against her skin, where he currently was enjoying the swell of her breast above her bra.

  “Think that’s funny?” If his hands were trapping her arms, that meant they weren’t on her hips any longer, and Nalah always loved to dance, to move her hips in abandon. Today’s music was the growls and groans and sighs and laughs of the man beneath her, and she was going to take full advantage of the concert.

  And what a sound spectacular it was. With each grind he answered with a groan, with each hitch of her breath a corresponding growl emitted from his own throat, the sounds scaling from a high, surprised gasp to the lowest rumble from the center of his chest.

  “Nalah,” he said in a deep, desperate groan, and that was the sound she would take with her if she was allowed to remember only one sound from her life. His voice, saying her name as if the word contained every good and wanted and desired thing in this life.

  Her hands now free, she encircled his neck with her arms, and his own answered by clamping around her waist. He rose, and as he did her legs came around his waist.

  With quick movements he placed her on the bed, pulling off her jeans and shoes until she lay before him in her underwear. He rid himself of his own pants, and unlike her, he was naked, his cock hard. He didn’t shield himself, let himself be studied as she wished, but his eyes lost the mirth from before as he waited for her next move.

  Strange. When she approached him, she expected to have a moment’s hesitation sometime during their play, a voice that would tell her this wasn’t a good idea. Right now was a perfect time for that voice to show up, but her body only thrummed. She leaned up on her elbows, giving him an exaggerated once-over. “That thing looks more dangerous than what you show in the cage.”

  And with that, the mirth was back, and all hardness in him was due to desire. “Wait until you see it in action.”

  “Well, for that, I think you need to come closer.” And she wanted him closer. They’d never gotten this far before, and this was the reality of what had only before been fantasies she’d spent years creating in her mind.

  He prowled over her, skin rubbing over skin, his muscles skimming over her softer curves and those gorgeous, otherworldly eyes aflame as they roamed over her body. “I don’t know where to start first,” he said in low tones, but his gaze came back to hers, and he started with another of his panty-melting kisses.

  Well, maybe not accurate, since his fingers pressed against her clit and the panty was still in the way. Esh didn’t let that stop him. The panties were more than damp enough that the fabric didn’t irritate and instead worked her even higher.

  “Esh, good, so good.” Nalah couldn’t tell when they’d stopped kissing, but without Esh’s mouth on hers, the words flowed forth, unstoppable with his fingers against her, and coming out faster, breathier when his mouth replaced his fingers, when her panties were pulled to the side and his tongue buried itself in her body, stoking the fire he built inside her to new heights.

  Esh pulled himself to his knees, their lower bodies aligned, his cock ready to plunge into her. “Nalah?”

  He waited, but the voice she’d been expecting took over, at least a little, because she froze, couldn’t nod, couldn’t give him that final permission.

  After a moment, Esh looked back to her exposed pussy. With the head of his cock he pushed on her clit. He started slow with only the tip, but soon came longer strokes, and now the underside of his cock slid against her, using her own moisture to lubricate the flesh.

  The pressure was unrelenting, building in her body a terrible need. It was the sensations he invoked by the press of his body to hers, yes, but it also built by watching him between her legs, the hungry cast of his face as he took in her body, the visual of his hands and his hips directing his cock over her. It was that hard length of flesh on her, an instrument for her pleasure. The head moved to lay against her opening, the faintest press in, before it disappeared and moved up, bringing slickness and warmth and friction with it.

  Inside, the sensation climbed, tightened, and not for anything could she keep her eyes open any longer. Instead, her head fell back as pleasure burst through her body in long, loud sweeps, leaving trembling muscles and shivering skin in its wake, and as she came back to consciousness her own whimpers met her ears.

  Into this Esh’s own groans mixed, and spurts of warmth hit her pubic hair, trickled against the wetness of her lower body, a welcome brand against her skin.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  The party to celebrate the end of the first round of fighting took place in Beylor’s home. The décor of the huge pile of bricks was loud, ostentatious, obnoxious – in short, exactly what Nalah had expected.

  Of the sixteen fighters left, one was Rorth. The huge half-orc stood in the corner. He was quiet, watchful, not disrupting the party but not part of it either. Esh might have dismissed him as a threat, but she still couldn’t shake the unease.

  Yet Esh was Esh, and he went straight for that corner, calling out, “You’re still alive.”

  “Not surprised to see you either,” the not-literally-but-almost-a-giant replied, giving a smile that showcased teeth with a slight tuskish quality to them.

  “Wasn’t going to get beaten and lose the opportunity to fight you.”

  Something in Rorth’s eyes shifted, and his smile went from genial to almost approving. “So, you’re that.”

  Damned if Nalah could make out the meaning, but Esh only smiled a rare smile, his tone conspiratorial as he replied, “Hells yeah.”

  “Well then, you and I, we’ll give them a show.”

  “Would have it no other way.”

  With a half nod to Rorth, Esh grabbed her hand and left the half orc to his corner. The moment they were out of earshot, Nalah asked, “What was that about?”

  “Finding common ground.”

  “Don’t be cryptic. What did you two mean?”

