Chapter 46

“And you still have no understanding of the shape of his Faith?” the woman demanded.

“No, my Lady,” Brand replied.

He had just watched mortals insult him - attack him, even - and yet they still lived. Aside from the indignity of being pinned by that ridiculous little stick, Adhaneth, he hadn’t struck back. Not that a god needed to. Even with his Faith as weak as it was, it would have been well within his power to destroy them.

“It is obscured, my Lady,” he continued carefully, “by the gods who accompany him.”

“Does Yveth truly follow him like a lost puppy?” she asked with amusement. “I had heard rumors, but-”

“No, my Lady,” Brand interrupted and immediately bowed lower as her glare turned venomous. “Another young god. Ashlara, by name.”

Keeping his head lowered was wise. It placated her.

The only reason Brand had not already slain his Lady was because he could not. She was a labyrinth of contingencies and counterplots, schemes nested within schemes he had yet to fully unravel. Paranoid. Meticulous. Ringed with guardians. Armored in artifacts of frightening power. She never presented herself directly - only through proxies, like the one standing before him now.

The woman looked as though she were made of living parchment. Runes crawled endlessly across her form, rearranging themselves even as he watched. Her face was a shifting constellation, stars spinning, dying, and reforming over a featureless mask. She was at once both immense and insignificant, her size impossible and contradictory.

“Learn what you can of her,” she said, her voice flat and final. “And report to me. But she is not the target. Seth is the one you will destroy.”

Brand bowed again.

He had already asked why such a weak, half-formed god warranted destruction. She had not appreciated the question. She was convinced Seth was dangerous, and Brand had no desire to endure her wrath a second time by asking if she was certain.

“And while you are at it,” she added, “learn what you can of Pyraeth’s bastard. I wish to know the shape of her Faith as well. The First Flamefather seemed quite surprised that his little girl had ascended.”

“As you wish, my Lady,” Brand said.

He did not mention the other two gods who had allied with Seth. That knowledge was his alone - for now. If they grew, they might yet prove useful. At the very least, their destruction at his hands would add to the might of his Faith.

For that, they would need to become stronger. Strength, after all, was born of adversity and he hoped to test them soon.

* * *

Ashlara perched on the edge of the bed, looking uncomfortable. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, fingers twisting as if she couldn’t decide what to do with them. She avoided my eyes, though I caught her glancing down toward my feet more than once.

I sat beside her. “Are you okay?” I asked.

I knew she hadn’t been physically hurt - no blows had been thrown - but this wasn’t the woman I knew. Not the resolute fighter who met the world head-on. Something bothered her.

She nodded faintly. “Why did you do it?” she asked softly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you don’t need anyone to stand up for you. You can take care of yourself. I just… no one deserves to be treated like that. Especially you. You’re incredible. Strong. A hero. You’ve got a big heart, even if you don’t like showing it. Hearing them talk like that… when he came over, I lost my temper.” I exhaled. “I’ll try to keep it in check next time.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head slowly, her eyes anywhere but on me. “Why did you kiss me?”

She looked fragile then, like she might break no matter what I said.

The question threw me for a moment. I’d kissed her several times before - quick, stolen moments over the last couple of weeks. When I thought she’d allow it. When I thought she wouldn’t break my arm for trying. I liked the way she blushed. I liked the feel of her lips. And I loved the tight knot in my chest every time it happened.

“Do you not like it?” I asked quietly. A sliver of doubt crept in - that Mirri was wrong, that I’d misread everything, that I’d crossed a line.

She didn’t answer.

“Hey,” I said softly, turning her face toward mine. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. I just want you to know that I care about you. A lot. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. I trust you with my life. I can’t imagine a world where I’m not by your side. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

Her eyes went glassy. “Why do you say things like that?” she whispered. “Why does it hurt so much when you’re near me?” Her breathing grew uneven, her hands wringing together. “Why can’t I-”

I kissed her, cutting off the words mid-sentence.

It was sudden, intense enough to steal her breath. I brushed my lips against hers, tentative at first, then deeper, coaxing. When she finally answered, our tongues met, hesitant and then certain, and the world narrowed to that single point of contact.

