she dragged it into starved lungs. Clenching around his cock, Aida smiled at his guttural moan.
Er’it’s furious rhythm began to falter. His curses and snarls were loud at her ear as the knot began to swell. The promise of the agonizing pleasure teased Aida as he continued to work the thickening girth of his cock in and out of her. Aida shook her head in denial. So close she could feel the brush of the clouds upon her cheeks, she was too far away to soar.
One hand gripping the back of her head, Er’it brought her to his shoulder. He pushed hard until her teeth scraped over his flesh. His other hand stole between them, the slap of his hips grinding his knuckles between slick folds and forcing a trembling cry from between her lips. As his fingers pinched tight over the pert nub he so loved to torment, Aida’s mouth clamped down.
Teeth digging into the thick scar, she screamed as he abused the bit of flesh. Pinching and twisting at it, he shot her up beyond the stars and into the blackness beyond.
Lightning seared the backs of her eyes as his blood filled her mouth. The pleasure raced through her, crackling and hissing. It drew every muscle tight, the twisting contraction of her depths wringing the pulsing knot as Er’it drove it deep.
Violent bliss tore through her, flaying her senses. As the world exploded, Aida bit down harder, grinding her teeth through thick muscle until Er’it roared above her. He dragged the knot out only to shove it home again. Aida released him on another shrill scream. Body jostling as she bucked and writhed, pleasure sizzling under her skin, Aida came undone. She soared in the darkness of a midnight sky and cried out his name.
Aida did not remember falling asleep, but she must have, for the next thing she knew the weak light of a winter morning fought to penetrate their warm den.
Er’it lay beside her, wide awake and eerie in his stillness. She never knew him to remain quiet or reserved for long, yet all he did was raise a hand to stroke her rumpled curls. As he scrubbed his fingertips over her scalp, they watched the much-stained canvas grow brighter without a word passing between them. In time, they heard the others bustling about, making ready to break camp.
A day. Two at most if the road was bad. Aida heaved a sigh and nuzzled Er’it’s chest. There would be nothing more she could do or say now. Suicide had been a foolish option, an act she didn’t think she could carry out now. To use her power against him seemed somehow more awful than even that.
With the taste of Er’it’s blood still pungent on her tongue, she laid a soft kiss against the pounding of his heart. He was there, stronger than ever, a living presence within her breast and filling her heart to bursting. Aida imagined her soul glimmered with shades of red and gold, bold swaths of it wrapping tightly around her. It made her feel safe despite what lay ahead.
“Come,” Er’it murmured, digging around in the piles of fabric for the clothes stashed away there. He helped her to shuffle about, both of them trying to dress in so cramped a space.
With a weak smile, he fell back and let Aida clamber over him to work the small buttons of his tunic. It faltered as Aida squealed and giggled when he arched up to allow her to affix his thick belt. He, too, felt the weight of the oncoming day it seemed.
Within moments of them climbing from the cart, things were set to rights and they were off. It was as any other day on this interminable journey. Except it wasn’t.
A solemn air pervaded their company as they made their way. Even the chatter of the soldiers was subdued, their voices low and somber. Everyone knew Aida’s fate. Even the jingle of tack and the groaning of the wagons seemed muffled, as if they did not wish to draw too much attention.
By midday, the scouts returned to announce the location of a ruined castle. An hour ahead, no more. They voiced concern, reporting a diseased forest surrounding the decrepit fortress. Further unsettling them was the presence of bone heaps and how, even though soupy moss grew upon the twisted skeletons, they showed no signs of decay themselves.
“They are ten and eight years this summer past,” Aida said into the disquiet of this news,