Reckoning (The Amazon's Vengeance Book 5)

by Sarah Hawke

  “You are much more pleasant company when your mouth is occupied,” the amazon said, smirking as she feathered her fingers through the other woman’s lustrous black hair. “But I must still insist that you share.”

  After kissing Jorem’s lips one last time, Kaseya sank down onto her knees next to Valuri. With a wicked gleam in her blue eyes, she groped the Huntress’s tits with one hand while grabbing the back of her skull and pushing her deeper onto Jorem’s cock with the other. Val’s familiar breathless gags were as hot and satisfying as ever, but just before he erupted and sated her Senosi hunger, Kaseya yanked the Huntress off his stem and dove in to take her place.

  “Oh, fuck…” he breathed as the girls took turns bobbing up and down on his manhood. He held himself back, content to enjoy the show as long as humanly possible. They grumbled and scowled at one another—mostly playfully—and every few rotations one of them would pause and give the other a quick but deep kiss. Valuri absorbed a small spark of Kaseya’s power from the amazon’s tongue, triggering her glowing green Senosi tattoos. The rune-like patterns crossing her stomach and swirling around her breasts were as haunting as they were mesmerizing.

  The appetizer gave Valuri a sudden burst of strength, and she grabbed Kaseya and held their mouths tightly together with her left hand while her right began madly pumping Jorem’s stem. She opened one glowing emerald eye enough to wink at him, and he groaned as that sent him over the edge.

  “Here it comes!” he warned.

  Valuri released her grip just in time for both girls to turn and look at his cock as he exploded all over them. The first volley struck the Huntress right on the nose despite her best efforts to open wide and catch her meal, though the second bathed her eager, outstretched tongue. Jorem had just enough self-control to aim the rest at Kaseya; he painted her cheeks and chin and neck with everything he had left.

  He moaned contentedly once he stilled, and he couldn’t help but smile down at the two beautiful faces he had just ruined. Val was already deep in the throes of her own paralyzing climax, just like every time she fed from his seed, and Kaseya used the opportunity to lick her friend clean.

  All those ancient stories about the Wyrm Lords and their harems suddenly make a lot of a sense…

  The inevitable wave of post-coital lethargy crashed over him, and Jorem slumped back onto the bed while he watched the girls enjoy their hard-fought bounty. When Valuri finally came down from her feeding trance, she hungrily began helping Kaseya unstrap her breastplate. In a few short moments, both women were topless, and they giddily fondled each other’s tits in between long, passionate kisses.

  Jorem scooted back onto the pillows, content to languidly stroke himself back to life while he enjoyed the show. He couldn’t even imagine what his life would have been like if Kaseya and Val hadn’t gotten along. If the most powerful Avetharri Wyrm Lords had truly possessed harems numbering in the dozens, most of the women had probably loathed one another.

  He was man enough to admit that the added competition for his affections would have been entertaining from time to time, but everything else about it seemed like a bloody nightmare. Kaseya and Val were vastly different people, to put it mildly, but they really did care about one another.

  Though Val in particular sometimes had a funny way of showing it…

  “Let me get the harness,” the Huntress said when she finally pulled her lips away. Her green eyes were still blazing hungrily. “I’ve been wanting to fuck that tight little amazon ass of yours for days.”

  Jorem’s breath quickened as she dashed toward the closet to retrieve the magical phallus. The girls had gotten so much use out of that thing recently that he would have been jealous if he hadn’t enjoyed watching them fuck each other so much. The fervor with which they took one another was breathtaking—as was the way they relished spilling inside one another as a man would.

  Valuri stripped out of her trousers and boots (though she left her right gauntlet on her hand for some reason) and strapped the phallus’s leather harness around her waist with blistering speed. The enchanted crystals allowed her to conjure a thick, erect magical cock of her own, which she promptly began to stroke. Back near the bed, Kaseya eyed the phallus and removed her armored skirt in anticipation.

