Liam put his hand on the goddess’ shoulder. He squeezed her, gently. Loki put her hand over his.
“Well, I know something we can do,” Liam said. “You’re a shapeshifter. If you grow wings, can you fly?”
Loki beamed. “It’s been ages since I flew.”
“I’d have thought you’d fly all the time!” Liam said.
“You’d think,” Loki said, grinning. “But Odin is oddly opposed to be taking the form of a race who can bend bronze with their bare hands. Do you think he might still not trust me?” She shook her head, clucking her tongue – all good humor restored, as far as Liam could tell. “No, it can’t be that.”
Liam stepped back and bowed to her. “Go and find out what that army thinks it's doing, if you’d be so kind.”
“For you, Godkiller? Anything.” Loki grinned. “I may even take that form you like so much. Though, I still want to know her name.”
“Something something Hasbro copyright,” Liam said, waving his hand, his cheeks bright red.
With a flash of white light, Loki spun in place. Pure midnight wings spread, her skin becoming a few notches more pale. Her hair had turned raven black and straight as if it had been drawn by a razor. Then she leaped backwards, let herself plummet towards the ground, then snapped her wings out. She caught the air and shot off towards the harbor. As she beat through the air, her body shimmered, then turned into an optical blur like Predator.
Then she was gone.
Liam sighed.
Babylon felt oddly empty without her. Meg was gone. Liv was gone. Tethis was dead. Liam shook his head and turned back to the stairs.
When he came to the bottom, he heard the crackle of gunfire.
No matter what the news Loki brought, the Cross Guard would be ready.
“Hey!”
The voice made Liam start all over again. A finely honed instinct for hearing footsteps didn’t matter when half the people who were walking up behind you were gods. Liam spun around and saw a robed figure leaning against the wall. But the fact that she wore a robe did nothing to disguise the supernaturally booming sound of Artemis’ voice.
“I hear we have lizards to kill soon,” she said, her teeth flashing underneath her hood.
“No, just valks,” Liam said. “But remember what we agreed on? You. Stay. In. The. Manor.” He grabbed her arm, starting to haul her away from the wall. “The last thing we need are Fizit’s spies learning that you’re here.”
“I saw them and snuck around them...” Artemis grumbled, sounding sulky.
Liam sighed. “Listen, you don’t want to waste your time on valks. We can handle valks. If every valk drops dead because you shot them from five miles away-”
Artemis puffed up her chest.
“-then the bad guys will know you’re here and not in hiding,” Liam continued. “I want you to be an ace in the hole.”
Artemis pouted all the way back to the manor.
***
Meg landed on an island, panting. Her wings folded and she knelt on the ground. There were some major downsides to escaping from prison buck ass naked. For instance, she was pretty sure she was getting a nasty sunburn on her butt. For another, her stomach was growling and she hadn’t a chance to get a single bite to eat.
She stood up, rolling her arm to try and work out the knot in her shoulder. The island she had landed on was one of the many little islands that dotted this part of the Platonic Sea. In peace-time, it had been a haven of pirates. She was pretty sure most of the Tuatha raiders had been driven off by the increase in warships sailing about.
“Well, well, well, looks like we got ourselves a pretty,” a lilting voice rang out.
Meg turned and saw four pirates stepping around the trees that made up the inside of the island. They were painted with spiraling blue patterns, and held crude weapons that looked like they had been found off old battlefields and been beaten back into shape.
Okay, maybe not all the raiders had been driven off...
The leader leered as he walked up. Meg watched him, her arms crossed under her breasts. He licked his chapped lips as he spoke.
“Tired from your f-urk!”
Ten minutes later, Meg sat at their campfire, eating a chunk of hardtack. She chewed, then spat out a chunk of bone, shaking her head. “Man, you should kill your quartermaster,” she said, looking at the four naked, bound pirates. “This stuff is awful.”
The pirate captain glared at her.
Meg stood, adjusted her new leggings, then grabbed one of their swords from the ground. It was the best of them, and she was still pretty sure Liam could have snapped it over his knee.
