Shadowborn

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Spirit Guardian

Rolar had always considered himself a patient man, but days like this really tested his resolve. Every council meeting in the last few months had felt just like this one. The last few years, if he was being entirely honest. A bunch of self-serving sycophants bickering about the best way to run the city, each one trying to further their own wealth or status in some form or fashion while claiming to be looking out for those they represented.

It was a struggle forcing himself to listen to them arguing over tax rates, whether to send more guards to patrol the “unruly” lower quarters, how much the next expansion on the Pens was going to cost, what additions should be proposed to the Accords and if they stood a chance of being ratified. All of it made Rolar’s skin crawl.

He wasn’t sure which group was the worse one. The men that were even older than his nearly sixty years or those who could barely grow a full beard in their youth. There were perilously few in between. One side still bore the scars of the war, refusing to see how the world has changed or how much pain their prejudices cause. The other knew nothing of war and had no idea how bad things could get, but they were cunning and ruthless when they felt the need to be.

“I want to know what we’re planning to do about the impending Chosen conflict,” he interjected, once the inane arguments finally became too much.

Half the glances shot his way were surprised, as if many of them had forgotten he was there. The others seemed amused that he’d decided to speak at all. They never cared too much what he said, and he knew this time wasn’t going to be any different. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

“What about it?” Nairn asked smugly. One of the young bastards. A ringleader if Rolar had ever seen once. “It’s happening in a different country. It’s not our problem to worry about.”

Rolar would very much like to give him a problem to worry about. A thought that surprised him. A very Zaren-like thought. They had been growing more and more frequent as he found himself missing the man more and more while he watched the kingdom he’d fought so hard to liberate become worse and worse with each passing year.

He pushed his thoughts of Zaren aside for now. “And how many other countries said the same when it was our turn on the chopping block?” he asked the table. “How might things have turned out differently if anyone else had been willing to help back then?”

The older men all looked away, but made no answer. The younger ones all exchanged knowing glances, as if he were a senile old man babbling about war stories. “We’ve already given them plenty of arms,” Bryce pointed out. Another youngster.

Rolar pinned him with a glare, and Bryce flinched. The boy knew exactly what was coming. “And how much did your family profit off the sale? How much did the rest of you? Sure, we’re offering aid, and we’re making sure to squeeze every last copper out of their kingdom we can while we’re doing so.”

Galloway, a man nearly to his eighth decade, cleared his throat. “We’ve discussed this already, Rolar. We can’t aid another kingdom to the point where it harms those within our borders.”

Rolar stood. His knee wasn’t appreciative of the movement, not with the impending storm, but he weathered the ache. “And if they fall? If we’re next?” He looked at each of them in turn. “If we failed to stop Grimsbane when we did, then he becomes the world’s problem. That was when it was a three-Chosen conflict. This is at least a four. How long before it becomes our problem?”

The senior members had the grace to look away, and even the new generation looked uncomfortable. They could try to pretend he’s nothing more than an old relic, but none of them were former Chosen. None of them knew the things he knew. None of them suffered through the nightmares he did, both of the past and the future. “We sit here pretending it doesn’t affect us while we inhabit a city I won with the blood of those that believed in me.”

There were flashes of anger and resentment around the table. He continued. “What about refugees? What about the people who end up fleeing whatever is about to happen? Will we shove them in the lower quarters with the demi-humans you all are so keen to take advantage of? Will we let them camp outside our walls? Will we deny them any help at all because it’s not our problem and leave them to starve in our countryside?”

He leaned on the table. “Or should we keep talking more about how we should take more money from those who can’t afford to live as it is? How to keep more than half this city’s population beaten and downtrodden so they don’t threaten whatever power you pretend to have?”

They exchanged looks. Finally, Cecil, the youngest of the old generation, leaned forward. “Draft some proposals, Rolar. We’ll at least consider them.” From his tone, Rolar knew that was as far as they’d get. Everyone else leaned back in their chairs and dismissed him, moving on to the next topic.

It’s amazing how similar incompetence and malice look from the outside. Words Zaren had spoken to him nearly thirty years ago popped into his mind unbidden, and it was difficult to dismiss them. Zaren would eat everyone at this table alive. Hells, he’d probably tear this city down to the ground, and Rolar couldn’t blame him.

Rolar fumed. He was mere moments away from grabbing Nairn by the neck and wringing it when the door exploded inward. Most of the occupants cowered in their seats as those nearest to the entrance were showered in chunks of wood. Three of the occupants shot to their feet, hands on their weapons, but they froze when they saw who stood in the doorway.

Rolar raised his brow at Bennet. “Feeling a bit dramatic today, are we?” he asked calmly.

Bennet’s eyes glowed and arcs of raw magical power leapt around him as they did whenever he was particularly agitated. “Everybody out. Now.”

