Kryndor's Bride part 13

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Previously...

He releases my chin, leaving me frozen in the middle of the room with my cheek still marked with his saliva. 

"Are there any questions?"

"I–I–"

"Don't worry, the ink won't be toxic."

That's what he thinks I'm concerned by?!

…

PRESENTLY…

CERYN

My bones feel light. Like I've died from shock, and I'm about to elevate to heaven. Or perhaps this weightlessness is my body urging me to haul myself out the nearest window.

"X–xor…" I rasp.

"My name is Varkon," he says, eyes narrowing on the cheek he just marked with his tongue.

I reel back, surprised that he has revealed his name. After addressing him as Xor and king for weeks, I figured he preferred that.

Seeing my shock, he adds, "I reckon you need to know what name to scream at the ceremony."

Oh, sweet Zintha.

I turn away from it all–from the chair and king, giving my back to them both. Something Mael has warned is strictly forbidden.

"So I take it you have no questions?" he asks.

Only who could have invented such a depraved ceremony.

I remind myself to not be judgemental. The topdwellers have their ways, as do lowdwellers. I accepted their customs the day I made a deal with this Xor to spare my father.

He has been patient with me. He fooled the veilmasters by forging the soiled sheets, faking our union. He had every right to claim his part of the deal but hasn't demanded it from me. And although sometimes surly, he is no brute.

It would be unreasonable for me to ask him to protect me again. Hopeless to keep running away. Eventually, I will have to face the horrifying truth tucked behind the Xor's pants. The giant cock I got a glimpse of and whose memory make my legs snap shut.

"No," I rasp. "I've got no questions."

There's a long stretch of silence before he adds, "I will not force you if you don't wish to participate, Ceryn, but the topdwellers will disapprove. The ceremony is sacred. It is part of our religion."

I figured as much. I would be handing the topdwellers another reason to criticize me.

"I appreciate your words, but I don't need your protection, Xor. I will stop running."

“Varkon,” he mutters. “Call me Varkon.”

"V–Varkon." I whisper his name like it's forbidden. Like it's a dangerous spell that will tighten my attraction to him.

His rumble fills the room, and he stomps forward. My body tenses, preparing for his touch, but the Xor rushes past me with the ferocity of a spinner. 

Seeing him head for the door, I blurt, "Where are you going?"

I've broken another one of Mael's rules: Do not question a Xor.

"Away," he growls, yanking the door open. "Before I betray the ceremony and vrell you right here and now."

He slams the door shut, leaving me floored.

***

VARKON'S POV

I grind my teeth as I walk down the halls, wondering how I flipped from amusement to hot, searing desire within minutes of being in the room with Ceryn.

Goddesses, help me.

There was a split second where I regarded her figure as weak. Too tiny, too malnourished, and soft. And now all I want is to trace those soft curves.

Now that I got a taste of her pink cheeks, I want to taste the other colors on her skin. Her dark nipples, the tan lines on her arms, the pink of her pussy, the darkness of her nether star. I want all of her. It is maddening.

The unpredictable dauri knows how to surprise me. I thought she would run away to the underhold, but she remains in my palace. I thought I'd have to protect her from the noble's slights, but she holds her own ground.

I want to know how she'll surprise me in the sheets. How will that lithe body of hers coil beneath mine? She's so small; I reckon I'll dominate her the entire night. But there's no telling when it comes to Ceryn. And that's what drives me wild.

I reach for my groin and grip my cock as I walk, giving it a hard squeeze. Willing my erection to go away before I meet with the ministers. This is a first. I'm not known for walking around hard like a vrelling youngster.

It is late, but there are pressing matters at hand. My workload knows no end these days. I wonder if the unrest of Kryndor has to do with the latest accusations against me. Since Fyrak dared to insult and test me–the king–then others across the kingdom have been inspired to rebel,

It infuriates me, but I can't betray my wisdom. I can't act rashly like Ravore.

I walk past servants lighting the halls of the palace to prepare for the night. During the evenings, the murals painted on the ceiling of the palace seem to watch me. It's an unsettling thing. It's why I had the murals in my chambers painted over. I don't want the eyes of the gods and past Xors constantly scrutinizing me and reminding me of my imperfectness. I am well aware that although I'm not as impulsive as my brother, I am equally as reckless in my own ways.

Bringing a lowdweller into my court as a concubine is unheard of–a dangerous move that caused ripples of upset throughout the court. But here she is, and there's no vrelling storm on Kryndor that could take her out of this palace.

I enter the assembly hall, where a couple dozen ministers are seated behind long tables, quietting as I enter and approach my throne at the center of the room. I tug on my armlet as I sit down and gesture for them to continue.

"Go on, don't stop on my account."

The ministers remain silent.

"Welcome, Xor," Orin speaks. He served my father closely.

"Fair winds, Orin. What is on the agenda today?"

"A few disputes in Glintspire must be addressed tonight, but the most pressing issue comes from within this very assembly. Some ministers suggest that you re-visit your stance on annexing the hordes in the wild lands."

I frown. "Annexing the hordes?"

Such vrelling, greedy nonsense. The hordes of the wildlands are as different as the lowdwellers in The Underhold. They have their own ways. Different gods, trade, and way of life. They are nomadic warriors that roam around the land, moving a few times a year to avoid storms. They want nothing to do with the rest of the world, including Kryndor. And I've never had any interest in forcing them under my rule.

I scan the crowd of older men. "Must I remind you what happened to Xor Rorin when he attempted the same? Bloodshed. I refuse to repeat my ancestor's mistake. The hordes must remain untouched."

They mutter, and someone in the back row stands. It's my uncle, my late father's twin. He is ever so bitter that my father was the firstborn twin, therefore inheriting the throne. My uncle never forgave him for it.

His aged face and white hair are uncannily similar to my father's. Sometimes, I wonder if he keeps a similar haircut to resemble him even closer and manipulate the loyalty of other ministers who served him.

"Are you against annexing because your very brother is a horde king? Must I remind you that Prince Altreus abandoned his royal title for the wildlands? He is a foreigner now."

"My brother doesn't need my protection, Uncle. The civilized world and wildlands must remain separate like the Zepharim and Thalorrin continents. The two are too different to ever become one."

"But–"

"You would do well to let go of the matter and watch your tone. If you're so interested in this, I invite you to travel to the wildlands and track down Altreus and his horde. Present your annexing proposal to him. If he sends you back to the palace in two pieces, I'll do you the justice of burying you hole."

I enjoy watching him tremble with rage and how light sparks in the minister's eyes as they remember who the vrell they are dealing with. Rumors or not, I am not a king they can trample. Their tongues have gotten looser ever since the snubs of house Fyrak. Too comfortable.

The evening goes on as usual. Ministers bickering for hours, not agreeing on much, before we all call it a night.

I retire in the twilight hours to my chambers, dismissing the guard at the door.

I slowly peer open the door and look inside. Ceryn is fast asleep on her side of the bed. A blanket tucked beneath her chin like she's afraid a big, evil monster is coming to get her.

I enter the room and lock the door behind me. Slowly, I approach and peer over her, my thoughts very much monstrous.

The girl is less than half my size and weight. She wouldn't survive my fantasies. Her body is not designed for such depraved hunger. Such tireless passion.

"But you're going to surprise me like you always do. Aren't you?" I murmur.

She stirs and shifts her position, rolling over to her side.

Giving her back to her Xor. Insolent even while unconscious.

I chuckle, adoring her all the more for it.

READ PART 14>