Unbound (Elf Slave #2) Page 7

  “I really haven’t been paying you enough attention if you’re wearing these again,” he said playfully as his fingers brushed against my knickers.

  “I’m sorry, master,” I replied. “I didn’t know—”

  “It’s fine,” he assured me with a warm grin. He unfastened the front of his trousers and worked his cock free. It was only semi-hard, but when I reflexively reached down and curled my fingers around the shaft that quickly changed. “There is a technique I learned several years that I never taught you,” he went on as I continued to stroke him. “It’s very powerful, but frankly I had trouble imagining where and when you might use it.”

  I tilted my head quizzically. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s not something you can hide,” he explained. “Your partner will know the moment you channel the spell. The only reason I’m teaching you now is because your powers are growing so quickly. I suspect you might be able to figure out a way to adapt the technique somehow.”

  I remained as confused as ever, and I’m sure it showed on my face. Master just smiled and readjusted me closer to the edge of the desk. I started to lean back to make it easier for him, but to my surprise he cupped a hand around my back and held me upright even as he lifted my feet up onto my shoulders. With his other hand he slid my knickers out of the way and then pressed the tip of his cock against my smoldering entrance.

  “Brace yourself,” he warned. “This won’t be like anything you’ve ever felt before.”

  The Aether stirred around him, and I felt him reach out to touch my mind. For an instant, I feared he might attempt to read my thoughts and ensure I wasn’t hiding anything from him after all, but thankfully this particular spell wasn’t about intrusion—it was about joining. Our thoughts and emotions swirled together, and a wave of dizziness threatened to steal my consciousness away…

  But then the discomfort passed, and my body tingled in anticipation as the tip of his cock slipped into me. I leaned back my head and moaned softly, but between the waves of delighted contentment I couldn’t help but notice that something was…different. Master had taken me a thousand times over, but it had never felt like this before. It was only then, after another wave of pleasure washed over me, that I realized this new sensation wasn’t actually coming from my body at all.

  It was coming from his.

  “It’s called an empathic bond,” Master said, his own voice shaking as he tried to process the new sensations. “I feel what you feel, and you feel what I feel. Not metaphorically—I mean that quite literally. Here, like this.”

  On cue, he thrust into me another inch…and I actually cried out as a shockwave of pure ecstasy shuddered through me from my toes all the way to my lips. Master was right; I had never experienced anything like this before. And in that moment of pure euphoric delirium, I couldn’t imagine ever experiencing anything like it again.

  I could feel his cock as if it were my own—every tingle, every twitch, every inch of impossibly warm wetness as he slid deeper inside me. For a single instant, I knew what it felt like to be a man…and yet I simultaneously retained my own senses. His pleasure was mine, and my pleasure was his…and I had no idea how in the world he didn’t immediately climax inside me.

  “You see,” he breathed. “There really is nothing like it.”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. Instead I just locked my feet behind his neck and grabbed his waist to try and pull him in deeper. He obliged, and soon he was buried inside me to the hilt. My vision went black, my breath caught in my throat…and I realized that if I died in that moment I probably wouldn’t have had a single regret.

  “You can use this knowledge,” Master’s voice said from what seemed like a thousand miles away. “Even without channeling the spell, you can understand precisely what they’re feeling. You can understand why you’re so irresistible…and you can use that knowledge to control them.”

  “Please,” I begged. “Please fuck me.”

  His strong hands held me upright when all I wanted to do was fall backwards. “I’ve always been worried about overusing this technique, even with you,” he told me. “The one who showed it to me said it was as addictive as lotus and every bit as dangerous. I think she was right.”

  “Please,” I pleaded again. “Please…”

  He released his grip, and I collapsed onto the desk. Grabbing my waist for leverage, he slammed into me again and again, and this time I couldn’t even scream in delight. I couldn’t make any noise at all; it was like my muscles had been completely paralyzed. All I could do was flop in rhythm with his thrusts and reel at the sensations bombarding my every nerve. My vision blurred and my eyes rolled back into my head, I could almost visualize myself in Master’s place.

  I felt his cock twinge in appreciation as it pounded deeper and deeper into me; I felt his testicles contract as they prepared to flood me with his seed. I felt every strain of his thigh muscles and every beat of his quickening heart. But most of all, I felt his power. Not as my owner or even as the Grand Duke, but as a man. I had always been adept at reading men’s desires and giving them what they wanted, but now the last veil of doubt had been pulled away. And Master had been completely right: I would be able to use this knowledge to control them.

  Just not right now.

  “Fuck me!” I yelled so loudly I could hear my voice echo off the high ceiling. Under different conditions, Master probably would have been amused…but I could feel in his mind that he was barely able to concentrate himself. Finally he reared back his head and shouted in triumph as he spent deep inside me. Before today I had only been able guess at what a man must have felt like when he released, but now I understood. The spasms of his cock, the abrupt weakness in his knees...it all washed over me in a glorious, euphoric epiphany. And my own climax followed swiftly on its heels.

  I had no conception of how long I lied there fully splayed, head slumped over the back of the desk, but I was dimly aware of voices speaking in hushed tones. Eventually I felt a pinch on my thigh, and my eyes shot open and slowly refocused.

