Love Charms (86 page)

It made
the old woman stir abruptly, her eyes opening and shown to be milky white all
the way through. The seer was indeed blind. “Kulav?” she called weakly in the
air, the voice so normal, so motherly, not at all like the mad laughter she
heard before.

“Yes
mother,” he responded calmly. “You are here with me now.”

Kulav.
Mirella smiled a bit, as if she’d just received some wonderful gift, and yet
here she stood at the brink of... what? Insanity? Madness? To see him with this
aged woman, he felt so strangely mortal to her, and she wasn’t entirely sure
what to make of the sensation. Instead, she remained a pace behind her god, and
plastered on a smile for the old, sightless woman.

The
seemingly mad woman drifted off again, it was hard to tell what she knew of
what was going on or not, as she seemed to sway out of awareness yet again.

“Mother,
you came with important tidings,” the God-King Kulav stated.

“No,”
she responded, “no tidings.”

“Then
why di—”

“Because
you have need of me,” she responded before he could finish.

With
the raven mask pulled off his face, Mirella could see the mild frustration on
his handsome, dark features. “Of course, mother. You’ve come to warn me of the
Empire?”

The
woman swayed to the side, seeming to fall over, but she held herself but a
hairs breadth from the cushions of her seat. She laughed maniacally, that chill
sound seeming to make all the candles about Mirella flicker and dim until the
old woman was done. “Why would I come to warn you of that which you already
know?” The words sounded mocking, but then she softened, and sat up again, a
motherly tone to her voice, “My sweet Kulav.”

For his
part, the dark lord seemed to take this in stride, perhaps used to her ravings
and lunacy, undaunted by the sense of foreboding that afflicted Mirella. “So
the Empire is—”

“Don’t
play at being dumb, my sweet,” she cut in again, “it doesn’t fit you. You are
far too clever for that.” The mighty God-King managed to look mildly irritated
by the words from the old woman. “Of course they come. You knew they would. You
have long planned for an early arrival of their forces.” She sang her next
words in some bizarre, otherworldly tone, “It was always in the stars.”

Mirella
tried to edge out her own frustration. This was worse than speaking with that
delivery boy that couldn’t say a single word without stuttering. She wondered
at how this god before her ever managed to make any sense of it, though she was
quickly becoming more casual in her stance. The fear at meeting the woman was
dripping away the longer she had gone unnoticed, and instead she simply,
silently, urged her on. For his sake. And her own, of course.

“Then I
have the matter in hand?” the dark man asked, anxious for his answers, even if
he hid it well; though not well enough to keep it from either of the other
women.

The old
Seer’s head lolled about on its seemingly weak neck, that curtain of white hair
flowing around her as she teetered from side to side. When he got no answer
Kulav said, “That’s not how things work,” as if repeating her own words, though
she’d said nothing, “of course.”

With a
sigh he looked about to speak again, but instead the old woman cut in, “I came
for your pet,” she stated, and Kulav looked to Mirella with only a brief delay.
“Yes her,” she responded, though her milky white eyes never moved, and she
never lost her erratic, random swaying that at all times looked like she was
about to pass out and die.

She let
loose a piercing wail of mourning, “Though it means I can expect to see less of
you still, my sweet, sweet boy. My lovely little child, my—” her long
litany of cooing, doting terms went on but Kulav gestured for Mirella to
approach.

Well
that was unnerving. She moved forward with little delay, her hands behind her
back as she approached, leaving her pregnant stomach and swollen breasts thrust
forward. “I’m here,” she said with a soft, beguiling smile, her tone so rich
and calm, despite the anxiety she felt within. She was an expert at hiding her
emotions when she cared enough to, and she definitely cared enough to now.

Her
words, however, never interrupted the woman's long incantation of mewling
fondness for her son. It was only when he spoke up again that she ceased, “I do
not have that kind of need of you any longer, mother,” he stated firmly. “Now
my needs are grander.”

