by Tara Gill
With a frown, Mia rubbed her bottom. “It is decided, then?”
“Well, it is certainly not something we’ve considered before. But Father and I were discussing why not? Creating a small new Plane far enough away to keep undesirable elements isolated is not out of the scope of our powers. Besides, your hope for the Rogues’ future impressed us. We do not want to end the Rogues who are our kin, but certainly we’ve given them too many chances that they’ve squandered. The time has come for them to make their way on a new, harsher world.”
“Oh.” Pleased, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a tentative kiss to his lips. “Thank you for considering my idea as a legitimate solution. I am honoured.”
Barghurr pulled her close and gazed at her steadily. “You are Queen of Lionhaeme now. Your ideas are not only encouraged but needed. Get used to it.” With a quick kiss, he left her.
Dazed, she brushed her hair, not used to having her voice respected or actioned upon, accustomed as she was to being made light of. Her thoughts touched on the events of the past few days. A soft smile played on her lips as she exited the washroom, as she recalled Barghurr’s words about them possibly having created a babe today.
Beth was waiting for her in their bedroom. Glad for the towel wrapped around her, Mia stopped short, her toes curling awkwardly. “Oh, morning Beth,” she faltered, her eyes wide.
Her mother-in-law was dressed in a rusty brown silk gown and screamed aristocracy. In her elegant hands, she held a bundle of folded clothes which she handed over to Mia. Briskly, she moved to the dressing table, pulling out a chair for Mia to sit. “Once you put this on, I will do your hair.”
“Oh, that is quite all right. I can manage.” The last thing Mia wanted was for Beth to wait on her like a maid.
“It is no trouble. I can do it with a slight touch of magic, child.”
Mia slipped on a rich jade green dress with tiny gold underthings. The slit on the side went up to the hip. Along with the dress, she wore crystal shoes with tiny diamonds pasted on them.
“These now belong to you. Barghurr’s gift to his Queen.” Beth opened a jewel box and handed over a tiara, a matching necklace with a pendant shaped like a roaring lion and a ring, all dripping with enormous, square-cut diamonds. “Now you look like the Queen of Lionhaeme.”
Mia frowned as Beth moved her fingers and her wavy red-gold hair spun into a high, neat roll. “Forgive me if I am being rude, but wouldn’t you still be considered the Queen?”
With careful fingers, Beth adjusted the tiara on top of Mia’s head. “Since we handed the rule over to Barghurr, we are now the former king and queen. Elan and I couldn’t be happier with the cutback in our responsibilities. Now we are much freer, and I, for one, am waiting for grandchildren to spoil.”
Mia blushed. It was possible that Beth would be getting her wish sooner than she expected.
Trying to change the subject, she asked, “Why is the feast starting so early?” Most parties in London started quite late in the day.
“Oh, it begins at luncheon and lasts all light. The drink brings out the lions’ passions and…you’ll see.” Beth finished with an enigmatic look and ushered her downstairs where they had a late breakfast.
As the festivities started, soon Mia did see.
The feast was held outside in the gardens, where heavy tables groaned under the weight of different varieties of meat—smoked, roasted, steamed, raw and cut to different tastes. There was fruit, and countless varieties of wine, some very unusual but all tasted delicious. Mia had fun sampling the different wines. There was music, dancing, sports—hunting games but also running, jumping and other games of strategy. As the drinking continued, the pheromones in the air increased, and by late evening, the feast became a decadent orgy.
Barghurr danced every dance with Mia, but he also introduced her to many people, all of them lovely and too numerous to remember. One of them was Mistress Philomena, Lionhaeme’s Seer, who turned out to be the lovely bookstore keeper Mia had met in London.
Mia chatted with her as Barghurr left to get them both more wine. Philomena was a fount of information. A short, cheerful brunette who seemed to be a bundle of energy, she welcomed Mia warmly. “I travel across many worlds going where my Sight tells me I’m needed. The moment I laid eyes on you, it hit me that you were meant to be Barghurr’s. I am so happy to see him finally find his happiness. And yes.” Philomena’s eyes grew unfocused and she glanced at Mia’s flat belly. “I anticipate that you’ll be a mother by the end of the year.”
