Текст книги "A vow of blood and tears"

Автор книги: Cate Corvin

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Текущая страница: 39 (всего у книги 41 страниц)

But the Mother loathed Father Wolf’s vicious, untamed creations, and he thought her vampires too… too staid, too concerned with the trappings of civilization. I haven’t the evidence to pinpoint the exact time, but eventually the two split in a bitter, bloody feud, each taking their favorite children with them. 

From what I’ve pieced together, Mother Blood brought her children to Veladar, where the keeps were built, and the early years of the Red Epoch began. They drove out Wargyr during this feud, and created a charm in which to bind wargs, fettering their vicious siblings. The Fae-made creations of Mother Blood ruled for nearly a thousand years, opposed by none. 

Visca rubbed her temples. “Fae. I see. And now, if this gets out…”

“Chaos,” Wyn spat. “Madness. I’d give it three days before the Rift-kin started repairing their Arks and sieging the walls, and we’d be the tyrants for defending ourselves and slaughtering them.”

Cirri nodded slowly. I can’t speak for the rest of Veladar, but the Fae are no more than fairy tales in Argent. I do believe the Rift-kin might choose to revolt, but… there’s more to tell before you decide.

She gestured to Rose and Thorn. Rose fiddled with a gold earring, and Thorn’s arms were crossed, his faceless glower unseen but felt.

The ancestry of your kind becomes obvious when we look at them. You melded sanguimancy with an ancient golem so easily, Wyn; what else could the blood arts be but an offshoot of the Fae’s occultism? Cirri looked at them fondly. But it was hidden knowledge that nearly ended this country forty years ago. The charm for binding wargs… I still haven’t fully translated it. I’ve been focused on proving the folklore I received from both Miro and Hakkon. But the charm itself was lost in Liliach Daromir’s time, when humans burned the keeps and as much vampire lore as they could get their hands on. So much was lost, not only the binding ritual and blood magics, but the vampires’ own knowledge of their progenitor and creation. 

As you told me, Visca… your elders died in that first century of living Below. All knowledge of the High Tongue was lost to your kind. But it was that exact knowledge that kept the wargs at bay until fifty years ago. 

“The first Forian invasion,” Wroth murmured, almost to himself. He leaned back, arms crossed in a mirror of Thorn’s pose, almost insouciant, but his pale gaze on Cirri was intent.

The first Forian invasion, in which a young Thurn Hakkon appeared from a backwoods Forian village, and joined King Radomil’s army as a loyal soldier. Cirri’s gaze moved to me, and she smiled slightly; I had provided much of the lore here. Or so it seemed. In truth, he was recruiting for his family’s cult, and he found many willing followers.

She moved around the table, touching another book—the ritual book. It’s in here. Kept hidden in this keep for centuries, and unreadable by any living vampire today. With this, the Forian advancement and Hakkon’s wargs could’ve been stopped. 

“That’s why the brambles hated us so,” Wroth said quietly. “I felt their hunger and their hatred—it’s because in some distant way, I am kin to those things.”

To become a fiend is to accept Wargyr’s blessing, in a manner of speaking, Cirri said. I suspect it was his little revenge on Mother Blood, but I’ve found nothing to prove that suspicion yet. But Hakkon told me some of what his family taught him, lore passed through stories for centuries. I believe Wargyr brought his small family when he fled, hiding in the depths of Foria. He told them of Mother Blood, taught them how to complete the ritual, how to dissociate from one’s own evil actions so strongly they could shed their wolf-skins and walk among men again. He also taught them that to spill unwilling blood and tears of agony would break those charms. So… that’s how Hakkon terrorized my people. He did it to ensure wargs could walk freely all across Veladar.

Cirri took a deep breath, her eyes distant. But that’s neither here nor there. What I wanted to tell you is that your kind are from the Fae. And before you made a decision about what to do with that knowledge, I wanted to point out the repercussions of hiding it. If you lose it, as the charm was lost, then one day we may find ourselves in this same situation. If not for sheer luck—

“Determination,” I said, interrupting the translation. “If not for your determination, Cirri.”

She startled, then smiled faintly. If not for determination leavened with luck, then, this charm would have remained lost. I would have died, or been forced to turn warg. Your legions would have been lost, along with the four of you. And Hakkon, or his children, would have spilled back into Veladar. I think it's important that whatever knowledge we have now is preserved and protected.