The old
woman clucked her tongue and flailed violently for a moment. “Nothing is
grander than you, my son!” she said, her arms for the first time moving, hands
raising. “You have no idea what I must do for you!” She wailed in agony once
more, her slender fingers and long nailed digging into the side of her head as
she seemed to be in mortal agony.

“Mother?
Mother!” he called, leaning over and touching her arm to try and stop her from
hurting herself. The mere contact seemed to bring her back to lucidity.

“She
carries your blood in her now,” she stated with extreme clarity. “She can be a
witch of the coven because of that.”

Mirella’s
black brow arched, and she looked to her god quickly. A lot of women carried
his blood now, many with her direct influence and help. He was, she’d noted
quite readily, a very virile individual. “Your Greatness?” she asked curiously,
uncertain of how to deal with his lunatic of a mother, uncertain of what she
meant, and what this meant for her and them.

The
towering God-King looked down at her, his own brows furrowed slightly as he
flitted his gaze between the two women. The same curious glint was in his eyes,
but before he could put them to voice the mad woman spoke again.

“She
means it, you know? Truly means it,” and the Seer was taken by another fit of
mad laughter that seemed ready to consume her.

When
their patience was nearly at an end and he started to turn, the Seer spoke once
more in chilling calm. “When you march to war again, bring her to me. Bring
them all to me,” then she fainted. Her robes flapping as she just
unceremoniously fell into a pile on the cushions.

The
hard-faced Kulav recognized it for what it was, he bent over the palanquin,
kissing the old woman tenderly on the forehead and restored her carriage flaps.

Guiding
Mirella to the back stairs, rather than to the front doors, he explained simply
“That’s all she has,” leaving her for her own raven-guards to collect, she
presumed.

“Oh,”
Mirella murmured. She had been left dizzy and confused, and despite the fact
that she always seemed to stay so close to him, she was almost overlapping him
as they walked. Her breathing was a lot heavier, and she forced herself to calm
down, but the confusion still swirled in her mind. “So that went well?”

Chapter 9

Svella
had once stated that it was considered an excessive waste—a sin
even—for the God-King to spill his seed fruitlessly. So that meant he
could not spare his virility for the pregnant of his harem. Since meeting with
the demigod’s seer-mother, he’d kept her with him instead of in the tent, and
she’d wondered if she could get him to violate that taboo in private.

On her
knees before him and between his legs as he sat by the window, she lavished his
manhood with her affections as he sat nude, seeming to fluctuate between deep
contemplation and appreciation for her and her ministrations.

The
tower he was in gave a view of the mountain pass, and it was not favoured by
the old rulers. The room itself, though large and opulent, would’ve been
reserved for guests only, but he preferred it. His mind always on the next
challenge beyond.

For the
past few days, she’d been a constant around the palace, and was growing to like
it more and more, despite the worries that plagued her. She wanted to be of
more help and use to the god, but she could barely make sense of the woman’s
ranting. As her tongue ran up the base of his shaft, she played with him,
enjoying his company immensely.

“Your
Greatness?” she murmured softly, her kittenish tongue prodding him.

Through
all his deep contemplations, she always managed to keep him so rock hard, that
magnificent shaft never losing its rigidity. So when he looked down at her, its
thick girth blocked out much of her face. “Mirella?” he responded in his husky
tone, that organ throbbing, disgorging more of its slick precum from its dark,
ebon-purple tip.

Her
tongue swirled up to capture it. She took such pleasure in his body, it
overrode everything else, “How do I become a witch of the coven?” Both of them
had been lost in their own contemplations. As she worked him so skilfully, her
green eyes peering at him from beneath the sizable shaft, her tongue poking out
along the sides, she knew she needed more from him.

Taking
a deep breath his broad chest swelled, those hard muscles, seemingly etched in
stone, rising then falling as he peered back out the window. “Mother will see
to it when I march off to meet the princes army,” he said plainly, the obsidian
king enjoying his time with her, seeming more relaxed than she’d saw him to be
in ages. “I don’t know more than that, I’m afraid.”

