Reaver of Souls Read online

  “Oh Creator, move for me, Terror,” she managed as her body seemed to go boneless and her soft breasts were pushing against his chest, her pebble-hard nipples driving deep.

  Fast in, slow out, fast in and a grind.

  “Terror!”

  Then she was moving, her whole body vibrating as she regained some muscle control and wrapped her hands in his hair, her elbows resting on his chest.

  She began taking control, sliding her hips up and down, the feel of his hands on her hips anchoring her and making each movement feel more intense.

  Faster and faster they moved, counterpoint to one another until a fast rhythm was established.

  Then they began to pound at each other, releasing all of the fear and anxiety they felt, taking their emotions out on each other.

  Harder and faster they moved, driving their nerves taut as their bodies glistened with the sweat of their labors.

  Faster and faster, deeper and harder, until the room was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the hungry moans and pleas for more.

  Moving as one determined entity until Nello threw back her head, a loud scream erupting from her throat as the tension broke and her climax was upon her.

  “Ter…T…Terro…Terror!” she shrieked as her inner walls clamped tight to his thickness, feeling it swell even further before he too gave his own series of grunts as his cock pulsed within her, releasing its creamy load into her willing body.

  “Nell…” he purred, his body quivering, his muscles trembling as she collapsed in his arms.

  “Mmm,” she answered, sinking deeply into the afterglow and letting all of her cares float away on the warm golden waters in which she now floated.

  “We need a bath,” he managed, wrapping his arms around her, pushing her closer, not even minding the sticky fluids that covered them both.

  “Later,” she sighed, snuggling into his neck, her tongue tasting the salty flesh close to her mouth, sleepiness radiating from her body, but it was a contented sort of sleepiness.

  “Later,” he agreed as he stopped fighting and let the lethargy take him too. “Later.”

  They would have time.

  They would have everything, their son home where he belonged, their kingdom put to rights, their love. They would have time.

  * * * * *

  On the road, Torn took time to examine his leather strops—uh, pants—and found them to be the only thing on his body.

  Jack’s beautifully made coat was gone, his borrowed shirt was gone, even his boots were gone! The only thing he had were the tattered pants and damnable torque.

  What can be worse? he thought. Just then, it began to rain.

  He jumped as the first drops pelted his body, startling him as the few drips preceded a downpour.

  “Does the sky ever not cry here?” he said, then blinked. He was speaking in Sable’s language. He was thinking in this twisted bizarre language.

  He looked up at the sky and began to roar with laughter, the rain soaking his body and plastering his hair to his face.

  “I have learned something good,” he laughed. That his vocabulary was rudimentary at best didn’t bother him. He had succeeded at something and he wanted to shout with glee. “I think in this…in these words.”

  He must have taken some of the language when he reaved that man in the dark alleyway. Finally, a bit of useful magic that could actually benefit him.

  Suddenly, the gray sky didn’t seem so sad and the world looked a little brighter. Now, to find out where he was.

  He turned around, carefully scanning the area, and almost jumped in delight as he discovered something. The path looked familiar. It looked almost like one of the roads that Sable took while bringing him home for the first time. Had he instinctively headed for safety, Sable’s house?

  He shook his head, he hadn’t a clue, but he smiled as he started off down the road. Things were looking up.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “So do I walk around calling, ‘Here Faeroe, Faeroe, Faeroe’?”

  “Not funny, Jillian!” Sable groused as she glared daggers at her friend. “He could be anywhere.”

  Jillian, Jack, and Sable rode back towards her house, Jase following in his large rusted-out van, filled with tall strange-speaking men who carried themselves so much like Torn.

  “He will be fine,” Jill assured as they rounded the bend to her house. “Have faith! He is a big bulletproof boy.”

  “But he looked so hurt, Jill,” Sable screamed over the roar of the engine. “Like he had lost his best friend!”

  “He thought he lost you!” Jill shouted as they pulled the bikes into the garage. “His heart was breaking, Sable.”

  “He was not…”

  “I am a man. I know these things.”

  “But…”

  “Listen to the man,” Jack interrupted as he turned off his ignition and kicked the stand into place. “A man in love recognizes a man in love.”

  All conversation ceased as the van pulled into the drive and a distraught Jase emerged.

  “Poor babies,” he sighed. “I don’t think they’ve ever ridden in a van before. Do you think that they’re third-world?”

  He peered back into the van before moving to open the side doors.

  Inside, three green-faced men sat, wide-eyed, as if their world was slowly spiraling out of control and taking their stomachs along for the ride.

  “You do think they will be okay, don’t you?” Jase asked worriedly. “I think the shortest one is kind of cute, but I don’t do puking men.”

  Jill exploded into laughter, Jack shook his head as he glared at Jase, and Sable stepped forward cautiously.

  “Torn?” she asked as the one who appeared to be the leader seemed to shake himself out of his misery and focus on her.

  “Torn,” he repeated as he looked around him and made to exit the van.

  He seemed most relieved as his feet touched firm earth. He turned and motioned for his fellow warriors to exit, noting that there was no apparent danger.

