the Leathermines

Back to Chapter 50

 

She hadn’t stopped crying since she had come back into her room.  There was no consolation that anyone could offer that made the hard, cold spot that had formed in her melt and go away.  Laun could not stop crying.

“All I wanted to do was hit him on the head.”  Edgar was both serious and trying to make Laun smile.  She barely looked up at him and the tears were still flowing.  Her eyes were red and puffy, her voice, when she talked, gravely.  There was enough snot coming out of her nose to saturate several cloths since she had started.

She blew her nose again and said, “All I could see was his body floating in the river, going past Falmir’s people as a warning.  It made me happy to think it.”  She had a sobbing fit and couldn’t continue.

Geralk was sitting in one of the chairs that had been in the corner.  It was next to the bed, the mat having been moved.  He shook his head in amazement.  “I’m just glad you have never been angry at me.  You took a fourth class assassin to his knees without really trying.”  He looked at her anguish.  It was plain and open, as she usually was.  “There are Master gatherers who would be at your feet right now.”

That made Laun twitch a smile, but then the tears came out and made it a frown.

Edgar held her.  It was all he could do.  He had tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted that if anything was to happen to the man they had captured, that she would do it.  She had asked that he be taken as long of a way to the chamber of death as possible so she could gather and prepare.  She had brought props that she had not used, planned for things that did not happen.  But what had happened had flowed and had shown a skill, a side of her that the others in the room shuddered at.

It was the same Laun she had presented to the assassin as she presented to the rest of them.  But there was an edge, a coldness, that showed.  Cutting herself and not reacting.  Bringing the man to his knees and making him stand, just to have him fall at her feet, again.  Making him think she was one of the elite of the information gatherers with the subtle addition of the clapperless bell in her hair.

Geralk had skimmed over many of the greyworld guilds with her as part of her lessons.  She had asked, he had answered.  She had taken the little he had given and turned it to an advantage.  With her dramatic bent, she used subtlety to make the man see what she wanted, made him create what she was without telling him more than a few lies.  None of them direct.

“I wanted his blood on my hands, to feel his innards slide past them and onto the floor.  A sacrifice to our household.”  Laun looked at her shivering hands, seeing the blood that had not been spilt.  “But- I couldn’t do it.  There are so many reasons why I had to.  But I failed!”  Laun started to cry harder, her hands over her face.  She fell into the pillows at the head of the bed and wailed into them.

Geralk went to touch her, but thought better of it.  He put his hand on the mattress and said, “We learned quite a bit from your interrogation, Lady.

Laun turned her head from the pillow, but was still sobbing.  “Like what?”

Geralk brought himself up and started to count off things.  “Fourth level assassin.  He had the testing scars that have to be at least a year old.  His boots were made in Rosemond and recently.  He said a girl’s name several times while he was on the floor, Kay, I think.  What was left of his clothing included a piece that was sold at the trading post less than a week ago.”

Launs voice was soft, but they heard, “He regrets being in the Guild.  Expected something else and was betrayed, but it was too late.  His training has been all about pain and suffering.  I saw that he was not going to respond to that kind of pressure.”

Geralk’s smile widened.  “You are a natural, Laun.”

Laun shook her head, wiping the wetness from her face onto the pillow.  “But I couldn’t go through with killing him.”

Edgar put his hand on her back.  “You have killed in the past, but you were defending.  Yourself.  Us.”  He tried to take her hand.  It was pulled away and put under the pillow.  “He had not directly hurt us, yet.”

“Yet.”  That was a final word.  The men could hear that she had to work things out for herself.  They both got up and went to the door.  Edgar paused at the doorway and wanted to say something.  The sobbing form of his Lady, his Love, broke his heart.  Nothing would come out.

Laun did not hear the door close through her sobbing and the pillow.  She was too far into her internal conflict to hear or see anything other than the flow of hurt through her.

She did not know what she had expected.  She did what came to mind, kept him off balance and was going to slit his throat.  But she couldn’t.  A large part of her liked playing with him.  Liked seeing him in several forms of distress.  Liked knowing that his life was in her hand, to be ended by her.

But...  She was standing behind him.  He relaxed, accepting his death by her hand.  She had him, could have had his blood flowing through her fingers, wanted that.  His head tipped so she had free access to his throat.  His eyes closed.  He was letting her do it.