Bennet specialized in sweeping, powerful magics capable of taking out scores of enemies. By the end of the war, he’d amassed more levels than any of the Seven, Zaren included. Then, after Grimsbane had fallen, he’d devoted his life to study. Nobody knew how many, but he’d gained even more levels since then. He was easily one of the highest levels in the kingdom, perhaps even the world. When he said things like that, people tended to listen.

Rolar stood with his hands clasped behind his back while the others scurried past Bennet. The last one—old Galloway—had barely cleared the threshold before Bennet used his magics to slam what was left of the door shut behind him. Magics reinforced the cracked wood, and sigils that would ensure they weren’t overheard appeared along the walls with a flick of his hand. “We have a problem,” Bennet said, sweeping into the room.

“I’ll say,” Rolar said with a sniff. “Pretty sure you made poor Cecil shit himself. I’m going to have to replace the upholstery.”

Bennet was wound tight as a bowstring, so Rolar went over to the corner of the room and poured them both a hefty drink. He handed his to Bennet, who downed it in one go. Rolar topped him off, then said, “so what’s got your panties in a twist, Ben?”

He knocked back his second round. “Zaren fucking Nocht, that’s what.”

Rolar’s brows rose. “I was just thinking about him, actually.”

Bennet snorted. “Thinking? I was investigating.”

Rolar froze, unable to believe his ears. “He’s back?”

Bennet slammed the glass down and scooped up the bottle, then plopped in one of the unsoiled chairs and took a long draft. Years of ingesting far too many homemade potions had given him quite the alcohol tolerance. “Remains to be seen. Some little shit popped up in Listone—some podunk town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere—with Zaren’s claims. Deed matched up and everything. The magical one you gave him. Tied to his magic, authentic.”

“Little shit?” Rolar took a chair opposite and sipped the bourbon in his cup. “How old?”

“Twenty-ish, according to the idiots running the guild.” He took another swig. Rolar hadn’t seen him this angry since…well, since the last time he and Zaren had gone at it. The two were a match made in hell.
“A son, then?”

Bennet threw a hand up. “That’s what I figured. It’s the only thing that made sense. The real Zaren would only be a few years younger than you and me, after all.”

“Figured? Past tense?” Rolar nudged.

“Yes, Rolar, past tense. I started to change my mind when the fucker showed up in Anford towing a mostly-intact Malek.”

Rolar leaned forward. The beast bore a striking resemblance to the creature they’d fought on the day they’d felled Grimsbane. Zaren’s terrifying blade had been the only reason they walked away. Thirty years, and that specimen was the first time anyone had come across anything like it. But Bennet was always one to took far too long to get to the point. “Started to? What else, Ben?”

Bennet took another long drink. “A Valax queen, Rolar. One building a kingdom under Anford. Six months or a year and we’d have had to send a damn army north to take care of it, and he showed up with its corpse on a godsdamned wagon.”

Rolar let out a long breath. “You think it might be him, then?”

“I don’t see how.”

But Rolar did. “Twenty-something would put him at about the same age as when he disappeared off the face of Kasidiel. Could be a god’s doing.”

That earned a snort from Bennet. “Yes. Because Zaren mixes so well with the divine.”

A fair point. But Rolar took a moment to think. A Valax queen. A Malek. A Malek? That tickled something in his memory. He set his glass aside and stuck his head out of the room. As always, Karina stood dutifully outside. Her long, vibrant, gold and blue hair was tied in an intricate braid and her light pink skin looked like it was glowing. Her silver eyes flicked to him expectantly, and as always his chest bloomed with warmth. Beautiful even for a Seelie, She was the spitting image of her mother, and he loved her with everything he had. Even if she could never know she was his daughter.

“Karina, is the paladin of Tydarr still in the library?”

Her head tilted. “I believe so, majesty. Shall I fetch her?”

He inclined his head. “Please.”

She gave him a bow, then strode off with that ethereal stride only Seelie seemed capable of. He’d always found them the most captivating of the fae races, much to his detriment more often than not. Once she was gone, he returned to Bennet, who was no longer alone.

Sandrel, who still carried himself with the grace of a man half his age, was sitting a few seats from Bennet with his feet up on the table. “Evening, Rolar.”

“Sandrel. What a surprise,” Rolar said in a tone that said the opposite. “And here I thought I’d found all of your little listeners.”

Sandrel just shrugged. “Gotta be clever to catch me lacking, old man. Besides, my ‘listeners’ have found no less than forty-three spying wards over the last few decades, so you’re welcome.” He sipped from the glass Rolar had set down. “I heard some interesting conversation for once, so I figured I’d drop by.”

Bennet grumbled. “Three of us in one place. When’s the last time that happened?”

Sandrel swished the contents of his glass around. “So Zaren, huh? I can have spies in Anford by sunup if we need them.”

Rolar took his place at the head of the table. “Probably smart, though we should wait and have a conversation first.”

