Before – Homeworld, Millenia Ago, After the Burn #4
She exhaled, and a shimmer of pressure rolled over the ground, raising gooseflesh along her arms. Static crawled over her skin, snapping at her fingertips and dancing up her spine like lightning.
The Devouring had begun.
Every ounce of power and wisdom the giant had accumulated across his unending life, and every immortal he'd claimed for himself, was building into a storm that now swirled directly overhead.
Eyes closed, Rynna raised her arms, welcoming the small chance to be anybody other than herself for even just a moment.
The gale answered. Lightning crashed into her, and she was suddenly flooded with the giant’s power and memories. Lifetimes flashed before her eyes like a whirlpool dragging her to its center—a sturdy woman, black-haired and bosomed, cradling a child close to her chest.
Stars above. Rynna’s whole body swelled with peace and a fierce sense of belonging. Is this love?
Then, just as suddenly, the moment shattered. The woman and the serenity she offered vanished, leaving only the searing bolt of electricity splitting through her.
Her legs gave out as the surge rolled her, driving her to her knees. Dust clung to sweat as she dragged in breath after breath, lungs heaving for something solid, something clean.
Eventually, she let herself tip back, rolling onto the ground. Gravel burrowed into the back of her head as she stared up at the sky, images of the woman and her child flashing in her mind on repeat.
How could something so beautiful exist in a world such as this? The thought rose before she shoved it aside.
When she opened her eyes again, the Horsemen stood over her in a loose circle, the flicker of firelight catching on their skin, their leathers, their grins. Their pants were tight. There was no mystery as to what the Devouring had stirred in each of them.
“Back off, you godsdamned perverts.” She groaned and threw an arm over her face. “Let me enjoy the afterglow in peace.”
They laughed low among themselves, clapping shoulders and muttering praise, while Rynna lay sprawled in the dirt. Her pulse still thudded in her ears like the final beat of a war drum.
Malekar and Kaelric stepped around her, making their way to the fallen giant. The body lay crumpled, limbs heavy and slack, blood cooling around it. Brow furrowed, Kaelric studied the ragged wound in the man’s chest.
“Why’d he take his own heart?” He reached to his own chest as he grimaced. “Horrible way to go.”
Malekar remained silent, still as stone, eyes fixed on the body like it might move again.
“Probably didn’t want to be bested by a woman.” Rynna sat up, pushing the hair from her face with one blood-smeared hand.
“Yeah... that tracks.” Kaelric tilted his head, rubbing his chin. “No offense.”
“None taken, tiny,” she said. “You’re just mad you didn’t get your shot.”
“I’ve never seen a man that big!” he agreed. “Now that would’ve been fun.”
“It was a good win.” Malekar stepped in close, his hand settling on Rynna’s shoulder. Then, his voice dropped low, almost lost in the quiet. “I’m glad you took him. I think he would’ve given me trouble.”
Heat rolled through her, lighting behind her ribs, and traveling lower, winding as if waiting for permission. Her eyes met his, and something passed between them—silent, weighty, and edged with promise.
For a moment, she almost moved. Her fingers twitched, aching to catch his wrist, to pull him with her behind the shattered walls nearby. There was still blood on her lips, still fire in her bones.
But then—
“Malekar!” Daziel’s voice drove them apart. “Why don’t you whisper sweet nothings in my ear?”
“Yes!” Vorian chimed in. “When will it be my turn?!”
“Screw you,” Rynna muttered, the haze fully broken now, reality dragging her back by the collar.
Kaelric didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, that’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
The snort jumped out of her before she could stop it, followed by a laugh.
The others joined in, and just like that, they were whole again.
Arm in arm with Malekar, Rynna and the Four Horsemen made their way toward the boundary of the village.
Their boots squished through the ruined ground, the wreckage fading as they walked.
The horses stood waiting—massive, silent, flanks streaked with drying gore. The raiders were gone. As always, it ended with just the five of them.
