by K. J. Coble
The goddess laughed. “You may be, indeed. But you are not dead.”
“How?”
“Destiny...prophecy.” She smiled and, in that expression, Lonadiel felt comfort as fundamental as a mother’s grasp. “You were cast into the Void, the emptiness that stretches between the planes. The Void is place I understand well—” her face twitched with some remembered pain “—and I plucked you from it. You were meant to end up here, at my side, Lonadiel Aclef.”
That she knew his name—seemed to know him—felt as natural as the powers thrumming through this place were not. But memories disrupted his sense of well-being. His heart pounded as he contemplated all that had happened. He fell forward, put his face to the carpeted floor, arms spread with the palms open.
“Forgive me, Mistress! Your armies, the Skinners, are destroyed in the north and your servant, Ango Morug is dead. I am all that remains.” He lifted his face to her. “Spare me.”
“You have not failed, my tortured traitor elf,” the goddess said. “In fact, you have served me well. As I said, all transpires as was so directed. The Skinners were a ruse. And Morug...” she chuckled “...he was merely a tool, just as was the girl who once claimed this body I wear now as my own.”
“I...do not understand,” Lonadiel croaked.
“I know. But you will.”
“How may I serve you best?”
The goddess smiled launguidly and spread her legs. She ran a hand up one thigh then lifted it to crook a finger towards him, summoning him. “You can take this body, consummate my presence on this plane. You will be my consort and through you I will breed the legions of this world’s new future.”
Lonadiel rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered towards her, wobbling with lust roaring in his veins, intoxicating him. When he stood over her and she touched his cheek, her skin on his was an explosion of mindless fire. He didn’t remember tearing off the tatters of his armor and clothes, knew only her nailed fingers raking across flesh trembling with ecstasy and power.
A tiny part of him that was still Lonadiel, still in control, tore loose of her kiss for a breathless instant. “Mistress, what do I call you?”
She chortled, biting his neck. “Some have known me in the past as the Blashemous Lady or the Dark Whore of Final Filth or other such charming names. You, my love, my slave, may call me the name screamed across the Vortexes of the Lower Planes. You may know me as Satayebeb.”
Satayebeb drew Lonadiel back into the agonizingly glorious embrace, feasting upon his lust, drinking in everything he was.
Around them, the shadowy creatures howled in exaltation.
THE END
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Did you love Defenders of the Valley? Then you should read Blood in the Valley by K.J. Coble!
They thought they'd won. They thought it was over.
The Defenders of the Remordan Valley have smashed the barbarian horde that spilled out of the frozen wastes to plunder their cities and farmlands. They've blasted the wizard that incited their rampage from existence. They've slain the elven traitor that led them.
But it was all a ruse. It was all a distraction.
While the defenders were facing a human threat in the north, a thoroughly inhuman one has risen in the south. Slavering goblinoid legions now roll up out of the wilderness, across a frontier stripped of its guardians, led by a re-awakened demoness freed of the bonds of hell and bent on domination.
And the traitor has somehow returned at her side – not just for vengeance, but to prove to the woman he still loves that he was right.
There will be Blood in the Valley.
About the Author
Born too strange for a normal world, K.J. Coble endures adulthood through long-distance running, rock ’n’ roll guitar, and his writing. A love of history, weird fiction, and explosions fills his world-building. In his stories the righteous may suffer, but the corrupt get their comeuppance, and evil always receives its justly-deserved kick in the teeth.
Lairing somewhere in the Midwest, he is tolerated by his wife, three kids, and a very opinionated coonhound.