  “You tell me?” Sable said as she stepped closer to him, her face showing determination. “Find him.”

  “Find him?” Mace said slowly as he stared at the small red-haired female. She appeared to be angry for some reason, but he knew not why. It had something to do with Torn, so he was sticking near. She may be a witch, just like the last redhead Torn fell in with.

  “Out!” he called to his men as they were taking their time in exiting the strange transport. “We have things to do. We must find Torn and report to Terror.”

  “Terror?” Jill asked as he stepped close to Sable, noting that the tall one immediately turned his attention to him. Kind of like a hawk watching its prey.

  “Make him look at me like that,” Jase demanded as he stared at Mace in awe. “He looks so butch.”

  The creaking of the van’s shocks announced the other two as they crawled out and looked around the garage.

  “They are talking terror, Sable!” Jill said again. “I think you had better find out what they want and what they know.”

  “Me?”

  “Well, you speak Faeroe. I speak fairy and I don’t think they would be interested in a strip club.”

  Sable glowered at Jill, then turned to face the big one again.

  “Sable!” she shouted, pointing to her chest. “Sable!”

  Mace looked at the woman as if she had lost her mind.

  “Is she hostile?” Joz asked, his sable hair ragged and strewn around his head from his nervous fingers, as he moved beside his commander. “Should I take action?”

  “Not yet,” Mace advised. “We had better observe these beings. They may lead us to Torn.”

  “You said his name again!” Sable called out, stepping close to the man, her desperation making her bold. “Find him! Find Torn!”

  “Maybe we should contact Terror,” Del said, shaking off the unpleasant experience of enclosed high-speed travel. “He needs to be updated.”

&nbs
p; “What are they talking about?” Jill whispered as Jack and Jase flanked them, a guard of sorts.

  Before any opinions could be formulated, the tall one reached into a pouch at his side and produced a little glowing ball.

  “If this is sex like in Cocoon,” Jase purred, “me first!”

  “Jase,” Jack growled, finally speaking. “This is serious.”

  They all watched as the orb in his palm began to grow and pulse, a bright blue-white star in his hand. It grew in strength until suddenly it exploded, filling the garage with a warm glow.

  “Report!” the voice bellowed, coming from nowhere and everywhere.

  “Oh shit,” Jase mumbled as he flinched and jerked his head around, searching for the voice.

  Jack gasped and Jill took a step closer to Sable, but all waited to see what would happen next.

  “Torn is here. The Reaver was spotted,” Mace said quietly. “We have come in contact with some…natives who seem to know of him.”

  “What happened to my son?” Terror asked, his voice barely controlled. “Where is he?”

  “We do not know, Lord.” Mace repeated. “We arrived in some sort of disturbance and the Reaver took off soon after. We shall track him now.”

  “What is that place like?”

  “It is…savage,” Mace said quietly, not knowing how else to describe this place.

  “I am on my way.”

  “But, my Lord…”

  “I am on my way! Detain the natives. We will learn what we can from them and then we will find my son.”

  There was a flash and the light burned away, leaving four humans looking shocked and confused and three grim-looking warriors.

  “He is coming,” Mace said, and Del and Joz nodded.

  “What was that?” Jase asked, finally getting his breath back. “On second thought, I don’t want to know. Later guys, I’m out of here.”

  But before he could move, a tall beefy man stood in his way, barring the exit.

  “Well, maybe I’m not,” he said as his attempts to leave were blocked at every turn.

  “Well, I’m going in,” Sable announced as she glowered at the three large men taking over her garage but giving her no information on Torn.

  She turned to enter through the kitchen door, but Mace stood in her way, his mouth set and his eyes grim.

  “Look, buster,” she snarled as she approached and slammed her finger into his chest. “I have no idea where you come from or what you are, but until you help me find Torn, you are not going anywhere and neither am I!”

  Each word was punctuated with a jab. Her emotions were raw and frustration rode her every move.

  He blinked at her. Wasn’t she afraid? Did she not know what he was capable of doing?

  “Move it!” she screamed, making all the men jump. “I am cold and hungry and I don’t know where Torn is! So I am going to find a way to find him and bring him home. You are not going to stop me.”

  She sniffed as she walked around the man, who was still looking at her in confusion, as he didn’t understand a word she had said beyond Torn’s name, but reading her determination.

  “Fiery, are these creatures not?” Del asked as he stared at the stupefied look on his commander’s face.

  “She is…different,” Mace allowed as he turned to follow the woman into the house, leaving the herding of the other males to his men.

  * * * * *

  “Tomorrow,” Nello said as she threw objects into a leather bag. “Tomorrow morning, Terror. We retrieve our child tomorrow.”

  “Yes Nello, My One,” Terror said as he watched his wife gather her mystical implements, paying no heed to the woman who lingered in his doorway. “Tomorrow.”

  * * * * *

  “Tomorrow!” the servant reported to her mistress. “They leave tomorrow.”