  A man gave Nalah a once-over, and Esh scowled at him, pulling Nalah close and putting his arm around her shoulder. “It means he’s like me, even if you don’t see it. That’s why I’m not worried about him. The reason he fights is the reason I fight.”

  The reason Esh fights? She always thought it was something he fell into and was the only thing he could make money from that was at least a little aboveboard.

  Esh’s statement crystallized something in her, a back-of-the-head musing that started with their reunion. She didn’t know Esh, not really. Yes, in some ways she knew him better than anyone alive – meeting at seven and ten and then spending the next decade in constant proximity assured that.

  Still, because of that, she became lazy and assumed so many things about him, assumptions this re-meet challenged on a daily basis.

  Tiffany bounded up, breaking into her musings, her smile wide and white and directed at Esh. “I heard all about what you did today! For the first time I actually wished I was at a fight! I’m Tiffany. Me and Nalah have been hanging while you boys do your fighting thing!”

  In other times Esh’s dumbfounded expression upon being confronted with Tiffany would have Nalah doubled over, but her attention was focused on the ring on Tiffany’s finger, bright red, the color looking foreign and wrong against the paleness of Tiffany’s skin versus the warm brown tones of her mother.

  Tiffany must have noticed her focus, because she asked, “You like the ring, Nalah?”

  “It’s stunning,” she said, at least she thought she said it. The ring held her enraptured. She shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t give so much info away.

  “I’ve never seen you wear jewelry! You totally should. Your man should have enough winnings to get you a piece or two!”

  The ring called to her in a way it never had before. Its magic was sharper, clearer, a song that she had forgotten the lyrics to, but if she kept humming the tune, it would come to her. She would know everything.
<
br />   Beylor was approaching now, his eyes going first to the deep cleavage Tiffany was displaying before coming to look at Esh. “Quite a display, Cage King.”

  “Didn’t want to waste my time.” And Esh, the magic in him was growing as well, slow and subtle, and now his magic jumped in the presence of the ring. His eyes grew more alight every hour, and Nalah still did not know what to attribute it to.

  The ring was singing again, and Tiffany kept talking. “With your coloring you just need deep, rich colors, like emeralds or sapphires!” As Tiffany went on with a fervency that would make a street-corner preacher proud, all Nalah could see were the exclamation points that surrounded each of Tiffany’s excited utterances. The woman didn’t seem to know how to speak in anything less.

  The ring sparked, the song lyrics became clear, and magic around it grew and enveloped, ran through her…

  Here was sunshine and humid air, all lush foliage and earthy scents, a haven of comfort. It was green and good and warm, rich soil, the scent of which perfumed the air, earthy with a hint of floral.

  Here was desert. Here was arid, a dry that cut deep, that sucked out the moisture through your pores and a dry you could not get rid of, no matter how much of the very precious water at your side you drunk.

  Here…dear fucking gods…here was an abomination. This ground, this wasn’t soil – this was flesh. The desiccated flesh under the mortician’s knife, the dry flesh of death not yet decayed. This was tendrils of evil masquerading as life, as foliage, of…of…

  “Nalah?”

  Esh’s low, worried tone broke through, and the magic receded, quieted, the song waning. Her focus came back to find everyone looking at her. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “We lost you there for a minute,” Tiffany said. Her smile was tentative, the lack of her usual exuberance telling how lost Nalah must have appeared.

  Training took over and Nalah pasted on a smile without thought. The magic still sent an occasional pang through her. Even in the warmth of the room shivers ran through her body, and Nalah huddled a little closer to Esh to disguise them. She couldn’t unpack this, not yet, not in front of them, so she had to keep marching through. “I’m so sorry. So much has gone on these last few days, I think it caught up with me in a serious way.”

  At least Tiffany accepted the excuse, because her voice and movements grew loud again. “I know! Us too! Oh, and you didn’t hear this, it happened after you left, but we found out one of the guards was actually a thief, can you imagine? How scummy can you get, coming here to steal from us! Isn’t that low?”

  Tendrils of ice slid down Nalah’s spine, freezing her as she stood before Beylor. Esh’s voice, low and hard, carried through the air. “He didn’t do anything that could hurt the fighters or those with us, did he?”

  Beylor scoffed, raised his hand through the air in a dismissive motion. “Don’t be ridiculous. He was after our guests and their wealth. What could the fighters have that would interest a thief?”

  “Wanted to make sure,” Esh replied. “I’m not leaving Nalah alone if your security is so shitty.”

  That caused Beylor to go red, and Nalah swore she could hear his blood pressure raise. “My security is top-notch. He was found, wasn’t he?”

  “Think I’ll go to my apartment, look around to make sure.” Esh’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Come on, Nalah.”

  “Night, Tiffany.” Nalah’s parting was automatic, but Esh didn’t linger for any reply. With quick steps he took them back to their apartment.

  The next several actions happened in blinks. Blink and she was sitting in the chair in their room. Blink and she had a blanket over her lap and a water glass beside her. Blink and he was crouching in front of her, his eyes steady on her. He raised the glass and pressed it in her hand. “Drink. You still look in shock.”

  She grabbed the water, aware of a disconnect between her body and brain, but not quite able to break through and correct it.