“Eh,” she said, her wings spreading. “Better than nothing.”
***
Liam leaned back in his seat. Being away on a heroic adventure hadn’t stopped the titanic workload of paperwork that being the Free Lord of the largest free city of Purgatory brought. Something he hadn’t expected through were the reports that he was currently juggling in his brain. Almost five thousand men and women of every race – the majority human but a couple of thousand elves and about a quarter made up of goblins and other races – had joined the Cross Guard. The crystalwights said that they could keep up with production, and training was going well.
If he could survive for a month, he’d have a large, green army. Armed with muskets.
The question was, did he have a month? A siege would be devastating. The occupation of Babylon had badly damaged the granaries. Any army could surround them, cut off the harbor, and wait for starvation and plague to wipe them out.
“Liam?”
He blinked and sat up. Mary stood in the doorway,looking as tired as he felt.
“I’ve been speaking with the priests – they say that we’re reaching an upper limit on what their gods are willing to give without sacrifice or additional followers. The problem is, well, since this city has so many worshipers, and all of different gods, there’s no way to increase one without...” She shrugged. “A-And, ah, my Church is growing...”
She looked conflicted.
“Wishing that, just for once, the Holy Ghost would get off his spectral butt and do something?” Liam asked, his voice holding a twinge of bitterness.
Mary stuck her tongue out of the corner of her lip and her face assumed a mask of such intense thinking that it was downright comical. It was an expression Liam had never expected to see her adopt. She had been too refined, too poised for it during the last few months. Her tail lashed from side to side and she slowly shook her head.
“Now that you mention it, no,” she said.
“No?”
“The gods of Purgatory are limited,” she said. “They can influence our lives and we don’t lose our choices. But our God?” She gestured to Liam and to herself – her finger stopping on the ichthus that hung from her slender neck. “She is so big, so all encompassing, that without distance, she’d smother us. Freedom is hard. But it is worth it.”
She had come to the edge of his desk.
Liam nodded. “I... yeah.”
“Come on,” Mary said. “You’ve been working non-stop since you came back from the battle. Let some of your aids handle this.”
“It’s my job,” Liam said, frowning.
“You’re worried sick about Meg,” Mary said, putting her palms on the desk. “Don’t try to hide it.” Her face was very near his. Liam felt his skin tingle slightly with her closeness. His nose flared and he breathed in her scent. “You are worried about the valkyrie coming. None of those things can be changed by you spending all night working – and this?” She gestured to the paperwork. “Needs a Free Lord who is not about to pass out.”
Liam looked down at the papers. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. He picked up a report on gunpowder manufacture. He could remember sitting at the desk, reading and re-reading the lines about production and logistics and not registering a damn thing. He set the papers down and stood, slowly. His back popped like a gunshot. He rubbed his spine. “Yeah, you’re r
ight.”
Mary smiled.
Together, the two of them emerged from the office. Liam kept rubbing his back.
“You shouldn’t hunch over your desk,” Mary said, quietly. “You’ll ruin your spine.” She paused. “I could help, you know?”
“No healers,” Liam said. “Not for a back ache. It’ll pass-”
“I was skilled at massaging a man’s back,” Mary said, “Before I became a nun. I think that I can find theological approval for helping a fellow Christian through some pain.”
Liam blinked at her. His cheeks started to redden. “B-Back pain!” he said.
“Yes,” Mary said, her brow furrowing. “Back pain. What other kind of pain were you thinking of?”
Liam coughed. “I, uh-”
“If you say no because you’re concerned about propriety, I will take it as a personal insult,” Mary said, her hand going to her chest. “I’m a Hierophant now. I take my vows of chastity quite seriously.”
Liam chuckled. “All right, you talked me into it.” He rubbed his back as Mary walked with him to his room. He paused only momentarily at the door that led into the chamber where Neb Mataare was staying. The jackalgirl lay under her blankets, her arm lashed to her side, her eyes closed. She made quiet, uncertain noises as she thrashed her head from side to side. Mary put her hand on his shoulder.
