The Lost Reavers

by Mike Truk

  “What do you say, my lord?” She leaned in close, hand cupping his balls and squeezing gently. “That a bet you want to take? See who begs for mercy first?”

  Gently, as if about to caress her, he brought his blade up and to the side of her neck. “Nice try, but not good enough.”

  She stiffened, her hand going still on his cock.

  “I’m a Lost Reaver,” he said, voice almost soft. “My kind lived to kill yours. And just because you’ve taken a fancy to me doesn’t change what I’ll do to you.”

  “It’s not so simple this time,” she whispered. “There’s more going on here than you know.”

  “I gave you a chance to explain yourself. Too late now.” A thought. “Wait. You were at the Rusałka? Heard me with women in my tower?”

  Fear gave way to amusement in her golden eyes once more, and she smiled, a wicked half-smile, an expression he’d seen but recently, not at the inn, but where…?

  “You haven’t figured it out yet?” She stretched languorously, ignoring the sword now, her whole body a marvel.

  “I…” A memory. A mocking smile, his money purse tossed back to him, golden hair hanging down about her face. “… Elena?”

  Her golden eyes sparkled. “The very same. At your service, my lord. Got any buckets that need carrying?”

  It was too much. He stepped back, heart hammering. “Wait. That can’t be. You’ve been at the Rusałka all this time?”

  And then, faster than he could follow, she shifted. Went from being the voluptuous vulpine woman that was all curves and tail to the Elena he knew, face hardening, lengthening, scars appearing on her cheeks, breasts growing smaller, hips narrower, tail vanishing as if it had never been.

  “Hello, my lord.” Elena’s eyes glimmered just like Zarja’s, though they were a plain, normal blue. “Shall I curtsey? Perhaps not. I think it might be a bad idea to bend over anywhere close to you.”

  “But why?” It felt like he’d been hit in the head. As if he were seeing double. “Why work as a serving girl? Why spend a year cleaning like you did?”

  “Why?” Elena frowned and stepped back to lean against the wall. “That answer’s more complicated than you might think. But I’ll give it to you, and answer anything else you might ask, on one condition.”

  Hugh sat up. “You want to travel with me still?”

  Her blue eyes locked on his own. “Yes.”

  Hugh gave a desperate laugh. “A fae. Travel with me to Erro. You’re mad. I should kill you where you stand, regardless of whom you’ve pretended to be.”

  “Hear me out, my lord.” The amusement faded from her eyes. “I spoke in earnest when I told you my reasons before.”

  What had she said? A lot about cooking and cleaning, but what else?

  You’re different from everyone else I’ve ever met, Sir Hugh…. I respect you. And - well - feel safe with you.

  “Safety? Are you in danger?”

  Her laugh was bitter, and startling for the contrast. “All my kind are in danger, my lord.”

  “Fox people?”

  “The fae, the people of the wood, the children of the Thavma.” Her voice had grown cold, and in her golden eyes he saw a haunted depth, a pained maturity that spoke of many more years spent walking this earth than he could imagine. “Your kind has hunted us, slaughtered us, driven us from our homes. We take refuge in the depths of the woods or flee before you, to ever poorer and remote areas. Most of my cousins and friends are unable to change shape as lisica can, and thus have no choice but to succumb to your blades or go into ever more remote hiding.”

  “But you can change,” Hugh said. “And thus you hide amongst us?”

  “Just so.” Her smile matched the bitterness of her voice. “It is a solitary life, for we lisica only seek each other’s company when it is time to mate. And with so few of us left, it’s become rare indeed for that to happen. So we spend our time amongst you, learning about you, hiding in plain sight. It is a perilous existence. An accident is all it takes to reveal our true nature. But with you, my lord…”

  “With me, what?” It was his turn to laugh bitterly. “Are you so ignorant of my past?”

  Her expression darkened. “I’ve already said I’m not.”

  “And you think me a safe harbor? You know what we were seeking to do in the Goat’s Wood at the very end?”