  “Come here,” Jorem beckoned, already sensing what Valuri had planned. Kaseya promptly joined him on the bed, eager to obey her Maskari’s commands. She crawled toward him slowly, seductively, her athletic body moving like a tigress on the hunt. He pulled her lips down to his as she straddled him, and his cock had already swollen back to its full length when she gently guided the tip into her sweltering folds.

  Even now, all these months after he had first met her on that ship to Highwind, he still couldn’t believe how right it felt to slip inside her. Jorem had never been a big believer in fate or destiny, but there were times when it really did seem like her body was meant for his. Her quim enveloped him, consumed him, and he braced his hands on her trim waist as she began to churn her hips and ride him.

  “Maskari…” she cooed, leaning down and offering him her breasts. He suckled one after the other, still amazed at how a woman with such bountiful, flawless tits could fight and move as effortlessly well as she did. Perhaps the presence of the Fount had done more than just imbue the amazons with magical power…

  “If only we could do this while we’re riding on his back,” Valuri said as she crawled up onto the bed and sidled in behind Kaseya. “I think my stomach would be a lot happier this way—and so would your ass!”

  Kaseya gasped when the Huntress pushed the tip of the phallus up against her nether entrance. Jorem couldn’t see what was happening, but he could definitely feel it, both in the shock cascading through Kaseya and from the way her cunt gripped his manhood like a vise. And especially in the pressure that crept along the underside of his cock as Valuri entered Kaseya’s bowels, separated from him by only a thin wall of flesh. Her hips stilled, her mouth quivered, and he redoubled his efforts to suckle her nipples to give her even more to think about as Valuri pushed deeper inside.

  “I told you that you owed me one, Red,” Valuri grunted, grabbing a firm hold of the amazon’s ponytail. “Consider this your first payment.”

  The magical phallus penetrated deeper inside, causing the amazon to yelp in a euphoric mix of pain and pleasure. Seeing—and feeling—Kaseya getting fucked in both of her glorious holes made Jorem’s cock swell as if he hadn’t spilled in a week. As his arousal rippled from his ring into her bonding collar, the amazon’s blue eyes fluttered and then rolled back into her head.

  “That’s it, take…it…all!” Valuri shouted as she hilted herself at last, nibbling at the other woman’s ear from behind. Kaseya arched her back with an elated cry as she was stuffed completely full for the first time. Valuri squeezed Kaseya’s hips and growled something into her ear that made the amazon whimper with submissive delight. She gave Jorem a feral grin, and the two of them began to alternate thrusts as if they were in a competition to see who could pound Kaseya harder. Perhaps they were.

  Jorem grabbed a firm hold of Kaseya’s tits as he bucked his hips and slammed up into her. Not to be outdone, Valuri jerked back on the amazon’s red mane, exposing the smooth olive flesh of her neck. The Huntress brought up the lone gauntlet she had left on and extended just enough of the blade within to nick her friend’s skin and draw forth a thin line of blood. She clamped her lips over the wound like a vampire, and as she fed on Kaseya’s sorcerous energy, it only spurred her to fuck harder and faster and harder…

  “Fuck!” Jorem cried out as he erupted for the second time, flooding the amazon’s cunt—his amazon’s cunt—with another deluge of his seed. Valuri exploded mere seconds later, and he felt every spasm through the thin wall between them. Kaseya slumped onto her side once they both finished, breathless and delirious, their cocks sliding out of her with a wet, fleshy murmur, and Jorem watched in satisfaction as his and Valuri’s seed streamed out of the amazon’s freshly fucked holes. />
  “Okay,” Valuri said, wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand, “now you can take a nap.”

  Jorem smiled and reached out to stroke Kaseya’s hair. She smiled wearily, looking every bit as contented and exhausted as he felt.

  At this time tomorrow, they might be fighting for their lives. It was possible they might even be dead. But right now, in this moment, everything was exactly as it needed to be.

  ***

  All those wasted years spent serving the decadent nobles of Tir Lanathel, yet still you crave the touch of a Wyrm Lord. Perhaps the Avetharri were right about you and your ilk all along. Perhaps you truly are no better than slaves.