She couldn’t.  The knife in her hand was from Lady Hellon.  She thought, with Lady Hellon being the first to die from the household in this stupid coup that it would be easy and fitting.  The hilt of the knife was well fitted to her hand, felt good there.  Feeling the pulse she was about to stop under her hand was thrilling.

Then she couldn’t.  He had fallen, shattered, onto the floor.  She had taken something from him and was not sure what that had been.  She had seen something, a twig to pull, a thread to unravel, and had tugged on it.  It was so natural for her to bare herself as she worked on him.  She had thought ahead that it would be easier to be naked when she slit his throat or gutted him as cleaning her was easier than cleaning her clothing.  It had been one of the first things to unbalance him.

The balance she had walked herself had been hard, tenuous.  She saw him surrounded by the protectors and wanted to gut him right then.  She thought putting him in the chamber of death, the lowest part of the keep and the only one with absolutely no windows would be appropriate.  No one not there could see in or tell what had happened.  She had to protect her household.

But she had not protected her household.  She had played.  She had amused.  She had not protected.

The tears were not gone, but they were flowing slower.  She was exhausted.  She turned, pulling the pillows and blankets over her, trying to block out everything, though everything she was trying to block out was coming from inside.

She fell asleep.  She was cocooned and comforted by the closeness of the bedding.  Her dreams were not bland, but not terrifying, either.  They all pointed at her as a fake, a liar.  The faces of those she loved blinking past and gone.  Passing her because she was not being what was needed, or wanted.

She woke, still entangled with the blankets.  She froze, listening.  She moved the pillow from her head slowly until it seemed to just fall off by it’s self.  She had moved to the other side of the bed, almost to the edge.  It was night, not even a night lamp on.  She heard wind outside, but no breathing inside.  She was alone.

The covers went back, jumbled.  Her back hurt and her legs ached.  She stepped carefully onto the mat on the floor and went to the window.  There were small lights in the courtyards she could see and the light from the Great Hall was bright.  The evening meal must have been going on.  Most who were not on patrol would be there.

Laun found the robe draped across the end of the bed and put it on.  The air had been chilly and she had been finding her aches were worse when she was cold.  It had been hard to be cold in the Chamber of Death.  But it was... appropriate.

Laun found her way to the door and opened it.  There were protectors on the other side who snapped to attention as she opened the door.  It was different.  Something had changed.

“What is your wish, Lady?”

The tenor of her voice, the slight fright in the tone told Laun that someone had said something.  They had said something that frightened the people who were there to protect her.  Frightened...of her?

Laun smiled and lightly touched her protector’s arm.  “I seem to have darkness in my room.  May I have someone light my candles?”

She received a stiff nod and one of the protectors went to the small fire at the top of the stairs for a live ember.  She stepped back and soon had candles and oil lamps lit.  She sat in the chair that had been moved to the side of the bed and watched as the people around her, her household and family, hurried to leave, hardly a look at her.

Laun’s heart was broken.  She had only treated those around her as she wished to be treated.  She truly felt something for everyone who had been in the household and most of the people who had come in after the Festival.  She wanted to protect them, to be the best leader they could have.  But she had failed, and now, they would not look at her.

She leaned over her knees and held her head as the tears started again.  She could not stop the tears, the sobs.  A darkness that had been lurking under was snaking it’s way up and taking ahold of her.  The depth of her depression, her doubt, was overwhelming her.  She was alone in a room that she had not earned.  If she had let her household, her family, down, she deserved to be alone.

She did not hear the door open.  She did not see the people come in.  She did not hear the door close.  She was pressed into her hands, her ears only hearing her sobs and the voices that were screaming at her that she was unworthy, a fake.

She smelled the venison before she realized there were people in the room with her.  She looked up and found that her room now had people in it.  All of them were looking at her, quiet and waiting.

She looked at the faces.  It was hard to read anything but pity or hatred in any of them.  She put her face in her hands again and the tears continued to flow.  She sobbed, but it did not block the people out.  They were moving, the light changing through her fingers.

The venison did smell good, and her body reminded her that she barely had anything to eat that day.  But she was afraid to look up.  The hate she knew they had for her was hard to face.  But her body made it clear it was hungry with a grumble that was loud and clear for all in the room to hear.

She wiped her face on the sleeve of the robe.  She looked around and felt as if she should have killed herself when she had not killed the man.  The people around her would not look directly at her, the disappointment in her clear.  Except...