He
hesitated, licking his lips, “The Ka’reem men despise the might of the witches.
And women in general,” he explained. “They work mysterious magics that have
effects beyond their understanding. But they more often refuse to use those
powers. Regardless of the cost to the people. So,” he shrugged his broad
shoulders, “the men fear them for what they might do, but loathe them for
having such strength over them and refusing to use it.”

She was
thoughtful for a long time as she worked that huge member, devoted to it.
Though she still simply teased him, there was a quickened pace and a firmer
pressure against the swollen tip. Her mouth suckled him so eagerly, not worried
about the aching in her knees and the heaviness of her breasts. “Would I be the
first non-Ka’reem woman practicing?”

Her
increased efforts had their effect, she saw the tensing in his hard muscles,
the lines of sinew rise for a moment before softening again from his neck on
down across his pecs and abs to his thighs. “As far as I know,” he said with
lust in his voice, she’d gotten through his barriers, and she could tell his
mind was no longer elsewhere. It was focussed on her.

“The
witches don’t share their secrets with any outsiders. Never have from what I
managed to learn of them,” he couldn’t help but grunt a little, that
monstrously large cock throbbing thickly as his heavy sac laid down between
those powerful thighs of his. “Mother is no longer a wealth of information on
such things however, not since...” he trailed off, shutting his eyes and
reclining, enjoying her fellatio.

She
wanted to pry, to find out why, but something more important occurred to her.
Though her hand still stroked him, her fingers rubbing lightly along his sac,
she tilted her face from around his cock, staring at him curiously. “Will this
put something between us?”

Breathing
more heavily he opened his eyes ever so slightly and looked down to her as if
troubled that her mouth had ceased its movements on him. “You’re willing to do
anything for me, are you not?” it was less of a question and more of a
statement, but he seemed to expect an answer nonetheless.

“Absolutely,”
she said, instantly cutting off further conversation by suckling him once more,
seeming reassured by his words and eager to get back to pleasing him. If he
wasn’t concerned, then certainly there was no need for her to be. As her tongue
whorled around him, her eyes were focused on his.

Watching
her a while, she saw his mouth slowly fall open, his breathing grown heavier.
“Come here,” he told her in his harsh, lusty voice, pulling her arms to get her
to sit in his lap. She rose up, bending her knees and lowering herself onto him.
He held her hips and angled her so that his member slipped into her cunt, those
puffy lips still so tight for his large size, making him groan in pleasure.

She
leaned against him so eagerly, pressing her soft, nude form against his, her
arms wrapped around his neck tightly. As her mouth found his, he could feel her
intensity and desire, her need for him and his reassurance. When he’d found her
all those months ago, she’d been so entranced by him and his power and coveted
both.

Now,
she had let herself fall open to him, to someone else, in a way that no other
person had ever been able to even let her glimpse. He’d torn into her and made
her utterly his, and that kiss, the way she fucked him was one of love. Of her
love, of devotion and worship and praise.

Those
strong hands of his felt out her body, kneaded and stroked those engorged
breasts, brushed past her already budding stomach and then back around her to
her ass. That powerful grip of his lifted her up and brought her crashing back
down at a quickened pace, so that she was riding him hard.

Breaking
their kiss he husked to her in his gravelly voice, “You’ll serve me no matter
what happens. If I come back defeated, and the witches sorcery has driven you
mad, I’ll grab you by the hair and drag you into the north to rut still.”

Her
laugh was soft, but he could tell there was real affection there, a tenderness
shared between them in their own way. Her lips found his neck, then his ear,
her voice whispering to him, “What happened to drive her mad?”

Her
entire body was such a delight, and the way her hips rocked were so skilled,
tailored just to him. Her entire behaviour and actions had all been fine-tuned
by her god, and that gave her all the more confidence in them as her thighs
pushed up and down with his grip.