  And standing there, staring at me from near the doorway on the opposite side of the room, was Larric.

  I wrenched my back as I bolted upright, and a pained yelp escaped my lips before Master grabbed my arms and held me in place. He smiled in amusement.

  “You can stay,” he told the other man. “I’m finished with her anyway, and we have much to discuss.”

  He helped me off the desk, and I struggled to get my wits about me as I frantically tried to pull my robe back together. I was covered in sweat; it looked like I’d just sprinted across the entire courtyard naked during a thunderstorm. I’d never been this disheveled, not even after a three-hour session with the most virile noble lord. I had heard of people having autoscopic experiences before, typically when they had smoked too much dry lotus, but in this case it seemed like it was actually true. I’d been so intimately connected with Master that I almost felt like a stranger inside my own skin.

  “I’ve made all the necessary preparations for the trip to Skyfall,” Master said once he’d refastened his trousers and poured himself a drink. “With luck, putting a face on our struggles here in Sanctum will be all it takes to persuade him of the righteousness of our cause.”

  Larric nodded stiffly as his eyes flicked between us. And for perhaps the first time, when they settled upon me they didn’t seem filled with revulsion. I had no idea why, given what he’d just witnessed.

  “As you’ve said before, with the fall of Balagarde he’ll have no choice but to accept that Korvale isn’t as impenetrable as he’d like to believe,” Larric replied after a moment. “And since there’s virtually no chance that Duchess Zarene will join the Quorum, we can easily promise him a portion of her lands once the war is over. He won’t be able to resist the prospect of controlling a slice of Rivani.”

  Master downed his glass in a single gulp and then smiled. “I knew you had a firm grasp on the situation. I’m sure you’ll be able to convince h
im given enough time.”

  Larric’s lip twitched fractionally. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”

  “I’m sending you to negotiate with Duke Darkstone,” Master told him. “You’ll get a proper escort this time: two-dozen men, including a handful of orc warriors from Arland’s auxiliary forces. Even the Black Lions wouldn’t risk hitting a convoy with that much protection.”

  The bodyguard glanced between the two of us in confusion, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Master couldn’t be serious, could he? He’d been planning this trip ever since we’d fled from Stormcrest. Darkstone’s allegiance was the final piece in aligning the Quorum against the Emperor…how could he possibly not wish to go himself?

  “My lord,” Larric’s voice piped in when mine failed, “I don’t understand.”

  “I realize it’s a bit sudden, but sadly there’s nothing for it,” Master said as he sank into his desk chair. “Besides, you’ve proven yourself a capable diplomat already by convincing Verne and the Artificers to aid us, and given what we have to offer Darkstone shouldn’t be any more difficult.”

  The bodyguard’s cheeks tightened almost imperceptibly, and he took a step forward closer to the desk. “With all due respect, Your Excellency, I’ve never even met Duke Darkstone before. And from everything you’ve told me about him, he’s ambivalent about the Covenant at best. I don’t he’ll respond well to a former Inquisitor.”

  “You said the same thing about Verne, and that worked out just fine.”

  “That was different,” Larric insisted. “And to be blunt, the stakes are considerably higher here. Darkstone’s support is vital to your plans, and you’re a dramatically better negotiator than I am. I don’t understand why you would wish me to travel in your stead.”

  “Two reasons,” Master said. “First, your fallout with the Covenant will be a tremendous asset. Aemond will be absolutely delighted to discuss the hypocrisy of the Hierophant and the prelacy with you. It will ingratiate you to him almost immediately. And second…” He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “The bottom line is that I simply can’t afford to be away from Sanctum for three weeks, not with the situation as delicate as it’s become. I can’t take the risk of Farrow or Arland doing something stupid while I’m gone.”

  Larric set his jaw and glanced away. I could tell he was angry, but I could also tell that he was fighting to control it. Yet again I didn’t understand why he was willing to show Master such loyalty. Larric could have easily refused the request, and even if Master threw him out of the estate it wasn’t as if a warrior of his skill wouldn’t be able to find work elsewhere. I had seen those skills in person, and I had no doubt that any noble in the city would have been more than happy to hire on his services.

  But Larric wasn’t going to refuse, no matter how much he might have wanted to. Just like how he hadn’t sold us out to the Covenant despite the fact it probably would have put him back in the Hierophant’s good graces. There was obviously more to his relationship with Master than either of them let on. But as much I yearned to know more, right now I had bigger problems to deal with.

  Namely, the fact that I was about to spend the next three weeks away from Master Kristoff for the first time since he’d purchased me.

  “You still wish me to accompany him?” I asked into the tense silence.

  “Absolutely,” Master said, flashing me an empty smile. He could have told me this when I’d first come in, but he hadn’t. Obviously he wasn’t interested in my opinion on the matter. And just as obviously, he was once again placing faith in my unswerving loyalty. “Aemond Darkstone’s harem is something of a legend across Calhara, but I know he’s always interested in meeting new, well-trained avenari. I’m sure he’ll adore you.”

