“Young ‘uns nevers hold their liquor like they thinks they can. Wells, I best be makin’ sure the Tequila tashtes as bad as I remember ‘fores I turn in.” Pffif turns and makes a zig-zagging, but determined trek to the bar.
Someone’s going to feel like crap tomorrow and be begging for the white.
“Quite a character, that one,” says Clyde.
“It’s rarely dull at our house.”
“Arthur,” comes Paul’s voice to my side. When I turn, Sil’s green silky robe is handed to me.
“Figured you having that would force a little interaction.”
Very considerate.
“Thanks Paul.”
“I think I’ll be joining Edgar and Carmella inside,” announces Clyde rather randomly. “A question for you… Paul. Is the Lady, your good sister, on drugs, catnip, or something else? Up until tonight I’ve never as much seen her smile unless it was at the misery she was inflicting on another.”
Paul doesn’t react to that statement. He just kind of stands there looking at Clyde. Eventually he breaks with a wry grin.
“I see her smile all the time. But, yes it’s true. She really doesn’t let her hair down in public. And no. No drugs. I haven’t seen as much as a glass of wine. She’s made a new friend. Kind of nice to see her so happy.”
“Well I guess that’s just a side I’ve never seen. Thank you for clarifying.” Clyde makes his exit, moving briskly.
“Few ever see that side,” Paul says to Clyde’s back as he walks away.
“Think I’ll join the inside crowd also, Master Arthur,” says Arix. “Always a pleasure meeting someone from the home world, Mr. Fitzsimmons. You two have fun waiting for the fliers.”
Arix leaves. Paul and I look at each other. He sniffs under his arm. “Couldn’t be that.”
We grab our chairs at the fire pit. I look at him holding Jxsiga’s flannel robe and look down at the one I’m holding. “Kind of like we were left holding the bag, eh?”
“Yeah,” he says back looking at the flannel robe. “Your bag is better than my bag. We should switch, I bet that would look good on Jexi.”
Chuckles ensue.
“Surprised you’re not up there with ‘em Paul.”
“The change into this human form sucks. Downright unpleasant. Just didn’t think it was worth it. Don’t get me wrong, it’d be fun up there with them. And I love being myself, it’s much better than this – no offense.”
“None taken. Cost of living is high in the earthen realm, eh?”
Paul beams a huge, very real smile as he gets up, putting the robe on his chair. “I see you’re getting it now. Worth it though, worth it all. Wait here, I’m going to grab us some towels.”
I don’t have to say a word. Thank you poker face for communicating my confusion so effectively.
“Sweaty succubi after a good night’s fly. They’ll be putting off all sorts of pheromones. Best to get them dried off and cleaned up quick.”
I’ve had experience with that. Both firsthand and in hearing about the after. Sweaty dancing Silithes once had a club break down into nothing but bare carnal instinct.
“Good move. I’ll guard the flannel.”
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Paul returns with towels and beers. We spend the next hour or so making idle chit-chat. I make it a point to avoid being the dark questioner and avoided the subjects of sex, anything Cubati, anything Dzemond, and, of course, politics.
It's nice. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d mistake him for human. Unlike me, he has a real life, with lots of friends. He’s on a bowling league, darts league, tennis league, dungeon and dragons group, and book group. And oh, yeah, one day in the week is he has what he calls “slut night,” where he goes out and picks up a stranger to placate certain thirsts. I am assured no one is harmed; everybody ends up happy.
On his day off he does laundry, cleans, and shops.
Sounds like my new friend Paul leads a highly structured life. Okay, maybe he’s a little OCD. But all the same, the tale he weaves for me is more about his friends than the bowling or whatever. I have a real feel for who these people are and their importance to him.
Except for slut night - that kind of reminds me of Sil’s “hunting” nights. And I did not ask any questions about slut night. Not one.
Mostly because I really don’t want to know.
Throughout the night we hear the girls laughing, taunting each other when they’d get close enough for the voices to carry. We both smile. It really does sound like they’re having a hoot of a time.
Karred is the first to land, panting but smiling. “I can’t keep up with them,” she tells us, wiping the sweat from her brow.
Paul pitches her a towel with a “here you go.”
She tells him he’s sweet, gives him a hug, and goes inside for some water. He pitches a towel to me. “Sisters of the order, incoming.”
It must be a night vision thing.
Eventually, I see their winged forms coming in, and they touch down just away from the patio area. They fold in their wings and come together holding hands as they approach us. Sil looks beautiful, her skin glistening and well, just being her. Jxsiga’s skin is glistening too and she’s…
I close my jaw, which I realize went slack. She’s friggin’ ripped. Like a tiny female Bruce Lee. Images of Enter the Dragon fill my mind with a half naked ripped succubus kicking ass instead of Bruce.
