Selenna looked down at the long dark splatters on her leather breeches. “Ew. Dragon ichor.”
From the other side of the still-steaming carcass, her half-ogre compatriot rolled his eyes, while carefully wiping the same mess from several of his arrows. “And what were you expecting instead? Perhaps some koko syrup, mixed with honey and ambrosia?”
The black-haired swordswoman carefully wiped her thick blade on a relatively clean patch of the dead dragon’s skin, scraping the sickly green acid away from the steel before it could do any lasting damage. “Of course not, Tarim. But do you have any idea what this stuff does to leather? It’s almost as bad as their digestive juices,” she wrinkled her nose, “and smells worse than you do after a long night in the dockside taverns.”
That earned a high-pitched giggle from Anjah, the slender part-elven sorceress standing behind her. “She’s right, Tarim darling. And we should know; we’ve had to clean up after your messes more often than we prefer to admit.” Still giggling, she favored Selenna with a quick kiss.
The hirsute huntsman grunted as he yanked, rescuing another of his arrows from the tough hide. “Nobody ever said you had to, wench. And you don’t get to call me darling until after you’ve lain with me.”
That brought a loud snort from both women, who stopped long enough to face each other and share a deliberately loud and passionate kiss. With visible tongue. And when they were done, Selenna let out a coarse, “Mwah!” to drive home the point.
Anjah giggled again and pulled the hood of her purple robe back over her long plaited blonde tresses. “You know that’ll never happen, stud; I can’t take the risk. Conceiving a child would be as disastrous as eating red meat or directly taking a life: I would lose all of my abilities for seven times seven years, plus a day.” To emphasize her point, she waved her hands in a wiping motion and uttered two ancient words.
Her companions felt a strong breeze spring from nowhere, and blow past them while disturbing nothing else in the lair; when they looked down, the acid stains on his arrows and her armor had vanished. Selenna grinned. “Thanks, hon. I owe you a favor for later, while mead boy is down at the docks drinking away his share of the loot.” She winked and leered, causing Anjah to blush from under her robe and Tarim to roll his eyes yet again.
“There won’t be any loot if you two harpies don’t stop with the flirting, and start doing some actual work. Anjah, can you make sure there are no traps or curses hiding in that mess?” He indicated the low pile of precious metal that the dragon had been using as its nest.
“Done and done, sweetie. It’s as clean as your bottom’ll never be; this guy was only a puppy, not even a hundred and fifty years old.”
“Ha, ha. Well if that’s the case, then maybe we could move Mr. Puppy over to the side for a bit, so we can see just what it is we’ve got?”
One levitation spell later, the trio of adventurers were staring at enough wealth to buy a duchy — a very very small duchy, but a duchy nonetheless. Scattered among the gold and silver coinage (the fact that there was silver at all was another sign of the dragon’s youth) was the occasional gem-encrusted chalice and heavy piece of jewelry.
“And they actually sleep on this stuff?” Selenna couldn’t help but wonder.
The huntsman scratched his beard and snorted. “Yeah; it’s like straw to them. Only without the fleas.”
“Which would explain,” Anjah couldn’t resist the jibe, “why you’re always scratching yourself.”
Tarim pretended to misunderstand. “Selenna, don’t let her talk to you like that.” Which earned him, as he’d expected, a solid punch to his massive tricep. “Ow,” he deadpanned.
The sharp-tongued swordswoman was all set to reply when Anjah cut them off. “Hold it, you two. I feel the pull of deep sorcery; something in this stash has some serious manna.”
“How serious?” Selenna’s eyes swept across the pile, looking for the source.
Just like that, the trio was all business. Anything that powerful could easily have been warded, with strength enough to have confounded Anjah’s trap-detection spell. More potent magick was called for — to locate the object and determine its true nature — and that meant silence and space for the sorceress to concentrate.
It took the better part of a nerve-wracking hour, with the warriors on point while the blonde mage located the piece in question and then picked her way through its wards. Finally she was able to announce in a shaky whisper, “This is it.”
“What?” Selenna asked.
“I can’t believe it.”
