Dozens of girls—Grimdaughters included—work together at tables, heads bent low, creating the tincture we now know as Silverblood. Many of them are half-dressed and relaxed, talking pleasantly to themselves.
I feel like I’ve invaded their sacred space, so I stand straight in the archway, clearing my throat. “Erm, pardon my intrusion.”
Most of them ignore me, thankfully, though I catch some of them giggling. One girl yells at the giggler, slapping her behind and scolding her. “No, no, Lyroan. You just got over one bloodsucker. We’re not gonna let you get attached to a half-bloody!”
Lyroan, the quaint dhampiress in question, lets out a mewling sound. “Aw, you’re no fun, Aleth!”
“Eyes down, back on your work!”
I hear chuckling to my left, behind a curtain. Male chuckling. Hurrying over, I yank the curtain back to reveal Garroway on his back, lying on a bench, hands behind his head. “You seem well,” I mutter.
He grins. “I feel free. Liberated from the confines of an overbearing presence on my mind.”
I don’t know how to answer that, so I don’t.
“Lots of women in here looking for suitors, Lukain,” he adds, bobbing his eyebrows.
The grayskin is even more chipper than usual. It’s unnerving. “There’s only one woman I’m after.”
“I know.” He gives me a curt military nod, making fun of my curtness by trying on a faux version of his own. “Best find her then, hadn’t we?”
“You know where she is? Skartovius went rampaging out of the sparring room an hour ago when I bested him.”
“He didn’t let you win?” He chuckles again, the prick. “I figure we can smell her easily enough.” Garroway slides onto his feet, stretching his arms overhead and cracking his back this way and that. “Come, good sir.”
He leads me out of the chamber, into the Firehold proper.This place I used to run has certainly changed.I can’t deny that people seem happier than when I was in charge.
Garroway is like a man possessed, marching through hallways, past rooms, peeking in, moving on, through the eating hall, past it. Eventually, he moves us toward the back of the Firehold leading north, deeper into old mine shafts and closed tunnels that are hard to navigate.
As dhampirs, we both have vision well-suited toward dim lighting. Here, however, it’s pitch black. That doesn’t stop Garroway from increasing his pace.
“I can’t scent her. How can you?” I ask.
“I can’t either. A furry friend of mine is guiding me.”
Ah. Right. His beast-charming. One of the things making me feel wholly inadequate in this band of miscreants, until Sephania and Garroway showed me the error of my self-pity.
We walk for what feels like hours. I know it’s not, but my mind can’t stop turning over. I want to know what afflicted Skartovius so badly during our bout, and I have a feeling wherever he is, Sephania will be.
Sure enough, we hear them before we see them. It’s the telltale sound of panting, slapping flesh, moaning, and muffled screams. Grunting and rutting and everything that makes my cock swell at the slightest touch when my little grimmer is involved.
I try to put out of mind the other participant in these activities is my half-brother. Because it’s not him I’m here for anymore. If the sounds of their extravagant fucking are anything to go by, he’s recovered and is doingfine.
Garroway and I turn the corner to a small, open cavern. The heat of their sex slams against me before anything—before the flickering torchlight makes evident what’s going on in here.
“Ohmy,” Garroway mumbles, his voice going high. “Seems we’ve found the culprits in a compromised position, Lukain. Shall we return once they’re—”
“Don’t go anywhere!” cries Sephania.
I blink in shock. She’s . . . floating.
No, not floating. She’s held up by black stems that pulse in the firelight, wrapped around her ankles and wrists. The shadowy threads keep her well-spread in every way. Skartovius slams into her from the front, over and over again, rutting the poor girl like his immortality depends on it.
It’s his grunts, combined with her moans, and the slapping of their flesh, the swinging of his balls against her plush ass cheeks, that created the maelstrom of noise we heard heading in.
Now she’s ordered me not to move, not to leave. I can’t go against Sephania’s wishes. I stand dumbly, growing more aroused by the second, with every new slip of sweaty flesh and bouncing curve I see of her body, past Skar’s.
It seems my brother is getting his frustrations at losing our match out in a rather, erm, aggressive way. He releases all his bitterness out by releasing himself inside Sephani with a deep groan.