Ali was at her feet.  Her boy was curled up and leaning against the chair, waiting for Laun’s touch.  She was afraid that if she touched Ali, Laun’s taint would spread.  But, she wanted to touch Ali’s head, stroke the hair and comfort them both.  She reached out and felt the heat coming from Ali’s head under her hand.

Ali looked up and Laun saw the redness in her eyes, the dried tears on her face.  Ali took Launs partially outstretched hand and put it on the stablehand’s cheek.  Ali smiled and Laun had something change in how she saw things.

It was not hatred.  It was concern.  It was not pity... most of it.  It was worry.

Laun looked around again.  Disa was there, in one of the chairs.  Fount was standing against the wall.  Dreng was looking at the dress, Bett at his side.  Orgia was fussing over the bedding on the other side of the bed.  Several staff were setting up a temporary sideboard under the windows, the platter with the carved venison being held until the table was ready.  Edgar opened the door and led in several others.

Dougal was in the group of protectors and nobles and they all saluted her as they came into a semicircle around the mat.  They all stood at attention and waited, watching her.

Laun must have looked confused because Fount and Edgar both went to her, Fount kneeling and Edgar leaning against the bed.  They were both looking worried.

Laun found she was not stroking Ali’s head but grasping the short hair.  She released it and stroked once.  She pulled her hand back and pushed herself up straight.  She sat back in the chair and looked between Edgar and Fount.  Edgar looked like he had not slept in several days.  Fount had red eyes and was pale.

Laun looked back down into her hands.  Her voice was small, even to her ears.  “I failed you.”

Edgar was on his knees and had his arms around her.  Fount was also there, somehow pushing in and also had his arms around her.

It was the first time Laun heard anything like the frustration and hurt she heard as Edgar’s throat caught on a sob.  Edgar was her strength, and she was hearing the breaking of his facade as he sobbed and cried into her neck.  The heartache as she heard him whisper, “Never.”

Fount was on her other side, openly crying and grasping at her.  He was not saying anything.

Laun was scared.  These were not the men she knew, or thought she knew.  “I’m sorry...”

Edgar pulled back and took Laun’s face in his hands.  He kissed her and pulled back to look at her.  “No.  You were asleep for a day and would not wake.”

Laun looked around and saw nods.  “I don’t feel like I was...”  Her stomach grumbled again, making the point.  She put a hand on Edgar’s cheek and he kissed it, a suppressed sob going through him.

She turned and Fount was crying into her shoulder.  The large youth was another she had hardly seen emotional, past the bedroom.  Laun had her arm around him and felt his body shaking.  “I thought I had lost you.”

She thought she understood.  And she cried again.  Edgar held her.  Fount held her.  She felt Ali wrap her arm around her leg.  They all cried.

There was another loud growl from Laun’s stomach, making her giggle through the tears.  They broke off from her, but did not move far.

Disa was standing at the edge of the mat on the floor.  “We were all concerned, Laun.”  Hands were held out and Disa carefully joined in the pile and Laun hugged her maid.

“You are well?”  Laun pushed back Disa’s hair and looked into her face.

Disa smiled and said, “Yes. Lady.”

Dreng knocked on the bedstead, getting their attention.  “I am also glad that you are awake, Granddaughter.  You gave us a scare there.”

Laun had tears in her eyes.  “But I didn’t-”

Edgar put a finger on her lips.  “But you did.  And, no, you did not fail us.”

Orgia put her oar into the mess and said, “You do not get to faint from hunger after waking.  You will eat.”  The chatelaine had her arms crossed over her chest but had a beaming smile.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“Hey!  I am not old en... well, not to be your grandmother!”  There was laughter, even through more tears.

A wooden trencher was filled and placed in Laun’s hands.  She had not eaten for a day and a half and most of her trencher was emptied within minutes.

A mug of hot tea was being presented to her and she downed most of that in a large swallow, coughing as some of it went down wrong.

“Careful!  Don’t kill yourself on that!”  Edgar had his hand on Laun’s shoulder and tried to have a light tone in his voice.  It was not entirely working.

Laun stopped coughing, but she also stopped eating.  “But I should have when I couldn’t-”

Edgar grabbed her chin and forced it up to look at him.  “But you didn’t, and that is good.”

The monster that was in the back of Laun’s head turned and bit, the venom of depression dripping as she said, “I haven’t protected you.  I failed.”

“No!”  The frustration in Edgar’s voice was a different frustration than before.  “He wants to talk to you.  Only you.”