“What?” More forcefully this time.
“It’s been missing for centuries.”
“What!?“ She laid her hand on the hilt of her sword.
Tarim cleared his throat. “You know what it is, Anjah?”
“I strongly suspect.” She took a steadying breath. “The... the Amulet of Lestohet.”
“No way!” “Ox manure!” The two fighters crowded around her, each wanting a better look at a piece of history.
While certainly striking, it didn’t appear at first glance to be the stuff of legends: a deep pink square-cut gemstone the size of Tarim’s thumbnail, attached to a perfectly round copper plate slightly smaller than Anjah’s open palm, surrounded by four flawless rubies and connected to a sturdy burnished copper chain.
“I don’t know how this pup came across it,” Anjah continued, “Possibly a castoff from an older wyrm’s treasure. Dragons value gold far more than copper and jewels; and most of them wouldn’t have been able to discern its magick anyway.”
“And what is its magick?” Selenna whispered.
“I-I’m not entirely sure. It’s... an intensifier of some sort. It augments your natural abilities, but at a cost. For some reason, it only works on women (“That figures,” Tarim muttered; “Shh,” hissed Selenna) but not even on all women.”
Selenna’s brow furrowed. “Do you know what the cost is?”
The sorceress shook her head. “It’s been lost to time. The only clue I have is that the priestesses of the Sapphire Synod once tried to have it destroyed; they considered it a threat.”
Tarim coughed. “The Sapphire Synod? You mean that bunch of pussy willows?”
Selenna jabbed him in the ribs. “Watch it, bub. You’re traveling with a pair of pussy willows,” she mock-growled. “One of whom also sleeps with a very sharp blade.” The half-ogre ducked and raised his hands, pretending to be cowed.
Anjah sighed. “Yes, the Synod believes that the path to enlightenment lies with the rejection of all male attention. Since that also means they don’t bear children, the fact that the Synod has lasted so long is testament to the kind of attention most women have come to expect from their mates.”
Tarim grinned and waggled his bushy eyebrows. “Pfeh. Don’t knock till you’ve tried it, kid.”
His awkward attempt to lighten the mood didn’t work; there was a strained silence, leaving each of the three alone with their thoughts. Finally, the barbarienne said what they’d all been thinking. “So... should we take the risk?”
“Are you nuts!?” Tarim blurted out. “You don’t know what it’ll do to you!”
“Exactly!” Selenna retorted. “But I doubt it’d cripple or kill me, and anything else I’m pretty sure I can live with. And you have to admit, that ‘augmenting of natural abilities’ part sounds pretty good to me.”
“And to me,” Anjah echoed, hoisting the medallion a bit higher.
“But-but-wait!” The half-ogre frantically waved his hands in a stopping motion. “How can you be sure this thing won’t kill you?”
Selenna sighed. “Because, you hill troll, if that’s what it did, a lot more people than the Sapphire Synod would’ve been after it.”
“Hey! Shows what you know; I’m only half hill troll.” He mock-leered again. “Mainly my lower half.”
“Hm hm,” Anjah snickered. “And the rocks in your head.”
“Anyway,” Selenna continued, “I’ll give it a shot first. That way, if anything does go wrong,” she looked at her blonde lover, “you’ll still have your magick; you can get us back to town. And there’s enough here to pay for a resurrection ritual, if need be.”
Anjah gulped and nodded. “Uh, ahum, yeah. You go first.” She grabbed her raven-haired companion by the shoulders, pulling her into a fierce hug and bruising lip lock. “For luck,” she sighed, shaking slightly.
“For luck,” Selenna agreed. Her knuckles were white around the copper links as she lifted the chain to her neck.
Thirty seconds later, nothing had still happened.
And just to be on the safe side, they waited thirty seconds more, while nothing continued to happen.
“That tanks.” Selenna finally muttered; Anjah made a very unladylike snort.
“You think it’s broken?” Tarim asked.
Anjah peered at the disc. “No glow, no loud humming, no special effects whatsoever. I don’t think it likes you, dear.”