Sandrel donned a grin that had made Rolar’s sphincter clench on more than one occasion. “I’ll start first. Hypothetically speaking, if it is the real Zaren, how fucked are we on a scale of one to ten?”

“I think you’re going to need a bigger scale,” Bennet offered. “You remember what he was like. How he thought. He’s going to take one look at what this shit hole has become and burn it to the ground.”

“I certainly hope so,” Rolar admitted. They both looked to him in surprise. He just shrugged. “Nobody could cause chaos and destruction when it was needed most quite like Zaren could. If it is him, then you’re right. He’s going to hit this city like a hurricane. The way I see it is we can try and stop him, or we can slip into his wake and put the pieces back together better. Now that we aren’t children any longer, at least.”

A dagger practically appeared in Sandrel’s hands. He started cleaning the dirt from under his nails. “Counter proposal, instead of getting out of his way, what if we instead provide a bit of…direction.”

“Sandrel…” Rolar warned.

“No, no,” Bennet said, “let’s hear him out.” Rolar shot him a whithering glare and he shrugged. “You know my opinions on the brat. If single-minded determination had a face, it’s Zaren. I’ve never met someone who had such a natural grasp on how to break things apart quite like him. And, with how everything shook out, he’d be considerably less…restrained in what he can and can’t do than us.”

Sandrel inclined his head. “Just so. And Rolar’s speech here during that meeting was plenty rousing. If we can get Zaren on board without him taking any of our heads off, then maybe we can get this city ready for what the three of us know is coming. He’s going to seriously fuck shit up, but maybe we can have a say in whether he’s hammer or scalpel.”

Rolar grunted. It wasn’t a bad idea, all things considered. Before he could answer, the doors opened. Karina led the paladin through the doors with a bow, then retreated from the room. Sandrel shot him a knowing glare, which earned him a scowl in return.

Rolar stood. “Lady Katerina,” he said.

She grimaced. “Just Kat. Please.”

“Just as well. Please, take a seat.”

She did, looking worriedly from one man to the next. She’d realized just how many levels sat across from her, and that was enough to make anyone nervous. “What can I help you with, majesty?”

Rolar leaned forward on the table and laced his fingers. “I wanted to ask you about that Malek you brought in. Who you got it from.”

She grimaced. “That asshole? What about him?”

The three old men exchanged glances. They both understood what he was doing now. “We’d like you to tell us about him. Anything and everything you can remember.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then started drumming her fingers on the table. “I’ll tell you, but I have a condition.”

Bennet scowled, but Sandrel looked impressed. Rolar inclined his head. “If I can grant it, then I will.”

She looked at Bennet. “I need to know about souls. I’ve been all over the city and I can’t find shit.”

His scowl deepened. “Souls? Soul magic is big in the east, across the seas, but it’s incredibly rare in this hemisphere.” He shrugged. “It’s what happens when you hunt and kill the only demi-human race that specializes in them. I could probably find you an expert in a month or two.”

She leaned back with a growl that made Rolar’s brows rise. She was an angry woman. One who reminded him enough of Zaren when they’d first met he found it hard to keep from smiling. She said, “I need something sooner than that. Made a promise to someone and I can’t exactly go around breaking promises, can I?” She shot a pointed look at Rolar.

No, as a paladin to an honor god, she definitely could not. He frowned, but it was Sandrel who piped up. “What about Zaren’s journal? Didn’t he leave that behind? He was looking into soul shit for a while. He spent a good while with that smokin’ Siren.”

That got Kat’s attention. Siren’s were one of the siphon races, but rather than blood or sexual energy they fed off souls. The very race that had been hunted nearly to extinction that Bennet had mentioned. “You know where she is?”

Sandrel shook his head. “Sorry, but he was the only one she’d let near her. Sirens have a thing for tortured souls. Easier to feed off without causing permanent damage or some such. She had an odd fascination with his, apparently.”

Bennet sighed. “Give me a moment.” He waved a hand and a large spectral owl appeared on his shoulder. He whispered a few arcane words and his eyes glowed white. The owl shot through the nearest wall. He turned his head towards Sandrel. “How do you know about the Siren?”

Sandrel snorted. “How do you think? I figured we were going to die, and that Siren was nice to look at. Never been shot down so hard in my life.”

“Zaren?” Rolar asked curiously. He was only aware of two women that had nearly become a part of Zaren's life after they'd met, and they'd both been human. And after what had happened with the artificer…

But Sandrel just shook his head. “Yvonne, actually. She was pretty pissed when she learned that Yvonne hated Zaren almost as much as Benny, here.”

Bennet made a rude gesture towards the rogue without looking. “Yes, I’ve got it. Bringing it now.”
Kat let out a breath. “Thank fuck. If I have to leaf through another godsdamned romance book with a soul related title I might start burning things.”

Rolar chuckled. “Understandable. Now, about the man who gave you the Malek.”