Laun was confused.  “What did I miss?”  Someone took the trencher and mug from her.   There were hands on her to give comfort as well as encouragement.

Dreng spoke over Edgar’s frustration.  “Sweeting, your prisoner has been sitting there in that hole, refusing food or water, or even a blanket.  He will only talk to you.  I think he wants to talk about his mission.”  Dreng could not approach because of all the other people, but put his hand to his lips and then over his heart.  “Even when he knew who I was, he would not talk to me.  He kept only asking for the woman.” 

Dougal was next to the King and nodded.  “You broke him as his interrogator.  He has latched onto you and will only talk to you.”

Part of Laun’s mind snapped back into place.  The darkness was still there, would always be there.  But she was better.

Others in the room heard the steadiness that had been lacking in Laun’s voice before.  “So - by not killing him, and making him wait in the chamber of the dead, he has decided to talk, but only me?”  Laun looked around seeing smiles and smirks with the nods.  “Damn.”

Laun leaned back.  The mind she thought she did not have was working.  The possibilities that presented themselves washed over her and she closed her eyes.  The food in her and the hot tea brought up her energy level and her thoughts spiraled, but into a good direction.

She opened her eyes and smiled.  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Fount was kneeling at her feet, his hands on her legs.  She leaned forward and kissed him, lingering as she pulled away.  His eyes were still shaded with worry, but the gray lightened as they looked into each other.

“Since I have fed, may I be allowed to use the privy?”

There was a group of people who surrounded Laun as she went out of the room.  She stopped and held her hand to the protector who had been there to answer before.  Yes, she stood more at attention than Laun had seen the protectors on guard do, but she also saw the traces of tears on her cheeks, the need to look straight ahead to keep the calmness focused.  Laun said a quiet, “Thank you,” before letting herself be escorted past.

Laun could now see what some of her mind had been trying to do to her.  It did not change that it happened, or that it would happen again.  She knew what it was, now.  Naming it made it have less power over her.  She thought on that as she let people fuss over her.

Back in the room in the tower, Laun saw that things had been cleaned and changed slightly while the group had been gone.  Not too different, but clean bedclothes were always good.  She had a bit of a plan, and turned to Disa.

“Would you...  Would you dress me tonight?”

Disa nodded and asked, “Dinner is over, what do you need to be dressed for?”

Laun had a sad smile.  “To show our household that I am well, and to visit the prisoner.”

“But-” Disa cut herself off and nodded.  “I think I understand.”

There was a round of hugs and kisses for the people who were not staying to help dress their Lady.  Laun lingered more with some than others.  She tried to talk to Dougal for a moment, but he just shook his head and went out with the rest of the group.  When the door closed, Disa took over.

“The blue that has the red trim might work...”  Disa used what was there and sent Ali and others off to get things from the rest of the household to complete her job at hand.  Disa had been sick and then cooped up, though not entirely bored, for over a week.  This was an outlet she liked.

It took close to an hour, but Laun had the energy to make the rounds in the Great Hall after sitting and standing and having various things happen to her to make Disa satisfied that Laun was put together.

Several lengths of blue tunics were on her, the top one with a woven red trim.  Red and blue ribbons went into her hair, a little color from a pot on her cheeks.  She had socks and her boots on, Ali having cleaned and polished the boots until the leather glowed in her worry.  A belt with Laun’s sword went on her hip, an assassin dagger in the top of one of her boots.

Disa declared her done.  Laun was not quite so sure, and grabbed another of the grey ribbons that were in the journal to wrap and tie around her wrist, the clapperless bell hanging down.

It was close to midnight, but the word had spread that Lady Laun had woken and was in fine spirits.  There was a cheer as she was escorted into the Great Hall.  Warrior’s grips and hand kissing and hugs and full kisses were all given and taken.  The mood was of celebration and Laun felt that they needed a celebration.  They had been scared, but not by her, for her.  She understood that.  She was there, in full display, her garb impeccable.  They saw her, touched her, tasted her.

She had slept, but she was still tired, and she had one duty to do before she could sleep that night.  She had made her rounds, politely declining offers of ale and cider but accepting the well wishes that went with.  She extricated herself from the Great Hall, several people wishing to go with her.  She accepted and asked that they go to the tower room before her.

There was a team of protectors at the door of the Chamber of Death.  They were embraced by their Lady and then opened the door for her.