I pressed against her and she fell back onto the bed, the kiss unbroken. My hand cupped her cheek. She cautiously put her arms around me. I intensified the kiss, my passion burning hotter. Every fiber in my body wanted to tear her clothes off and take her, but I wouldn’t do that to Ashlara. She was still fragile. Unsure. This was her first time. And I had to tread lightly. If she gave any hint that she wasn’t ready, I would back off.

I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Is this what you want?”

She nodded, shy, a tear slipping down her face.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

I kissed her again, slower now, letting it linger. I traced my lips down her neck and stopped at her collarbone. “If you’re ever unsure,” I murmured, “tell me. I’ll stop. No judgment. It won’t change anything between us - now or ever.”

She lifted herself to meet me, kissing me back with growing confidence. I slid my fingers through her short hair as her need gave her courage.

My hand drifted lower, over her neck, her collarbone, her chest. There was fabric there, under her shirt - a wrap around her breasts to keep them secure while she fought. I felt her body respond even through the padding, her nipple hard with lust. She arched her back, breath catching, and went still.

“Let it out,” I whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

“Let it out,” I told her. “Let me hear how much you like it.” I gently squeezed her breast and she inhaled sharply. “Don’t hold back. If your body wants to do something, let it.” I softly pinched her nipple through the wrap and she squealed in a surprisingly girly way. “That’s it,” I told her and kissed her hard.

Her hands began to move, rough palms exploring my back and sides as I learned her in turn.

The wrap made things awkward. I pulled back and shed my shirt, hoping she’d follow. She watched me intently, her gaze lingering on my chest as if committing it to memory. I had to keep reminding myself I wasn’t some out of shape old guy anymore. I had definition, not bulk.

She leaned up to kiss me again. My hands slid beneath her shirt, and this time she broke away herself, tugging the fabric free.

My hands followed - over warm green skin, over the curve of her chest, over her hard-packed cleavage as she unwound the last of the binding. When it finally fell away, I paused to look.

Her skin was a soft sage green, her body powerful. Her breasts, now free, were even larger than I had expected. They were firm as they rested on her chest, their gravity undeniable. Her nipples were a dark, royal green - almost black.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, and kissed her again.

With her bust free, my fingers roamed over her with intensity. I squeezed her breasts, rolled her nipple between my fingers, and lavished her body in caresses. Each touch brought out a soft moan. Each pinch elicited a girly squeal.

I broke our kiss breathing heavily and took her nipple in my mouth. My tongue circled her aureola. Her back arched and she let out a long, low moan. I sucked, nipped, and licked her nipple, each movement wringing another gasp, another groan of pleasure from her lips.

I lavished her breasts with as much attention as I could, switching sides, using my saliva as lubrication as I ran my fingers over her. I gave her nipple an especially strong suck and her arms and legs wrapped around me, crushing me to her. She shook as a long, loud groan escaped her. Her hips bucked up to mine as I redoubled my attentions - licking, biting, and sucking through her orgasm.

I released her nipple as she came down and I smiled as my eyes met hers. She gave me a goofy grin, sweat-damp hair clinging to her brow, her cheeks flushed, her pupils dilated.

“More?” I asked.

She nodded drunkenly.

I kissed her again, lingering at her mouth before tracing a slow path down her throat, over the rise of her breasts, and across the hard plane of her stomach. I met her eyes and unbuckled her belt. She watched every movement, breath held, anticipation written plainly across her face. She lifted her hips to help me, and I slid her pants down to her knees, then knelt to pull her boots free one at a time before stripping the rest away.

She lay before me bare and unguarded, and I took my time drinking her in.

Her short, dark hair was wild, untamed, and damp with sweat. Her dark eyes were bright with hunger, tracking me as if I were prey instead of the other way around. Her green skin told a story - a tapestry of pain and hard won experience. Scars crisscrossed her body in deep, dark lines, some jagged, some deliberate. Ritual markings wrapped her forearms and calves in careful patterns, while raised dots formed a sharp V over her shoulders, converging just below her throat. Dark blue tattoos braided over her shoulders and biceps, their angular designs drawing the eye along the powerful lines of her arms.

