Bloodstone Ch. 14

King Martane and Queen Nathalie were indeed very pleased when told of the upcoming wedding. They sent out riders to the rulers of the other kingdoms, opening the gates of the Seventh Kingdom to royalty as well as dignitaries. The day was planned down to the smallest detail, a day that would not only herald the wedding of the prince to his princess but would celebrate Magnus's downfall.

Nathalie had her seamstress and the woman's many assistants rushing about in a tizzy, for not only did they need to make a bridal gown fit for a princess and the Descendant, but they had to make the queen's gown as well. It was second only to Luria's, as it should be on the bride's big day.

Luria sighed. She was tired of being poked and prodded, of watching the seamstress watch her at every meal to see if she would over eat for fear of having to take the gown out. She was sick of this whole thing and wanted only to be able to relax, to live again after being on the run and scared for so very long. She rose from the table, wandering to the fire in the big common room of the palace. Her nose twitched, for a strange smell emanated from this part of the room. Turning, her eyes caught on the green of Isobel's and she started.

There was something in those eyes, something feral and vicious. "Isobel? You are well?" she asked quietly and a little uncertainly.

"What do you care?" the girl snarled, her voice kept purposefully low. "You've usurped my position here but you shan't take him away from me. Not again."

"Who, Isobel?" Luria asked, her hands reaching for the girl's shoulders. "Who shan't I take away again?"

A sly smile covered the pretty face and Isobel turned away, staring blankly into the fire.

"Why must you bother my poor mistress, my lady?" Mathilde asked her. "Hasn't she been through enough?" Mathilde went to Isobel's side and stroked the silent girl's long dark hair. "Now you're having this wedding which is like openly saying that my lady isn't good enough to be Prince Balor's wife and leaving her here to have to face the stares and the comments without protection. My poor little girl, my poor little dove." She continued her stroking.

"None of it was meant..." Luria began, but the older woman turned her back, tuning her out as she hummed to her mistress. Luria lifted her hand then changed her mind, walking away from the fireplace. She headed for the doors, needing to be outside of the palace and away from the strangeness those two had left upon her soul.

The door opened easily under her hand and she stepped out into the bailey, going up the small steps that led off to the left and up into the battlements. She followed the wall down and around, going past the gate to the village and breathing deep of the fresh air. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining gloriously bright and she couldn't help but lift her face into its rays. The heat sank into her skin, burning off the coldness left their by Isobel and her maid.

Rowan's roar caught her ears and she turned, scanning below her until she found him. Her grin turned into a smile and she laughed, watching as the village children took turns scratching his ears and rubbing at the big lion's belly as if he were little more than the newest mutt in town. Rowan grumbled, but then purred, content with his role for now. Even when the littlest of the bunch pulled his mane, he stayed compliant under their fingers.

"He's a big baby," Balor said close to her ear.

Luria shrieked and turned around, almost falling into his arms. "Gods!" she growled when she caught her breath, gazing up into his amused eyes. "Do you find it fun scaring me like that?"

"Fun, no. But I do enjoy this part," he said, pulling her closer into his arms.

"I do, too," she said, snuggling against his chest and breathing in his scent. "You've been fighting." She sniffed at his shirt scenting the sweat of a hard workout upon him.

"Not much use for training now, but I think we should stay ready, nonetheless." He tilted her head back, his eyes picking up on the stress upon her face and the tension that she felt. "Perhaps I shouldn't have suggested the ceremony?" he mused, his fingers tracing the small line between her brows that her angst had brought.

"No," Luria said quickly. "I want to marry you again, in front of our people and your family." She reached up and touched his cheek, brushing at a streak of dirt upon his temple. "I just wish that it was over so that we could begin our sequestering. I cannot wait to have you at my mercy." Luria wiggled her eyebrows at him, making him laugh.

"Perhaps I'm the one who should be worried," he teased, bending his head to find her lips. She tasted sweet, with the hint of the preserves she'd used upon her bread at the breaking of the fast. "Mmm...Yes, I should definitely worry. You and I sequestered at my father's hunting lodge for the banding time. Whatever shall we do to while away the time?"