Wyn nodded, tapping her pen against her notebook. “Preserved, protected, and hidden. I don’t fancy having my tower bombarded by catapults. There are very delicate experiments in there.”

This was hidden, Cirri said, resting her hand on the ritual book. And it nearly cost us all. 

“But the wargs are dead, and we have the weapon to defeat them.” Visca frowned, torn between them. “I need to measure the likelihood that we’ll be attacked by angry Rift-kin against a nullified threat.”

Wroth scoffed, finally leaning forward. “It’s very simple. The Scrollkeeper translates the book in full, and makes copies. Each keep possesses its own copy, protected against any threat—including the humans living in the keeps. If someone is untrustworthy, they must not have access to the translated binding charm. That could be turned against us. I know my own wife would not hesitate to find someone who would cry tears of love for the sake of killing me.”

“Agreed,” I rumbled, breaking off from my silence. “It’s a danger to us as well.”

Then the binding charm will remain separate from the whole, but protected, Cirri said. We can keep it from the wrong hands, but it must be accessible to the Four Lords, and their trusted vassals, in the event that a warg survives and returns. 

Wroth added, “As for our provenance, Auré can speak to her little circle of artisans, writers, and thespians. Bit by bit, they could leak the knowledge into the commons. In a hundred years or so, humans will be well aware of our beginnings, with nothing left to hide.”

Cirri gave him a brilliant smile, and Wroth grumbled under his breath, ears twitching as he looked away.

The bloodwitch scratched her nose with the tip of her pen. “It could work, I suppose. Fel Marchand’s already got human women slavering at the blood shops for vampire swains… I suppose if anyone could make our vulgar inception palatable, it’s her.”

“And if the Rift-kin are still jumping at ghosts in a hundred years, we’ve failed anyway,” Visca added, her face gloomy at the prospect. “Fine. I’m in agreement.”

So, I’ll finish the translation and make the copies, Cirri said. That’s the most important thing, that we don’t lose what you’ve regained.

Visca leveled a glance at her, lips quirked. “That’s one way of putting it. Pleased as I am with the charm, it’ll take me some time to come terms with being… related to the things we saw Below.”

You’re not, Cirri said, her motions gentle. Maybe in the loosest possible sense, but your kind was created by Mother Blood. You are her perfect creations, and as the histories pointed out, she split from her people and homeland. 

Visca merely shook her head. “Maybe so, but my gut says otherwise. Do we even have ancestors? Or do we pray to ghosts as well?”

Cirri licked her lips, uncertainty filling her eyes, but Visca stood and strode swiftly to her, clapping her on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to me whine, lass. I try not to shoot the messenger, but, you know… shit happens.”

Cirri let out a breathy laugh, and Wyn stood, shaking out her robes. “I have too much on my mind to wade into a morass of theological dilemmas.” She sniffed loftily, tucking her notebook in her sleeve. “But I can’t say I like it. It may take more time than we think. Humans won’t be the only ones to struggle with this knowledge.”

Cirri shrugged, lifting her hands. If it takes longer, so be it. I’m only doing this to preserve the truth and recover what was lost.

“And a damn fine job you’ve done thus far,” Visca said cheerfully. “We’ll muddle through together. I’ll give it thought while I whip the legions back into shape. Without those damn dogs, they’re getting fat and lazy.”

Our advisors took their leave, and Wroth stood, stretching luxuriously, but as he settled, he had eyes only for Cirri.

“Well done, Scrollkeeper,” he said quietly. “You give me hope. Send your Silent Brother my way when you’re done with him, Bane. I’d like to be able to hear my little sister’s words for myself.”

“Line his pockets with gold, and he’ll teach you all he knows.” Cirri leaned into me, looking inordinately pleased and embarrassed by Wroth’s words, and she rested her cheek on my chest as my arms encircled her. “Do you leave for the Rivers now?”

Wroth raised his head, sniffing the air. “I have half a mind to extend my absence with… a little hunting trip.”

“The Rivers needs you.” I tried not to squeeze Cirri too tightly, trepidation filling me. “You cannot abdicate without naming an heir, brother.”

“Abdicate?” Wroth scoffed. “And let that conniving whore take Owlhorn? No, never. But when the day comes, Bane, you call me. Whatever is left Below, kin or not, I look forward to driving it out.”

He raised a hand, striding away from us without looking back and scaling the wall easily.

I hoped he would find his way, but doubt still curled within me.

Cirri watched him go, clenching her hands nervously. Below? She asked.