“That tanks,” the swordswoman repeated, removing the chain and handing it to Anjah. “You want to give it a try now?”
The sorceress took it from her, and then took a deep breath. “I suppose.” She slipped it over her head.
Again, nothing happened. For all of half a second.
Then there was a strange low sound, almost like a deep masculine sigh, followed by a bright flash.
The warriors squinted; Anjah staggered. Everyone held their breath for a few seconds. Selenna reached for the hilt of her sword.
But that was it. Anjah peeled off the Amulet. “I feel... something. Almost as if I’ve been undressed by a demon. But not in a good way.”
Selenna glared at her. “There’s a good way?”
“You know what I mean. I feel... ravaged. As if Tarim had run his huge coarse mitts unreservedly all over my slender elfin body.” She sidled up to him, and placed her hands on his muscled stomach. “Mmm. Wanna do that to me again, big boy?”
And then she lurched backward and clamped those same hands over her mouth, eyes wide.
Her companions were equally floored. Tarim dropped the sack of coins he’d been filling, and just stood there. Selenna’s hot glare darted back and forth between them, alternating between accusation and betrayal.
The trio’s success had always been based on three very simple guiding principles: watch each other’s backs, always divvy up the treasure, and never take it past banter.
“Anjah ulu’Nessa kia’Morthe, you have exactly five seconds to explain yourself.”
The blonde elf looked at her partner and lover, stricken. “But... that’s just it. I can’t!”
Selenna glowered. “What do you mean, you can’t? Is the Amulet preventing you from talking?”
Anjah shook her head. “What I mean is, I don’t know! One moment, everything was normal; the next, I looked over at Tarim and felt the same desire I feel for you— but magnified fivefold. Even now, I’m afraid to look at him, for fear I’ll want to rush into his arms. But... but that’s not the worst part.” Lowering her head to her hands, she started sobbing.
“There’s a worse part?” Tarim rumbled, causing Anjah to flinch, and her lover to glare at him.
Anjah dropped her hands; her watery eyes searched her lifemate’s face. “I, I still love you, Selen. But... right now, I don’t feel any attraction toward you; it’s as if we were sisters, rather than lifemates. I’m so sorry!”
The two adventurers embraced; but it was a desperate hug rather than a flirtatious one. “I understand, dearling. Moreover, I think I get why the Sapphire Synod wanted to consign this Amulet to oblivion. If there’s a way to reverse this curse, we’ll find it. Together.” Selenna fixed a stare at Tarim, to emphasize her point.
The huntsman shrugged. “I’m sorry this happened, Anjah. And yes, if there’s a way to fix this, we will. But,” he added, “if I’m remembering right, isn’t it a rule that a curse this strong must come with just as big a blessing?”
Anjah took a shuddering breath, as if she was steeling herself before looking at him. “You’re correct, of course. It’s the second law of the conservation of manna: such a fundamental change to who I am must be balanced by an equally-radical increase in what I can do.”
“Out of curiosity,” asked Selenna, “what’s the first law?”
“In a nutshell, you can convert manna into almost anything, but you can’t just make it go away.”
Tarim cleared his throat. “Getting back on point, Anjah: what can you do?”
The part-elven sorceress concentrated, feeling for her power. After a few seconds her eyes opened wide, and she smiled for the first time since donning the copper chain. “This.” The treasure was sorted into a dozen sturdy canvas sacks. “And this.” With a sudden wrench and a loud pop, the trio found themselves (and their supplies and horses) a full nine leagues away, just off the road on the outskirts of Port LaGrash.
“Whoa!” sputtered the half-ogre. “Warn a fella next time, will you?” He ran over to tend to the horses, who were equally spooked.
The swordswoman looked around. “I see only four sacks. Where’s the rest?”
“In our room back at the tavern, secured under a blanket of invisibility. This way, we walk in with just enough to keep the tax collectors from getting suspicious.”
Tarim, having calmed the herd, hefted one of the bundles and began strapping it to his mare. “My de— I mean Anjah, I always knew I liked your style.”
