Love Charms

by Multiple

  Her body still sang from his climax, and her entire form trembled against him so tenderly. She loved him. Awareness of the truth crashed through her and left her weak. That familiar wetness began to slide from her tight quim, and she couldn’t help but send a frenzied scurry of kisses up his neck to his lips.

  When finally she came down from her high, it was only just enough to nod, her eyes intent upon him.

  The God-King Kulav didn’t get up, didn’t disturb the peace of their moment. Instead he tightened his hold on her ass and pulled her in against him in a tight embrace.

  He rested his head against the top of hers, forcing her to nestle in against his neck and chest beneath his chin, the final throbbing of his cock inside her tight quim the only thing to disturb the moment. “Mother didn’t warn me against you. And she’s agreed to show you secrets that could destroy us all. So I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he stated in a light act of surrender that acknowledged his trust in her.

  She kissed him so tenderly, just enough to try to coax him along as she rest in his lap, feeling herself reach a state of calm and peace she’d never known existed. He was helping her transcend the barriers of reality, she was certain, for the way she felt about him surely could not be attained by a mere mortal.

  With his lips so near to her ear, she seemed absorbed into his hard, gravely words, that masculine husk so entrancing it seemed to consume her. “They said my mother made a pact with the Lord of the Hells when she gave birth to me. Her husband disowned her, cast her out.

  “She lived a life of miserable poverty. Beaten and abused by the others of her tribe. She was the object of their hatred and blame, for all their misfortune.” His thickly muscled arms tightened about her just slightly, “As I grew older, and my dark visage grew more and more pronounced, they decided I had to be destroyed to save them from the curse of the devils.

  “My mother,” he hesitated, “would not allow it. She paid a price too heinous to mention to see me to my safety. A price she has never stopped paying, Mirella.” His dark lips kissed along her ear for a brief pause in his telling, “When I returned, many long years later, a grown man… she was battered. Broken. Abused. A slave of a lowly battle-chief. I slayed him, claimed my mother as my own in the spoils of combat.”

  With a deep intake of breath that swelled his chest out and made her whole body rise he then sighed almost inaudibly. “She was still cogent then. But she was broken. Blind. She felt a burden to me” he rephrased, “she was a burden to me.”

  With a lick of his lips he hesitated once more, “She delved into powers of the coven on her own that not even a hundred witches should have. And she did it for me.” He kissed along her cheek, and then tilted her head back, moving to her lips. “That is why she is as you see her now, and shall forever remain so.”

  Her breathing had stilled to the point that for a moment it seemed like she was asleep until that first bit of moisture hit his chest and he felt her eyelashes bat against him, her body beginning to tremble. Her clutch had grown on him and she nuzzled against his throat so tightly she feared she might cut off his breath, but it didn’t matter. She needed to be against him, to be a part of him, and even though his cock still pressed to her, it wasn’t enough to still her sobs.

  Chapter 10

  Life as the God-King’s favoured concubine was not an easy one. In the tent with the other women, Mirella had almost free reign to do as she wished, except for those times she was called to serve. Instead her day began early, for the warlord Kulav—as she’d come to know his true name—was a demanding and insatiable Master who awoke early, slept little and was ever busy.

  He was glorious to see in action though. His ebon body so toned and muscular as he pounded into her from the break of dawn until his morning lusts were sated in her, leaving her a panting, wet mess, drooling his sacred seed.

  Slipping from the bed he stood gloriously nude, his massive shaft still rigid as he prepared for the day. “Run and see that breakfast is brought up,” he commanded in his gravely, early morning husk. “The usual for me,” he instructed, “but for you: two eggs, a sausage, and a tundra-berry pancake with as much syrup as you like. Oh, and some tea for me, juice for you.”

  He was already assembling his usual attire, his long black hair pushed behind his shoulders, for once, as he read from some parchment arrayed on his dresser.