  Selvhara bit down on her wrist to muffle the sound of her pitiful whimpers as the euphoric echo of Kaseya’s climax shuddered through the Avetharri bonding collar. The druid had barely made it halfway down the street from the Ranger-General’s estate before she had been forced to duck into an alleyway to conceal her unbidden arousal. The reverberations from the collar seemed to be getting more intense every day; if Selvhara didn’t know better, she would have sworn that Jorem’s thick cock had just been plunging deep into her throat. And mere moments after he withdrew, she could feel the scalding heat of his seed splatter across her cheeks and chin even though her skin remained completely dry.

  She couldn’t have kept walking toward the market even if she had wanted to. Jorem was clearly enjoying the company of his harem, just like every afternoon these past few days…and sometimes in the evenings as well. Selvhara felt it all through the collar, and she couldn’t quench the fire in her quim no matter how furiously she tried.

  You truly are a pathetic creature, Sarodihm. An elf with a thousand years of experience outwitted and outwiled by mere human females. You are fortunate I still find you useful.

  Selvhara dragged her fingertips across her bizarrely dry cheeks even as she felt a soft tongue lathering her skin. She nestled herself behind a pile of empty crates next to one of the buildings in the alley, hoping desperately that no one would notice her. She had wrapped herself in one of the Ranger-General’s brown winter cloaks before leaving the estate, though she was finding it almost impossible to resist the urge to open the front and slip a finger or two inside herself. Knowing Jorem as she did, he would likely spill at least once more before he finished with the amazon…

  “Oh!” she cried out when she felt his manhood plunge deep inside her quim. Yet when she caved to temptation and touched herself, his glorious stem was nowhere to be found.

  Content yourself with the knowledge that you will soon escape this torment. Once the amazon is dead, you will no longer need to dwell in her shadow. And once the last Wyrm Lord is gone, you will finally be free.

  Selvhara gagged her mouth with her hand again when she felt a second stem start plunging deep into her bowels. The sensations from the collar were as frustrating as they were intoxicating. The Avethian Empire had already been long past its prime when she had been a young girl, so she had missed the heyday of the bonding collars (not that a mere Faetharri servant would have been permitted to wear one, regardless). She had heard plenty of tales of the Dal’Rethi Blade Dancers sharing lovers just to experience the bonding echo, however, and some of the most powerful Wyrm Lords had forged collars for their entire harem to ensure that each wife would know when he was breeding one of the others.

  The jealous torture sounded unbearable, as she knew first-hand. Still, even the echo of the Wyrm Lord’s companionship was better than nothing, but she longed to have Jorem finally take her for real. No matter how many times the collar brought her release, she was always left unfulfilled.

  Dathiel wasn’t entirely wrong about her. She had been craving the touch of a Wyrm Lord even since the walls of Tir Lanathel had collapsed around her. After a thousand years of unfulfilled desire, she finally had a chance to sate her yearning…yet she couldn’t convince Jorem to trust her. A part of her was glad for it—he shouldn’t trust her, not with Dathiel controlling her so completely. Very soon he would force her to betray her friends, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

  And when that happened, no matter what came next, she would surely lose Jorem forever.

  “Ngnn!” she groaned against her hand as the phantom phalluses buried inside her spilled one after another. She could feel every shudder and every spurt, yet her womb and her bowels remained despairingly empty.

  Arise, Sarodihm, Dathiel’s voice growled into her mind. There is still much work to be done.

  Selvhara’s body lurched upright as the One God reasserted his control. Her legs carried her out of the alleyway and toward the market no matter how hot the fire still burned between her legs. During the siege, her wolf’s blood had temporarily given her the strength to resist her master’s control, but she had not been able to liberate herself since. If anything, the tethers binding them together seemed even stronger than before.

  Yet she believed—no, she knew—that Jorem would figure out a way to save her. He had unleashed the dragon; he had revealed his legacy as one of the true masters of this world. The Wyrm Lords defeated the Valathrim once, and Jorem would do so again.

  He had to. Because no one else could.