Her relief turned to a grimace. “Right. Said his name was Ren.” Sandrel chuckled. Zaren was legendarily bad at coming up with names whenever they were running scams. It had led to him donning more than one ridiculous moniker that Sandrel had come up with over the years. “Basically told me to fuck off right out the gate. I had to waste a miracle on that weird Seraphim of his.”

Bennet raised a hand. “Stop. Weird Seraphim?”

Kat looked briefly annoyed at being interrupted, then shrugged. She gave them a brief rundown on the girl she’d healed. By the time she was done, Bennet was on his feet and pacing madly. “Care to share, Benny?” Sandrel asked.

He waved a hand. “Continue, I’m thinking.”

So she did. She gave them the brief rundown right up until it got to the part where he relinquished the Malek. Then she hesitated. “I might have let my mouth get the better of me,” she admitted. “Said something I shouldn’t. Next thing I know, he’s coming at me with these creepy black and red tentacle things all whipping around angrily, radiating some kind of divine magic my sense couldn’t make heads nor tails of.”

Bennet paused his pacing to exchange a look with the other two. “It was different than the divinity he’d been exuding before?”

She wobbled a hand uncertainly. “Exude is a strong word. He reeked of Allura’s magic—at least the magic Tydarr exposed me to during our oracle’s conversation—and that’s how I found him. That magic felt normal. Whatever the red shit was…” she shook her head. “I’ve never had my skill tell me to cut and run like that before.” She looked at Rolar. “I can understand why you’re worried about him.”

That gave Rolar pause. “What does that mean?”

“Well, he hates Chosen.”

Sandrel sat up. “Elaborate.”

“He knew I was one the second he laid eyes on me. Whoever he is, he does not like gods or their champions. Makes me wonder exactly what kind of deal he made with a sex goddess.”

Silence fell across the room. Bennet looked at Rolar with wide eyes, and Sandrel gently set his dagger down. “It’s him,” he said softly. “Gods help us all, it’s him.”

Rolar shook his head. “If he’s really back, then I’m not sure we want the gods on our side. A deal with Allura, though? He hasn’t had much to do with love, bonds, or family in his life.”

Bennet grumbled. “Can your spies find him?”

Kat cleared her throat, watching the conversation with great interest. “He said that if I needed to, I’d find him here in the city. Pretty sure he’s already on his way.”

Well that was either really bad or really good. Rolar exchange a glance with the other two that suggested they felt the same. Still, her words gave Rolar pause. “You said he was antagonistic towards you.”

“Oh, he definitely was,” she said with a shudder. “But after he calmed down, he said if I ever needed somewhere to go he’d help me.”

Bennet scowled. “That doesn’t sound like him in the slightest.”

Kat winced. “Well, his exact words were along the lines of ‘if you ever get tired of being a puppet, come find me.’ He also warned not to let the gods wring me dry.”

“There it is,” Sandrel said.

Indeed. Rolar rose. “Well, Kat, I must thank you. If there’s anything further you need during your stay, then I’d be happy to—”

“Hold a moment, Rolar,” Bennet said. He turned to the paladin. “Your job is investigating the Maleks. Do you have your research on them handy?”

She pulled out a notebook and tossed it to him. The book stopped in midair before it had a chance to hit the table and floated up to hover in front of him. The pages flipped themselves and he looked through the pages, biting his thumb. “That Seraphim isn’t a Seraphim,” he concluded.

Kat frowned. “She had wings. Or, at least, the stumps of them. I’ve got a skill that can assess damage, and I know they’ll grow out to be feathered when they heal.”

Bennet merely tapped on his chin. “The feathers, do you know of their pigment?”

Her frown deepened. “Black.”

“Black like the wings on this Malek,” he noted.

Kat rose to her feet. “Hang on, what are you saying? That she’s some kind of Malek?”

But Bennet was back to pacing. “Drakes and wyverns are essentially watered down versions of true dragons, which Drakkens, Dragonlings, and Half-dragons are descendants of. All across Kasidiel you’ll find similar examples for each of the primogenitor races. They either mixed with humans to create the demi-human races or monsters to create the stronger creatures that inhabit this world. It’s possible that these Maleks are the same to some more powerful species in the same family. A species like the one we fought that day.”

Sandrel stood. “You think that thing was a primogenitor?”

Kat was looking between them all with wide eyes. Bennet thrust his hand out and the owl shot through the window left open by Sandrel's sudden appearance, depositing a tattered leather-bound booklet and a set of papers wrapped in twine on the table. He slid the booklet across to Kat.

“Our previous deal is complete. How would you like to make another?”

Kat scooped the booklet up and thumbed through it. “Depends on the deal.”

Sandrel raised the paper. “I keep an eye out for odd happenings. Old habit. I received a very interesting report of a unique demi-human discovered in the west. Slate gray skin, crimson eyes, and four arms.” He set her book on the table, flipped open to the drawing of the six-legged beast and tapped it. “Retrieve this demi-human for me, and I’ll give you access to anything I learn from it.”

