Baron

by Plum Pascal

  “No,” I answer quickly, too quickly.

  He’s quiet for a moment but then nods. “As the one, true, King, you can imagine I have my choice of women.”

  “I would imagine such is the case, yes,” I respond as I take a large bite of buttered bread and nearly lose myself to the flavor.

  “Just this morning, two women shared my bed,” he responds. “I took turns inside each of them.”

  I face the wall again, as the bite of bread sticks in my throat which suddenly feels dry. I reach forward and take a few swigs of the wine as heat burns my cheeks. Variant is an incredibly sexual man and as much as I hate to admit it, he has an effect on me—on the Succubus. And it’s an effect I hate.

  “Well played, Eilish,” he says suddenly, chuckling.

  “What do you mean?” I ask him, clearly lost.

  “You changed the subject quite expertly.”

  “It wasn’t my intention,” I admit.

  “Dragan or Cambion, who was it?” he says, the smile dropping off his face.

  “Dragan.”

  He nods as if he isn’t surprised. “I had placed my bet on Dragan. The gargoyle has never been able to turn down a pretty face or body.”

  I don’t like thinking of Dragan in such a way—that he’s basically incapable of denying an attractive woman. Because he’s done a damn good job of denying me lately…

  “Was he rough with you or was he loving?” Variant continues.

  I face him in surprise at his question. “I… I don’t want to answer that question.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “No,” I answer immediately.

  “Hmm,” he responds and I’m not able to read his expression.

  “Would you like to know a secret?” he continues.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “I’d like to tell you but only if you look at me.”

  “I don’t like looking at you,” I answer and make no motion to turn to face him.

  From the corner of my eye, I can see his frown. “You don’t find me handsome?”

  “You know everyone finds you handsome.”

  “Then why don’t you like to look at me?”

  “I don’t know,” I lie.

  “Look at me, Eilish.”

  “No,” I say as I take another swig of my wine.

  “Look at me.”

  “No.”

  “Look at me,” he insists. “That’s a fucking order.”

  I turn to face him and his expression softens. He leans forward and my heart trips as my breathing increases. He makes me nervous and he scares me and he intimidates me…

  “Shall I tell you why you don’t like looking at me?” he asks.

  “If you want,” I answer and it’s all I can do to hold his gaze. But, I do. I force myself to.

  “You don’t like looking at me because you hate yourself for the way I make you feel.”

  I don’t say anything right away as I wonder if I’m so obvious. He knows I desire him. I’m mortified as the realization washes over me. “Or maybe I hate you?” I ask, my voice breathy.

  “You do hate me,” he says as he leans even closer. I turn my face forward again, my attention on the wall in front of me. He’s so close, I can feel his breath on my cheek. “But you also desire me. And you hate yourself for desiring me.”

  “Do you hate yourself for desiring me?” I ask as I completely lose my appetite. For food. I reach for the wine again and realize I’ve already finished it.

  “Why should I hate myself for desiring you?” he asks with a shrug, as if the question is completely idiotic.

  “Because you know you’re going to kill me and desiring me and knowing you’re going to kill me probably war with one another.”

  “Why do you believe I’m going to kill you?”

  “Because that’s what you’ve done to all the angels,” I accept the glass of wine he hands me. I’m not sure if he took my glass and refilled it or if this is a new one. And I don’t care.

  “Regardless,” he says as he reaches forward and pushes a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. “I do desire you, yes, and no, I don’t hate myself for it.”

  “Can… can I ask you something?” I start as I turn to face him. He appears surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “Why haven’t you… why haven’t you forced yourself on me?” I ask.

  FIVE

  Eilish

  The Castle in the Sky

  “Is that what you want?” Variant asks as he leans back into his chair again, surprise at my question still evident in his features.

  “No, of course not. I’m just… surprised.”

  “Why?”

  I shrug. “You’re a king. You can have anything you want. And… you just admitted to wanting me so I guess… I guess I’m surprised you haven’t just… taken what you wanted?”