  Elena disappeared, replaced by Zarja once more. She didn’t respond. The emotion in her large, glimmering eyes was answer enough.

  They stared at each other.

  “I swore an oath to drive your kind and all like you from the empire,” said Hugh harshly.

  “An oath you have since broken in many other ways,” she whispered in return.

  Anger leaped up in his breast, and he found that he couldn’t sit still. Hugh rose, began to pace. “No matter! I was only a Reaver for a short while, but in that time -”

  “There is no need to speak of those atrocities to me,” cut in Zarja, voice sharp. “I need not imagine. I have seen plenty myself.”

  “Then you know of what I speak.” He turned on her. “And you feel safe with me?”

  She lifted her chin. “Yes. I do.”

  Again he laughed. “Then you’re a suicidal fool.”

  “I may be many things, but that I am not. I’ve watched you for over a year now, Hugh. I’ve judged you by your actions. You may once have been a Reaver, but that is now behind you.”

  Hugh sneered. “Is that right? If you’re so wise, tell me: what am I now, then?”

  She shrugged one pale shoulder. “That I don’t yet know. Nor do you. Nor anyone. Because that is something you’ve yet to define. But I know that you are good, that you are decent and honorable and those are qualities not to be disprized in this world. But you are more than that; what, I don’t know, but I saw you betray something of your true power that night you slew the Mink on the beach, and which confirmed something I’d dreamed of, had prophesied.”

  Hugh stilled. “Prophesied.”

  “Yes. And now we come to it. Why I’ve come to you despite the danger. Why I wish to travel with you, despite the stink of death that hangs about your frame. Because I was vouchsafed a vision, a sense of your future. That you will play a pivotal role in events to come, events that will shape the future of Mendev, of humans and fae. And if you allow me to travel with you, I shall do all that I can to help you survive the dangers to come, to guide you through the perilous waters, and ensure the best for both your people and my own.”

  Hugh sneered. “You want to influence me to help the fae, to betray my own kind.”

  “No,” she said simply. “That’s not possible. Humanity has won. Your empire cannot be betrayed. But if there’s a chance for clemency, for mercy, for my people to suffer a little less, than I will do all I can to help it.”

  Hugh drew himself up. “I should cut you down now.”

  “But you won’t. For the same reason you’ve hid in the Rusałka all these years. You’re no longer a Lost Reaver, Hugh. With my help, perhaps we can determine what it is you are to become.”

  Hugh let his head hang, hands on his hips. Shame and guilt, anger and frustration. She was right. He’d ceased to think of himself as a Lost Reaver since the Goat’s Wood. And for her to be vouchsafed a prophecy of his future? What could that mean? Greater shame, or a chance at redemption?

  She stepped toward him, her movements sensual, to gaze up at him, eyes sorrowful and deep. “Sir Hugh. I am no child. I have seen and done more than you can fathom. I don’t know why the winds of fate have brought us together, but I can recognize their pull. I would journey with you, and yes, do so in the guise of Elena, doing everything she promised to do. But more than that. I can help you, assist you with my powers, help you navigate the invisible world around you that will prove as perilous up north as the forces of any rival count. Don’t deny our connection. Don’t deny our growing bond. I know you are hurt, and that such trust must pain you. But please. Allow me to join your retinue and serve you in wh
at ways I can.”

  “I…” He passed his hand over his face. What would the Lost Reavers think of him now? He could almost hear Black Evec howling with fury. He gazed into her golden eyes. Never had he spoken at such length with one of her kind. Never had he allowed himself to think of a fae as more than just a monster. There was warmth and fear in her eyes, passion and wisdom, a constellation of experiences and lives lived that he could only guess at.

  What’s more, he believed her. Perhaps that made him a fool. But he was so tired. His soul so wretched. He’d felt so lost for so long that an extended hand, a promise for help, was more than he could turn away from.

  And, in the end, he couldn’t turn away from the fact that she was Elena. Had been Elena, all this time. Cared for him, watched out for him, been a quiet friend when all others had sought to use him.

