Unbound (Elf Slave #2) Read online

  Unbound (Elf Slave #2)

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Unbound

  Sarah Hawke

  Copyright © 2013 Sarah Hawke

  Revised 2nd edition Copyright © 2015 Sarah Hawke

  Published by Jade Fantasy

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Content Warning

  This erotic fantasy novel contains adult content. If you are offended by adult language, themes of bondage/submission, or group sex, then you probably shouldn’t read this book. Consider yourself warned!

  Chapter One

  Slowly, seductively, I swung my leg across Master Kristoff’s waist. His fingers tickled their way down my sides, and I moaned in delight as I felt the tip of his cock press against my smoldering entrance. He was already rock hard; he had been ever since I’d slipped into his bedchamber and undressed for him. I didn’t know whether or not he’d taken any of his other servants during my week-long absence, and frankly I didn’t really care. What mattered was that right now we were back together, and as I reached down and eased him into me I knew that at long last I had finally come home.

  “Am I still tight enough for you?” I asked.

  “Always, my dear,” he breathed as his fingernails raked across my back. “Always beautiful, always perfect.”

  I smiled and leaned down until our noses touched. His dark eyes glinted with raw, animalistic lust, and I brought my hands to his cheeks as I kissed him. The air between us sizzled, but for the first time in months there was no magic involved. No sparks of energy, no mental manipulations, no channeling whatsoever—just flesh and heat and sex. A shiver of delight cascaded through me at the thought.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered into his ear. “Please. Fuck your little elf slave.”

  He did. Gripping me tightly around the waist, he slammed into me harshly, deeply, and my hips met him thrust-for-thrust. My back arched, I cried out in passion, and for a single, perfect moment everything had returned to the way it was supposed to be.

  It felt like an age had passed since Master had been inside me. Ever since the fall of Balagarde he had been passing me around Sanctum to secure the support of any nobles who had something he wanted, whether it be soldiers, supplies, or even just gold. With my body and my magic I had helped him cobble together a small army of mercenaries and slaves, and I was proud of everything I’d been able to accomplish in such a short amount of time. The nobles might have seen me as just another avenari, but I knew I was more than a mere pleasure slave. I was more than just a renegade Unbound sorceress. I was one of the most powerful weapons in the Empire, and if everything went as planned we’d soon be able to challenge Emperor Lucian’s rule and put an end to this destructive war with the vaeyn once and for all.

  But right now none of that mattered. All I cared about was bringing Master some much-deserved release before spending the night curled up in his arms. And tonight, at long last, it seemed like I was once again going to have that chance.

  “Harder,” I begged him as his grip tightened. I could feel his pulse quickening even as another shudder of delight rippled through me and curled my toes. “Please…”

  He obliged with a feral grunt, and for a moment I thought—and hoped—that he might flip me onto my back so he could take full control. But instead he continued his rhythm, thrusting up deeper and deeper into me, and a hot sheen of sweat soon glistened off my belly and thighs. My eyes closed and my breath caught in my throat, and I felt him tense in preparation for climax…

  But instead he slipped out of me. I blinked and reached down to help him slide back in…and realized he was almost flaccid.

  “Master?” I gasped between breaths. “Have I done something wrong?”

  Sighing, he shook his head and pushed me off of him. I collapsed back on the mattress in bewilderment as he hobbled over to the nightstand to retrieve a drink.

  “No, I’m just…distracted,” he managed after a long gulp. He hadn’t even bothered with a glass. “You’ve done well, Elara. Better than I ever could have hoped.”

  “I can use my magic,” I suggested as I swung my legs off the bed. “I’ve been practicing a new technique that should—”

  “No, it’s all right,” he interrupted with a dismissive wave. “I’d rather you save your energy for tomorrow.”

  I frowned. The Quorum was scheduled to meet in the estate tomorrow, but Master had told me several times that their visit would be all business. So then why did it matter whether I was rested or not? It made no sense.

  “I promise it won’t take long, my lord,” I said as I dropped to the floor and crawled over to him on my knees. I curled my fingers around his cock and then channeled the Aether through my palm—

  “I said no!” he growled as he slapped my hand away. His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment I thought he might actually strike me. But when I sank back on my haunches and cowered, the worst of his fury seemed to fade and he merely sighed instead. “Return to your chambers. I want you well-rested in the morning when the other dukes arrive.”

  I wanted to argue. I wanted to fight and claw for the opportunity to stay and soothe him. But I knew I couldn’t. With the Aether still coursing through me, I could sense the brooding tempest gathering in his thoughts as clearly as if there had been black clouds on the horizon. The storm was coming, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The best I could hope for was not to be here when it hit.

  “Y…yes, Master,” I stammered, struggling as best I could to hide my tears. I retrieved my dress from the floor and bolted out of the room.