Following a successful adventure, the team’s usual protocol was to tithe the city, use the public baths, pay tribute at (and toward) their respective temples, and then meet up in their inn’s dining hall for a boisterous and hearty meal. At which point, Tarim would generally head off to seek companionship from a drinking partner or licensed prostitute, while the ladies would retire upstairs to seek the companionship of each other.
This time, their meal was rather more subdued, and the trio headed up to their rooms together. Or rather, they headed to Selenna and Anjah’s quarters, it being the slightly roomier of the two.
The blonde was first to break the silence. “Um, what now?”
The swordswoman paced the room, while her compatriots sat: Anjah at the edge of the bed, Tarim on the room’s only bench. “Now we hash out how to proceed. Did your temple elders have any ideas?”
“I, I didn’t discuss it with them. I was afraid they would demand the Amulet; and until we know more, I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”
“Especially if we didn’t get fair value in return,” the huntsman grumbled. Both ladies nodded; though Anjah was still trying her best not to look at him. She started to shiver.
Her companion noticed, and stopped pacing. “What’s wrong, dearest?”
“It— it’s the Amulet, I think. It knows we’re safe and sated now. I, I think it wants me to, to... to mate.”
“What?” the warriors yelped. In unison, no less.
“I don’t want to!” The tears were back, and flowing freely. “I mean, I do, but... it’s not me that wants to do this.”
There was a few moments of silence. Followed by another half-minute or so, of an even more awkward silence.
Finally: “Selen, what do I do?”
Her lifemate let out an exasperated sigh, then sat next to her and took her hand. “I wish like hell that I didn’t have to say this, but... you go to him.”
“What!” Again, in unison. It would’ve been hilarious, had the situation not been so uncomfortable.
“You think I like this? By Azathoth, it hurts to send you off with any man!” Dropping Anjah’s hand, she hugged herself and shuddered. “But I know better than to let strong magick choke; the last thing we need is to make a bad situation even worse. You two take care of… this. And come morning, we three’ll find a way to take care of the rest.”
She tapped her sword belt. “And you— you treat her right, Tarim Falcon-Eyes; or you’ll find out what else can be neatly sliced.”
Her glare was unwavering, but her eyes were wet. The huntsman nodded. “Selenna of Thornholm, you have my word. We’re still a team, and I do this only because it is the lesser harm.” He stood up, and offered his fellow warrior his cupped hand.
She stood as well, and took it. “I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I can’t stay here, and... listen. Guess I’ll be the one crawling the taverns tonight.”
Without another word, she headed out. Her boots rang on the stone steps.
The huntsman turned to regard his part-elf companion: still sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking like a leaf. He held out his ogre-sized hand; after a moment, she clutched at it with her much smaller one.
“Come on, Anjah; we’ll head to my quarters. Neither you nor Selenna would be able to sleep in here again otherwise.”
The slender mage had just enough presence of mind left to reset the room’s wards, after which she allowed her lovemate-to-be to carry her across the hall. She nestled her head into his shoulder, breathing in the sheer manliness of him: a scent she’d never really objected to before, but neither had it ever permeated her very being like this. Her head was warm. Her chest was tight. Her lips were wet.
Her womanly core... was all of the above.
She barely noted the door swinging closed, or Tarim dropping the heavy crossbar into place with his one free hand. She did register being laid upon his bed, but only as a loss of warmth and scent. She moaned, twisting and blindly reaching; not conscious of her actions, only of her need.
At last, her flailing hand clutched a thick mat of coarse hair; and she threw herself onto her lovemate’s broad and muscular chest. She kissed and snuffled her way up to his waiting mouth. His tongue was thick and powerful, but hers was longer and far more energetic.
Lost in the Amulet-induced rapture, she tried to press herself against him. Their remaining clothing was in the way. A single whispered word, and with a brief flash their garments were no more.
Free of restrictions and drowning in arousal, Anjah instinctively slid herself down and positioned herself above Tarim’s ready weapon. Had she been herself, she would most likely have recoiled at its monstrous girth; as it was, her virgin entrance was fully cocked — or more precisely, was about to be.
“Are you sure?” Tarim rumbled.