“She’ll be okay,” she said. “The healers said the wound got septic, but they put a slow burn spell that will clear her body of the sickness within a week.”
Liam nodded. The maid servant sitting beside Neb snored quietly but seemed ready to wake at any sound that needed her.
Together, they came to his room. Stepping inside, Liam moved to the bed.
“Tunic off,” Mary said.
Liam looked at her, raising a single eyebrow.
Mary snorted. “I can’t massage you through that tunic.”
Liam shrugged. Silently, he reached up and undid the ties on his collar and chest. The tunic came sliding off as the mage-light of the room flickered and danced. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Mary looking at him. From the look in those golden eyes, she liked what she saw. Liam smirked and started to the bed. He winced as he slid down and laid his face against the sheets. He turned his head to the side and watched as Mary came to the side of the bed. She sat down on the bed and placed her gloved fingers on his back. Her fingertips traced the lines of his muscles.
Liam sighed and thanked God that his hard-on would be hidden by his body.
“I feel a lot of tension here,” Mary murmured. Her thumbs started to work circles into his back. Liam groaned softly. Her touch, even through the gloves, sent goosebumps along his flesh. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it.
“Tha’ feels noice,” he mumbled against the sheet.
Those fingers pressed harder, finding and releasing knots of tension along his back and spine, working lower. They paused, momentarily, at the hem of his kilt. Liam almost felt Mary’s intake of breath. Then her hands went back to his shoulders, working and kneading at him.
Quietly, she whispered, “You’re... ah...” She gulped. “Quite strong.”
“Fanks,” Liam murmured. His eyes were closed and he just focused on the feelings that rose and crashed against his brain. His whole skin seemed to sing with the aware of where they touched. Her fingertips. Her palms. The faint press of his thigh. Then he felt a firm, snake-like grip wrap around his ankle. He grunted as Mary’s tail squeezed him. Was she even aware she was doing it?
“And what’s this?”
Her finger touched one of the furrowed burn scars that Liam almost never thought about. Touching it made him stiffen, his back tightening. Meg had asked him that question, and he had told her. His father, burning to death. He shook his head, pushing his hands underneath him to get himself up.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Liam-” Mary started.
“No, I-” Liam flushed as his kilt fell forward. If Mary looked down, she might see the hard-on he was sporting. He quickly rolled onto his side, clasping his thighs together, trapping his shaft between his thighs. It made him squirm and he hoped that she didn’t notice. “Mary, I, uh, thanks for the backruuuuuh...”
He trailed off as Mary’s gloved fingers caressed his chest.
His nipples ached.
“You’re, ah, very strong,” she murmured.
“You said that already,” Liam whispered.
“I’m still enjoying noticing it,” Mary said, her eyes glowing slightly. Her tail squeezed his ankle again, then uncoiled and lashed back, then to the side again – flicking back and forth. Back and forth. It was hypnotic. Liam found himself laying on his back as Mary’s palm pressed to his chest. “I appreciate strong men...”
“Mary, you’re a nun,” Liam said, his hand grabbing her wrist.
“Mmm, I know,” she said. “That’s why I-” she jerked her head to the side, hissing. “D-Damn it. Damn it!” She forced herself to her feet, stepping back. Her clothing – never modest – seemed all the more sheer as she stood in the mage-light. Her nipples were hard and thrust through the thin strip covering her breasts. Her tail continued to lash from side to side as she breathed in and out. Fast. Shallow breaths. “Just being near you was a mistake, I-”
Liam sat up, wanting to help her.
Instead, his movement let his cock escape.
It tented his kilt obscenely. A massive statement, primal and animalistic. The two of them froze.
Mary bit her lip, hooking her fang around her lower lip.
The silenced stretched.