Jxsiga winks at me. “I think he likes what he sees,” she says coyly to Paul.
That makes me look back over at Sil quickly, feeling guilty, even though I’m not looking at Jxsiga that way – she’s just freakily muscled. “Hey Sil, I have a towel for you,” I stammer out.
“And I have a towel for you, Jexi,” Paul says infinitely smoother than I.
Jex responds by holding her arms in the air and saying “Dry me, please.”
Sil responds to me a little differently, “You’re not touching me; throw me the damn towel.”
I pitch her the towel then turn to go get her robe. I hear the flutter of Sheyliene’s wings and see that’s she’s landed between the two. She looks Sil and Jxsiga up and down.
“You guys smell really good.”
“It’s the pheromones, little fairy,” says Paul.
“Oh, yeah that,” she says back. “Pixie catnip. Isn’t that what you used to call it, Silly?”
Sil stops toweling and glowers at Sheyliene, shaking her head. “Be a dear and get my back and wings, would you?”
“Okay!”
She pitches Sheyliene the towel, who regards it for a moment and then sticks her face in it like the actors always do on those fabric softener commercials, taking a big sniff.
My how times have changed. Back in the day, Shey would have made a smelly face and complained that Sil was trying to get us. Now, it appears that she’s good with the succubussy fresh smell. Well, sweaty smell.
I hand Sil the robe and it’s snatched from me with accusing eyes. Sheyliene goes to work with the towel, starting on Sil’s wings.
Sil’s eyes go wide and she stands up unnaturally straight with a rather surprised look. “Sheyliene, did you just lick the sweat off my back?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I was thinking about the old days before Arthur, and the sweat room and remember how you’d… Sorry. Over-sharing again, I know.”
For the first time since Sil got here, she looks at me with something other than contempt or disgust. I’m pretty sure I’m sharing that look too. Sheyliene actually self-censored. Both of us are a bit amazed. That moment breaks due to Jxsiga’s voice.
“Arthur’s going to get lucky with a fairy tonight... For suuure.”
“No he won’t,” Sil snaps back, “Little bit has a boyfriend, don’t you? And Arthur wouldn’t…”
Jxsiga is easing into her flannel robe, held open by Paul, the gentleman.
“He wouldn’t what?” Paul asks.
“Not important.”
Sheyliene is finished with the toweling off and Sil puts on the gr
een silky robe, tying it down. Then she looks over at Sheyliene, whose face is buried in the towel, breathing it in.
“You know what you’re doing to yourself, right?”
“Uh-huh,” comes the muffled reply from the towel.
“The pixies always were weak to our charms,” says Jxsiga.
“She’s not weak,” Sil is quick to answer. “She just likes me now.”
With that she grabs the towel away from Sheyliene, leaving my fairy with only a look of disappointment.
“You two should probably still grab a quick shower,” says Paul.
“Soapy fun, come on Silly,” Jxsiga says with a teasing smile.
“See, look what you’ve done,” Sil says to Sheyliene, and then turns back to Jxsiga. “Coming!”
Then my field of vision goes blank as Sil’s towel smacks me in the face.
“Take care of that,” I hear her say. I remove the towel in time to see the both of them making tracks inside.
“Toss me that,” Paul says to me and I oblige. “All in all, went pretty well for you. She even gave you her towel.”
“That towel smelled sooo good,” Sheyliene says absently. “I wish my boyfriend was here.” She makes a strange face at me, something akin to having to go to the bathroom real bad. Then she reaches up to her hair and in a silvery cascade goes very tiny, then buzzes off into the night.
“That’s one horny pixie. I’m surprised she’s not hitting you up, given what I understand about the whole pleasing the wielder thing.”
“Yeah Paul… What Sil said is true. She’s strong. A little off center at times, but pretty damn willful. If she says she’s not cheating on her boyfriend – she’s not.”
“But you could make her. Heck you could make her do anything.”
“I won’t.” I reflect on the encounter and smile. “I bet she was counting on Sil throwing some attention her way.”
“But I thought you said she has a boyfriend.” His face shows the same confusion I’m sure mine did when Shey first shared her rules with me. Glad to know I’m not the only one confused by my fairy.
“She runs on her own rules. They make sense to her. Have to admit, I’m a bit dumbfounded about them. But, I’ll respect them.”
After a moment of silent recognition he says, “I’ll get these to the laundry room. And you don’t seem fazed at all by the pheromones.”
“Years of exposure, man. Years of exposure. I think I’ll say my goodnights and turn in. It’s almost midnight – that’s way past my bedtime.
Chapter 64
Nice. Gentle. It’s like a breeze blowing through my hair. The light on the nightstand clicks on, punishing my eyes and I realize it was Sil’s fingers running through my hair.
Not a dream.
“Get up,” she says softly. “It’s time to have that talk you wanted so badly.”