  2

  Paths Forward

  Tucked away deep within the warrens of the Silver Fist Temple, the Sanctum of the Guardian was as magnificent as it was somber. Thousands of fallen knights were buried in its crypts, and Knight-Captain Julian Cassel had spent most of his teenage years hoping he would one day be worthy enough to join them in Escar’s final embrace. His boyish fixation with earning a glorious death was more than a little disturbing in retrospect, though his attitude had hardly been unique. Virtually every order of warriors he’d ever read about had similar traditions. Convincing young men (and the occasional young woman) to throw themselves into certain danger was easier if they believed their sacrifice would earn them something in the afterlife.

  “I visited the crypt in Griffonwing Keep when I was just a boy,” Knight-Commander Crowe said as he paused in front of the statue of Escar at the epicenter of the Sanctum. The graying lines in his dark hair almost seemed to glow in the dim torchlight. “The layout is almost exactly the same, right down to the placement of the sconces and the prayer candles. The original Silver Conclave wanted to recreate everything they could.”

  “I imagine that’s common in most schisms,” Cassel replied quietly. “The first knights probably wanted to keep as many traditions intact as possible.”

  “Everything but the fear of magic.” The last signs of the Wasting Echo had faded days ago, but the lines around the older man’s eyes seemed longer and deeper. “Though considering recent events, I wonder if the Templar in Darenthi might have gotten some things right after all.”

  Cassel grunted noncommittally as he swept his gaze around the Sanctum. The chamber was essentially a large dome with a half dozen spiraling passages leading further down into the actual crypts. The smooth stone walls between the archways contained small alcoves housing shrines dedicated to the various Highlords who had led the Order after the schism a century ago. An array of enchanted torches cast the whole area in a solemn blue light, but for some reason Cassel didn’t find the memorials nearly as inspiring anymore.

  The priests of Escar taught that the original Knights of the Silver Fist had been outcasts fleeing religious persecution. As important as faith was to the people of the Northern Reaches, in Darenthi the clergy wielded considerably more power. An organization called the Tel Bator—the “end of sin”—effectively ran the entire kingdom, and their fear of magic had created the schism in the first place. When a small sect of Tel Bator priests had discovered a way to tap into the Three Corridors of magic and imbue themselves with the Aether, they had been cast out almost immediately.

  Today, the order those priests had founded hung by a thread. Tahira’s power flowed through all the Knights of the Silver Fist now, binding their fates together more closely than anyone could have imagined jus
t a few months ago. Cassel could only hope that they would be strong enough to hold the line against the Inquisitrix and her encroaching armies. But even if they succeeded—even if every knight in Highwind survived the battle—the Silver Fist would never be the same.

  “Highlord Kastrius made you read the chronicles of the Dawn Citadel at some point, I assume?” Crowe asked, his weary gray eyes still fastened on the statue of Escar.

  “Of course,” Cassel confirmed.

  The Knight-Commander smiled and finally turned. “He was obsessed with those bloody books. He sent aspirants to libraries across Torsia in search of more. When he was younger, he used to talk about trying to mold the Order back into our ‘true’ form. The Knights of the Last Dawn—the first real paladins of Escar who fought to protect the world from the demons of the Pale and other supernatural horrors. He wanted us to live up to their legacy. It’s too bad he never had the chance to make that dream a reality.”

  Cassel frowned at the other man. Crowe had always been down-to-earth and practical; he had never been prone to long rants or wistful musings like some of the older commanders. Something must have been weighing heavily on his mind.

  “Not to be rude, sir,” Cassel said carefully, “but is there a reason you wanted me to come down here? I still want to put the men through more drills before nightfall. If we can’t sustain effective barriers over the city, the enemy’s wyverns will—”

  “I’ll let you get back to work soon, I promise,” Crowe said with a thin smile. “But we’ve barely had time to stop and catch our breath over these past few days. I thought it would be worth taking a few minutes for ourselves.”

  “Fair enough, though meeting in the crypts might not be the best choice if you wanted to get some fresh air.”

  The Knight-Commander chuckled softly. “Over the years, I’ve made a habit of coming down here when I felt…uncentered. These last few days have been especially hectic.”