As she realizes she’s burning.
The tip of my silver blade is lodged in her chest. She fell right into it. Now her skin is peeling back, and I can see every crevice, every line like a crumbling statue, of her ageless life before her. The shock on her hissing face, the musculature crackling and crisping and singeing foully.
“No, it can’t be!” Cullard screams.
There is no weight to Valenthia Yurlyth. Not when she has become ash and bone in a matter of seconds, covering me in a thick layer of filth.
I dust myself off. Groan as I sit up. Pull my silver dagger from the ground where a strange object sits from inside her body—some sort of circular, rusted badge.
It dawns on me this dagger was made by Vanison Shirin himself. The man who just tried to kill me outside. “Huh,” I mutter incredulously. “Strange times we l-live in.”
My eyes refocus on the place beneath the dagger, lower . . . where Cullard’s knife rests in my belly.
My vision swims. Numbness takes hold. “Ahhh, fuck,” I spit out.
Then I collapse into sweet black oblivion.
Chapter 49
Palacia
Liolen Sesk bounces hard on my narrow thighs, grunting, drooling, moaning. Their clammy hands rest on my chest, where my bones protrude, straining against my pale skin. Light feather-fingers tease my nipples, making me harder inside the overliege.
Sometimes I wish Sephania’s Silverblood concoction didn’t have such a dizzying effect on me. It makes me feeltoohuman at times.
I’m on the giant bed in Liolen’s chamber, covered with a silk net around us. On my back where I belong, with the Gilded Liege straddling me, riding me feverishly. Their knees are bent near my arms and their ethereal face is contorted in wild pleasure.
My eyes glaze over to the protrusion bulging Liolen’s belly with every rise and fall of their hips on top of me. Every time my cock thrusts deep inside their ass, I’m rewarded with that bulge of flesh at their lower stomach. Then it disappears as they rise. Then it reappears like a fist as they fall.
My eyes drop lower. Their tiny cock flops and bounces on my belly, impossibly erect like an angry pinkie finger. It throbs and spits cum onto my stomach, not for the first time, with the watery-white fluid now pooling and lathering my skin after their sixth orgasm, dripping off either side of my slender middle.
“Spirits and fuckingmartyrs, my little fae queen!” Liolen wails as they continue to slam their ass against my thighs withloud claps ringing out through the massive chamber. “I’m going to make you pump a whelp into me, you incorrigible little slut!”
I frown, staring up at them. “I’ll have to use the other hole for that, Overliege,” I point out.
I was surprised to learn the interfolk bloodsucker evenhadanother hole. Imagine my shock when I discovered that pink slit, tucked behind their little balls, all juicy and wanting. I was utterly amazed to learn people existed who haveallthe genitalia at their disposal.
I was a bit jealous at first. Now I’m even more jealous when Liolen screeches about forcing me to impregnate them. I’ve always wanted that, too. I’ve been a lass for as long as I can remember, yet there are some parts of me—some very important parts—that will never fit the bill when it comes to womanhood.
I wasn’t born with that setting.
Liolen, the bastard, was.
They cackle in a high, lost tone, like a fairy whose had too much to drink and can’t control themselves. That’s certainly one way to think about the Gilded Liege: an uncontrollably drunk fairy.
I feel like my hands and skinny arms at my sides need to do something other than being embedded into the bed with every bounce of Liolen’s fleshy ass on top of me. So I reach for their smooth pale thighs, slide them down to their statuesque calves, and squeeze. “Are you ready, my liege?”
“R-Ready for what, dear girl?”
I thrust up, just once, lifting my taut ass off the mattress. Trying to wedge as much of my cock inside their tight little asshole as possible.
That’s all it takes for Liolen to howl and squirt more cum onto me. They shudder, shaking from the intensity of their climax.
Then they laugh and drool some more, slobber mixing with their fluids on my body, and their hand lashes out—
Thwack!
My face twists to the side. A pink handprint joins the rouge Liolen has painted me with.