Her only response was to thrust her hips downward, breaching the gate and sheathing his massive rod in a single thrust and an involuntary gasp. She was too far gone to experience any shock or pain, but her surprisingly gentle giant knew she’d suffer soreness in the morning if he wasn’t careful.
So leaving himself impaled, he distracted her by lowering his thumbs down to her pale nipples. Trapped between his fingers and his cock, all the blonde could do was shudder and moan as waves of pleasure rippled from every point of contact.
After a full minute of this, Tarim shifted his grip to her hips. He began raising and lowering his elfin lover slowly and gently, then with somewhat greater urgency. No matter how fast or far he went, Anjah seemed to relish it; before long, he was pressing into her with nearly the force with which she’d initially slammed into him.
Not much longer after that, his seed boiled over; his climax appeared to trigger hers. She arched herself backwards much further than a pure human could, and let out a scream that Selenna might’ve heard all the way down at the dockside taverns. And then she collapsed onto his chest, his piston still ensconced within her chamber, her long blonde braids tapping him on the chin before sliding over onto each massive shoulder.
They lay there intertwined, recuperating in relative silence. Then the sorceress said the one thing Tarim had least expected to hear right then.
“I’m pregnant now, you know.”
He jerked his head off the pillow, staring at her in shock. “You are? You can tell?” She nodded. “But... isn’t that a bad thing?”
Anjah sighed, disengaged her loins from his, and crawled up to kiss him. “Ordinarily it would be, Tarim my love. But as I’m discovering, it turns out that it’s part of the Amulet’s purpose: to allow sorceresses like me to breed. Not only have I become bonded to you now, but carrying and raising this child will endow me with unbelievable abilities.”
She giggled. “And as an extra added bonus, our child will be born with exceptional gifts as well. In fact, they all will.”
“All?” Tarim was trying to keep up with all the revelations; it was like trying to navigate through a barrage of arrows. “How do you know?”
“I can tell.” She kissed him again. “While we were bonding—”
“Coupling like a pair of mivvens in heat, you mean.”
Anjah giggled. “That too. While that was going on, the Amulet was, shall we say, bringing me up to speed. It’s been waiting almost three centuries to fulfill its duty, and it is not going to let this opportunity slip through its grasp.”
“Grasp? It doesn’t have hands. Maybe you meant, slip through its clasp.”
She smacked him across his cheek, well aware that her strike couldn’t do any damage. “You oaf. The point is, I understand what it’s for, and how best to help it achieve its goals. In the long run, we’re going to take on the whole entire Synod. Eventually, some of the most powerful sorceresses in the kingdom will be converted from pussy willows to proud parents. And you, my ogre stud, will likely as not become their progenitor.”
Tarim had been trying to work out what inborn traits a part-elf part-ogre half-human might have. But he retained the presence of mind to ask, “Please tell me that’s not the first thing on that Amulet’s agenda.”
“Of course not, darling. That goal is years away, and will take a combination of stealth, planning, money and lots of manna. Plus, we have a family to raise.”
“There is that.” He grinned lopsidedly. “But then, what’s our main goal, short term?”
“Don’t worry, lover; I will.” She rubbed her groin against his hip, emphasizing her point. “But first, one of the Amulet’s other secrets is a way to preserve our relationship. And in fact, improve it.” She stroked her hand through his copious chest hair, combing it with her fingers. He felt himself beginning to stir.
“Mm, feels like somebody’s getting ready to go again. C’mon, stud; if we hurry, we still have time to turn this first one into twins. Before I became a sorceress, I’d always dreamed about raising a boy and a girl.”
She flipped herself around and applied her tongue directly to his reawakening staff. Between his pleasure at her ministrations and surprise at her technique, Tarim couldn’t help but note that Anjah had always been a woman of her word.
One of the best things about being a seasoned warrior — even a female and obviously drunken one — is that everyone knows better than to mess with you.
Selenna had spent the night exactly as promised: trying to drown her situation in mead and dark ale, and fending off unwanted pickpockets as well as propositions — including a massively tempting one from the were-tiger serving wench at the Purple Puss. Oh, that twitching tail....