Mia bit back a squeal of excitement and beamed. Deciding to hold back the news to share with Barghurr in a more private moment, she said earnestly, “Thank you, Mistress Philomena.” Mia clasped her hand and squeezed. “I owe you so much, my every happiness.” She tried to convey her gratitude in her expression.
Philomena seemed to understand. She nodded, her dark curls bouncing, and patted Mia’s cheek. “I will visit you once you are a mother. We shall have much to talk about.”
Later as they sat down for dinner, Mia scanned the area in some unease. Even though it was ten at night, the sun lit up the place. Everywhere she saw couples kissing or indulging in more intimate activities. At the head table, Beth sat on Elan’s lap. While she kissed and nibbled on his neck, Elan’s hands moved under her skirt doing things that Mia did not want to think about.
Barghurr placed a forkful of meat at her lips and chuckled at her scandalised expression. “They still behave like newlyweds. If we conduct ourselves like that after four hundred years, then I’ll consider myself lucky.”
Her eyes rounded. “Four hundred years?! But your parents look so young!”
He shrugged. “In Lionhaeme, age is not in the seeing, it is in the living.”
“Does that mean you are long-lived too?” The thought of Barghurr living forever while she passed at the end of her human lifetime was like a spear in her heart. She pressed an involuntary hand to her chest.
He seemed to recognize her distress and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Shh, now that we’re mated, you will live as long as I do. Unless I die of unnatural causes, I will probably live for a very long time, like most lions.”
“Well,” she breathed, shaky with relief. “That is good to know.”
She glanced to her side. The couple on her right were kissing and moaning loudly. Barghurr’s eyes glowed with frustration and arousal, and he tossed his fork down. “I am hungry!”
Mia frowned in confusion when he disappeared beneath the tablecloth. Strong hands dragged her hips forward on the chair. Gasping, she glanced around, her face burning. Nobody paid any attention to them. One of the men sitting at their table tossed his female companion over his shoulder and carried her away, to find some privacy, she guessed.
Under the table, he spread her thighs apart and tugged off her underwear. The next moment, she felt his open mouth on her most private place. His rough tongue entered her, and she bit back a moan. Her channel spasmed in anticipatory pleasure, knowing what was coming. His lips closed around her opening and sucked at her as his tongue insistently pushed through her tight channel, forcing its way through the tight muscles. She sank her teeth into her knuckles, trying not to let any sound escape, even though her ears were assaulted by low-pitched moans and growls from the hedonistic lions. His tongue seemed to lengthen and pumped rhythmically into her channel, pressing against that sensitive secret spot. His thumb strummed her nub, and with a smothered cry, she came, a gush of juices escaping her.
“So delicious,” he muttered as he licked her clean. Then he adjusted her underwear, patted her mons and emerged from under the table. A red-faced Mia’s belly heated at his carelessly dashing appearance. His eyes glowed with passion, his chin was wet with her fluids and his hair was loose. He looked feral and untamed and his lion-chimera had an intent look as if it was stalking her.
“Barghurr,” she whispered dreamily. Ignoring the guests, with a smooth movement, Barghurr tossed her over his shoulde
r and carried her swiftly away.
“Why are we leaving our own party?” she squeaked.
“In the best traditions of lions and their mates, we are finding somewhere quiet to make love during our mating feast.” Barghurr opened the tall doors of the silent library and locked them. The library was her favourite place in Barghurr’s mansion, in the world really. The golden orbs near the ceiling glowed in welcome, highlighting the intricate carving. Barghurr took her to the central atrium, below which the counter stretched. From the centre of the library, linear sections of books stretched out in every direction like the rays of the sun.
“This place is lovely at night,” she said softly.