The
slight tensing in his body beneath her pumping form betrayed the sensitive
nature of the topic, but she wasn’t reprimanded. The harsh conqueror instead
squeezed her ass cheeks and hurried her pace, sending her achingly engorged
breasts bouncing and crashing against her chest with painful force.

He
didn’t answer her, not right away. Instead he let the moment go on, her sweet
kisses upon his hard flesh helping coax him along. It was then she felt it, his
inhuman girth twitching, the old familiar feeling as finally she brought the
God-King back to climax within her, not having to share the moment with any
other.

Instead
his seed shot out into her—for her—alone, and he arched his neck
back, pushing his head into the back of the chair. Her continued pumping
squeezed the creamy essence out of him entirely, leaving him breathing hard,
his glistening chest undulating.

“Do you
really wish to know?” he asked, his voice not upset but calm.

Her
body still sang from his climax, and her entire form trembled against him so
tenderly. She loved him. Awareness of the truth crashed through her and left
her weak. That familiar wetness began to slide from her tight quim, and she
couldn’t help but send a frenzied scurry of kisses up his neck to his lips.

When
finally she came down from her high, it was only just enough to nod, her eyes
intent upon him.

The
God-King Kulav didn’t get up, didn’t disturb the peace of their moment. Instead
he tightened his hold on her ass and pulled her in against him in a tight
embrace.

He rested
his head against the top of hers, forcing her to nestle in against his neck and
chest beneath his chin, the final throbbing of his cock inside her tight quim
the only thing to disturb the moment. “Mother didn’t warn me against you. And
she’s agreed to show you secrets that could destroy us all. So I suppose it
doesn’t matter,” he stated in a light act of surrender that acknowledged his
trust in her.

She
kissed him so tenderly, just enough to try to coax him along as she rest in his
lap, feeling herself reach a state of calm and peace she’d never known existed.
He was helping her transcend the barriers of reality, she was certain, for the
way she felt about him surely could not be attained by a mere mortal.

With
his lips so near to her ear, she seemed absorbed into his hard, gravely words,
that masculine husk so entrancing it seemed to consume her. “They said my
mother made a pact with the Lord of the Hells when she gave birth to me. Her
husband disowned her, cast her out.

“She
lived a life of miserable poverty. Beaten and abused by the others of her
tribe. She was the object of their hatred and blame, for all their misfortune.”
His thickly muscled arms tightened about her just slightly, “As I grew older,
and my dark visage grew more and more pronounced, they decided I had to be
destroyed to save them from the curse of the devils.

“My
mother,” he hesitated, “would not allow it. She paid a price too heinous to
mention to see me to my safety. A price she has never stopped paying, Mirella.”
His dark lips kissed along her ear for a brief pause in his telling, “When I
returned, many long years later, a grown man... she was battered. Broken.
Abused. A slave of a lowly battle-chief. I slayed him, claimed my mother as my
own in the spoils of combat.”

With a
deep intake of breath that swelled his chest out and made her whole body rise
he then sighed almost inaudibly. “She was still cogent then. But she was
broken. Blind. She felt a burden to me” he rephrased, “she was a burden to me.”

With a
lick of his lips he hesitated once more, “She delved into powers of the coven
on her own that not even a hundred witches should have. And she did it for me.”
He kissed along her cheek, and then tilted her head back, moving to her lips.
“That is why she is as you see her now, and shall forever remain so.”

Her
breathing had stilled to the point that for a moment it seemed like she was
asleep until that first bit of moisture hit his chest and he felt her eyelashes
bat against him, her body beginning to tremble. Her clutch had grown on him and
she nuzzled against his throat so tightly she feared she might cut off his
breath, but it didn’t matter. She needed to be against him, to be a part of
him, and even though his cock still pressed to her, it wasn’t enough to still
her sobs.