David Dalglish - Wrath of Lions

Her name was Kaya Highrose, and she was the most splendid being Roland Norsman had met in all his life.

The girl nuzzled into him underneath a pile of fur blankets, the stars twinkling in the sky overhead. They were reclining against the hard and unforgiving roof of the inn, but he felt no discomfort. All he did feel was the smooth contour of Kaya’s bare flesh, and all he could smell was her curly black hair, teased with lemon. The only other sensation he was aware of was the stickiness that covered his rapidly retreating manhood.

He had a hard time catching his breath, and when Kaya flipped toward him, her breasts pressing into his chest while her lips lightly brushed his neck, he felt his insides begin to stir once more. It was the most wondrous sensation in the world, even if the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heart frightened him. He hadn’t experienced such a feeling for months, and the last time his heart had beat this way it had not been pleasurable.…It had happened as he’d watched Jacob Eveningstar, the man he’d admired his entire life, turn traitor on the battlefield of Haven.

Those memories caused his excitement to wane, only to be stoked once more when Kaya’s lips met his, her breath sweet with nectarines and cherry wine, her tongue gently caressing the inside of his mouth.

She pulled back from him then, smiling as she grasped for his manhood. Her fingers found it, danced across it, and played it back into stiffness.

Roland moaned. Feeling suddenly sore, he gently moved her hand away.

“I don’t think I can again,” he said, hissing between his teeth at the rawness he felt down there. “I’m sorry.”

“You sure?” she asked playfully. “Why not?”

“It’s just…it hurts a bit,” he replied.

“It does?” She sucked on her lip. “Well, Mantrel Burgess once said I have a gift for healing. Let me see if I can heal you .”

“What are you-”

Kaya disappeared beneath the blankets before he could finish his question. Her healing kisses began and chased away all other thoughts.

They made love again after that. Roland lasted more than a few short thrusts this time, immersing himself in the feel of their lower halves colliding while he squeezed the girl’s ample breasts. And when he finished, it was so intense that he bit down on her shoulder a little too fiercely, hard enough to make her yelp.

When the act was done, Roland collapsed on his back, the soreness returning. The rest of him felt numb, euphoric, as if he weighed less than nothing and could soar into the sky, floating all the way up until he reached Celestia’s star. Kaya rolled over, resting her head on his chest while she caressed the fine hairs below his bellybutton.

“Happy birthday,” she said, smirking.

He gazed at her, dumbstruck.

“So, how was it?” she asked. “Second time as good as the first?”

“Um,” he replied, feeling at a loss for words.

Kaya giggled. “What, did I steal your tongue?”

“Well, no,” he said hoarsely. “It’s just…it was all…well…you know?”

“Fun?”

He chuckled. “Well…yes, I guess that’s as good a word as any.”

She slid atop him, placing a single kiss on his lips as she squeezed his sides with her thighs.

“I still find it amazing that you haven’t done this before,” she said, her hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I mean, by Ashhur, I lost my flower when I was fourteen, and you’re no younger than I am.”

Roland shivered, wiggled out from beneath her.

“Wait, you’re done this before?” He’d believed he was her first, just as she was his.

“Of course,” said Kaya. She cocked her head to the side and stared at him through squinting lids.

“Where are your children?”

A solemn look overcame the pretty girl’s round features.

“I have none. Ashhur has yet to bless me with child.” She looked so sad then, defeated. “Not for lack of trying.”

She looked away, and in the moonlight he saw the shimmering start of tears. Roland’s empathy overwhelmed his disbelief, and he pulled her close, suddenly feeling guilty even though he wasn’t sure he’d done anything wrong.

“Why are you sad?” he asked.

Kaya sniffled. “I am one of eleven, Roland,” she said. “All nine of my older sisters have been blessed with children. Me? I’ve been with five men since that first time, and none has been able to plant his seed. It is a mark of dishonor. Healers have touched my belly, but it hasn’t helped. My mother jests that I’m cursed. No man will take me if I cannot provide him with children.”

“You’re not cursed,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her to him. The blankets slid off them, piling up around his waist and revealing her fully. He drew back and was once again overtaken by how beautiful she was, with her wide hips and firm breasts. He had always thought his future was with Mary Ulmer, Master Steward Clegman’s daughter. But Mary was gone now, having joined Ashhur’s march toward Mordeina. And besides, as he stared at the woman before him, he couldn’t imagine himself being with anyone else. Visions entered his mind of giving Kaya the children she so desired, of building a small hut in the hilly lands on the outskirts of Ker and living there until old age claimed them both. He had only known her for a few short months, but already that felt like forever.

“How do you know?” she asked, almost shyly.

“Because someone so wonderful could never be cursed.”

She smiled, soft and sweet. “That’s very nice of you to say.”

“I’m not just saying it. I mean it. I would live the rest of my life with you, whether you bore my children or not.”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

A shooting star flashed overhead, making the night even brighter, and for a moment Kaya put him in mind of Brienna. When the mirage faded, he tilted his head forward, memories of the beautiful, lost elf washing over him.

“Though I must say, I don’t know why you would need a child to make you feel worth. You are perfect as you are, Kaya. That is what should define you.”

“But women are created to make children. It is our reason for being, our grand purpose, as my mother always says.”

At one time Roland might have agreed with her. After all, until Haven, life in Paradise had always been about farming and breeding and praying. But he had seen too much, experienced too much, for him to feel that wonderful naïveté any longer. He was a different man, and though the world itself might not be better for it, he believed he was.

“That’s not true,” he told her. “Everyone has a purpose, a journey all their own. It’s up to us to decide which path to take, which adventure to embark on. The only shame in life is if you do not find happiness with being yourself .”

Those had been Patrick DuTaureau’s words to him in the aftermath of the battle between the brother gods-sage advice from such a twisted and ugly being, obviously springing from personal experience.

Kaya leaned into him once more, a smile on her face. “You make me feel good, Roland. You really do.” She pressed her cheek against his breast. “In more ways than one.”

They reclined on the roof and gazed up at the midnight sky, Roland pointing out the stars, naming those Azariah had told him about, and together they mused on what the other worlds out there might be like. Roland’s dark thoughts floated away as they laughed and kissed. He knew it was a feeling to cherish, even if it only lasted a night. Tomorrow they would be back at work, slaving away beside the Wardens as they prepared the town of Lerder-the only true town in all of Paradise-for the inevitable coming of Karak and his followers.