There was one candle going.  It was placed on one of the walls and the pale light washed over most of the room.  In front of the bare stone altar of death, the assassin was sitting.  Crossed legs, closed eyes, lips moving slightly.  He was still naked, even though a folded blanket was a pace away.

He did not open his eyes.  He did not make a move or sound to recognize anyone was there in the room with him.  He was slightly shivering, but that was the only sign that he was in a cold room.

Laun stood and looked at him.  He was pleasant to look at.  He was in good, if not top, shape.  She had seen him when he was aroused - Laun shook her head and stopped herself from thinking those thoughts.

“How is my quail doing?”

His action was immediate.  Even if Laun had been able to react she would not have had time.  It was lucky that what he did was launch himself at her feet, prostrating himself.

“You came!”  His voice was cracked and dry.  His head was on the floor and his arms reached for her.

Laun went down, almost kneeling, and touched his head.  She had to move the sword out of the way to keep her balance.  She also checked to make sure that the knife was still in the boot.

“It is my home, where else would I be?”

He looked up and saw her.  He had reacted to the voice.  The voice that had been haunting him since she left him in the cold and dark.  The dark that had let him get out his feelings.  The cold that drained the regret.  The cold that had tempered his anger.  The dark that had let him see points of light in his life.

The others who had come were not her.  They had offered him things, tempted him.  But she was testing him, and he wanted to please her.

He saw her.  She was a warrior, but a woman, too.  The boots for riding, the flowing tunics for pleasure.  The sword.  Also for her pleasure.  If she chose that way to dispatch him.

“Sit up.”  Her voice was soft but clear.  He had to do what she asked.

Laun was not sure what she wanted from him, or what he wanted from her.  She watched him sit back in his cross legged way, moving possibly a little slowly and stiffly.  She paced slightly, seeing the way he looked ahead, but always keeping an eye on her.  She stopped and looked at him, her head tilting sightly.

He hoped she was pleased with him.  He had been saying catras and meditating and ignoring his body so that he would be ready for her.  He was empty and was her vessel.  He watched her tilt her head and bring her hand up to the side of her face.  He saw the ribbon with the clapperless bell.  She had a way of moving, even with the sword on her hip, that showed that she must have the training from the Green Master, the elite of any Guild.  She just looked at him.

Laun saw him try to swallow.  His voice came out as if it was coming through a sheaf of dried grain, thin and whispery.  “What may I call you?”

Laun thought for a moment.  She was not sure what to tell him.  But she felt she had lied enough, even if it had been effective.  “You may call me Lady.  If you choose to live, I may choose to let you call me other things.”

He did a short nod.  “Thank you, Lady.”  

He seemed to have an odd energy to Laun after being told what to call her.  She half-knelt, one knee on the ground, her hand on the sword.  “You are cold.  Take the blanket.”

He scrambled to the folded blanket and wrapped it around himself.  He was still shivering, but the look on his face changed, relaxed.  She watched as he became some warmer, keeping the body warmth he had in.  At least somewhat.  There was still the stone under him that was sucking out he heat.

Laun smiled at him and he smiled back.  “I have been told that you only wanted to talk to me.”

He nodded.  It was hard for him to talk through the dryness, but he felt it was part of her test.  The Masters always had tests.  The Lady had her own test for him.

“Lady, I was hired to observe and to subjugate if possible.  The King ordered that if the old King was found, he was to be killed.”  His head went down.

“You failed.”  Laun knew the internal pain that caused her, and she wanted him to feel that pain, too.

“Your people were better.  I trained for years, had many successful missions before this.”  His head went up and he looked at her, a slight pain going over his face before he settled on a bland expression.

Laun saw the dried blood trail from his neck.  It had bled for a while, but it had not been deep.  The cut was scabbed over and, if he lived, would be healed in a few days.

“Your training was good.  It took us a while to know you were there.”  She saw a flash of a smile.  “The Masters would not be proud of the outcome, but the skill, the technique was good.”

She stood, feeling her body starting to fail her.  She did not want to show him any pain from her.  “Well, my little quail, I have a celebration to go to.  But before I go...”

Laun stepped dangerously close to him and he looked up.  She was not sure what the expression was he was giving her.  The blanket was being held tight around his shoulders, his hands gripping the blanket until his knuckles were white.

“Stand.”

It took him a while to stand, still with the blanket around him.  His legs were shaking and it looked like he was going to fall over any moment.  Laun stepped up to him and put her hand on his cheek.  His legs almost collapsed, but he caught himself.

“My little quail, do you wish to live today?”