Talk, yeah.
She takes a step away from the bed, “Come on. Get out of bed and face me.”
I swing myself out of bed and take her in. She has a halfish smile on her face – that’s a plus. I don’t know if I’m ready for a full on shouting match.
“Come.” She beckons me with her index finger.
I do.
She looks me over, lightly touching my cheek. I feel no neuromancy in the touch.
“I’ll concede that you were not hunting me. But you did give them information about me. You should never have done that. Why would you help someone hunt the one you love?”
Those beautiful green alligator eyes are boring into me.
“I… I don’t have an answer for that. They ambushed me. I was… I messed up. Bad. I’m sorry.”
Her face takes on some sympathy, “Okay,” she whispers, her eyes not leaving mine.
“When you saw the old man, my life meal, admit it – you were disgusted. I disgusted you and you wanted to punish me, or worse. Isn’t that so?”
I search my memories and break eye contact, trying to recall my exact feelings. Her hand takes my chin gently and redirects me back to her gaze.
“Don’t run away from me, Arthur. Answer the question.”
Her voice is so calm, so inviting.
“I was disappointed that I couldn’t get to you in time. I was worried about you. I don’t remember anger or disgust.”
She is taken aback, just the slightest. Then in an instant, the warm, friendly demeanor returns.
“I don’t believe you, but it’s alright. You’re trying – that’s good. You want to please me.”
She steps closer to me and gives me a light kiss. It is lovely. The next kiss is full. I’m lost in that moment, every nerve ending alive. She breaks the kiss, gently turns my head, and takes my ear. My knees buckle. I almost lose it. She turns me back to face her. Those eyes.
Another kiss.
“Well, look at you,” she says, taking a step back. Her eyes go to my arousal. She smiles. I’m making her happy. This is good.
“I want to see it. Take off your clothes. All of them.”
She wants to see me. I can do that. I hurriedly take off my tee shirt and drop my underwear. She’s smiling so big. I’ve done well.
She takes my arousal in one hand and draws a finger along it with the other. It’s unbearable. It’s incredible. I can’t speak.
“You know I've coveted this body part for the longest time,” she purrs, and then she turns those eyes back to me. “But you’re not my wielder anymore. And this is nothing but a useless, fleshy, regular human cock now - isn’t it?”
She releases me, punctuating her words.
I am wracked in disappointment. She’s right. “I’m sorry Silithes,” is all I can say.
“Oh, look at you all sad. Don’t be sad,” she says following with a hug and small kiss on my cheek. She takes my face in her hands to meet her eyes again. “It has sentimental value to me. I wanted to see it - didn’t I?”
My dick has sentimental value. I don’t feel bad anymore.
“And what did you call me?”
“Silithes.”
She smiles, “Aw honey, you call me mistress – don’t you?”
How could I be so stupid? Of course that’s what I call her. That’s what she is. My everything. “I’m sorry, mistress,” I say hoping to placate her feelings. And it must have; she is so pleased with me. I can tell.
“That is so sweet. Now make your mistress happy and get on your knees before me, slave.”
I get on my knees quickly. I do want to make her happy. And I have. She laughs lightly and runs her fingers through my hair.
“Now I must apologize to you. I called you slave. That was so rude. You’re my pet – aren’t you? My little pet, Arthur.”
My heart soars. Being a pet is so much better than being a slave. Pets are taken care of. Pets are loved. “I am mistress, always. Thank you!” I exclaim to her. She’s pleased with my response, I can tell.
“You know I’m so lucky to have you, don’t you, my little pet? Now, let’s play a game. I think you’ll like it.”
I know I will. I watch her walk away from me to the sitting chair each bunker bedroom has. She sits down and throws one of those wonderous legs over the arm of the chair, fully revealing herself to me. My heart races.
“Here’s how the game works. You get down on all fours and crawl to me, slowly, very slowly, trying to look like a hungry animal. Then, when you get to me, you pleasure me with your mouth. You remember what I like – don’t you?”
“Yes mistress, I do.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
I get down on my hands and knees and begin crawling. I even throw in a growl to enhance my hungry animal impersonation.
Based on her laugh I may not be the most frightening hungry beast, but the smile says my mistress is pleased.
And soon, she’s going to be even more pleased.
Is this the best day ever or what?
Fugitive Ways
Book Four of the Wielder Series©
Copyright November 2018, David Gosnel
l- All rights reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copy editing/proof-reading by Sissy Lynn
Cover design by Damonza, Damonza.com
Find out more at:
thewielder.com or On Facebook at The Wielders Place
Other books in the series:
Betrayal, Book One of the Wielder’s Series
The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance
The Wielder: Death Curse
A Mystery and Meal
Table of Contents
License/Notes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Mid-Arc Page 101