  My chambers were as cold and empty as I remembered them, and I collapsed onto the bed in a tight ball. I didn’t understand what had gone wrong. Was Master not interested in me anymore now that I’d been with so many other men and women? He had never seemed to care before today; if anything, it had made our infrequent couplings that much more intense. Perhaps I should have ignored him and used my magic from the start. I had learned so many new tricks over the past month—tricks even he probably didn’t know—that I couldn’t imagine how he or anyone else could possibly resist me. But I had wanted this time to be different; I had wanted it to be natural. And now I would spend the night alone.

  It was only later, after I had drifted in and out of consciousness several times, that I realized there was another, much simpler explanation: Master had changed. If the loss of Stormcrest had hardened him, then the loss of Balagarde might have broken him. He was more obsessed now than ever before. I wasn’t even sure at this point if he really cared about stopping the war anymore. His revenge against the Emperor seemed more and more important.

  Regardless, I suspected that if we couldn’t find a solution soon, this conflict would destroy him and everyone around him—likely starting with me, the slave-turned-sorceress whose mere existence was heresy in the eyes of the Covenant. But maybe there was still something I could do to keep that from happen
ing. Maybe my powers would eventually grow strong enough that I could get him exactly what he wanted. And maybe then, once we finally had peace, he would take me back into his arms and everything would return to the way it used to be.

  Sighing softly to myself, I rubbed the tears from eyes and fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  “A month ago you assured us that all you wanted was to convince Emperor Lucian to end the war,” Duke Arland said as he set his empty wine glass back down on the table. “Now you’re telling us we’re supposed to convince him to divert more troops to the front lines?

  “A month ago he hadn’t lost three-quarters of his lands,” his wife, Luriel, commented with a sneer. “Now he realizes peace will cost him even more than war.”

  Master Kristoff forced a smile and leaned against the back of his chair. He was already well past the point of irritation with his guests—that much was obvious from the subtle twitching of his cheeks and the tightness along his jawline. Fortunately, the others probably didn’t know him well enough to pick up on such nuances…not that they particularly seemed to care whether or not they offended him at this point. The magical suggestion I’d implanted in Duchess Luriel’s mind last month might have convinced the Arlands to join the Quorum, but that didn’t mean they had instantly become allies. They had largely ignored or dismissed every proposal Master had made since, and unfortunately I hadn’t been given another opportunity to pry into her mind. Both she and her husband had been home in Sorthaal and out of my reach for the last several weeks.

  Duchess Farrow, for her part, hadn’t even officially agreed to be a part of the Quorum yet. She still doubted Master’s ability to get Aemond Darkstone, the Grand Duke of Korvale, to join with the rest of them, and without the armies of the Vale the chances of pressuring the Emperor or the Legion into anything was quite small. Farrow’s son, Bolvir, seemed more amenable to Master’s suggestions, but as a result she had effectively banished him back to their castle in Abenwreath where he couldn’t interfere.

  So here we were, caught in a perpetual political stalemate while the Emperor and his generals watched the Empire burn. And no one but Master Kristoff seemed willing to acknowledge it.

  “It’s true: the situation has changed,” Master said as he swept his eyes back forth between the Arlands and the Farrows on opposite ends of the massive, semi-circular conference table. “A negotiated peace is no longer an option. The vaeyn captured Stormcrest in retaliation for the Emperor’s unprovoked invasion of their homeland, nothing more. With proper pressure and a few concessions they probably would have been willing to return to Sulinor and accept the pre-war borders…but now that they’ve captured Balagarde this is no longer about mere revenge. They believe they can win, and if we don’t find a way to stop them they’ll be storming the walls of Abenhold and pushing into the Wreath by the end of spring.”

  “You really expect us to believe this wasn’t your intention all along?” Duchess Farrow asked. “This is a meager attempt at a coup, nothing more.”

  Master’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s quite simple, really,” she said. “First you suggest we summon the Quorum and place diplomatic pressure on Lucian—an imminently reasonable suggestion. Then once you have our attention, you start nudging half the nobles in the city to loan you their personal armies in case the Emperor won’t listen. Now you want us to wrestle control of the Legion for ourselves so that we can escalate the war and liberate your lands. In a few more weeks you’ll be insisting we replace Lucian entirely and put you on the throne instead.” She scoffed and waved her hand in annoyance. “You might have inherited your father’s ambition, Gabriel, but you lack his subtlety.”

  Master sighed and paced over to the enormous glass window on the far side of the chamber, and I had to fight the urge to rush over and soothe him. Instead I remained motionless alongside the other slaves standing on the opposite wall behind the dukes. We were essentially glorified decorations, but even though I wasn’t expected to work I was thankful Master had allowed me to listen. He wanted me to understand the politics of the situation for when he inevitably sent me to secure—or possibly re-secure—the support of the other Grand Dukes.

  “This isn’t about Glorinfel, and it’s certainly not about me,” Master said into the awkward silence. “This is about the future of the Empire. Between the Emperor’s brashness and General Torelius’s incompetence, we are on the brink of a losing a war for the first time in history.”