  The words slipped out before he could stop them: “Very well.”

  “Thank you.” The relief in her voice was surprisingly strong; clearly she’d not been as confident as she’d pretended.

  Zarja leaned back, a mischievous smile on her pert, rose-colored lips. “And who knows? There may be other benefits to our spending time together after all. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve spent far too many nights listening to you with other women, and thinking: nobody could pleasure you like I can.”

  “I’ve never fucked a fae,” he said, intending it as an insult, but the words came out instead with a tone of wonder that was strange to his own ears.

  “I’ve slept with more humans than I can count,” whispered Zarja, smiling still. “And each experience has been unforgettable in its own way. And yet. Something about you. Your vitality. This… body of yours. Tells me that a night spent in your arms would be more astonishing than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

  Hugh couldn’t help it. He smirked. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

  “Only one way to find out,” she whispered, leaning in, her wet shirt cool against his chest. Her thick tail moved around to curl about his leg as she raised her free hand, splayed her fingers, and caused talons to spring forth, each an inch long and wickedly sharp.

  Hugh startled, but before he could react she lowered her head, bending from the waist, dragging her nails down his chest this time, leaving the finest of red lines behind each one as she lowered her lips to the straining head of his cock, and there planted the most chaste of kisses before lowering herself to her knees and pressing his erection to her cheek, looking up at him with her gleaming honey eyes with a look of mock innocence.

  Hugh stared down, eyes wide, unsure what to do, the trail of fire down his chest warring with the sensations coming from his cock and balls as she continued to massage them.

  “Just tell me to stop, handsome warrior, and I’ll never touch you like this again.” Her voice rich with her desire, almost a purr. She moved her face slightly up and down, the smooth curvature of her cheek rubbing against the side of his cock, the sight of which, right next to her gorgeous features, was enough to drive him mad. “Banish me from your bedroom and I’ll serve you as a chaste Elena forever. Never to do… this.”

  She turned her face and kissed the side of his shaft, full, bee-stung lips pressing against him, then a slender tongue emerged to lick from base to top.

  Hugh groaned.

  Zarja rose to her knees, angled her head just right, and slowly took all of him into her mouth, her lips tight around his shaft, down, down, her ears flicking, and he felt his head hit the back of her throat - and then slip past, so that she pressed her face right into his crotch, taking all of him, all eight inches, and there remain, fingers gently working his balls, tongue moving slowly from side to side beneath him, throat contracting as she swallowed, the convulsive sensation rippling down his cock, in no rush, apparently, to come up for air.

  Hugh closed his eyes. A dream. Some sweet nightmare. Madness brought on by shock. His fingers sank into her golden hair, clasping her by the head, the sensation of her silken hair exquisite, and when she finally came up for air with a gasp something moved to the fore, some urge for dominance, to assert himself upon this moment to take control.

  She looked up at him with her large eyes, and a wicked smile curved the corner of her lips. “Yes. Yes. You want me, my lord? I’m all yours.”

  A growl and he flung aside his blade, reached down to raise her up and turn her around, bending her over the table. She reached back, slipped her leggings over the swell of her ass and allowed them to fall to her ankles, neatly stepping out of them.

  For a moment he was nonplussed by the presence of her bushy tail which seemed to emerge from the base of her spine, but looking over her shoulder at him she laughed with sardonic amusement and twitched it aside, revealing the perfect curves of her ass.

  Hugh slid his hand into her mane of hair, grabbed a fistful, spread her ass with the other, and then with terrible need slid deep inside her pussy, feeling her swollen lips part and take him. All of him. She arched her back, hissing as he pushed all of his cock inside her, and when he was buried inside, she let out a delighted laugh, squeezed her pussy around him, and did this insane minute gyration, circling from one direction then the other with her hips that near drove him mad.

  “Ready?” she asked, raising a brow. “Don’t keep a lady waiting.”

  He growled in response and began to fuck her, sliding in and out with merciless precision, pulling back on her hair, other hand on her shoulder, steadying her as he pounded. She alternated between gasps and brief bursts of laughter, not affected by how hard he was going, her whole body shaking.

