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ChapterTen
Raskyuil scrubbed a hand over his face as he sat up on the reinforced cot that served as his bed. Despite the fact that he was groggy and barely coherent, the strange, bone-deep restlessness that he’d been feeling for days made itself known as it uncoiled through him, demanding action. It frustrated him as much as it perplexed him.
He was a male of habit, routine, and discipline. Even with the chaos surrounding him, he had long ago reached a place of self-awareness and inner quiet that had served him well. Aside from orders that he’d received from his lucumo, the king of the Eternal Forest, there was little that he allowed to have any direct influence on him. That he was suddenly acquiring a new and unfamiliar pull on his instincts was something that made him wary.
He should have been displeased by it. He was not a male who enjoyed considerable change. Leaving the place that had been his home to find a new home in the changing human world was about as much change as he wanted to embrace. And yet there was a sweet enticement to this pull that wasn’t entirely disagreeable. Raskyuil scratched his chest thoughtfully.
He had been dreaming, he knew that much. He was doing a lot of that lately and always of the same subject whether he fell into a daydream, tormented by the longing burning within his chest and the tightening of his balls, or falling him into the dreamworld at night.Shehaunted him.
And it was getting worse. His mind was slipping toward her more and more during his waking hours. He was even beginning to hallucinate, catching glimpses of her in places that she wouldn’t be and then disappearing entirely when he tried to follow her. She looked different in those glimpses, her expression hard and determined, her dark hair drawn into a tail at the back of her head as she stalked forward in a restless pace, a heavy pack swung over her back.
But at night… During the night he hunted her, following her scent, his cock primed for her. The mating hunt drove him, glimpses of her bared body teasing him as she ran through the woods. The musk of her arousal filled his nose with every breath.
Raskyuil hissed, his fingers curling around his cock. By the gods, he ached. It was bliss and the agony of desire unfulfilled. He felt as if he were toeing the line of achieving full-blown rut for the first time in his long existence.
An erotic shiver worked its way up his spine as he stroked himself. The textured surface of his cock and the thick veins rubbing against his callused palm in a way that sent a sharp twinge of pleasure through him even as he desperately wished to drive it into the human’s heat and have her softness surrounding his member and squeezing it with her desire. He wanted to plug his little human’s cunt entirely and rut into her viciously until he was spent.
His breath turned ragged as he tightened his hand and fucked into his fist, his other hand dropping to squeeze his heavy balls. He grunted as he cupped him, a shiver of pleasure rushing through his blood at the light touch to his oversensitive flesh. He squeezed them lightly, groaning as the feeling raced to the tip of his cock. Was it his imagination, or were they larger than they were before?
He rolled them gently within his grip, his breath billowing in and out of his powerful lungs as he rutted into his fist, warmth flooding his belly. His eyes rolled back as the warm tide within him rose higher as tension coiled deep within him. His pelvis lifted with an instinctive desperation to bury his cock and drain his balls as his mind continued to conjure images of her pinned against him, her tiny human body opened entirely to him as he plowed her and prepared to give her his seed.
His balls drew up as he felt the first lick of fire hit his bloodstream, the warming suddenly boiling within him as he grunted his pleasure and rode his impending climax. By the gods he wanted to drain himself within her tight, clutching cunt. As small as she was, it was clamped around him exquisitely. He tightened his hand further until it was an almost punishing grip as he imagined it—her little body being reshaped to receive his cock and his alone.
A dark growl rumbled through him as his hips snapped up and his balls rose suddenly within his grip, his body instinctively spasming with the first spurt of his cum. He pumped his hand over his cock, squeezing it tight as it jerked and spewed the first thick stream over his fist and splattering his belly. Streams upon streams of warm, thick cum hit his skin even as it ran down the sides of his cock and coated his fist. He snarled as he continued to snap his hips, his thighs quivering as his load spurted continuously from the tip of his cock. The last stream drizzled over his thumb, and he drew in a ragged breath and grimaced as he felt the unsated tendrils of need coiling once more within him.
A grunt of disgust left him as he searched absently for his rag. This was also a problem. Bringing himself to climax had always worked to drain his balls, but it seemed that it no longer was going to give him that reprieve. His orgasm was nothing more than a pale shadow of the release his body truly craved and needed. He grimaced at his cum as he swiped it with his rag. It was thicker and more opaque than normal. A sure sign of rut. His seed was turning more viscous in preparation for breeding.