She looked at the papers in his hand with a level of eagerness. “I’m not usually one for fetch quests,” she said slowly.

But Sandrel shook his head. “Your report suggests someone controlling these Maleks. If they’ve kept a lid on not just one, but two new races of demi-humans, odds are they’ll want to keep their secrets secret for as long as possible. There’s a chance you run into more of the beasts. Maybe even stumble upon whatever it is they’re after.”

Her fingers drummed thoughtfully. “Alright, but I get to choose my party.”

Sandrel chucked a hefty bag of gold at her. “Do what you have to, but keep the details of the job on the down low. For now, consider yourself employed by the Seven. Make sure you find people you can trust.”

She scooped up the bag, shaking her head at its heft. “Actually, I’ve already got a bead on two.”

# # #

Despite how badly Noelle wanted to spend the night with Zaren, going straight to sleep had been the right choice. Last night in the baths had been utterly amazing, but it had also left her body tired in the best way possible. She hadn’t even stopped to throw a blanket over herself before she’d curled up and gone to sleep.

When she awoke, the twins were wrapped around her. Exhaustion still held her in an iron grip, and she wanted nothing more than to sink back into their embrace and sleep for longer, but her full bladder demanded she get up and deal with it.

It took some doing, but she managed to slip out of the bed without waking either of them. She stopped long enough to drink another wellness potion and look at her back in the mirror before leaving. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought her wings might be even longer than they had been yesterday. She tried to flex them, but without any visible result. Still, progress was progress.

But her bladder wasn’t willing to wait for her to look closer, so she hurried to take care of her needs. Her plan was to simply come back after, so she wore nothing other than the oversized shirt Serena had given her. It was huge and soft and still carried the faintest traces of her scent deep in the threads, so she nearly always wore it to sleep.

It was nearly midday, which meant she’d slept much longer than usual. Since the twins were still cuddled up in bed when she left, she figured everyone else had, too. It wasn’t until after she’d finished that she remembered the reason she’d spent the night away from Zaren in the first place. A thrill of fear went through her, and she forced herself to bring up her status.

[Skill Evolution Detected!]

[Skill Evolution Detected!]

[Skill Evolution Detected!]

[Skill Evolution Detected!]

[Skill Evolution Detected!]

[Skill Evolution Detected!]

Her knees threatened to buckle underneath her. She dismissed her interface immediately, before she could read even a single word. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and it was suddenly impossible to get her lungs to fill completely. All thoughts of sleep vanished, and before she knew it she was heading for her room as fast as she could.

Her bare feet were silent on the inn’s wooden floor. She ducked into the room and made a beeline for the table to the side of the bed. She tried to pick up the extra key to Zaren’s room, but her fingers trembled so badly she dropped it.

“Noelle?” Tsuki asked groggily. She looked around, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

“I’m going to Zaren,” Noelle said quickly. She didn’t know what else to do. Where else to go. She felt on the verge of panic, and she couldn’t think past wanting to be near him. “Please keep sleeping.”

Tsuki just shrugged and nuzzled back into her sister. Noelle scooped the key off the ground and nearly ran to Zaren’s room. She slipped inside quietly and made for the bed. She only paused for a second when she saw the state of its occupants.

Zaren lay on his back in the center, almost completely uncovered. That he didn’t wake the moment she touched the door was a testament to how exhausted he’d been. Serena, who lay curled up with her back pressed to his side, had pulled the blanket around her tight enough to reveal most of his body. After last night, her eye was drawn to his half-hard member that lay against his thigh. She felt warmth below her stomach, but it was overshadowed by the angry uncertainty that roiled within her.

Rhallani was on his other side, though there was some space between them. She was currently wrapped in Tiana’s long, graceful limbs, snoring soundly. None of them wore clothes, and from the state of their hair and the soft red hand marks on Rhallani’s waist Noelle knew they’d had a busy night before they went to sleep.

None of them stirred while Noelle crept into the bed. Right now, all she wanted was Zaren. To be wrapped in his warmth. Surrounded by his scent. She’d doubted him once, what felt like years ago when they’d first met, but now his was the face that appeared when she thought of safety.

She lifted his arm and he stirred, but did not wake. It was his injured arm. The one that was covered in the burn that wasn’t a burn. If touching it pained him, he made no sign. She slid in between him and Rhallani, then wrapped his arm over her shoulder so she could nestle into him. Her heart beat started to slow, but she knew the only way to get rid of the knots in her gut was to see just how much he’d once again changed her life.

She closed her eyes and pressed her face against the inside of his arm, breathing him in. Even in the worst of her nightmares and the most alluring of her dreams, the smells were always wrong. It was his scent that had first started to draw her out. The one thing that had always told her if she was awake or asleep.

