Standing straight, Er’it continued to groom Kal, wiping the sturdy Phylix with soft hay, ridding his gleaming coat of dust. The promise he’d made to his dying mother, the youngest and only surviving son of the great Denath empire. Stolen from his family before he’d even been born, raised in the filth and ashes of a destroyed city with his mother’s curses whispered to him as a lullaby. Four elder brothers he never knew, dead in the war his mother fled. Only Ath’asho, a meager palace guard then, making the escape with her and swearing his fealty to the boy who would be king.
Er’it had tried to learn the magic of the land in the beginning. He’d done well with it, too. Under Tor’en’s tutelage, he’d blossomed into a promising young mage. It wasn’t enough. Not enough to save his mother, or the destitute people he’d come to call his own. It hadn’t stopped the raiding party from shoving the spear into his mother’s gut and setting the entire village on fire.
It was then he’d chosen. Watching his mother’s lifeblood seep around the ragged end of the spear, he’d known what he had to do. The venom in the liquid pools of amber that were his mother’s eyes ordering him to do it. To be what he needed to be to protect them all.
So he had done it. Thrown all caution to the wind and gulped down his mother’s hot blood, sobbing the entire time. Gagging by the end of it when the light snuffed out from her gaze. It was Tor’en who led him up to the sandy dunes, told him what he needed to do to finish his rite of passage. Tried to warn the vengeful child Er’it had been of the dangers to come.
Mulling over these melancholy thoughts, he kept coming back to the Omega. His anger with her, towards her. How angry she made him with himself. It reminded him so much of those first handful of years. He had little control around her, and it was leeching out into his everyday life. The caravan should never have seen his magic outside of battle, and yet he’d been ready to use it on whatever had made the woman scream. What would his good people say then, after he’d torn the life from some beast keeper for daring to touch what was his?
“She is lying to me, that much I know,” he muttered into the darkness, scratching Kal behind his ear. “Tonight I will have my answers.”
Patting Kal in farewell, Er’it made his way towards the main camp. Made great pains to smile at his people, stopping by the fires to talk with them, letting them see him as whole and well as always. He wouldn’t be driven half mad by the Omega, and with every laugh and smile, he felt surer of his course of action. Two birds with one stone, he’d have the Omega spilling her truths long before dawn.
Pushing his way into the tent, his gaze swept over the dim shadows cast by the few candles and the fires throwing their dancing flames against the pale canvas. At first he thought she’d snuck away again, but then he spotted her. Curled up in a miserable ball, shivering as she lay naked upon the floor. Maruk must have tended her. Fresh wounds smeared with a green concoction smelling of calendula, her ragged feet wrapped in pristine swaths of white bandage.
Food and wine sat nearby on a low table, the silver tray untouched. She wasn’t asleep though. Waiting, watching the darkness as she trembled in the night air.
“You will eat.” Sitting on a wide cushion, Er’it plucked the small game bird from the tray and cracked it in half. Enjoyed the way she flinched and stifled her gasp when the hollow bones crunched and snapped.
She crawled across the floor, wincing and muffling her little sounds of pain until she debased herself before him. Waiting for some direction while he selected a strip of tender red meat. Letting her linger there for a while longer, biding his time as her wide eyes followed every one of his movements with a voracious hunger.
He’d not fed her again throughout their journey. Knowing his plans for her that night, that she needed to be sated before he began, he plucked a juicy morsel from the tray and held it out to her. Enjoying how she quivered with tension as she leaned up to take the bite with delicate teeth. Forcing her to eat from his hand would keep her from stuffing herself full and becoming sick. Easier for him to moderate how much and how fast, Er’it would bolster her strength to prepare her for what was to come.
She shuddered in disgust when he held the silvered goblet of sweet red wine to her lips, but she still drank it. Her hands fluttered over the purpling bruises of her belly, breaths quick and shallow as her fear filled the tent to bursting. Er’it’s eyes narrowed at the strange response, making a note to pluck this information from her as well.
When Er’it sated his hunger, he set the tray aside and stood to tower over the terrified female. Despite her obvious fear, she went belly down on the coarse rug with her legs spread and knees hitched high. Presenting to him. Baring the already gleaming folds of her pussy to him. Licking his lips, Er’it reminded himself there would be time for that later.
Catching her hip, he flipped her over. Caught the wide-eyed surprise and hint of delight hidden deep in her velvety gaze before he straddled her thighs. A moment’s concentration had her pinned, the crackling scarlet of his magic winding in jagged tendrils up her arms and legs where he touched her. She didn’t struggle, the flare of panic dying as soon as it sparked to life. Leaving the expanse of midnight sky eyes dull and tempered.
She’d struggle soon enough. Encasing her limbs with vicious red, he leaned over her to offer a tight smile. One that promised more pain than she would ever think she could endure. Hand going back to the blade at his side, he scored his finger on the sharp edge. Wiping the dark stain across her lips until they were glossy and full of promise.
“Now, Omega. You will tell me the truth and nothing else. I do not wish to hear your screams tonight,” Er’it said in low tones, a lover’s voice in the night more than her torturer. A rush of power made the blackness of his blood in the rippling sunset hues of magic glossy. Silencing her to simple responses, her throat constricted against the cries and wails she would produce when she continued to lie to him.
Odd how he was so sure of that. The more he considered his questions, the more certain he became that she would give him half-truths and outright lies. Tangling him up in her web further, a spider with sweet slick as her venom. Growl rumbling through his chest, Er’it grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back, brandishing his blade at her throat.
“Who are you?”
“Aida… Vertia.”
“You would do well not to lie to me just now.”
To prove his point, Er’it sent a surge of power through her body as he pricked her fluttering heartbeat with the tip of the knife. A single bead of blood more than enough to add fuel to fire coursing through her veins. A shiver ran down his spine at her near silent whine of pain, unable to so much as twitch a single muscle to writhe beneath him. Wide eyes growing glassy as tears pooled, her lower lip trembled.
“Not lying.”
“Who were you to the Black Mage?”
“His ward.”
Er’it snarled, pressing the tip harder against her neck until a steady trickle flowed down her sandy skin. Almost didn’t hear her continue to answer over his groan as her blood called to him to suck at the small wound.
“He wanted more. He did something to the wine. Something happened.”
Er’it jerked the blade back when she jolted, pulling against the ruddy bonds that should have been impossible for her to fight against. It wasn’t to push at him. Her back arched, a faltering sigh whispering over her lips as her lids went half-mast. Thighs working against each other, she squeezed them tight, the scent of her arousal growing overwhelming in the close, hot air.
“What happened,” Er’it asked, licking at the trail of blood that somehow tasted as sweet and divine as her cunt.
“I don’t know. It just… one moment he was trying to… to touch me, force me. Then the roof was falling, his general hurt by the rubble. He blamed me.” She shuddered, but whether at her memories or from what Er’it was doing was uncertain.