“Not as lovely as you, though,” he growled. With hands that were now claw-tipped, he ripped off her dress until it was in tatters. She stood very still, submitting to the appetites of her impassioned mate.
When she was finally naked, he groaned. “So lovely, Mia mine.” He fumbled as he undid his pants. Then to her confusion, he backed away and sat naked in a chair, hands stroking his thick, erect cock. His eyes were half-lidded as he assessed her uncovered body. She had an urge to hide herself with her long hair, but nails digging into palms, she resisted.
“Tell me, did you use the device I told you about?”
Mia licked her dry lips. “Yes.”
His eyes flared, and he held his hand out. “Let me see.”
She walked forward and placed her palm in his.
“Turn around.” As she faced away from him, he separated her bottom cheeks. She felt his hot, wet tongue there and moaned at the unusual yet arousing sensation.
“You cleaned and oiled yourself like I told you to?”
“Mmhm.”
“Good. Now lower yourself, you’re going to take me inside yourself and move on me. All the control is going to be yours.” His thick oiled finger entered her rosette and Mia whimpered. “The herbal oil should numb any pain and relax your muscles, so that they can stretch easily.” He stroked inside her anal passage, pumping deep to the first knuckle, then added another finger. Lowering her on to his lap, he pushed his cockhead inside her newly stretched opening as she perspired and sobbed. With rhythmic movements, he pushed an ever longer length of him inside her bottom, until his burning rod was seated fully inside her body. A moaning Mia moved restlessly on her mate’s lap, impaled by him.
“Brace your hands on my thighs and move on me,” he commanded in a thick voice, stroking her sides with claw-tipped fingers, soothing her.
Mia sobbed, her nerves overcome by the sensual assault on it. “I don’t think I can. It’s too much,” she whimpered, trying to explain.
“It will be fine. Trust me. There is much pleasure waiting for the both of us.” His hands slid around her waist, and he began lifting and dropping her on his cock. At first, he was slow and very careful, then as she got used to it, his speed increased so that her breasts bounced with every movement. The rub of his cock against her tender insides was maddening. She moaned, sobbed and bucked, soon becoming a wilting, soppy mess as he moved her up and down on him like a rag doll.
“Rub your nub in front. Circle it, massage it. Do the same with your nipples,” he panted out, as he ground her bottom against the base of his cock.
With one hand squeezing her breasts, she pinched her nub with the other. She gasped, “I’m going to…to…come!”
“Come, love.” Barghurr reached up and pinched her nipples. With a sobbing cry, she climaxed, shaking and shuddering on top of his lap like a mad woman. Her eyes rolled back into her head and only his hold on her waist stopped her from falling. The spasms in her channel pulled him into ecstasy and with a fervent growl, he sank his fangs into her neck right on top of her mating mark. “So responsive, my precious mate. I’m never letting you go!”
Epilogue
(A few months later…)
Barghurr
“I will leave it in your capable hands then.” Barghurr bowed to Grant, the massive, soot-skinned gargoyle who had consented to oversee the Plane that would now be known as Roguehaeme. Gargoyles were rare and held very potent powers. They were also immune to being influenced by others’ magic. These factors would serve him well in his new role as the Keeper and Warden of Roguehaeme.
“Keeping the Rogues under control should be a manageable task. I do not expect a very great challenge.” His words were measured. Grant was a taciturn man, and every word out of his mouth carried weight.
“When Father and I laboured to create this world, we laid spells to limit excessive passions—be it anger or hate—and to facilitate a clear mind. Hopefully, the spells will improve the Rogues’ behaviour and make your job easier.”
“Let us hope so.” Grant’s cold expression didn’t change. No doubt he was more than capable of handling any challenge these murderous renegades could offer. However, Barghurr wanted him to know that Grant could still count on him for support.
“Please, do not hesitate to reach out to me in case of any problems at all. Otherwise, I will check in with you in a week’s time.”
With a nod, Barghurr vanished and reappeared in the site where the Rogues were busy at work. Today they were hard at work building a colossal amphitheatre to which was attached a three-floored building that would house them.