But it was him. She was awake. She could put this off no longer. Drawing up her courage, she opened her status and began to go through her skills. Before she was even halfway through, tears had started to well in her eyes. Six of her skills were gone. Six awful, Tortured Berserker skills that had each killed a part of her when she’d been forced to take them. In their place were skills better than any she could have dreamed of.

[Penitence], which was the main skill that boosted her strength when she was in pain, had become:

Her suffering would no longer strengthen her, and she’d be able to move towards her allies faster now in the heat of battle. [Bloody Recovery], which reduced her health regeneration to boost her stamina was gone as well, and in its place was:

Enhanced stamina would be good for both Zaren and Serena, and it was something that could help on long marches or if a good deal of distance needed to be covered in a short time. Then there was [Suffering Blow], an active skill that empowered a strike based off the pain she was in. It was now:

A straight damaging attack based off her primal excited her. [Crushing Blow] was good against armor, and hopefully this one would be good against softer targets. The next skill change made sense, since [Tortured Soul] only boosted her Dexterity and Agility while she was raging, and its replacement was just as good of a skill if not better.

She knew Zaren would like that skill. It would make her stronger, but safer as well. It was the next skill change that made the tears begin to fall in earnest. She’d sent a prayer to Allura—the deity that had guided Zaren to save her—begging to at least have this skill taken from her. [Naked Defense] was strong from an objective standpoint, reducing the damage she took whenever she wasn’t wearing armor, but the increase to the pain she felt…

Unless she was armored, everything activated her skill. A sharp rock digging into her foot. Her toe if she accidentally stubbed it. Her tongue if she bit it by mistake. Every small bump and bruise was nearly doubled, and it would only get worse the more Primal she had. And now it was gone, and its replacement was more than she could have ever hoped for.

There was an odd pang of disappointment that she wouldn’t get one of Zaren’s sets of magical armor, but she dismissed that thought easily. This meant he’d have one more set that could go to someone who needed it more than her. Besides, there was no guarantee it was one or the other. If he had the suits to spare, perhaps she could benefit from both his skill and hers.

And then there was her final evolution, which stripped her of the last of her detriment skills. [Sharpened by Pain] increased her Dexterity the more injuries she bore, and she liked its replacement much, much more.

In an odd way, her new class was almost a detriment class as well. It relied on her being around allies for many of her benefits, but after the last few weeks that thought made her feel warm inside. Her cheeks were aching, and it took a moment to understand that it was because she was smiling.

She buried her face in the crook of Zaren’s elbow, still smiling. He’d done it. He’d taken away her class and given her a new one. A powerful one. She’d be more than useful to him now. She had a real place among them. A protector in more than just name. She’d spend the rest of her life repaying him if she had to. She owed him everything.

She felt giddy. She wanted to get up and move, but she also wanted to just sink into him. She wanted to go out and test all her new skills, but leaving the bed and it’s main occupant behind was unthinkable to her. A sharp heat was beginning to build in her legs, growing to match the one in her chest. Her arms tightened around his as the same impulse that had gripped her in those tunnels gripped her now. A need to be with him physically. Last time it had practically launched her at him before she’d even understood what was happening. Now…

Now it was much stronger. Need came from where his arm pressed into her chest. Where his bicep pressed into the bumps there. She pulled her face from his arm and looked towards his length. Hesitantly, she reached out and trailed a finger along his length. The night before flashed through her mind vividly. It was hard to decide which had been her favorite part. Being held in the bath had been wonderful, but that sharp, body-wracking pleasure when he’d touched her had been so much more intense. And then there was the look on his face when he’d had his own orgasm. The one she’d provided him.

Seeing the pleasure that had come from her own hand displayed on his face and in his soft, throaty groans had made her heart race. And as she wrapped her small hand around his intimidating girth, she realized she could recreate two of the three feelings from last night at once.

He must have had a good night’s sleep, because his member hardened quickly under her uncertain ministrations. With some reluctance, she let his arm fall back to the bed and slid into his lap. She took off her shirt and tossed it onto the corner of the bed, then lifted his length and pressed it to her stomach. It had felt absolutely massive last night in her hand, and seeing it up against her small body was only a little terrifying.

But despite the small tremor of fear that raced through her, the moment she wrapped her hands around him the need in her intensified. As daunting as it might be, she wanted this. From the way he’d touched her last night, she hoped he did too. Before she could let her fears or doubts stop her, she lifted herself up and pressed the head of his cock to her core.

Fast as lightning, his hands shot out and gripped her waist tightly. A startled gasp escaped her, then she looked up to see his eyes staring into hers with some surprise in them. “You are—were awake,” she said, still being held above his member. She wanted it in her now more than ever before, but with how light she was and how little leverage she had currently there was nothing she could do but silently hope he’d lower her down onto him.