  I nodded but didn’t reply. Three weeks without Master. Three weeks alone with Larric…

  “I will need to make preparations,” Larric said eventually. “And I will need documents to prove—”

  “Everything is already prepared,” Master interrupted as he tapped the stack of parchment on his desk. “You’ll be given proper treatment in every village and town you stop on along the way. And we can discuss some of the particulars tonight over dinner.”

  The other man nodded stiffly. “As you wish. I will return later.”

  “Good, I’ll see you then.”

  Larric spun on a heel and left, and once the door shut behind him Master wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me back down onto his lap. “I know this isn’t what you expected, but unfortunately it’s just the way things must be,” he told me. “But there’s no need to worry. Larric will look after you, and Darkstone will no more be able to resist you than Arland or anyone else.”

  “I hope so,” I whispered.

  He squeezed my arm reassuringly. “You’ve accomplished so much these past few months it’s almost hard to believe…and I expect you aren’t nearly done yet. Now go and meet with Sharela. I’ve had her prepare a number of new outfits for you that should suit Aemond’s tastes.”

  “As you wish, my lord,” I said. “I live to serve you.”

  “I know,” Master replied, smiling. “I know.”

  Chapter Eight

  Two days later, our caravan set out for Korvale. I prepared myself as best I could for the long trip, which included borrowing several of Master’s history books as well as his entire collection of Rantavari’s dramas. The long-dead playwright was popular all across Calhara, but he was virtually a legend in his homeland of the Vale. My hope was that his works my give me some additional insight into the local culture…and more importantly, keep my mind off the fact that I was just a few feet away from a man who completely and utterly reviled me.

  Thankfully, Larric didn’t choose to ride inside the carriage with me after all. He stayed outside on his horse with the rest of the men, and at times I felt almost like the Hierophant herself with such an enormous escort surrounding me. Still, after what had happened during our trip to the Infintium, I obviously understood why Master had wanted to take precautions. It certainly made me feel more secure.

  The journey itself proceeded largely as I’d expected. I spent the days alone reading, napping, or simply enjoying the shifting scenery outside the window, while at night I was typically offered a modest bed in whatever small town or village we stopped at along the road. The local barons leaned over sideways to provide Larric with every luxury they could afford during our stay, which was a testament to the lingering influence of a Grand Duke—even one who had been driven from his home. On the first night I’d been terrified that Larric might offer me up to the rest of the soldiers like a piece of mutton, but he didn’t. I would have liked to believe that Master Kristoff had ordered him otherwise, but I suspected he’d given his bodyguard broad authority to treat me as he saw fit during this trip. I probably should have been thankful that Larric found me so repulsive; it meant he was perfectly content to stuff me inside my own room every evening and otherwise leave me alone.

  We passed into Abenwreath on the morning of the third day, and on the end of the seventh we crossed the Peakway Bridge and entered Korvale itself. Up to that point I had largely been in awe of the disparate towns, villages, and even Legion-controlled forts we’d passed along the way. They had given me an entirely new perspective on the size, breath, and general diversity of the Empire. However, the Vale itself was easily the most impressive sight yet, from the towering, jagged edges of the Salt Peaks to the north to the lush, seemingly endless green hills to the south. At a glance it appeared to be the perfect combination of the rocky majesty of Glorinfel and the more temperate climes of Rivani…and I could suddenly understand why its ruler seemed content to hide behind his mountainous walls and remain detached from the troubles of the rest of the world.

  From what I’d read about Korvale’s history in Master’s library and the books I’d brought along for the trip, the natives of the Vale—called the Kor—had been one of the last human ethnicities to join with Sanctus Veshar on his crusade t
o destroy the elves and unite Calhara under a single banner. That tradition of independence lingered on today, and the current Duke, Aemond Darkstone, was evidently the embodiment of those values. He rarely visited Sanctum or communicated with the rest of the Quorum, and unless Korvale’s interests were directly threatened he preferred to remain within Skyfall and reap the rewards of the thousands of iron and silver mines scattered across his duchy. It would be our goal—my goal—to change that.

  But first we had to get there, and on the final night of the trip the confrontation I’d feared since the beginning finally happened. We set up camp in Reskin, a small mining town at the base of the Ember Peaks, and the local baron loaned Larric an entire wing of his impressive mansion for the evening. But before I could scurry off into one of the side rooms and vanish for the evening, Larric called me back into the main chamber.

  “Yes, my lord?” I asked as I stepped over towards him. “Is there something you need?”

  “There is,” he said, gesturing towards the plush chair opposite him. “Have a seat.”

  For a fraction of a second I considered feigning fatigue or illness or even injury, but of course that was absurd. Instead of dreading this moment, I should have just been thankful he’d waited the entire trip before springing it upon me. Maybe that was the whole problem; after a week of being left almost completely alone, I’d actually managed to convince myself that I could go this entire trip without speaking to the man.

  But instead of conjuring up a nonsense excuse, I merely nodded and slinked over to the chair. The cushions were just as comfortable as they looked, and I crossed my legs and tried to appear calm. Larric was as difficult to read as usual, perhaps even more so considering how half his features were currently cast in shadow. I wondered distantly if the overly dim illumination was intentional; it didn’t look like he’d bothered to stoke the fireplace in some time.