Invisible to their sight, he watched as they carried huge stones from a giant pile that Grant had spawned from the earth. They perspired, and their clothes were worse for the wear, but Barghurr noticed that they didn’t complain once. Abid directed them with brisk commands so that they got the work done efficiently with minimal wastage of time.
Maybe this would be the making of them. Abid’s leadership would certainly be tested in this place.
Would it be for the better?
Barghurr did not know.
One of them turned in his direction and sniffed suspiciously. Perhaps they sensed him. They still had access to their magic and lions’ senses were keen. It was time to go home and leave the Rogues to their fate.
Turning away, he walked to the end of a cliff and glanced over his shoulder. Roguehaeme wasn’t very big. But the Rogues would never be able to leave it—for good or bad.
*
Barghurr reappeared at the entrance to the library. As he opened the tall doors, his gaze fell on Mahdi who sat at the polished wood counter. Mia was beside him, a book open in front of her, jotting down notes as Mahdi taught her the history of Lionhaeme.
“The eleventh King chose to die when his mate did, really? Why?” She glanced down at an illustrated book that lay open on the counter. As Mahdi explained why no mated lion would ever want to survive the loss of his mate, his eyes were all for his Mia. She was beautiful in profile—her face glowed, her small up tilted nose and pink cupid’s bow lips dear to him. She positively glowed with wellbeing and Barghurr loved how animated her expression was, how her face lit up as something clicked for her.
It was such a difference from the cool, closed-up young lady he had met in her parents’ shabby rented home in London. When he had followed her all over the polluted streets of London, her expression had held sadness when she thought no one observed her. She’d often watched children with their parents—be they humans or pups—with a wistful look, eating up any signs of affection the children received. She’d smelled of longing. His lion knew that she yearned for family, for love.
His heart had ached for her while he’d watched her.
He had been lucky. His life had been rich in many things in comparison with her’s. Once she’d become his, he did not hesitate to share them with her—his wealth, his magic, his support and most of all his family.
Today during dinner, like most days, she would discuss her lessons with him and his parents, ask questions that they enjoyed answering and debating. Elan loved Mia’s sharp mind and encouraged her to gain knowledge. He treated her like the daughter he’d never had.
As for his spirited mother, Barghurr knew that she hoped to induce Mia into becoming her accomplice-in-crime. His sheltere
d mate was wary of his much bolder mother, but he had full faith that his mother and mate would find an accommodation.
My mate.
Standing out of their sight, he admired her pretty profile.
He had lived for over two centuries. His childhood had been idyllic, but when he was ten, he’d lost a childhood friend. The Rogues had taken his friend and his young mother and both of them were never seen again.
The incident was a shock. Though his parents had tried to shield him from the worst of it, his innocence was gone. It had hit him that the Rogues’ were the bane of Lionhaeme and that one day it would fall upon his shoulders to deal with them. The sense of responsibility had felt heavy on his young shoulders. In a way, it made him set himself apart and he’d felt older than his years for a long time.
As his magic grew, Elan groomed Barghurr to protect his people and sustain Lionhaeme. The weather, the land, every life on it including the tiniest blade of grass—his magic nurtured them all. Harnessing such power wasn’t an easy thing. It required focus, discipline. It was both an honour and a huge responsibility, but he’d had his father’s great example to look toward and that of the generations before him.
When he’d been old enough in their eyes, his parents had left him to rule and had ‘retired’. They travelled, exploring the many new Planes that had sprouted up across the voids, as a part of their ‘retirement tour’. It was just an excuse for meeting up with old friends and feasting and having sex.
When he’d protested at so much responsibility being thrust upon him, Mother had pinched his cheeks like he was a toddler. “We are confident that you will rule well. Otherwise, we would never do this.”
“I’ve taught you all I know, son. I know you’ll do us proud.” Father added his own endorsement, eyes gleaming at Barghurr with pride.