  She never deviated from his orders, not in the slightest, and though she pulled on some pretty little underthings to please his eyes, she felt no shame of it. Of course a God would be more commanding than her prissy, stubborn princess, and she was grateful for it.

  His orders, she understood. They weren’t for his vanity, or to suit his whims. He had a purpose and she was joyous that he included her in them. When she returned, it was with one of his servants trailing her with his order, impeccably arranged, likely by her.

  She nodded to the table, having him set everything up before retreating, a soft smile playing at her lips.

  Dressed in his half kilt and boots, he moved to sit at his table, beginning to eat immediately. After he had already dug in he gestured to the other chair. “Sit. Eat,” he said in his gruff voice. Those dark eyes of his studied her as she sat her increasingly pregnant form next to him. “Have the seamstress make you some new things today,” he stated firmly.

  She nodded with gratitude, beginning in on her food more slowly and with great appreciation for both it, and his company. This was the life she was meant for, and she knew she would worship this man until her dying breath.

  “Do you have anything in mind that you’d like to see?” she asked as she pulled her glossy black hair over her shoulder, exposing that long, olive neck.

  She was in her thirties, far older than any of his other concubines, yet that never stopped his dark gaze from passing over her with such interest and desire. “Tell her to make you one of my usuals,” he insisted, and she was reminded of the outfit all the others had to wear, “but add some of the raven’s feathers to a circlet and gold chain. Then have her make you a loose gauzy robe. See-through,” he explained, eating as he talked. “Adorned with more of my royal feathers.”

  She realized the significance in that. Only him and his elite guards, the ones who watched over his mother or protected him specifically, wore such raven’s feathers on their garb. Her heart pounded in her chest and she swallowed a lump. It was too much of an honour, yet she knew not to question him. Instead her head dipped in reverence and gratitude.

  “Your Greatness, you honour me,” she breathed.

  He had nothing more to say to her on that, and it wasn’t until his breakfast was finished and he rose in his glorious majesty to grasp his cloak that he spoke again. “The princess has asked for you again,” he said simply, pulling the garment around his shoulder, letting it drape over his arm as he looked down at her.

  “I’ve told her it’ll take some time to find you, as you were cast out into the masses when she dismissed you.” A slow smile formed on his face, “I trust you can use that to your advantage.” He touched his heavy hand to her head. “Go see her once you’ve finished your tasks. Tread carefully.”

  Fear gripped her but she nodded, “I live to serve you.” She needed to do this, to succeed where she had failed before, and her head leaned into his caress. “Thank you, Your Greatness.” She knew his name. She knew his story.

  It did nothing but make her respect for him grow, her determination to please him solidified.

  With a nod to her he left, the business of a God-King never ending, she knew.

  Her day went much as she was used to. A lifetime of serving a needy, whining princess or another noble had prepared her for keeping track of numerous tasks and managing it all in her limited time.

  When the time came to visit the princess, she was able to find some old rags akin to what the troubled masses of the city below were forced to wear these days, and was ushered up to the princess’ room.

  Let in, she was struck by how perversely decadent it
was. Even compared to before, this was over the top. The princess had been showered with gifts, all the riches of the land and beyond to win her affection.

  Though seeing the slender, waif-like noble beauty come around from her balcony, the look of distaste on her face said it hadn’t done its trick. “Mirella!” she said, eyes wide as she approached the woman. “Oh I am so sorry, I have missed you so dearly!” She said, the female guard shutting the door behind her and leaving them be.

  Mirella hoped she looked stricken, the way she collapsed into the Princess’ arms and let out a sob, “Princess!” She angled herself to press that pregnant orb into the thin woman, letting her feel the reality of what she’d let her servant become. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  Even if she was trying to garner the Princess’s sympathy, she realized the woman had little sympathy for those not herself and that feeding into the Princess’ ego couldn’t hurt. “It’s been such a misery out there without you to lead us,” she whimpered.