  He nods and appears to ponder the question. “I suppose I could have…” Then he grows quiet once more. “I can’t say for certain why I haven’t either.” Then he pushes his chair back and stands up, walking around the table until he’s directly parallel with me. He places his palms flat on the table top and leans over so our faces are mere inches from each other. “When I think about forcing myself into you, the thought doesn’t seem right.”

  I nod but I don’t say anything, because I’m not sure what to say. That, and his extreme proximity makes me feel nervous and uncomfortable.

  “There is something about you, though,” he continues and pulls away as I breathe a sigh of relief. He pulls his arms behind his back and clasps his hands together as he begins to pace back and forth in front of the table. “Yes, you are beautiful, no doubt,” he says as he faces me and nods. “But there’s more to it than that.” He takes a breath. “Perhaps I will regret admitting as much to you, but since seeing you, I admit I have been able to think of little else.” He paces to the end of the table before turning around and walking back. When he returns, I can clearly see the bulge in his pants.

  “Ah, you can see the reaction you have on me,” he says when it becomes clear I’m having a hell of a time pulling my gaze away from his crotch.

  At his statement, though, I immediately pull my eyes back up to his and clear my throat as mortification and embarrassment take turns claiming my cheeks. He chuckles low in his throat and leans over the table again.

  “You are quite like a nervous schoolgirl on the one hand and an experienced whore on the other,” he says. “And I have a hell of a time trying to decide just which one you truly are.”

  It’s obvious he doesn’t realize I’m part Succubus. And I’m not about to tell him. It’s better to keep him on his toes—make him think he needs to solve this puzzle, because in doing so, it will only buy me more time.

  “You have seen the obvious effect you have on me,” he says as he glances down at his erection and then reaches down and rubs his hand over it. I feel my mouth begin to water. “And yet, I have no indication of the reaction I’m having on you.”

  I nearly choke on my own tongue and my chest begins rising and falling as I fight to catch my breath.

  “I want to place a bet with you,” he continues.

  “A bet?” I repeat and my voice comes out as a chirp.

  He laughs. He can see the distress he’s putting me under, but he doesn’t seem to care. Actually, he seems to enjoy it. “Yes, a bet.”

  “What… what is the bet?”

  He leans closer to me and the scent of him surrounds me, filling my senses and making me dizzy. “I want to feel your pussy and if it’s wet, I get to taste you.”

  “And if it’s not?” I ask, even as I inwardly berate myself for not immediately saying “no” to this ridiculous bet. Because I know I’ll lose. The second he touches me, he’ll know I want him.

  He already knows, I tell myself. This is just an excuse to touch you.

  I want him to touch me, I respond back as intense shame ridicules me.

  He s
hrugs. “What would you desire?”

  “To be returned to my cell,” I answer almost immediately.

  “Very well. If your pussy isn’t wet, I will promptly return you to your cell.” He smiles broadly as he nods. “What do you say?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No,” he answers. “Now come around the table and let’s see who will win this bet.” He stands up straight and I push my chair out as I stand and then begin walking down the length of the table, each step feeling like I’m wading in tar. I can feel his gaze on me and I know what he’ll find as soon as he touches me. I hate myself for it.

  When I reach him, I force myself to look into his eyes. He smiles and the expression of lust is thick.

  “Pull your dress up,” he says.

  I reach down and grab the diaphanous fabric, pulling it up from the ground until my calves are exposed, then my lower thighs.

  “Higher,” he says.

  I pull the dress up to my waist, exposing my lace panties. Variant stares at me as he reaches forward and pushes his index and middle fingers between my thighs. He rubs them against the lace and it’s all I can do not to throw my head back and moan.

  “I can feel your moisture through the fabric,” he whispers. “But a bet is a bet. Take them off.”