Rynna mounted Empty Night in quiet motion, her nerves still tingling from the Devouring. Settled in, she exhaled once and glanced at the others as they climbed on their mounts.
“Do you think anyone will find the children?” she asked.
Vorian scoffed. “Who cares? If they’re found—fine. More fodder for legend. If not…” He shrugged. “That’s fine too.”
She didn’t answer. But as she adjusted her grip on the reins, her jaw worked slightly, biting back the taste his words left behind.
Her thoughts drifted to one of the children the giant had been guarding—a girl with golden curls and wide, brave eyes who peeked out even as the flames washed over her world.
Rynna didn’t tell anyone, but she hoped the girl survived.
Malekar maneuvered his horse beside her. Then, he reached out and squeezed her hand gently.
“Camp soon,” he murmured softly. “Once we’re far enough upwind.”
She nodded, letting the peace he offered spread through her.
The afternoon’s work behind them, moonlight bled across the landscape in muted blues and ghostly gray. Shadows stretched long through the clearing as they resumed their journey, the high of battle fading into familiar fatigue.
When they found a sheltered spot among the trees, Malekar gave the signal to halt.
The location was ideal, shielded from wind yet offering a clear view of the surrounding terrain.
The earlier banter dwindled, replaced by the practiced silence of experienced warriors setting up camp.
Sparks leapt to life in the central fire pit, and each Horseman moved toward their respective shelters, leaving Malekar and Rynna in their own shared tent.
Inside, the sudden quiet hit harder than expected. The canvas walls muted the noise outside, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world had paused.
Rynna pushed a tangle of dark brown hair out of her face, wind-knotted and damp with sweat.
Useless to try fixing it now. She twisted a strand around her finger.
Malekar stepped in behind her.
He didn’t say a word, just moved closer until his presence soaked through the space between them.
The soft glow from the lantern caught along his cheek, casting the sharp angles of his face into shadow.
She reached for him without thinking, fingertips tracing the coarse line of his cheek, then along his jaw.
Rough skin met hers, his lips still flecked with dried blood.
“Rynna.” Her name was on his lips as her palm found his throat.
And that was all it took.
Her hand tangled in his black hair as her lips dragged and her teeth bit.
Catching her wrist, he slammed her into the tent’s support beam, knocking the air from her lungs. Then, as the canvas rustled around them, his entire body pinned hers, hips grinding forward.
She felt him through the layers of the clothing, thick and hard, his cock digging into her stomach like a promise.
One hand planted beside her head, bracing them both.
The other found her chin, fingers firm, tipping her face up as his mouth claimed hers.
Teeth catching, the metallic tang of blood clung to nearly every inch of him, smearing her mouth and onto her tongue.
She didn’t care. She wanted more of it—more of him—the taste of battle still pouring from his skin.
Raking at his shirt, she yanked it loose at the waist, nails scraping over muscle and old scars.
He growled into her mouth, hips surging again.
The beam at her back groaned under their weight, but she didn’t move. She let him hold her there, let the tension coil tighter, let the bruising kiss and the crush of his body fill the space between one breath and the next.
“Tell me.” Her mouth brushed the edge of his ear. “Was it worth the wait?”
He didn’t answer, just grabbed her thighs and lifted her off the floor. And as he held her there against the beam, she locked her legs around his waist, rocking against him. Then her mouth parted as her fingers fumbled with the knot and folds of cloth between them.
He let out a rough exhale, pressing her harder as a hand reached up to his back, fingers wrapping around the hilt of a blade. And in one clean motion, he drew it and sliced through the waistband of her trousers, tearing the fabric away.
“Damn it!” She watched him toss the blade aside and shove his own pants down over his hips. “You’re sewing those back together, Malekar!”
Then, the hot length of him—bare and ready—pushing between her legs, obliterated any other thoughts from her mind. As it always did.
“Fuck me,” she exhaled, stars pricking at the edge of her vision.
Her muscles clenched as the head of his cock sank into her—not deep, just enough to make her head swim.
He leaned in, forehead against hers.
“Make me.”