Mary closed her eyes. “Fuck it,” she growled, grabbing her breast band. She yanked it up and over her head, tossing it to the side. Those perfect tits sagged ever so slightly, just enough to prove their perfection was natural. Then Mary was on him. Her black lips and his pink ones met and her tongue plunged into his mouth with a desperate voraciousness. His tongue tried to catch up, but Mary kissed him with the need of a woman grabbing a plank in a shipwreck.
She broke the kiss. Liam might have tasted blood, from the way her fangs had grazed his lips.
Her tail slithered under his kilt, then whipped to the side. Quite suddenly, Liam was naked. His cock pressed to his belly as Mary dropped to her knees – still mostly in her nun outfit. Her breasts were free, and she used this to great effect. She cupped her breasts, squeezing them together as she leaned forward, closing the soft, pillowy flesh of her ruby red titties around his cock. Liam – frozen – couldn’t do anything but groan.
“Mary!”
“Mmm,” she whispered. “I’ve wanted to do this since the orgy...”
She leaned forward. He felt the edges of her fangs graze the thick head of his shaft as her mouth closed around the tip of his cock. Mary slurped and sucked, her spittle slipping along the thick shaft of his member – she was an eager, almost sloppy cocksucker and Liam loved it. He grabbed her wimple, squeezing it. The black fabric rumpled under his fingers and his palm could feel the blunted tip of one of Mary’s horns.
She worked her tits up and down his shaft, sucking his cock into her mouth with every rocking motion. Mary drew her lips back just enough to moan: “God, your cock is fucking amazing, Liam. It’s so fucking big...”
“A-Ah,” Liam gasped. “You, ah, like big?”
“Lizardmen ruined me,” Mary said, flicking her tongue out and sliding it along his foreskin. Liam sucked in a shallow breath. “That orgy, ah, I felt so free. Then that fucking beast of a lizardman took me. And another. And another. And their cocks were so huge.” She shivered slightly. “You’re the only one who can even stand close to them.”
“Thanks?” Liam sounded slightly unsure of how to take it.
“God, I’m such a fuck up,” Mary whispered, leaning forward. Her mouth closed around his cock. She slurped, sucked, then drew her mouth back. Her hands continued to move, squeezing and sliding her tits up and down his shaft. The gentle pressure drove Liam crazy. He squirmed and bucked his hips gentl
y, but it wasn’t like getting a handjob or wanking off. If she didn’t suck him, he’d go insane before he came.
“You are not,” he managed to hiss through clenched teeth.
She licked his cocktip again, tasting his pre-cum with clear relish. Leaving her head hanging forward, her habit brushing against Liam’s thighs, she whispered. “I’m supposed to be married to God. To be beyond this. But...” She shivered. “Touching you. Seeing you. Hearing you fuck Meg.”
“You listen to us?” Liam stammered.
“Fingering myself every time that gorgeous girl climaxes on this cock,” Mary purred, her eyes half closed. “I tailfuck myself every time you and her...” She shivered again, the motion of her tits going faster and faster.
Liam grunted. The pressure against him, the need to feel more was only getting worse. But he forced it back – trying to think clearly. “Mary,” he whispered. “No faith should make you, ah, hate yourself.”
Mary paused in her movements. She looked up at him, her eyes shining.
“There’s, ah, ways to, fuck,” Liam swore as a tiny dribble of pre-cum dripped from the tip of his shaft, his balls clenching. He had almost cum right and there, at the look in her eyes. But he forced the desire down through sheer force of will. “There’s ways to be Christian and to love and be loved physically.”
Mary closed her eyes. “I want to believe that,” she whispered. “I’m... I’m lilin. I thought I could be something different.”
“I don’t know about lilin,” Liam said. “Ignore what other people say about lilin and-” He closed his eyes. Clenched his jaw. Tried to do the equations to figure out how much mass a rocket could push. He could only remember a quarter of the equation – he knew Delta V was in there somewhere. But it still kept his shaft from spurting cum all over Mary’s face while they were having this heart to heart.
The Blood Groove (Purgatory Wars Book 4) Page 15