He was in so much trouble.
With the distance that separated them, he shouldn’t still be experiencing an instinctive response toward the female at all—much less breaching the early stages of rut.
A confused frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, his brow dipping in response as he poured some water over his rag and cleaned himself. It didn’t make any sense. It was hardly unusual for an unmated troll to come across a delectable scent. Females from various species, including humans, were often as compatible to trolls as females from their own kind. Forest trolls seldom had any difficulty finding a scent-compatible female with whom they could mate.
But they weren’t like the Lupi. They weren’t driven to claim a female once they scented her. As long as a male kept his distance and did not interact with her so that he didn’t start bonding with her, the pull terminated the moment the female was no longer within scenting distance. He didn’t recall hearing of an instance where a male was tormented by the scent of an absent female.
Of course, it had been a very long time since he’d spent any time in his ancestral village. Even when he was in service to his lucumo, his interaction with the other trolls who served as guards hadn’t turned to such serious subjects.
Whatever the case was, it didn’t bode well for him if his condition continued to get worse. The urgency he felt dredged up the memory of a tale that trolls could die centuries before their time if they were separated too long from their mate. They died painfully, their claws brutalizing their bodies as madness took over, convincing them that their mate was dead. Although he still remained unmated, it disturbed him that was suffering so strongly in her absence. And as much as it worried him, he wanted to hate it—but couldn’t.
The longing he felt was intoxicating. It hadn’t yet turned to a void of agony as it did with mated trolls, but it would quickly begin to take its toll on him. Although it was a sweet torture that he secretly craved even as he was desperate to satiate it, he knew that if he went into rut and couldn’t satisfy it, then there was the very real risk of slipping into the same madness of a mated male unable to connect with his mate.
Which meant he needed to find a way to cool his blood. And he needed answers.
Tossing his rag aside, Raskyuil slipped his feet into his leather pants and pulled them up his legs and over his hips before tying them in place with their lacings at the front. Thick woven socks followed along with his boots. He pulled the soft, thick leather up his calves and strapped them firmly in place before dragging his pants down over them. He gave each boot a stomp to make sure that they were on right and wouldn’t slide before standing, his dark tail lashing in response to the tension weighing on him.
Dragging his tunic and leather duster on, he patted his coat, absently searching for his cigars. It only took a moment before his hand closed around the cigar case. He pulled it free from his pocket, and flicked the case open, his nostrils flaring as the sweet scent of tobacco hit his nose.
He imagined the satisfying feeling of the smoke filling his lungs but wrinkled his nose when it suddenly sent discontent through his gut. Maybe later. It wasn’t what he was craving, and right now his body wasn’t inclined to accept any other substitutes. Snapping the case closed, he shoved it back into his pocket and stalked out of his tent, his eyes squinting against the bright, unfiltered morning light since they were no longer encamping beneath the canopy of the trees.
There was a trading post and village nearby. He had gone into the town once to exchange some of his fae coins to get a few essentials from the monsters inhabiting the area. He got the impression that it was more of a way area that harbored travelers passing through until they were ready to continue, human and fae alike, as he had seen several human faces among the nonhuman ones. There were some few long-term residents of the outpost that he recalled hearing of, foremost among them a forest troll who resided there as the overseer of the outpost.
Not recognizing the male as one of his kin, Raskyuil had made no attempt to approach or draw the male’s attention. He’d seen no benefit in doing so at the time. Trolls weren’t terribly social beyond their loose family groupings and tended to be territorial. As he was just passing through, it was easier to not draw attention to himself or his presence in the area. Now, however, he was of a different mind on the matter.
Although there was a mountain troll among the caravan, Raskyuil was reluctant to share his concerns with the male, Gorfal. It was nothing against him, but the last thing Raskyuil wanted was anyone within the carnival having knowledge of a potential point of vulnerability within him. The fae were often treacherously quick to exploit that weakness if it suited them. The bonds of blood didn’t even deter some species, such as the high elves, who didn’t foster any of the bonds that orcs and trolls possessed.
No, it was best that his secret remained his alone and spoken of quietly in carefully crafted questions.
His huge stride carrying him quickly across the carnival grounds, Raskyuil nodded absently to those among the carnival that he now readily recognized. He didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries, and they were unperturbed by that fact since he never did. Regardless, he didn’t wish to get waylaid by anyone. The hour was early enough that you could make his escape for a time before the performances began and his presence was required.