  “Hyperbole won’t help your cause,” Luriel scolded him. “We’ve all read the reports from the Legion and from our own commanders. The dark elves lack the troops to extend their supply lines much past their current basecamps. They might risk a few raids across the border in the Wreath or in Korvale, and it’s possible they’ll attempt to take Mavarinth sooner or later…but after that their forces will be spent. We’ll be able to negotiate a truce while the Legion regroups, and then, a few years down the road, we’ll be able to sweep in and drive the gray-skinned savages back into their caves.”

  Master grunted and turned back around. “The vaeyn may be heretics, but they aren’t fools. Lucian underestimated them, and look where his folly has gotten us.”

  “Overestimating an enemy is every bit as dangerous as underestimating them,” Farrow countered. “Luriel is right: they lack the soldiers to press much beyond the current lines. Torelius may be a fat, useless tit, but he’s done as much damage as he can at this point.”

  “So we’re just going to ignore the people trapped in Glorinfel?” Arland asked. His wife glared daggers at him, and he visibly shrunk in his seat. “I mean…I don’t wish to abandon them to the barbarians.”

  “Regrettable but necessary,” Farrow said. “For what it’s worth, I fully support reinforcing Mavarinth with every legionnaire we can spare, but otherwise the best we can hope for is a truce. With so many soldiers being deployed to the front, Faedari rebel attacks have already tripled in Rivani and the Wreath. The local barons will be far more interested in licking their wounds and protecting their villages than in organizing a new offensive, and without their cooperation we won’t have sufficient supplies or auxiliary soldiers to—”

  “They will cooperate,” another voice interrupted from the back of the room. Calm and collected, it was like a stream of cool water dousing the Quorum’s flames. “Hierophant Vexius will not accept a truce, not as long as the heretics remain upon sanctified soil. Once she makes a formal decree the barons will fall into line. They always have, and they always will.”

  Everyone in the room glanced over their shoulder to the new speaker. Standing in the corner was Larric Aresi, the captain of Master’s guard and a former Inquisitor. I still didn’t know the story behind his departure from the Covenant, and I was far too terrified of him to ask him anything directly. But from his miscellaneous behaviors over the past month I had gathered that he still shared most if not all of the church’s convictions, particularly their hatred of all elvenkind.

  “Emperor Lucian might have started this war out of reckless ambition, but he is not a fool,” Larric went on. “He secured the support of the church first knowing that once the priesthood tasted the heretics’ blood, there would be no going back.”

  “Exactly,” Master Kristoff said. While his other guests were facing the opposite direction I saw him give the slightest appreciative nod to his bodyguard for the well-timed intervention. “As I said, we might have been able to negotiate something earlier if the vaeyn had been willing to pull out of Stormcrest, but now that they have captured Balagarde they have no reason to cede anything. And if they won’t cede anything, then the Covenant will not accept a truce. This war will rage on until the bitter end whether we like it or not.”

  “How convenient for you,” Luriel grumbled.

  “Convenient?” Master snapped back. “Thousands of my soldiers are dead. Tens of thousands of my people are at the mercy of demon-worshipping savages! This isn’t about ambition or power—it’
s about turning the tide of a losing war before it consumes us all.”

  The rest of the Quorum leaned back and exchanged meaningful glances with one another, and I could see the doubt finally starting to seep into their faces. Master had known all along that getting them to stand against Lucian wouldn’t be easy—that was the entire reason he had trained me to become his avenari spy, a seemingly helpless slave who could seduce and manipulate them into going along with his plans. But for better or worse, the fall of Balagade really had changed everything. The war that many in the nobility had seemed content to ignore had suddenly grown very real and very close…and even the Grand Dukes and their vast armies and piles of riches couldn’t afford to sit back and do nothing.

  “I trust you have a specific plan,” Luriel said after a moment, her voice caught somewhere between disgust and resignation. “Hopefully something that doesn’t involve emptying all of our coffers.”

  “The plan is to proceed as we have been for the next few weeks. Continue shifting your auxiliary troops closer to Sanctum under whatever guise you see fit—there’s still a chance we will have to take the reins from Torelius and Lucian by force. But other than that…” Master smiled, and with a single deep breath he seemed to regain his momentum. “Duke Darkstone’s allegiance still remains vital. With the fall of Balagarde he might finally recognize that even his precious Korvale is no longer safe. I’m still planning on making a trip to Skyfall at the end of the week to discuss the situation in person. With a little luck, when I return we’ll have his forces at our disposal.”

  “And we’ll be plunging the Empire into civil war even while an enemy ravages our border,” Farrow grumbled. “You play a dangerous game, Gabriel. Lucian is a fool; none of us will contest that. But there’s a different between pushing him for a truce and actively attempting to sabotage the war effort.”