She was all strength. Not sculpted in a gym, but built by battle and motion. Her arms were thick with muscle, shifting subtly as she moved. Her stomach was firm and defined without being carved to excess. Her thighs were heavy with power, broad and commanding, promising pain and pleasure in equal measure. Between them, a thick mat of dark hair crowned her sex, damp and gleaming with her arousal, framing her unapologetically. Her scent - sweat, heat, need - filled me, raw and intoxicating.

I slid down her body without breaking eye contact. When I reached her center, I inhaled deeply, savoring her. My tongue parted the dark hair and found her swollen lips. She threw her head back, spine arching, a loud groan tearing free of her chest. She was already close, trembling with desire, but I wasn’t going to rush this.

I started slow, dragging my tongue from bottom to top through her folds, tasting her - sweet, sharp, and unmistakably her. I flicked her clit and she jolted, hips snapping upward with a broken moan. I retreated only to dive back in, lapping and probing, my tongue pressing deep as my hands gripped her thick thighs. I watched her closely - the way her body tensed, the way her breath stuttered, the way she shook when I found exactly what she needed.

Her hands came down into my hair, fingers curling tight as she held me there while I teased her mercilessly, keeping her balanced right at the edge. Her arousal coated my mouth, her sweat shone on her skin, and her low, needy sounds drove me on. Her breaths came short and ****, her eyes begging for the sweet satisfaction of another climax. I obliged.

My tongue slid through her folds again and locked onto her clit. I licked, sucked, pressed hard - relentless. She came with a cry, hands clamping down on my head as her thighs snapped shut around my ears. Her body bowed, hips bucking, muscles standing out in sharp relief as pleasure tore through her. Her moans fractured into broken, strangled sounds as her release flooded my mouth and spilled down my chin.

I didn’t stop.

I worked her through it, savage and unyielding, dragging her orgasm out far past where her body wanted to let go. Minutes passed and I started to worry - both for her safety and mine. Breathing became difficult, crushed between her powerful legs, and she seemed stuck - her release rolling on and on, her muscles locked tight, tendons standing out as tremors wracked her frame.

Finally, worried, I slowed, easing back. She sagged for a heartbeat, then tensed again, another surge of her nectar spilling free. I swallowed everything she gave me. Each wave came softer than the last until at last she went limp, twitching faintly beneath me.

I climbed back up her body as she gulped down air. Her eyes stayed closed, nostrils flaring. The moment I was close, she grabbed me and kissed me hard - sloppy and fevered - her tongue clumsy with exhaustion but insistent all the same.

She was exhausted - I could feel it - but she wouldn’t let me go. Our tongues slid together as she shifted beneath me, and my cock brushed against her mons, grazing her clit. Her hips jerked and she moaned into my mouth, grinding up against me with sudden urgency.

I pulled back just enough to breathe, “Are you sure?”

She nodded without breaking the kiss or opening her eyes.

She lifted her hips, and I lowered mine. When she dropped back down, the head of my cock pushed past her folds and met her maidenhead. She jolted, the movement forcing me deeper. Her eyes flew open in shock before her head tipped back and a long moan spilled out of her.

She was tight but slick enough that I slid inside her inch by inch, her walls gripping me, pulsing and drawing me in. When our hips finally met and I was fully buried inside her, she groaned again, low and satisfied.

I pulled back slowly, leaving only the head inside, then pushed in again just as slowly. She clutched me, moaning, her body answering each movement. I set a steady rhythm, and she met it eagerly, her hips rising faster with every thrust. I followed her, then pushed harder, deeper.

Long, powerful thrusts made her breasts quake and ripped strangled sounds from her throat. The bed creaked and protested beneath us as I hammered into her, her muscles clenching around me with instinctive strength. I felt my release building and there was no way I could pull out - not with her legs locked tight around my waist.

She cried out - nearly a roar - her body seizing as her climax tore through her. Her fingers dug painfully into my back, her walls pulsing wildly around my cock. That was all it took. I came hard, erupting deep inside her, painting her womb white - filling her until it overflowed, staining the sheets beneath us with the proof of our love.

She kept me there, milking every last drop from me as aftershocks wracked her body. Long moments passed before her grip loosened, her breathing finally slowing.

We stayed like that, tangled together, sweat-slick and spent, basking in the glow of release and love.