He looked into her eyes and blinked.  Her hand on his cheek was so warm, so welcoming.  He knew she could kill him any time she wanted.  To be offered the chance to be touched by her, just to be in her presence for another day... “Yes, Lady.”

She smiled.  It was a smile that was in all of her.  Her eyes, her lips, the roundness of the cheeks.  He smiled back.

She stepped back, taking that hand away.  He stumbled forward slightly before catching himself.

“I will be back.”  And she was at the door and gone.

He went to the floor, the blanket slipping from him.  He felt the hunger of his body and the hunger of his mind.  He had been allowed the blanket.  He was thankful for the blanket.  He wrapped it around himself and tried to meditate but fell asleep instead.

Laun was on the other side of the door of the Chamber of Death as he fell to the floor.  She heard the slap of flesh to stone.  She wanted to go and see if he was on the floor, but she knew he was.  She was not going to let him be more than a conduit for information.  Information that may or may not be useful.

She thanked the protectors and told them that in an hour or so, a bowl with water was to be placed in the room about a pace from him.  They nodded and she went on her way.

The guards at the door of the tower room had changed, as well as the attitude.  They smiled as she approached, one opening the door for her.  She touched shoulders as she went past and came into a scene of pure revelry.

The contrast from where she had just been was shocking.

They had started before her.  The body heat was a wave against her as the door to the room had been opened, the closing sealing it in like one of the baker’s ovens.  The food had still been on the sideboard and several people were feeding each other with well licked fingers.  Forms of undress were present more than forms of dress.  The sighs coming from those being kissed and fondled mingled with low conversations.  Eyes turned her way, but many of them were glazed over with heated desire.  Laun had not thought that this many people had asked to be with her, but then again, they were having quite a bit of fun without her.

Disa disentangled herself from an embrace and came to Laun.  Laun’s eyebrow went up as she realized that the one she had been with was their female healer.  Disa took Laun’s hand and led her into the midst of a group of people.  Disa started to undo Laun’s sword belt and other hands were on her.

It felt good and right to be out of the clothing, no matter how pretty or appropriate it may be.  She watched as the sword was placed on the arming tree, carefully and with reverence.  The tunics were pulled off of her and she found she was being held up by several people while her footwear was being taken off.  They took advantage of the situation and she had mouths on her neck, warm hands stroking and grasping on her body.

The stroking became aided with the addition of a little oil.  Lucaris was dipping her hands into a warmed stone bowl and started to rub and stroke up Laun’s legs.  Someone else also started massaging with oiled hands on her back.  She felt warm and loved and welcomed, but her legs started to quiver at the effort of standing.

“I’m going to fall.”  Shoulders and hands were presented and used to help their Lady into the center of the raised bed.

Both Fount and Edgar had been warming up with very willing women before Laun came in.  Their Lady was on the bed and being massaged by many hands and looking far more relaxed and within herself than even when she had been going through the Great Hall.  Their eyes met over the squirming women they had within their arms and a decision was made between them.  They were able to gently, at least on Edgar’s part, move the women they were with into one of the groups on the lower mats and climb up onto the bed.

People moved and the men went to either side of Laun.  She lay between them, looking at them in turn, smiling and laying her hands on their cheeks.  They kissed her, Edgar first, and then began to both make love to her.

They were a team, co-ordinated to keep her writhing and gasping between them.  One man’s hands would be on her breasts, manipulating and teasing while the other’s would slide down and tease and stroke below.  They would kiss her alternately, sometimes both nuzzling at her neck as they used their hands on her.

Laun was feeling everything intensely.  She felt the passion, the spark that was in her belly spread through her body.  Each stroke, each kiss was not just that, it was them showing her how they loved her, how she mattered.  She felt that as a light buzzing through her skin as their fingers went over her.  Like the air before a horrendous thunderstorm, the electricity she felt thrilled her.

Edgar nuzzled into her neck and said in the rumbling way that made her body thrill, “With your permission.”  She felt his arms go around her and he was rolling her onto her side away from him.

Fount was there.  He still had some of the red around his eyes from before, but his face was happy.  They kissed, his hands going into her hair and pulling them together.  She put her arm around his back and held him close.

Laun felt her leg being raised and Edgar was behind her, positioning himself.  She held onto Fount as she felt Edgar go into her and just stay still.  Her leg draped over Fount’s hip and she felt his own desire against her belly.