  Hugh lost himself to the need, the desire. A sense of perdition, of falling into a trap he couldn’t comprehend came over him, but it was too late. She felt too good, better than anything he’d felt before, tight and wet, her moans driving him on, her smirks which she cast back at him on occasion part infuriating, all intoxicating.

  For how long he hammered over the table he didn’t know, but when he came it was like an avalanche, and the table slamming into the wall. He staggered back, chest heaving, his body slick with sweat and the oils from the bathwater, staring at her wide-eyed.

  Carefully, she rose up, slipped her hand between her legs and then raised her fingers, sliding them over each other as she scented his cum and her own juices, then licked her fingertips, reached down and pulled her top up over her head, revealing her full breasts, her nipples the same golden hue as her hair.

  “There,” she said, voice rich with satisfaction. “A fine appetizer. Are you ready for more?”

  Hugh wiped his forearm across his brow. A deep and powerful affirmative arose within him, his cock already hardening, and when he stormed toward her she laughed again, tail lashing from side to side in anticipation, eyes gleaming in a manner that was at once utterly inhuman and utterly bewitching.

  When they finally finished it was close to dawn. They’d fucked on just about every surface there was. Against the walls. In the bed, across its edge, all over the floor on the bearskin rugs, sitting in the great armchair, anywhere and everywhere that could catch them as they tumbled about like leaves tossed by a gale.

  Hugh was lost to delirium. Never had he fucked so much. So hard. For so long. His body was a haze of aching euphoria, his mind ravaged by carnal delights, and Zarja’s eyes seemed to hang before him no matter which way he took her, like the afterburn of bright lights at night.

  She was on her knees, head pressed to the ground, the fingers of one hand digging deep into the flesh of her ass, the other hand clasping her tail by its base, ramming her again and again, when finally she cried out, “Enough!”

  It took him a moment to register the word, but he slowed, stopped, stared down at her in incomprehension, and pulled out, shifting his weight so he fell off her.

  Zarja rolled over onto her side, the muscles of her stomach fluttering, her legs twitching as yet another orgasm rolled through her, jaw trembling, and for a moment she lay simply thus, body given over to the sensations that were cascading
through her. At long last she blinked, came back to herself, and stared up at Hugh in disbelief.

  “You’re no man,” she said, voice hoarse after the hours and hours of crying out in pleasure. “I knew you were more than you seemed, but to last this long, in my embrace. What are you?”

  Hugh staggered to his feet, stumbled over to the cold bath and dunked his head in. Held it submerged, then pulled it back in a rush, water flowing down his chest and back, to rub at his eyes and rake at his scalp.

  It took effort to think in words again. The comeback from that ragged edge. That primal state. But with a deep breath he turned to consider her, the fox spirit, the golden-haired woman who lay staring at him with her honey-colored eyes, and for the first time he laughed.

  “I’m being asked that a lot of late.” His legs gave out and he sat on the sodden rug beside the bath. “Funny.”

  With effort Zarja rose to sitting, her tail curling around her knees. She reached up to her mussed hair, curling a long strand back, and then grinned lazily at him. “You been fucking other lisica?”

  “Lisica?”

  “My kind. We’re fox spirits. Of a sort. It’s hard to explain to humans.”

  “Huh. No. Not fucking any other… lisica. Just… people. Not understanding me.”

  “Hmm.” She looked down at her shoulders where he’d left bite marks. Several of her own marked his own body. “That’s good. I’d be jealous.”

  She stretched, her full body so sensual, her curves so beguiling, that it was all he could do to not crawl over to her once more.

  “I’ll be going now,” she said, rising to her feet. “But you’ll see me soon enough. Easier to explain my arrival if it occurs naturally outside, instead of my appearing in your bedroom.”

  He watched, not knowing what else to say, as she moved to the open doors that led to the balcony, and leaped up to the railing - becoming a golden-furred fox by the time she landed, the transition so smooth that he missed the transformation itself.