"Cards?" Luria suggested softly as his hands slid down to her hips and cupped her bottom, pulling her closer to his loins and the bulge that protruded there. "Perhaps, oh," she gasped as his mouth, hot and needy, found her neck, "we can go for walks." Her voice was unsteady, growing more so as he growled against her throat, his tongue lapping at the pulse that beat so hard and fast in her neck.

Turning with her still in his arms, he hurried down the battlements, slipping through the bailey and into the stables. Finding an empty stall filled with sweet smelling hay, he dropped to his knees, pressing her down into the soft pile. A tug on the bodice of her gown had her breasts popping into view, her nipples hardening under the heat of his stare.

"Here?" she mewled when his lips closed over her nipple, suckling the hard treat deeply into the heat of his mouth.

His answer was a growled moan and he began to tug at her skirts, pulling them up her long legs, his hands caressing the silkiness of her flesh as he went.

Luria's fingers were busy, too, tearing at the sash that held his sword and stashing it at his right side, within hand's reach. She struggled with his breeches, tugging the plain white shirt he wore out of the top of them. Her hands grasped at his naked skin even as she arched under the sweet pressure of his mouth.

Sensation coiled into a bubble of almost angry desire, forcing her loins to move against his leg, begging for more. Luria didn't want sweet. She didn't want slow and loving. She wanted flash and fire. She wanted him between her legs, thrusting with almost primal force, filling her, fucking her. She cried out when his lips left her nipple, moving to the other, his hands finding the soft muslin of her pantalets. He grasped them in his fists; ripping the soft fabric easily until only the pretty red ribbons were left, surrounding her thighs and one at her waist.

"Gods!" she cried out, her excitement zinging even higher by his loss of control. "Fuck me," she ordered, her hands in his hair, yanking him away from her breasts.

Balor's eyes were hazy with his need and he stared at her for a moment as if unable to comprehend what she'd said. They grew sharper as lust fueled his desire. "Say it again."

"Fuck me," Luria said, her soft lips forming the crude words.

"You want to be fucked?" Balor asked, slipping out of her embrace to finish undressing. She sat up, helping with the wide lacing of his boots, pulling them off of his feet while he fumbled with the ties to his breeches. She laughed wildly when he took his dagger, cutting through the tangled ties and then pushed down on the breeches, exposing his lean hips and the long length of his cock to her eyes.

There was a grin on her lips, one that shone with wicked intent. Reaching out, she took his cock in her soft hand, hearing him moan at the first touch of her fingers. She stroked it slowly, drawing him closer until that gorgeous erection was close enough to touch and taste with her lips and tongue. Pulling him into her mouth, she rose to her knees, her skirt falling to cover her hips and legs

Balor groaned at that first sweet touch, the sensitive head of his cock coated in the warmth of her mouth. His head fell back and he trembled. She held him in her control, suckling down the length of his shaft, bobbing her head over him, her lips stretched taut around him. His chest heaved and his hands found her hair, tearing the pins from the long tresses of her white blonde curls so that they hung heavily around her shoulders.

She looked up at him, her eyes telling him of the excitement she felt, of the pleasure she got from giving it to him. She watched as his eyes held a wickedness of their own and then she felt the dagger at her back, the sharp blade cutting through the ties that held her gown to her body. The pretty red gown fell to her waist, held up only by the thin sleeves that were caught upon her elbows. Under it, she wore a shift that was tucked below her breasts as well as a corset. Thick white petticoats were trimmed with red ribbons that matched the ones on the pantalets he'd already torn from her.

"You wear too many clothes. I think I liked you best in the gown that Magnus would have married you in." He jumped as he felt the scrape of her teeth against the sensitive head of his cock then heard them click together as if she would have nipped him.

Dragging her up, he used the dagger on her corset and then on the ties of the petticoats, laying them over the rough hay to cushion her body. "Now vixen," he said as he laid her down on the makeshift bed, "what is it that you had in mind?"

She grabbed at him, yanking at the shirt he still wore and pulling it over his head. Her hands were on his body, roaming over the hard, sweat covered flesh, undulating against him, pulling him down against her. "Fuck me," she whispered in his ear as her hand slid down his stomach, finding the hardness of his cock. "Now!" she demanded, spreading her thighs wide for him.