  I don’t argue but just breathe in deeply as I reach down and pull my panties down to my knees. Then I stand up and find his eyes on my again. He reaches forward and runs his index finger down my slit, pulling it back up to reveal the heavy shine of my wetness.

  “I win,” he says with a victorious smile.

  Then, before I know what he’s doing, he lifts me up and pushes me down against the table. He rips the panties down my legs and then spreads my legs as far as they will go and my dress rides up to the middle of my body. Then he just stares at me. It’s the same way he stared at me when he was fucking Anona…

  Anona…

  I force the thought out of my mind because I can’t handle the self-hatred that comes along with it. I shouldn’t be turned on by Variant! I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t be dying to feel his cock inside me. But, I do.

  Fuck me, but I do.

  He spreads my lips apart and then his face is on me and his tongue is moving up and down my folds. I drop my head back and I moan as he claims my clit and begins sucking it. He’s feverish in his need for me and I feel his fingers digging into my thighs as he holds me hostage and thrusts his tongue into my hole. I bury my fingers into his hair and hold his head in place, forcing him to pleasure me. But there’s really nothing to force because he wants this as much as I do. He thrusts his tongue into me and then pulls it out again, before returning to my clit and sucking on it much harder this time.

  Before I know what’s happening, I feel him slam my hands down on the tabletop. Apparently, I was digging my fingers into his hair too hard. Now my fingers find the wood at the same time that an orgasm seizes me and I throw my head back and scream as my nails scrape lines into the wooden tabletop.

  “You are magnificent,” he says as he pulls away and smiles at me. He’s panting.

  I can’t say anything at all. I still can’t catch my breath.

  “You forgot to ask me what my secret was,” he continues as he places both his hands on either of my thighs and squeezes. It’s then that I realize he hasn’t orgasmed. I glance down at his pants and find his cock is rock hard.

  “Are you going to,” I start but he shakes his head.

  “I will fuck you only when you ask me to,” he responds. “But, that is not my secret.”

  “Then what is your secret?”

  He smiles and it’s the same smile the devil gives you right before he takes your soul. “I know you’re an angel...”

  “You already knew,” I start but he shakes his head, interrupting me again.

  “I know you have your wings.”

  ###

  Dragan

  Only two soldiers are on rotation a few hours later. They enter Eilish’s cell to deliver her supper. I notice that over the last few hours, the comfort of Eilish’s cell has substantially improved. Variant provided her with a cot covered with a down mattress, purple velvet bedding, numerous pillows, and a velvet curtain the soldiers attached to the stone at the top of the prison bars. Apparently, the curtain is to allow her privacy.

  Of much interest is the difference between Eilish’s dinner and ours. Eilish is provided with a sizable steak, potatoes, bread, and wine—quite unlike the usual slop given to the rest of us and only once a day.

  When the soldiers leave her cell, they face Cambion. Both of them are Fae. Before entering Cambion’s cell, one of the soldiers focuses on the elf king, holding his hands out before him as a bluish light emits between them. The light engulfs Cambion completely and he’s frozen in it, unable to bat an eye. Meanwhile, the other guard enters the cell and drops a metal bowl of slop at Cambion’s feet. Some of the greenish goo slides over the lip of the bowl and lands on Cambion’s foot.

  “What about me?” Flumph rails and flutters forward from the far end of the cell. He surprises one of the soldiers and then has to duck out of the way of a blast of white energy. “Where’s my plate, o’ shit?” he yells at them, hands on his hips.

  “Fucking thing,” one of them grunts to the other as they lock the prison door with a skeletal key and the bars begin to glow with the proof of their magic.

  Next, the soldiers move to my cell. I remain where I am in the back of the chamber. I sit on the cold, stone floor with my legs crossed. My eyes are closed and I’m busily channeling my shadows. Pyre’s spirits made it known that any and all of my power is centered in the darkness that forged me. And while the soldiers’ Fae magic will certainly work on me, their magic would be far more potent were it shadow magic.