It was false dawn when she dragged her miserable bottom back up the tavern stairs. The sight of Tarim’s locked door rattled her; and the emptiness of her own quarters provided a blast of both depression and relief. She threw off her boots, hung up her sword belt, fell back on the bed and let the alcohol finish its job.
Not nearly enough hours later, she was rudely awakened by a highly-inconsiderate sun shining full-blast through the curtainless window. And by the way the straw bedding had shifted next to her, the black-haired mercenary knew she wasn’t alone. She rolled over, directly into the gaze of her elven companion.
Anjah had readied a small towel, soaked in clean cold water. “Was it worth it?”
Selenna groaned. “It never is.” She placed the makeshift compress over her throbbing eyes. “Thank you, dearling.”
“You’re welcome, love.” She felt the brush of Anjah’s lips on her forehead. Was everything back to normal, then? She could only hope.
“Tarim and I broke fast an hour ago,” she continued. “There’s a platter of fruit on the bench, once you’re up for it. Oh and,” a hum shot through Selenna’s weary body, followed by a wave of coolness, “that should take care of the worst of the nausea. Come join us whenever you’re ready, dearest.”
‘Whenever’ turned out to be another three-quarters of an hour. A bit disheveled but otherwise presentable, Selenna walked in through Tarim’s now-open doorway — and was relieved to see her compatriots sitting well apart, conversing quietly. Gesturing at her sword belt, she tried to make light of the scene. “Guess I don’t need to use this after all, ehm?”
Tarim harrumphed, and Anjah giggled. “Not hardly. Come sit with me, Selen.”
She did. “So. Um. Have you guys figured out what to do next?”
Tarim grunted. “Not really.”
Anjah took both of the barbarienne’s hands in hers. “We have a better idea of where we stand. For starters, I’m... expecting.”
Selenna didn’t know where to look; her eyes flashed to Anjah’s face, then her stomach, then (accusingly) to Tarim, then back to Anjah. “But— you used magick on me earlier, didn’t you?” The sorceress smiled and nodded. “Then how? I thought pregnancy rendered you powerless.”
“Usually, yes. You can thank, or blame, the Amulet of Lestohet. As it turns out, the restriction isn’t a magickal internment, but a political one. The magiocracy was afraid that splinter factions like the Sapphire Synod, if given the chance, would raise a generation of faithful daughters which could eventually develop into a movement capable of overthrowing the system.”
Selenna shook her head. “But how could they impose such a thing?”
“Through the first law, of course. Manna can neither be created or destroyed; but only applied or redirected.” Anjah smiled and released her former lifemate’s hands. “And we are about to do both.”
That brief of a warning gave Selenna no time to analyze her lifemate’s intention, much less react. There was a crackling in the air, as if right before a storm, and a strange rosy glow seemed to emanate from the jeweled plate beneath the sorceress’s robes. She heard a loud thunk, off to one side; only later would she realize that it must’ve been the door slamming shut.
Then she was surrounded by pink lightning; her body stiffened, and the world went dark.
Selenna’s first thought was that she felt surprisingly good for someone who’d just been zapped.
Her second was that she felt surprisingly chilled, for being fully dressed in the middle of the day.
The warrior opened her eyes and looked down at herself. And saw that her leather outfit had apparently been removed, leaving her fully nude. Oh, that explains it, she said to herself.
Then she looked around. To her side was her lifemate Anjah, equally nude except for the Amulet and its chain. Then what, or who, was pressing into her from behind?
An ogre-sized hand reached around and grabbed her waist. “You okay, Selenna? Anjah, you sure she’s all right?”
The black-haired warrior surprised him, by doing the one thing a pussy willow would never ever do. She rolled herself around, grabbed both his extending staff and the back of his neck, and murmured, “I’m better than all right, ogre boy. Now puncture me good, before I strangle this thing for insubordination.”
Behind her, Anjah giggled, then reached around to cup and pinch her womanly breasts. “She’s fine, stud. Better do as she says, though; I know how badly she needs it right now.”