  “Then I will have to be there with them, won’t I?’’ Zultha laughed, the anticipation of revenge making her mouth water. “Tomorrow, they all will pay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Torn walked along the dark winding road, grateful that he could see clearly. If it were not for his training and the magic flowing through his veins, he would not have found his way this far.

  The walking was tedious, but he could not go to his Sable on wings. That would frighten her before he had a chance to explain what was happening. And more than anything, he wanted Sable to understand him, to not fear him, to love him as he loved her.

  He sighed and shivered a bit as the rain, he remembered the word, continued to fall, coating his nearly nude body with the cold, clear drops.

  Water from the sky, he thought as his long mane of hair began to stick to his body, and the torn pants began to slide down his narrow hips. It had to be magic.

  He closed his eyes, tossing his head back, flinging sprinkles of body-warmed water around. He turned his face up to the dark gray heavens, ignoring the river of water that flowed down his deep golden chest, through the hills and valleys created by his firm hard muscles, and concentrated.

  His bare feet sank into warm earth as he spread his arms and began to test this planet for energy, magic or human, and the creatures who inhabited this place.

  And as he freed a tendril of energy, he gasped as white lightning flared through his mind, forcing him to his knees.

  Groaning, he buried his fists into his hair as the images, the feelings, the aura of this place poured through him.

  It was awful! Crying! There were people crying out in anguish, mothers, fathers, children, they all screamed! The trees cried as they were torn from their mother earth, the ground screamed out its anguish as it was torn up and plowed over.

  The seas shrieked their agony as the life within them boiled in a liquid prison, caused by pollution and chemicals dumped there.

  The very air was anguished as things were forced into it, breaking down its natural composition and leaving it poisoned.

  But it was the cries of the people that hurt the worse!

  Small people, large people, hungry people and wealthy well-to-do people! In countries where they spoke strange languages, there was fighting and death. In large, teeming, overpopulated cities, people with no homes languished in poverty while the city dwellers looked right through them.

  Sickness ran rampant, killing diseases with no known cure and no way to control them, spread out among the population, striking young and old alike.

  There was so much pain! He felt the change begin in him, felt his skin prickle and tingle, but he knew that now was not the time! He fought it, fought it with every bit of power in his body.

  It was too much! It was too much for a lone Reaver to handle! There was too much to fix and no clear answers how to go about even beginning.

  He moaned as he lowered his forehead to the earth, the rich nurturing earth, and prayed for the pain to stop. “Please!” he groaned as wave after wave of need poured through him. Everyone needed him, needed something, and he wasn’t sure if he could help without destroying himself.

  “Please, stop!” he nearly screamed as a fresh wave of dark energy ripped through his body.

  Was there no end to the pain, no way to help these people?

  Then as his mind began to explode with his desire to help and his Reaver’s instincts to protect and defend, he heard a new voice.

  This voice was raised in song, a song of the future, a song of hope.

  His body began to tremble as he focused his energy there, determined to find where this soothing melody was coming from and how it could aid the people who were still screaming in his head.

  He turned inward, shutting down his body as his energy regrouped itself and went seeking.

  “It’s them,” he breathed as the pain eased a bit. “It’s them!”

  Indeed, it was the people of this planet. There was hope here, he realized, there was magic in these new voices. These were the voices that soothed the anguish in those around them. It came from the weak and infirm, the healthy and the wealthy, the poor and the knowledgeab
le, and the ignorant.

  Inside many of the people here, no matter what their circumstances, there was a seed of hope, a kernel of pride, love for themselves and for others.

  Torn concentrated on this feeling, this oneness with self, and felt the urge to let the beast take over pass away.

  Slowly, he stopped rocking and lifted his mud-splattered face. The wrinkles of pain in his forehead eased and his breathing became regular. Even the tingling of his skin eased as he concentrated and focused on this new delightful sound.

  Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, covered in the earth that had caused him so much pain and then lifted his spirit. It was the people in this place that eased his suffering and rejuvenated him, that was the true magic of this realm.

  Hands trembling, he focused more of this energy, feeling it come from many people, searching for one person.

  Surely if there was goodness being broadcast, his Sable would be one of the main people emitting such a wonderful magical vibe.

  He again closed his eyes, searching, when again; he was suddenly knocked to his knees.

  Terror! He felt Terror!

  Tightening in his grip on the energies he felt flow from his father and…his mother, he locked in on their location.

  If his parents were here, something was dreadfully wrong, and he had to right it.

  Turning south, he turned and began to jog, eyes closed as his feet moved him over the dark swampy land, letting his magic be his guide.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Sit!” Sable growled to the men who now invaded her kitchen, examining everything like they had never seen an appliance before. If they were like Torn, likely they never had.

  The three men looked at her oddly, then began to consult each other.

  “What did she say?” Del asked as he stared at the two older men. “Could you understand her?”

  “That garbled nonsense was speech?” Joz asked, and was answered with a glare from Mace.

  “We need to keep an eye on these people until Terror arrives. Especially the female. She looks to know more than the rest and could be dangerous, although I feel that she is not a threat to Torn.”