Kiakoa
The taste of her lingers on my tongue for hours. The unique flavor that sets my teeth on edge, that coats my mouth and clings to my clothes. I sit in the strategy room, staring at maps I cannot focus on.
My cock has been hard since I left her in that corridor.
A hot, heavy weight settles low in my belly, the pressure building until the leather feels like a cage.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her face—the way her pupils dilated when I bit her, the sound she made when pain became something else entirely.
She is three floors above me. I can feel her presence like heat against my skin.
Across the table, Captain Morris finishes his report. “...spotted near the Musslet pass, my lord.”
I nod, though I barely heard him. Vasek's scouts. My western border weakens by the hour. These facts should command my attention.
Instead, I remember the way she pressed closer when I fed, offering more of herself. The desperate sound she made when I pulled away.
A knock at the door interrupts my distraction. Scratch enters without waiting for permission, all six eyes taking in my state with obvious disapproval.
“Master,” he says, his voice a dry, rasping chitter. “We have received additional communications.”
He places three scrolls on the stone table. I recognize the seals immediately—Lords Elovat, Mordak, and Jesseth. The southern crags and eastern marshes. And Jesseth, who I’ve never understood.
“When did these arrive?”
“Within the last hour. All by bone crow. All marked urgent.” Scratch's eyes blink in sequence. “Forty-nine years, seventy-one days, and twenty-three hours until my service ends. Your attention appears... elsewhere.”
I break the first seal. Elovat's script is bold, aggressive.
My Lord Kiakoa, disturbing reports have reached my territory regarding your recent... indisposition. Should you require assistance maintaining order during this difficult time, I stand ready to provide aid. For appropriate compensation, naturally.
The second scroll contains similar sentiments from Mordak. The third, from Jesseth, is more direct.
Old friend, the vultures are circling. They smell weakness and gather for the feast. Join with me, and we can face this threat together. Refuse, and I fear you will face it alone.
I set the scrolls aside. The mathematics are clear—three lords, possibly more, moving against me simultaneously. Vasek has likely spent months testing the waters, using my isolation against me. I know he has other partners, waiting. Watching.
Under normal circumstances, I would already be mobilizing defenses. Calling in favors, repositioning forces, preparing for siege warfare. The strategy is obvious, the tactics well-established.
But these are not normal circumstances.
The frenzy has shifted my priorities completely. The thought of spending weeks in military planning, of focusing my attention on anything other than the woman upstairs, feels physically impossible.
“What forces do we have immediately available?” I ask. I know the answer. Wish I didn’t.
Scratch gives the full body shudder that seems to serve as a shrug. “The border guards number eighty-seven, spread across three watch posts. Twenty-five more in the castle.”
“And our enemies?”
“Lord Vasek commands approximately two hundred. Lords Elovat and Mordak together could field perhaps three hundred more. Lord Jesseth maintains a standing force of one hundred fifty.”
Six hundred and fifty against my hundred-odd defenders. The outcome is predetermined if they ally against me.
“Forty-nine years, seventy-one days, and twenty-two hours until my service ends,” Scratch mutters. “Perhaps this is an opportune time to discuss succession plans.”
I ignore the comment. My attention has already moved beyond conventional solutions.
“Send word to Lord Jesseth,” I say. “Arrange a meeting. Tomorrow evening, at the Bone Orchard. Send a guide to meet his party at the border and lead them to the rendezvous.”
“Master?” Scratch's eyes widen in surprise. “The Orchard is... exposed. No defensive positions. If he chooses to attack…” His legs click. “Unless you are setting a trap—”
“It is not a trap.” I stand, decision crystallizing with sudden clarity. “It is a demonstration.”
The plan forms as I speak, each piece falling into place. Jesseth fancies himself my friend, but friendship among Vethani lords is a calculated thing. He will come to assess my strength personally before committing to either side of this conflict.
He will also come to see what has changed in me. What new element has entered the equation.
And I will show him.
I climb the stairs to the woman’s wing, each step bringing her scent stronger. By the time I reach her door, my hands are shaking with need.
I find her sitting by the window, looking out at the three moons. She has changed from the gray auction dress into something softer—dark fabric that clings to her small frame. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders.
She turns when I enter, and the hunger in her dark eyes mirrors my own.
“I was wondering when you'd come back,” she says.
“Were you?”
“I can feel you thinking about me. About what we did.” She stands, moving closer. “It's like an itch I can't scratch.”
The distance between us disappears. I reach for her, and she comes willingly, pressing against my chest. Her warmth seeps through my clothes, her scent filling my lungs.
“I need...” I start, then stop. The words feel inadequate.
“I know what you need.” She tilts her head back, exposing the pale column of her throat. “Take it.”
My teeth extend fully. The hunger roars through me, demanding immediate satisfaction. But I force myself to pause, to savor the anticipation building between us.
“Tomorrow night, we will have an audience,” I say, my voice rough with need.
“An audience?”
“Another lord. He comes to assess my strength, to decide whether to stand with me or against me.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. “And you want him to see what I am. What we are together.”
“I want him to understand that I am not weakened by this hunger. I am made stronger by it.”
She smiles, sharp and knowing. “Then we'd better make it memorable.”
I lower my head to her throat. Her pulse beats against my lips, fast and eager. When I bite, she arches into me with a gasp that sends fire straight to my cock.
This feeding is different from the first. More controlled, more deliberate. I take my time, drawing out her pleasure as much as my own satisfaction. Her hands fist in my hair, holding me to her throat while soft sounds escape her lips.
The circuit forms between us again—her pain flowing into me, my satisfaction flowing back. But there's something new this time. A deeper pull, a sense that each feeding draws us closer together in ways I don't fully understand.
When I pull back, the puncture wounds seal immediately. But something lingers—a heightened awareness of her presence, stronger than before.
She touches her throat where I bit her, eyes wide with wonder.
“What was that?”
“Something changing between us,” I say. “Something that grows stronger each time we feed.”
“Will it hurt?”
I cup her face in my hands, studying her reaction. Most humans would recoil from the idea of permanent connection to a monster. She leans into my touch.
“Everything worthwhile hurts,” I tell her. “But this hurt will be ours to shape.”
She nods, accepting what many would flee from.
Tomorrow night, Lord Jesseth will come expecting to find weakness. Instead, he will witness the forging of something new. Something that will change the balance of power in ways none of them anticipate.
The frenzy has not made me weak. It has given me a weapon unlike any other.
And I intend to use it.
But tonight, I need distance. The hunger still courses through me, amplified by her proximity and the taste of her pain. If I stay here, in her private chambers where her scent has already permeated everything, I may not maintain the control tomorrow's demonstration requires.
“I should leave,” I say, though every instinct protests the separation. “Rest. Tomorrow will demand much from both of us.”
She searches my face, reading the conflict there. “You're afraid you'll lose control.”
“I am afraid I will take more than you are ready to give.”
Her smile turns knowing. “What if I'm ready to give more than you think?”
My throat goes dry as I step back, forcing myself to release her. “But not tonight. Tonight we prepare.”
She nods, understanding the necessity even as disappointment flickers in her dark eyes. I move towards the door, I force myself to not look back.