The huntsman nodded, and entered Selenna’s mouth and channel at the same time. Her tongue wasn’t as long as Anjah’s, but it was far more dexterous. And her newly-explored passage wasn’t nearly as tight, but it was substantially more muscular.
Meanwhile, Selenna was in heaven. The penetration had been sharp; but as a warrior she was used to ignoring pain. Now the combination of kissing, thrusting, Anjah’s hands upon her breasts and breasts upon her back was driving her deep into a state of bliss, the likes of which she couldn’t remember ever having felt before. Her back arched, her hips pumped, and mewls of contentment occasionally escaped from her otherwise-occupied mouth.
It wasn’t long before nature took its course. Tarim exploded inside of her; and then, gentleman that he was, he had the courtesy to remain impaled until Selenna’s own climax ended. Then she fell over onto her back, only to find that Anjah had positioned herself upon her shoulders, her own slick core demanding immediate attention — which Selenna, tired as she was, found herself all too happy to provide.
So of course, the half-ogre penetrated her with one of his massive fingers: about half the size of his cock, but easily as large as a normal human’s member. She rode it as eagerly as Anjah rode her face; then, once they’d both reached another screaming climax, the two of them slithered down and returned the favor.
Their tongues dueled and danced with each other, as they licked and slurped at his towering manhood — or should that be his ogrehood? Every so often, one of them would try to slip her mouth down as far as she could; neither could make it past the head, though Selenna could almost fit the entire glans into her slightly-larger mouth. Almost.
Then Anjah sat up and sank herself onto his eager shaft, while Selenna positioned herself on all fours, so that Tarim could suckle her hungry breasts while her lover and lifemate played with her swollen nub….
It went on like this for quite a while.
Finally, Tarim called a halt. “You vixens may be insatiable, but I have only so many arrows in my quiver. I need a break.” Thirty seconds later, he was snoring.
Which gave Selenna time to catch her own bearings. Her eyes darted around the room. “Hey, where’s my sword?”
“You would care more about that than your clothing, dearest. And that’s one of the reasons I love you.” Anjah kissed her on the nose. “Relax; it’s next door, along with the rest of our garments. Warded and safe.”
“Speaking of warded: what just happened? Why did I — why do I — want so badly to rut with Tarim? And why aren’t I mad at you for whatever you did to me? I should be furious.”
The blonde sorceress tapped the copper medallion. “It’s this, of course. The Amulet knows how important you are: to Tarim, to me, and to the success of our mission. So it showed me how to convert a good part of your love and lust for me over to him, and how I could redirect part of my desire for him back toward you.”
“So then these feelings are fake?”
Anjah shook her head. “They’re absolutely genuine, now. First law, remember? And with a second law bonus: such a fundamental change to your outlook means that you’ve automatically become a better warrior: more focused, more deadly, harder to harm. If you like, think of it as the power of love taking you beyond where you used to be.”
“I see.” Selenna was quiet for a minute. “So then, what now?”
“Now—” Tarim chose that moment to roll over and let out a particularly powerful snort, causing both women to chuckle and roll their eyes. “Now,” Anjah continued, “we move ourselves out of this tavern, and buy ourselves a small keep somewhere. After all, we’re going to need to keep my condition a secret, so as not to have the entire Synod and the magiocracy crying for our heads before we’re ready. Not to mention having a place to raise the children.”
The swordswoman’s eyes were wide. “Ch-children?”
“Of course! Remember I said I was expecting? Twins, as it turns out. It was quite a night.” Anjah winked. “And you’re with child now, as well. It’s the magick: you have to conceive at least once. It binds you closer to him,” she jerked her thumb at their sleeping half-ogre lifemate, “and to me.”
Once again, the barbarienne was in shock. “Then, then I’m— we’re—”
“A family. A team. An unstoppable force, hopefully for good.” Their clothes, including Selenna’s sword belt, popped back into the room. “Get dressed, love; while poppa here keeps reloading his quiver, let’s go get started on supplies.”
Selenna shook her head, grinned, and reached for her undergarment.