“They’re not quite as dead as we believed, or they’re creeping back in. If I could bring Miro back to life and kill him again, I would,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “I smelled them in that mineshaft through the mountain.”

She went pale, her breath catching. I spent that whole journey in fear something would find us. To think one was within arm’s reach…

“Not quite that close. Don’t fear, lover. Visca will need something to do, or she’ll become as neurotic as Wyn. Without wargs to hold her attention, she’d be happy to roust anything Below beyond our borders.”

Cirri nodded, her face still grave, and I leaned down to kiss her.

“Do you trust me?” I asked. “That I would never let them have you.”

The answer was in her eyes, but she said it anyway. With all my heart.

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Chapter 51 Cirri

He came to me silently, the only hint of his presence carried to me on the breeze in the trees, the faintest whiff of his smoky forest scent.

I remained on the rough stone I’d found, a perfect seat to look out over the pines of the Rift, the twilight mist obscuring the distant walls of the keep and creeping over the ground.

It had felt audacious, even wrong, to freely walk out of Ravenscry’s gate, leaving the walls behind me without a backwards glance. No one had stopped me; no one had warned me of wargs in the mist. I’d wandered around the keep, examining the walls from the outside for the first time, and climbed the stony hills without fear.

My eyes ached from the endless poring over pages and scrolls of faded vellum, the ink so old it was no more than a whisper; the ghosts of words past. Those ghosts had spoken unclearly, but with patience and determination, I’d teased out meanings, held disparate pieces together and found the matching edges.

I no longer felt guilt over taking a break to walk the mountainous hills of the Rift. I had all the time in the world to chase the ghosts of the past.

Nobody would be pleased with what I’d found, but it was the truth, and it held answers for our future. The charm meant to bind Wargyr must never be lost again. If the people of Veladar wished to survive and remain ourselves, we could never allow the wolves to return.

Nor could we afford another slow slide into the next Red Epoch. The vampires would be upset over the truth of their creation, but there needed to be balance. If that meant anger over the knowledge, so be it—the fiends would understand and hold the truth of what they were, that they were only a step removed from their loathed cousins, and only by clinging to what remained of their humanity would they remain in power.

If they ever went too far, if they chose to break the Accords and push human involvement from their tables, we had the means to fight back, the binding charm hidden in several pairs of trusted hands.

All would be in balance, so long as we remembered that. Too much had been lost to forgetfulness already.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I climbed further, and finally came to a hollow in the hill, where a rough, rounded stone protruded from the earth. That was where I chose to sit and wait for him.

Of course he didn’t disappoint me. He never could.

He came from the west, circling me, and only moments after I smelled him, a warm hand descended on my shoulder. He cupped my face, fingers curling under my chin. I leaned into his warmth, pulling my cloak tighter around me.

“The last time we spoke of walking the Rift… to be honest, I never thought it would happen.” His other hand came down, splaying over my chest as he held me to him. My heart raced under the heat of his palm. “I believed I would have to keep you locked inside forever, and give nothing but small tidbits of freedom. I feared that over time, it would give way to resentment.”

I slid my bare arms through the slits in my cloak, a small shiver running down my spine as the cool air touched my skin. I never would’ve blamed you. 

“Maybe not, but resentment doesn’t need a reason. It just grows over time, little by little, until it's burrowed so deep you can never rip it out by the root.” Bane’s thumb stroked my collar bone, tracing the ridge. “I believe that’s one of the reasons I love you. Your practicality, your understanding. I’ve never worried that you would try to leave the keep in a fit of pique, or ignore the dangers to pursue your own whims. My only worry was that this life would stifle you, and one day extinguish that inner fire.”

No, I signed. Not so long as you’re with me. But to walk outside now… it feels almost forbidden.

“But does that not give support to my fears?” he asked quietly. “Imagine several more years locked inside those walls… it would have grown into your mind that the outside is forbidden. It would have destroyed you in time.”

And I can destroy your fears with three words: that didn’t happen. I stood up, brushing my cloak straight, and turned to face him. Let go of those worries. You gave me the High Tongue relics, and now we never need to worry about it again.

Bane smiled slightly. “If you had been anyone else…”

But I’m not, I said as I stepped closer. I’m me, your amazing and rather delicious Scrollkeeper. I don’t know how many turns fate had to take to bring me here, but I do know that I will never, ever be ungrateful for it. It was only with the two of us that we could accomplish this. And now you can rest easy and fearless. We’ve done what was thought to be impossible and bound the wargs, and there will never be a resentment in me for more freedom. I’m exactly where I want to be.