  Anabelle looked stricken and touched at once, putting her thin, young arms about the older woman. “My poor Mirella,” she cooed, “I am so so sorry…” And strangely enough she almost sounded it. Almost. “Come in and have a seat,” she invited, leading her to sit at the little breakfast nook chair.

  She stroked her former servant’s dark hair away from her olive toned face, looking at her with sympathy. “I know this must have been so very hard on you,” she said soothingly.

  “I was just so worried. I had no way of knowing if you were safe. I’d heard such horrid rumours that you’ve stepped away from leading, that you have no interest in it but worse still was that I’d heard you’d been injured, ill. I almost died myself the day I heard you were pregnant. I was cast into such torture when I rebelled to try to see for myself,” Mirella lied to the much younger woman with such ease.

  The young, blue-eyed noble somehow managed to go even whiter with shock at the woman’s words. “Pregnant?” she said with such scorn. She rose up and looked around with displeasure, “He’s done everything to buy me off but resurrect the dead!” She said with exasperation then scoffed again, muttering distastefully, “Pregnant.”

  She spun back on Mirella and her eyes were alight. Somehow she’d kept her spirits up all this time here alone. “I’m saving myself for the prince, my betrothed,” she said dreamily, looking as if she had something she wanted to say.

  Slipping into the seat beside her, the princess lowered her voice, “I know you’ve been through awful misery, but you were the only one I could trust. And I needed someone in the city when the time came.”

  Mirella’s head tilted to the side, her brows furrowing, “What is it you need, my Princess? I am forever at your service,” she bowed her head in reverence to the other woman even as her stomach churned.

  The princess took a deep breath and looked troubled. Speaking in such a careful whisper she seemed to fear someone overhearing them even then. “I had to stage our little… fuss to get you out there, Mirella. I knew I could trust you, only you, to be faithful without needing to be in on the plan. They… they have strange powers and insight I think, and would too likely see through our charade.”

  The dainty princess gave a hopeful smile, reaching out and taking her servants hand, “You can forgive me… right?”

  “My Princess, I’m honoured you trust me so,” she said as her eyes watered, returning the princess’ smile. “I am utterly devoted to you.”

  Relief seemed to wash over the noble lady then and her eyes watered too, “Oh Mirella, thank you.” She flung her thin arms around her older maid, hugging her in such an unprecedented display of affection. “There’s so much I need to tell you now.”

  “I’m all yours, Princess. Just tell me how I can help you! What of your Prince?” Mirella prodded, seeming so sincere as she moved towards the other woman, her voice so low.

  With a sweetly devious smile the fair princess welcomed the close, conspiratorial turn. “I’ve been in touch with him all along,” she whispered. “And now the time has come where we can do more than just wait, Mirella.” Her eyes dipped to her servant’s pregnant stomach, and darted away immediately. She obviously didn’t care to linger on that thought or more precisely the guilt from it.

  “How?” Mirella gasped, honestly taken away that the girl had any bit of cleverness to her at all. She had not been expecting the woman to have a plan, let alone having found a means to contact him.

  Looking so smugly confident she pursed her lips and looked for a while as if she’d not say a word. “Remember the locket the prince gave me at our betrothal ceremony?” she asked, fishing into her lacy, frilled dress and pulling out the exquisitely crafted silver filigree locket. “I can speak to him at night with this,” she whispered. Her blue eyes were so wide with excitement, “But what’s most important is that…” she took a moment to calm herself. “He’s told me he’s marching here right now. And will arrive within a week to free us all.”

  “That’s fantastic news,” she gasped, Mirella’s exotically shaped eyes widening. “Princess, you are too clever! How many does he have? What should I do?”

  Her servant’s excitement only seemed to stoke her own, but she held up her pale, delicate hands in a gesture to quiet them both. “We have to be calm. We can’t show our true feelings, Mirella,” she cautioned. “If that blackheart finds out it could spoil things and cause the prince more time and lives than need be,” she said with a bit of that haughty air of a ruler.