His hand slid between her thighs, testing her arousal, playing over her clit. She was soaked, ready for him, eager to take him into her body. With a groan, he slid his cock into her, even as her legs came up and around him, welcoming him home.

"Gods," he growled, savoring for just an instant the way she felt. No other had ever held him so, greeted him with so much desire of their own, needed him in such a way. She was his and he would never let her go. He began to move inside, pulling out only to thrust back in with force, driving her down into the softness of the hay.

Her moans and mewling words drove him on, and he lost himself in her, hearing her cry out in climax an instant before his own washed over him and he spent himself in her, pulsing long jets

of his seed into her. Drained, feeling almost turn inside out with the intensity of the pleasure she'd given him, he collapsed over her, holding himself up with his elbows as he tried to catch his breath.

"Was that what my sweet bride wanted?"

She nodded weakly, opening her eyes to lift her mouth to his and kiss him sweetly. "I love you," she moaned against his lips.

"Good," he stated, smiling as her eyes narrowed at him.

"If I wasn't so satisfied right now..."

"I know, you'd take me to task for that," he teased. Rolling to his back he held her against him, their sweaty bodies sticking together. He reached out and grabbed her dress, pulling it up and over them both. "I've a mind for a nap," he sighed, closing his eyes. "A morning of jousting, an afternoon of sex with a willing wench, what else could the prince of the Seventh Kingdom ask for?"

He yelped when she bit him, then pulled her closer, laughing with her. "I do love you, my Luria. You know that."

"Yes," she sighed. "But it is nice to hear it now and again."

"I'll have to keep that in mind. Now tell me, what had you so spooked that you came racing up the battlements?"

"Truly?" she asked, waiting for him to nod.

"Truly," he said. "I want to know, my love."

"Isobel."

"Oh and what has she done now? She barely speaks, she keeps to herself besides that strange maid of hers, I cannot see how she could be a problem."

"She is strange. I mean stranger than before. She...smells."

"Smells? Of what?" he asked.

"Charred meat," Luria said. "It's almost like a perfume. There's something in her eyes as well. It's a darkness, like pure evil."

"Luria..."

She sat up and looked down at him. "I know, Magnus is dead. He won't be back. I'm telling you what I saw, what I feel around her, what I know. She's infused with evil, Balor. There is something there that doesn't want to be seen yet, but I can see it when I look into her eyes. Isobel is dangerous."

"She's a girl who has been through a very bad experience, Luria. Going through that same experience, I suppose I thought you would have more sympathy for her." Balor sat up as well, reaching for his breeches. "Is this jealousy?" he asked, after sliding one leg into the breeches.

"Jealousy? You think I am jealous of Isobel? Why would I be?"

"Because our fathers had made the contract, because she was my intended before you came into my life. I don't know. I just don't understand this...this need of yours to condemn her."

"You wanted to know why I left the palace. You asked. I didn't come to you with this because I knew this would be the way you'd react. You are so determined that it is over, you don't see what Graeme and I have been trying to tell you for a week." She stood, dropping the gown and stamping her bare foot in the straw. "What happened with Magnus was too easy. I think he's using Isobel now as cover until he can make his move. Why can't you see what we see?"

Balor's eyes rose from where they'd been admiring her jiggling breasts to see the fear and concern in her eyes. "I was in that castle as it was coming down," he said softly, his hand reaching out to touch her face. "I know the hell that was in there. No one could have survived that, no one," he repeated slowly.

"Magnus isn't a no one, Balor. He's part god, part human just as I am."

"But..."

"No," Luria said, taking a step closer to him so that he could feel her skin against him. "Just tell me you'll speak to Isobel. Tell me you'll look into her eyes to see the evil I was speaking of. If you do that and you're still not convinced, then I'll never speak of it again."

His hand rose, touching her cheek and pushing her thick hair behind her ear. "If you are that concerned," he said, bending to press a kiss to her lips, "of course I shall do as you wish, my love. Tonight, at the evening meal, I shall talk with her."

"You'll be careful," Luria said, bending quickly and picking up his dagger. "And take this with you. I don't want to be missing my bridegroom when it comes time for me to walk up the aisle once more."

He smiled. "I'll take care, my love. But for now, come, I feel the need for a bath and maybe have you play handmaiden and scrub my back?"