The feeling of Edgar in her made her want to move against him.  He was very still behind her, she started to move her hips.  His breath on her neck was heated and started to come out in forced bursts.  His hand went to her breast and she felt Fount’s hand travel down to her hip, pulling her towards him.

There was not much room between the three of them.  Any movement rippled through to each of them.  Edgar started to stroke in and out of her, Laun moving her hips to meet the strokes.  Fount would push back on her belly, rubbing on her and kissing her, taking in the breaths she was sighing out.  Her head would go back and Edgar’s mouth would be closer to her neck, his breath hot and cold and making her body squirm.

The cycle went on for a while until Edgar just could not stop what his body wanted.  He felt it coming and he pulled her to his chest, his face in her ribboned hair.  He rumbled out, “With your per-”  It turned into a growl that had the force of his quickening strokes behind it.  He felt the need to grab something and found that he had grabbed Fount’s shoulder, pulling the three of them closer.

Laun felt his peak, the maddening strokes bringing pleasure, but not bringing her far enough to her own peak.  Yes, the love that was there was good, but her body and mind now wanted the peak, the release.  She looked into Font’s eyes as Edgar growled into her ear, her younger love’s eyes half closed but on her.

Edgar loosened his grip on Fount and kissed Laun’s shoulder.  He continued to breathe heavily into her.  She was still moving slightly in her hips and he felt he was about to slip out of her.  He was able to get Fount’s attention and they made a play to roll Laun over to her other side.

Laun was not used to facing Edgar.  He was almost always behind her when they were laying down, except if he was on top.  Edgar stroked her hair and held her face and kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing against each other.  Fount moved behind her and she found her leg was now draped over Edgar’s leg, Fount using his fingers on her from behind.

She gasped and her back arched, her butt going into Fount’s groin and her breasts smashing into Edgar’s chest.  Fount kept stroking her with his fingers, rubbing against her tingling flesh, bringing her closer to her peak.  She felt his mouth and then his teeth on her shoulder.  She pulled back from Edgar and looked into his eyes as Fount entered her.

She heard noises from outside them, but it was not them and it did not matter.  She felt a slight chill as the door was opened and fresh air came into the room, but it was just refreshing.  She felt other movements on the bed, but it was not from Fount behind or Edgar in front.  It was just them.

She looked into Edgar’s eyes and found the world in them.  They kissed and he slipped his hand down between them.  Fount’s manhood went from being a hot strip on her back to hotly entering her.  As Fount was trying to take it slow from behind, Edgar started to finger her, making her hips move on their own.  They looked into each other as she felt her desires grow.  She felt a small wave go through her and her eyes closed.

She saw blood on her hands.  Her mind was trying to trick her into the darkness, change the good into the bad.  She was not going to let it.  She felt her own blood rush through her, loud in her ears.  She saw a blade in her hand, blood dripping from it.  The ruby drops were flowing down her hands and arms.  It made her mind not turn cold, but heat up even further.  She embraced the blood as she was embracing her orgasm.

Her eyes flew open as she peaked and looked into her lover’s eyes.  She felt Fount’s fingers deep in her legs’ flesh as he tried to go deeper into her.  Edgar’s fingers danced across her and sent her further over the edge.  She heard her voice, crying out for more and then a silent wail as her breath failed her.

Fount had his own cry as he peaked, his butt tensed and slightly jerking as the waves of his seed went from him into Laun.  He relaxed and his head went back, trying to catch his breath.  Laun put her hand back and held onto him, trying to keep him in her, next to her.

He rolled back against her and put his arm around her.  Fount and Edgar both had arms over Laun, keeping her within them and connecting with each other.  They loosely locked their arms in a warriors grip, palm to elbow.

The feelings that were washing over Laun were part ecstatic and part bloodlust.  The warmness left from her peak, sharing and being shared with her men, lingered.  The wish for blood also lingered, making the warm feeling more alive, pushing her energy up, though her body was trying to lull her into sleep.  She would’ve gladly had sex again after having made love with her men.  Her mind wanted the action, the contact, the possibility of bringing others to their peak and draining them of their own energy.

Her body was not cooperating.  The comfort she had of being between them was more than the lust she had could overcome.  She felt the slide of a sheet over them and knew that sleep was not far behind.  She knew she was going under and she tried to say something before she was lost to the dreams.

Edgar heard her, and later told Fount as she slept between them.  She said, “I love you both.  You complete me.”

 

Next, in Chapter 52 ...