  Mirella nodded, bowing her head, “Of course, my princess. I will keep myself contained, in service of you always.”

  Princess Anabelle smiled confidently and touched Mirella’s hand. “I need you to get a message to the people, Mirella. But you must be circumspect,” she cautioned. “There is a resistance in the city, I know it,” she stated with absolutely certainty. “So you must get word to them to be prepared. If they get word beforehand they can ignite the city into open rebellion so that those heathen dogs will be caught between both forces and utterly annihilated.” There was a certain malicious gleam in her eyes then, one Mirella knew well.

  “I will do all I can, Princess. I know there are those that would eagerly rebel,” she nodded eagerly. “Tell me, how many can we count on to join our fight?”

  With a shrug of her slender shoulders she said, “I don’t know, to be honest. Though I’m hoping it’s all of them.” She gave a hopeful smile. “I know they are out there though. The prince had contact with them up until recently, but he can’t get word in anymore.” She squeezed Mirella’s hand, “It’s up to you to find them and help save my people.”

  “It is my privilege and duty, Princess. You expect him in a week, that gives us plenty of time to plan a coordinated attack,” she mused to herself, but all the while the wheels in her head were turning. “Why can he no longer rally them?”

  She shrugged her shoulders and looked down, “Something about that blackheart barbarian closing off the city from their old lines of communication,” she said. The princess was never one for details. She was accustomed to giving broad orders and expecting them to be obeyed, leaving the details to those who’d carry them out.

  Mirella shook her head, but then smiled, “Then I will pick up where he left off.” She looked so honest, so trustworthy, but for that moment she hated the princess like she never had before. “Is there anything else you need?”

  The smiling princess reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the royal seals. “Show this to the rebels in case they need convincing of who you are. This is the most important moment of your life, Mirella,” she said with such certainty, the noble willing to mark the value of another’s life at the drop of a hat. “When this is done, you shall be handmaiden to the princess who helped save beautiful Ariste from the barbarian hordes,” she said with a proud smile.

  She accepted the token with such a display of reverence, secreting it away against her swollen bosom, “I am so grateful that you trusted me, Princess. You will not be disappoint
ed.”

  With a bright smile she gestured towards the large platter of food, “You can secret out as much food as you like, Mirella. I’m told the people are starving on the streets and,” her eyes flickered down again, “even if it is the spawn of a rapist barbarian… you are with child now, and need to take care of yourself.” There was almost even sympathy in those words.

  Mirella hadn’t thought about the plight of the people in so long, she was surprised to hear her say that, though she quickly covered it up with a look of appreciation. “Thank you, Princess,” she said as she went to gather some food, ever obedient and willing to please.

  Anabelle led her to the door after she secreted some of the rich delights into her ratty old robes. “You’re dismissed,” she said in her normal, haughty tone. “Perhaps we shall speak again soon.” The guard outside opened the door and paid not a glance to the two women as she let Mirella out.

  Free of the incessant blather of Anabelle, her footsteps became sure and angry, her face flushed with rage. That little bitch.

  “I need to speak with the God-King,” she said sternly, “Where can I find him?”

  Chapter 11

  At the top of the roadway that led to the palace stood her ruler and master. Towering above all others, a northerner in elaborate dress—though all hides and horns—knelt before him. “We were wrong ta doubt the true God-King,” he declared in subservience before her lover Kulav. “My men are now yours. And we thank ya for yer generosity in allowin’ us this opportunity to join with your ranks after refusing our share of the glory in conquest.”

  It was a solemn occasion she realized; a Chieftain of one of the northern tribes of Ka’reem was swearing himself to the God-King.

  “Arise,” came his command in that husky, masculine voice. “You are welcomed into the ranks, and I promise there shall be more glory to come.” The chieftain, a massive man in his own right though not so tall as her lord and lover, backed away and said not a word more, looking too fearful to dare such a thing.