“You did it,” he said, closing the gap between us. His arms were warm around me, and he kissed the top of my head. “You bound the wargs.”

You gave me the books, I retorted. Don’t try to make this into a contest. You’ll lose.

He gave a mock-sigh of consternation. “Very well, love, we did this.”

I knew you’d see reason.

I smiled up at him, and Bane touched my cheek. “I didn’t actually come to argue, my lady. I came to see where you’d go with your newfound liberty.” He glanced sideways, shoulders rippling with embarrassment. “Unless you came to be alone.”

I shook my head, plucking at my heavy cloak again. I was about to be very, very cold for a brief time, but I trusted Bane to keep me warm.

I hoped you would follow. There’s something we must do, and… I feel I need to be careful within the keep, for now. I have my own worries. If a single drop of my blood spills in the wrong place, or if I were to cry… you’d be driven out of your home. 

Bane’s lips twitched, and flattened, the smile falling away. “I’ve considered that. Although, if I’m doing my job properly, you shouldn’t cry at all.”

But that was a fear of my own that I couldn’t quite displace. A tender word, a bite… I couldn’t always hold back my tears, and I willingly gave him blood. All it took was a drop landing in the wrong place, and the entire Bloodgarden might rise up. The keep would become hostile to his very nature.

So for now, until I adjusted to the new reality, I chose a different setting for what I had in mind.

It’s not tears I’m planning to shed now. I took a small gulp of air, and began to unbutton my cloak. Only blood. I want to finish what we started.

I unfastened the brooch at my throat, and let the cloak slide from my shoulders. It slithered into the leaves around my feet, and I shivered once as the wind blew, slipping right through my spidersilk wedding gown.

I didn’t do it right the first time. I touched the bodice, where the three drops of blood still gleamed a fresh, bright scarlet. I ran from you then, butI will never run from you again. 

Bane inhaled, a sharp sound in the quiet forest.

So let’s do it right this time. Make it the night it should’ve been. Body and blood, I want all of you, and for you to take all of me.

“Even after… what we tried?” he asked quietly.

I smiled at him enigmatically. Things are different now.

It was my hands that had given me the idea. Shattered beyond belief, and now perfectly whole. To a bloodwitch, my flesh was raw material to be shaped and molded, ever so slightly altered into something less… vulnerable.

Sit there. I pointed to the stone I’d chosen.

Bane obeyed, his pupils dilating despite the curiosity wrinkling his brow. He let out a low grumble as I stood before him, claws plucking at my gown, and I reached out to run my fingers over his beautiful, terrible face.

The only face I wanted to see every day for the rest of eternity, the one face I couldn’t live without.

He leaned his cheek into my palm, eyes closed, and I lowered myself into his lap, a mirror of our first real night together. I breathed in the scent that was home to me now, the smoky woods that made my skin tingle with desire.

I love you, I told him. By the Light, you are more than I ever could have asked for. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.

His breath was a rumble, vibrating through my bones. Already his fangs gleamed with the faintest hint of venom, and his tongue flicked out to stroke my throat, tickling the sensitive skin.

“Don’t make this into a contest,” he whispered huskily. “You’ll lose.”

I laughed silently, closed my eyes and leaned in. Kissing him was no longer strange or terrifying. My lips knew the contours of his mouth, the hardness of his teeth under the smoothness of his lips, where the point of every fang ended.

He was as familiar to me as my own hands. He was home.

As my lips moved over his, the kiss became deeper, his tongue snaking over mine, the tips twisting and stroking.

His hands moved over my hips, fingers rising to trace the line of my bared spine, his skin a warm shield against the cool air.

Now, I said, breathless. Paint me red, Bane.

He exhaled, tipping his head, the prongs of his tongue dancing over my cheek and jaw, down to the column of my throat once more. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close and tight as his fangs distended, grazing my flesh.

His tongue laved against the racing pulse in my throat—and then came the sweet-sharp pain of the bite, flesh parting like butter, the hot torrent of my own blood steaming in the cold air.

It flooded over my chest, tracing the contours of my clavicles and breasts, soaking into the glistening white fabric. Still hot, vital with life, staining through the silk in a billowing tide of crimson.

Bane took a deep draught, tongue lashing, his cock throbbing hard and ready against my wet core.