  “What the fuck’s he doing?” one of them says as the other pulls the screen of warded magic over the prison bars. I can feel the cast of his Fae magic as it falls over me, cocooning me in a magical embrace that will disallow me from moving, in much the same way it did to Cambion.

  The icy bubble surrounds me but I continue to pull my shadows forth, beckoning them to create an invisible ring around me, shielding me from the Fae magic of the soldiers. I inwardly berate myself for not attempting this sooner, before the visit from Pyre’s spirits, but I suppose even the magical needs words of encouragement now and again.

  And, besides, I tell myself. Had you freed yourself earlier, where would you have gone? You’re imprisoned in Variant’s citadel, surrounded by enemies.

  Now, of course, things are different. Now I have the strength and magic of Morrigan to rely on—just as soon as we locate her, that is.

  I hear the footfalls of the second soldier as he enters my cage and drops my bowl of slop on the ground before me. It’s then that I look up and into the eyes of the Fae soldier who restrains me with his magic. Shadows pour out of my eyes and travel up the line of his blue magic that streams from his hands. Appearing as a black mist, the shadows weave around the brilliant blue in mere seconds before they sink into the flesh of the soldier’s hands.

  Once the shadows enter his body, I immediately see the clash in his eyes—my shadows are at war with his Fae magic and his eyes go wide in response as he drops his hands and steps back. The other soldier turns to face him in question, but by then it’s too late. My shadow magic has already polluted the first Fae soldier. As I watch, it begins destroying him from the inside out.

  The second soldier apparently realizes what’s going on because he faces me with determination as he forms an energy ball between his hands and unloads the source into my chest. But my shadows are already at work and they protect me. His ball of energy simply bounces off me and reflects back at him, with a blast strong enough to throw him off his feet. He bashes the back of his head into the prison bars of the empty cell across from me.

  “Dragan?” I hear Cambion’s voice.

  I leave my cell and reach down to the second soldier’s waist where I see a leather strap
bearing a ring of keys. I snatch the entire ring and then glance down at the twelve or so iron keys dangling there. I approach Cambion’s cell and notice there’s no obvious lock in which to enter the key. That’s when I remember I’ll need to unlock the wards of each prison cell, rather than the lock itself.

  I remember the way the soldiers ran one of the keys along the bars to my cell and then the bars began to glow. Once glowing, the soldier placed the key in the lock and turned it, thus opening my cell. I try the same with each key on the ring until I find one that works.

  “What the bloody hell were you thinking?” Cambion hisses at me. At the same time, he pushes the cell door outward. The ungrateful prick.

  “Would you prefer I lock you up again?” I growl in response.

  “A plan would have been a good course of action,” he responds.

  “Are you complaining about your freedom, faerie?” I spit. The sprite zooms past my ear and starts doing some strange type of dance in the air of the hallway.

  “We don’t have time for arguments,” Eilish calls from the far end of the hall. She’s right. I take the ring of keys and approach her, trying each one until I find the correct one. As soon as I unlock it and pull the barred door open, she crashes into me, wrapping her arms around me as she rests her head against my chest. I’m surprised but I embrace her.

  “We must leave,” I whisper.

  She nods and looks up at me. “Revenant,” she starts.

  I feel my heartbeat drop and my jaw instantly tightens. I haven’t considered freeing the bastard and now faced with the choice, it’s not one I want to make.

  “Where are the keys?” Cambion says from behind me. “We need to release Revenant.”

  Not wanting to risk the time inherent in an argument, I throw the ring of keys to the elf and he immediately turns around, releasing the vampire. I notice Revenant shoots me an expression that says he’s aware of the struggle within my head. He’s lucky he has Cambion and Eilish because I would have left him here to rot.

  The moment we’re all free, I open the door leading into this prison wing with care, cracking it only a few inches to make sure we’re alone. We are. Light invades the darkness of the prison and I have to blink a few times as my eyesight grows accustomed to the light.