“For a few minutes,” he admitted, “but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

She put a hand on his stomach to balance herself, but his grip didn’t waver. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it kept her locked firmly in place. She had no doubt she could break his hold if she wanted, but she couldn’t bring herself to. “You…don’t want this,” she guessed.

His eyes softened. He pulled her hips forward enough so that when he lowered her down his length slid up between her cheeks and poked at her back. “That definitely isn’t it.” As if in agreement, his member throbbed behind her. Heat rose to her face, but she felt a swell of pride that she actually had enough of a rear for his length to press against. “You aren’t…uh, ready.”

Her gut clenched. She looked down at her naked body and suddenly felt very embarrassed. “Of course. You’re probably right.”

She tried to climb off him, but he continued to hold her in place. “That isn’t what I meant, Noelle.” She shivered. “I meant literally. Here and now. You aren’t, well, lubricated yet. Trying to force it would only cause you pain.”

She bit her lip. Now that he mentioned it, the others were always considerably wetter down there during sex than she was now. Nobody had ever cared to prepare her in the past, so she wasn’t sure what to do now. But she’d seen Rhallani in action enough to know she couldn’t simply sit there and mope.

She pressed her rear into his length and his brows twitched a fraction. She said, “will you help me, then?” If the ache in her chest grew any stronger, she might try to mount him regardless of how much it hurt her.
He gingerly disentangled himself from Serena and slid towards the headboard so he could put his back against it. He took her with him, and she soon found herself trapped between his broad chest and his throbbing member. Only then did his scorching hands start to roam her body. Massive, callused, and strong.

Everywhere he touched left fire burning underneath her skin. She writhed, trying to get him to touch as many parts of her as she could, but she couldn’t suppress a whimper as memories of the last man to touch her surfaced unbidden.

“It’s okay to be afraid after everything you’ve been through,” he said softly, as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind. He ran his hands over her breasts, and she thought there might have been more of those than there had been yesterday as well. “But as long as you’re scared of what’s next, then your body won’t properly prepare for it.”

She nodded, and tried to focus on quelling her fears. Then his hand started to go lower and her heart threatened to burst through her sternum. He ran a finger along her lower lips and heat exploded through her core. She moaned and curled her fingers against his chest. She started to rock her hips against his hand and more heat bloomed. Pleasure tore through her in waves and she closed her eyes, then she felt a finger slip inside her.

She buried her face in his chest to muffle the cry that slipped from her. More. She wanted more. His finger went as deep as it could, but she needed it deeper. He started slowly sliding his finger in and out and she felt release building inside her already.

“Try to relax,” he said softly, wrapping his other arm around her. “You’re so tight I can barely get a finger in you, much less my dick.”

He slid a second one in and she whimpered, throwing her arms around his neck and riding his hand frantically. Relax. She needed to relax. Breathe. Flashes of her past made her body clench, but she focused on him. On his smell. On how good it felt every time he moved his fingers around in her. She breathed him in as much as she could. Letting the feel of his hands replace the ghosts of the hands that had touched her in the past.

In no time, she was drenched. It was an odd feeling, and one she’d only really experienced recently while watching him lay with the others. Seeing the pleasure he brought them and wondering what it might feel like to be in their place. She pulled back enough to turn her face up at him and he wasted no time in leaning down and capturing her lips. One hand on her lower back, pressing her against him, while the other kept working slowly in and out of her.

She was uncertain at first, fully aware of how amateurish her attempts must be. She pressed her closed lips to his clumsily, but she wanted to taste him. Needed to. Her mouth parted as if it had a mind of their own and her tongue traced his bottom lip. She felt his mouth curve into a smile against hers and he returned the motion. His tongue, large and hot and strong, pushed against hers. The seal broken, she pushed herself as deep into him as she could. Twisting and pushing back however the heat in her body demanded it.

Then his tongue flicked against one of her canines and it drove her crazy. She pressed into him more and more, her hips lifting away while she pursued the lips she couldn’t get enough of. By the time she regained control of herself, she was nearly upright on her knees. She looked back at his length, then at him. “Am I ready now?”

He smiled, cupping her cheek. “As far as I can tell, but you’re the only one who can really answer that.”
She nodded vigorously, and he chuckled. Then she felt pressure at her entrance. The difference this time was immediate. The head slipped against her folds and a moan slipped from her, The hum she hadn’t even realized she was making had reached a throaty, needy pitch. She tried to push down, but it slipped up and across the nub at the hood of her core.

If he hadn’t had an arm wrapped around her, she might have collapsed on the spot from the raw pleasure that exploded from the little bump. But she regained her wits and lined up to try again, this time keeping herself under control long enough to make sure it was fully in before she started pushing in earnest.

Then the head slipped past her lips and the pressure turned into an orgasm. She cried out, holding onto him while spasms wracked her, and he held her tight during it all. He never let himself slip any further into her, but he didn’t pull out either. When she’d recovered, she realized she’d left long red tracks where her fingernails had dug into his flesh.