I exhaled at the pain of it, the sensation of blood being forcefully taken from my body, but the venom began to spread in a cloud through my veins, turning the sharpness to a pleasant tickle.

My heart pumped another gush of blood over my chest, the blood soaking further into the bodice, spattering the lap of my skirt and Bane’s white shirt.

As he lapped again, groaning at the taste, I unbuttoned his shirt, stroking the hard muscles of his abdomen, and my fingers moved down to untie his breeches.

Bane paused, making a movement like he meant to stop me—but I shook my head ever so slightly.

Drink, I commanded, and untied the laces with a smooth motion.

“My lady,” he breathed, fastening his lips over the wounds in my throat.

It took creativity and patience to remove his cock from the constricting trousers whilst seated on his lap, with his mouth at my throat, but I managed with eager hands, the stroking movements of my fingers making him growl.

Shifting my skirt, I settled myself against him, arching my hips as he throbbed against my clit.

Anticipation writhed inside me, the frisson of excitement settling in my core with molten heat. With Bane’s cock nestled firmly between my legs, I leaned forward to press myself against him fully, letting my head loll back as he drank.

The spiny crown of his cock dug into my lower belly, twitching with every slight shift of my hips.

I wanted him now, wanted to try my slightly-altered body and see if the tiny change would make a world of difference, but I didn’t want to stop the dizzying sensation of his sucking pulls, the clasp of his lips on my throat.

Not until he lapped his tongue against the wounds, sealing them, his eyes opening to reveal the glistening, ash-smeared gold of his irises.

He raised his claws to his own throat, waiting for me to say the word.

Yes, I said, taking his hand and moving his claws away. It was my turn to tilt my head, kissing the strong, corded muscles of his neck, tasting skin musk and salt. I moved down to the thick muscle between neck and shoulder, nipping once and then sinking my teeth in.

I didn’t break the skin. Not even close; my blunt human teeth would never pierce Bane’s dense, armored flesh. But he burst out with a brief laugh, his hips jerking upward, the rigid barbs on his cock flaring.

“How vicious,” he murmured with a grin. I dragged my teeth over him, finding the thinnest skin on his throat and kissing his own racing pulse. It thrummed against my lips like a bird’s wing, powerful but contained.

Here, I told him, and ran my tongue over the spot.

Bane nicked himself with his own claw, and unlike mine, his blood didn’t burst forth. It dripped like dark syrup, sweet and spicy, and I let it flow before catching it with my tongue.

The heat filled my throat, burning all the way down to my stomach and into my veins. I felt him filling me, the bond between us growing every time I drank from him.

It was a never-ending circle inscribed between us now. Me and him, him and me, from one into the other and back again. We were in each others’ veins, flowing through each other’s hearts, written together all the way down to the marrow in our bones.

The circle between our blood and souls had met, and I wanted our bodies to match, finishing the loop of completion.

Before Bane could have second thoughts, before he could warn me or stop me, I rose up, the barbs grazing my stomach and mound, until he was poised at my wet entrance.

I sank down, not giving myself any time to worry. There was the pressure, the sensation of being invaded, and then… rich fullness. I gasped, wriggling down further, even as Bane let out a strangled snarl.

“Cirri, for… how?”

I was impatient, I signed quickly, gripping his shoulders as I took more of him. The barbs flared inside me, locking him deep in my pussy.

I knew my idea had succeeded when my stretched core reached the base of his monstrous cock, and a thrust of my hips ground my clit against the hard plane of muscle above it. No pain, only pleasure, that fullness.

Bane grumbled, hands clamped on my hips, and he sucked in a breath as I rose again, feeling the length of his shaft sliding easily inside me.

I couldn’t break the bond between us, not with those flared barbs, but I rose high enough to drag my tongue over the wound in his neck, lapping at another spicy, burning mouthful of blood.

He groaned for me, thighs flexing to drive his cock upwards, deeper.

Yes, I signed again, braced on my knees and clinging to his shoulders, lips wrapping around his throat as he pumped into me. The heat in my veins melted into the spiraling bliss in my core, the barbs of his crown smoothly grazing my pussy with every thrust.

They stroked against that sensitive spot deep inside me, melting my knees to liquid, a squirmy, unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling rising. I pulled from his throat, licking my teeth for every last hint of that spice, my breath coming quick and hard as the sensation increased.