  Taking the glass away after she had a sip, Esh set it on the table beside them, then fisted his hand through her hair and pulled her head up for a hard kiss.

  One moment, two, and then fire raced through her body, shattering the ice and she kissed him back, tasting whiskey as his tongue battled hers.

  Another minute before Esh pulled away. “You with me now?”

  “Isn’t a slap across the face the usual way shock is handled?”

  He smirked. “Smartass reply. Glad to have you back.” The smirk disappeared. “Probably your guy, huh?”

  “Probably.” She didn’t know what else to say about that. Beylor had him killed, no doubt, but she didn’t even know his face. “I’m horrible. I’m more upset I have to figure out how to do this without him than the fact that a man is dead.”

  “He wasn’t your friend and you’re amongst enemies. You’re thinking how to get safe. The mourning will come later.” He spoke with full certainty, and even if it was self-serving, Nalah hung onto the words and let them comfort her. Esh continued, “Even before we found out about the contact, you were acting strange.”

  “Did you notice-?”

  “Tiffany wearing the ring? Yeah.”

  Distant notes played through her head. The ring calling for her, or the memory of such strong magic. “Tonight the magic revealed itself to me. I know what it is.”

  Taking the ring would be easy. Living with the consequences, not so much. Words she once thought were only an excuse to thieve the one physical item of value to her, but now she knew their prophetic nature.

  Esh remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate. “It’s called a Realm Jumper. It’s rare. In fact, I never thought they really existed.”

  His eyes never wavered, and no, she hadn’t been mistaken. The flame in them was more intense, more defined, even from this morning. “What is this not-myth Realm Jumper?”

  “The Great Collision came about because two Realms collided, and instead of destroying each other, somehow they merged together. Well, that old bitch librarian always called them dimensions and not Realms when I asked her any questions about it. You remember any of that?”

  His level stare told her what he thought of her question. “I’m not the brain you are but I know that.”

  “Sorry, I never knew when you were listening or not. I only got your attention for sure if it was connected to fighting.” She drew a deep breath, loosened her shoulders to try to fight the tension. “Anyway, when you think about it, if there were two Realms, there’s got to be more out there, right?”

  He shrugged, small annoyance across his face. “I guess yeah, makes sense…” Esh trailed off and the annoyance faded, his gaze locking on her throat, the spot where once a red ring rested upon its chain. “You called it a Realm Jumper.”

  She spoke quick and short, wanting to get it out before he could interrupt. “There are eight known Realms beyond this one. It’s mixed what you find on them, but a couple of them, the phrase hell on earth couldn’t be more fitting. They’re a necromancer’s wet dream.” Pictures of the last world the ring had showed her skittered across the front of her mind, and now that she knew what she was seeing, that it was real…

  “Nalah.” Esh’s voice was a whip crack, hitting and banishing the image for now. His hand cupped her cheek, forced her to stay present. “Finish telling me. What can this ring do?”

  “Magical travel is possible between the Realms, but accomplishing it, we’re talking multiple high-level mages and very exacting conditions and even for the most powerful, it’s a dangerous spell. With a Realm Jumper though, it still requires powerful people, but so many of the variables won’t matter, and it’ll be much easier to access the other Realms.”

  “And? So some necromancers get to take a vacation. Why’s that matter?”

  She shook her head, trying to dislodge the scenarios that were fighting to bury themselves in her brain. He never saw…he didn’t understand. “It’s not them leaving. Don’t you see, what’s terrifying is what they can bring here.”

&
nbsp; Chapter Twelve

  ‡

  Round two began in one hour, a two-part extravaganza where the real fighting started.

  Esh stretched, limbered up. He wasn’t fighting either Rorth or the albino today, and none of the other fighters worried him. He wouldn’t underestimate anyone, but those were the only two who had his palms itching.

  Still, he worked his body, more to get the mental game going than the physical ready. Everything was turmoil in his life right now, and not shaking it off could have him lose real quick.

  He’d gone from the high of tasting Nalah for the first time only to plummet, learning about the ring and having their contact here get captured. If Nalah thought she was horrible for not mourning the guy, he better not tell her all he felt was pissed the idiot got caught.

  Back to Nalah. They weren’t alright, despite yesterday’s making out and last night’s holding onto each other. Nalah pressed herself close to him even in sleep, like she trusted him to keep the boogey-men away. It was nice, it was flattering, but it wasn’t quite real.

  He understood her, though. Nalah was a creature of black and white, and he’d introduced a lot of grey into her world. She never took change well.

  Closure his ass.

  He ran his hand over his face, through his hair. On top of all that, he had himself to deal with. There had always been a burn in his gut, a flame that rattled its chains trying to get free. He didn’t know what it was and never tried to find out. He never even mentioned it to Nalah. She was obsessed with finding his heritage, that’s what she called it, and he had no interest in that.

  He wished he looked into it now, though. Whatever it was, it was getting stronger here. The proof was in his eyes, in the strength of his body, the quickness of his reflexes. He had been stronger last night than he had been yesterday morning, and today he was stronger than he had been last night. His body was his weapon, and even though it was improving at an astonishing rate, he didn’t like not knowing what was happening with it.