Luria giggled, looking at her clothing as it was scattered over the floor of the stall.

* * * *

"Milord," Isobel hissed as she entered her empty chamber, slamming the door behind her. "She knows."

"She can't know," Magnus said, stepping out of the shadows and gathering Isobel against his body. "She might suspect but as far as Balor knows, I died in that castle. He won't suspect anything else. You have only a few more days to keep up the charade, Isobel. Don't panic now."

Isobel stared up and into his handsome face, a face that slipped for seconds at a time, showing the ugliness that he tried so hard to hide. His powers were weak, the blood that he'd lost, the blood that had summoned the beast from below had yet to be replaced. "I will try," she said softly, kissing his mouth and ignoring the sight of his teeth, sharp and black.

"Did you do as I asked?"

"Yes, my love. He will be coming up here any moment to meet me for our tryst."

Magnus moved away from her, his hunger and need for fresh blood almost too much for him to bear. He'd have drained Isobel already if he hadn't needed her so badly. "Good, good," he repeated, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Get him on you in the bed, let him slide his cock in you, Isobel. It will make him all that much more sweeter."

There was a furtive scratching upon the door. "Isobel?"

"It's him," she said, pushing Magnus into the shadows. "It shall be as you wish, milord."

Magnus sank back, his eyes glowing briefly until he blinked them and then he was invisible to the human eye. He watched as Isobel opened her door to the young man from the stables, the one she'd picked out specially. He was strong, muscles rippling under the shirt he wore. Magnus could smell him from here. His life force was potent and strong. He would go far to helping him recover his powers.

The man lifted Isobel in his strong arms, bearing her to the bed where he pulled her out of her gown, her naked body glowing in the dim light that came from the cracks in the shutters and from under the door. Isobel ran her hands down her body, her fingers trembling as they touched the slit between her thighs.

The man growled out something that Magnus didn't hear, his body was tense, waiting for the exactly right moment when he would step out and drain this manly specimen of his blood. He watched as the man pulled his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor. His breeches soon followed, his pale buttocks seeming out of place with the tanned skin of his chest and back. Then he was over Isobel, thrusting between her thighs as they opened wide to welcome him in.

He let the man's pleasure build, knowing that at the moment of climax, he would be at his most potent. The sounds that came to him were obscene, the squishing of his thrusts, the sounds she made as he pleasured her, the noises that came from the man's mouth. His big hands were all over Isobel, squeezing and teasing, causing her to move even harder against him.

"God wench," the man almost screamed. "I'm cumming!"

It was all he'd been waiting for. Before the second pulse of sperm could flood the lovely Isobel's waiting sex, Magnus was upon the man, yanking him back and up, grabbing his chin and burying his fanged mouth into the man's throat even as he screamed his terror. There was a crunching sound and then blood and sperm fell upon Isobel's body even as she backed away, trying to coil into a small ball in the corner of her bed.

Looking up, she could see Magnus's true shape, the spindly arms and legs, the long fingers tipped with lethally sharp claws. His body was bent, a pot belly hanging over his dangling manhood and the immense balls that hung behind it. He had huge leathery wings that spread wide above them.

He smelled of charred and decayed flesh, the scar from the wound that Luria had given him pulsed, running with ichor and pus, a crust of it already dried upon his spidery form. As Isobel watched, the blood he drank gave him strength, changing his form into the one that she knew, the handsome Magnus.

He dropped the drained body on the bed next to her, using his fingers to scoop up any of the blood that dripped down his chin and bring it back to his mouth. "Two or three more like that, my love, and I shall be whole and well once more. Then we shall take our revenge upon those outside and we shall be together forever."

He held his arms out to Isobel, watching as she slowly came forward, allowing him to hold her naked body, even as blood and semen dried upon her skin. There was fear in her eyes, but a determination as well.

Magnus laughed, holding her close. "Yes, we shall make them pay," he said again, his cock growing hard as he thought of Luria's lovely body under his. "Yes, we shall."

*****

Author's Note:

One more chapter and it's done. Just wanted to let you know and tell you how much I appreciate the comments and the votes. I forgot how much I liked this story. I'd even wrote a second in the stone series. I'm searching my computer looking for it. We'll see. Take care all!