He didn’t complain, though. He just looked into her eyes and, once he was certain she was ready to continue, let her slide further and further onto him. He let out a long, controlled breath and she struggled to breathe at all from the sheer size of him spreading her apart. If she’d had any wind in her lungs she might have screamed, but as it was she could do naught but focus on him while she took inch after inch inside of her.

Constantly she thought she must have been close to taking all of him, and each time there was more to go.
Finally, mercifully, her hips met his. She’d never felt so full in her life. She’d known before she’d taken him that he’d be the biggest she’d ever had, but feeling it was so very different. He stretched her walls in a way she’d never experienced. Hit sensitive spots she didn’t know she had. Drowned her in pleasure she never knew existed.

His breathing had quickened, but he remained carefully still. She took a shaky breath, something that made her body shudder, and he throbbed inside her in response. Even that small movement wiped every thought from her mind. He’d been right. A finger was nothing compared to this.

It was several seconds before she realized he was talking. He felt the timbre of his voice through the part of him buried inside her and where she was touching his chest, but the words were lost on her. Then she felt cool, thin fingers brushing against her stomach. Trailing lower until they touched above her womb. She felt a slight tug of magic and tore her eyes away from his to look at Rhallani, who was sleepily settling back into Tiana’s embrace.

She was smiling wide, and she took the hand that had activated the simple contraception spell and slid it between her own legs. She nodded encouragingly, and Noelle turned back to Zaren. She tried to lift her hips and ride him like Rhallani and Serena had, but the slightest shift of his length inside her stole all the strength from her legs. A second release surged, and she had to stop moving entirely to keep it at bay.

Another whimpers slipped out of her, and her tone shifted to frustration. Then she felt his thumb sliding down her cheek. She managed to find his gaze and his wonderful, deep blue eyes seemed to see her in a way nobody ever had before. She could see the lust in his eyes, but she could also see the worry, The hesitance. “It’s alright if you aren’t enjoying it. We can stop at any time,” he said. “I won’t be upset.”

She tried to shake head, then gasped when that small motion shifted him enough to bring her right back to the edge. “I-I am, I can’t—I’m going to—” she panted.

He ran a hand along her side and brushed the pad of his thumb against her nipple. “In that case, you don’t have to hold back. You can cum whenever you want, Noelle.”

Oh gods she wasn’t going to make it .”I want—I want to make you feel good.”

He throbbed inside her again and she buried her face in his chest. He stroked her hair, and said, “trust me, I’m feeling plenty good right now.” He trailed his fingers along her spine. “And I can promise you that as good as you want to make me feel, I want to make you feel the same.”

He cradled her head in one hand while the other wrapped around her thigh. He exerted just enough pressure to help her raise but not enough to lift her himself. His wide head dragged along her inner walls and she let out a muffled cry into his shoulder. A primal part of herself—the same one that reared its head whenever she found herself wanting him the most—reared its head and she found herself scraping her teeth along his flesh.

The raw need that ripped through her was far stronger than when he’d flicked his tongue across her canines. As her sharp teeth pressed into his skin and she felt the blood pulsing just below it, as his scent and taste filled her mouth, the pressure in her core peaked. Two parts of her warred. One part surged forward in a near-feral need to claim him. To puncture his smooth flesh and taste his lifeblood on her tongue. The other was the need in her core. It whispered to her. Told her not to break that final barrier. A submissive desire to prove to him that she was his that frightened and excited her in equal amounts.

His hand cradled the back of her head, pressing her into him. Her tongue flicked out, dragging along the skin wet with her saliva. The strong, salty taste of him was too much. Her teeth pressed down, but his flesh didn’t give. The pressure grew more than ever before. They only made it about an inch and a half up his length before she pushed herself back down with all the force she could. He slammed into her depths, bottoming out and sending near-painful torrents of pleasure racing through her body. She whimpered and came harder than every other orgasm in her life combined.

Light exploded in her skull. The world was obliterated in the pleasure that tore through her, leaving only shreds of the girl she’d been behind. There was nothing but him and her. Where his fingers dug into her flesh. Where she curled against his chest. His thighs under hers. His length deeper inside her than she ever thought possible. She wasn’t even aware she was crying out his name until the sound hit her ears. She held him with every ounce of strength she could muster, afraid he’d fade away too.

She slumped against his chest when her climax was finally finished with her. He tried to lift her off his length, but she hooked her legs around his thighs and kept herself pulled down. He hadn’t felt release, and she wasn’t ready to let him out just yet. Even with the shudders of pleasure that were still wracking her, they weren’t done. Not until he’d finished. But she did need to catch her breath, so she nestled into his chest while she recovered and closed her eyes. The others started talking, but she didn’t listen. She had him, and he had her.

Right now, that was all that mattered.