I looked up into Bane’s eyes, licking my lips for the last drops of his blood, and he slid his hands under my thighs, mindful of his claws, and lifted me, exposing the glistening length of his cock. His barbed crown was flared out completely, hard and grasping, refusing to leave my body.

I wriggled in his grasp, sinking back down. His lips drew back, exposing his reddened fangs in a feral snarl.

When I rose again, he lifted me, moving me around—adjusting me without his cock ever sliding from me, turning me so that my back was to his chest, my legs splayed wide open and held apart by his powerful thighs. I was nestled in his lap, his cock buried to the base and sending those thrilling jolts through my nerves.

Clawed hands slid my skirts up around my hips, running over my thighs, until his hands reached the apex. His first and middle fingers slipped between my lips, parting me, swirling over the sensitive pearl and making every muscle jump.

“Gods, you’re soaked for me, my beauty.” He pulled my hair aside, running his fingers over it… then twisted the mass into a rope around his head, gently pulling my head to the side.

His lips touched my neck, a Bane-kiss over the pinkened skin he’d fed from, sending sizzling heat through me. I was aware of every inch of skin, everywhere he touched, my nipples hardened, clit aching for more.

Bane’s breath was warm, his voice deep and rough in my ear. “Now take the beast you crave.”

I shivered, my back arched, and suddenly the whole world moved.

But it was just us, Bane picking me up and bringing me to the ground. He grabbed my discarded cloak, flinging it over the leaves on the ground, and I put out my arms, catching myself on all fours.

He kept a grip on my hips, holding them firmly as he seated his cock to the base, and then pulled out and thrust back in with shocking force.

Two more thrusts, my body quaking, and the flared barbs and ridges brought that liquid feeling to the forefront. Even braced on the ground, my knees trembled, and my upper body sank to the ground, muscles weak. I pressed my face to the wind-chilled cloak, sucking in air, gasping out my pleasure for him.

Bane leaned over me, tongue sliding over my lips. I opened for him, arching myself into thrusts, breasts swaying heavily with every drive. His warmth covered me, the pulsing urgency of his cock sending me closer to the edge.

I was distantly aware that not that long ago, this could’ve killed me. I felt the thickness of him spearing deep, my lower belly bulging outwards every so slightly as my changes accommodated his size, turning what would’ve been mutilation into pleasure.

On my hands and knees for him, taking the strength of a fiend on my back and in my sex, I felt I’d made the right choice. The only choice.

He braced one hand above my head, the other slipping over my hip to stroke my stomach, down to my needy, exposed clit.

I gasped as he touched me, his hips never stopping in their brutal, relentless assault. We fucked like animals, gasping, growling, the heat in my center growing every time his hips pounded against me.

Bane’s cock throbbed again, sending another flare through the barbs, and they dragged over the spot that made my knees jelly. As his fingers circled my clit again, slow and teasing, I didn’t just slip to the edge—I plunged fully over.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, giving myself up entirely to the wants of a beast, craving his hard, primal needs, I came apart on him, shuddering and squirming, losing all control of my body. My breaths huffed in tight, desperate gasps, steam curling from my lips in the cold I no longer felt.

Bane grunted as my pussy clamped tightly around him, driving deeper, his weight pressing my bucking hips into the earth. My core was soaked, letting his cock glide with ease, deeper—until the grunt became a snarl, his teeth scraping over my shoulder.

I heard a click as his fangs clamped together, his cock driving deep enough to cause a twinge, and then he let himself go. There was a hot flood, a rush of warmth and wetness as his seed filled me, almost a physical heaviness in my womb.

He panted for breath, the barbs keeping him locked deep, as my muscles slowly relaxed.

“Cirri. Lover,” he murmured, ruffling my hair.

It didn’t hurt at all, I signed lazily, shifting against him. Most of me was warm beneath him, but my toes were cold. A fair price to pay for this pleasure. And yes, I did ask her to make a few changes. She did such a masterpiece with my hands, I supposed… this wouldn’t be too much different. Enough to level the playing field between our kinds.

Bane said nothing for a moment that stretched on a little too long, and I twisted my head to look at him from the corner of my eye. Are you upset?

He nuzzled my temple and cheekbone, and then shifted most of his weight to the side, settling so his cock remained flared and locked inside me, but his weight didn’t crush my torso.

From there he stared into my eyes, reading my worries.

“No. I could’ve been patient, but… no. I’d rather you decide what your body needs, than to risk being damaged in an attempt. The only problem is…”