Sin and Soil 9 Read online

The oldest one, a busty woman in her late thirties or early forties, locked her eyes onto his. She smiled and waved him over. Damon felt himself walking their way, despite his better judgment.

  “Need some help?” he asked.

  “Oh, do we ever!” said the woman. “Our wagon wheel broke as we went over a bump, and we’ve been stuck here for most of the day. My name is Tessa. These are my daughters, Kay and Lolo.”

  “It’s nice to meet all of you,” he said. “My name is Anders.”

  The two younger women shot Damon disinterested glances. Tessa moved closer to him, setting a hand atop his bicep.

  “Well, Anders, you look to be rather strong and capable,” said Tessa. “We’re headed northeast, toward Silke. If you could help us get our wagon on the road again, we’d be nothing if not grateful. You’d be welcome to travel with us if it suits you.”

  Damon was already opening his mouth to reply when a chiding whisper came from his sword.

  “Remember what Malon said about your tendency to trust women simply because they’re pretty?” Myr asked.

  He remembered, though his mind seemed ready with endless reasons as to why this situation was an exception.

  “We just need a set of willing hands to help us get the new wheel on,” said Tessa. “Surely, you could do that much? We would be overflowing with gratitude.”

  She batted her eyelashes at him. Damon heard one of her daughters groan from behind her and got a sense of what kind of woman she was.

  In the end, he gave them the help they needed and politely refused Tessa’s offers to give him a ride in return. The risk was too obvious and real for him to ignore. There were sketches of him floating around all across Veridan’s Curve, and with the bounty on his head as high as it was, he simply couldn’t place his trust in strangers, regardless of how flirtatious they were.

  He waved to them as they rode off in the distance.

  ***

  Two hours later, Damon watched a group of a dozen or so men on horseback riding toward him with far too much confidence for his liking. A rather familiar looking blonde woman sat on the back of one of the men’s horses. Tessa. She pointed to him as the group drew to a stop.

  “See!” shouted Tessa. “I told you! That’s him, isn’t it? Damon Al-Kendras, the infamous outlaw!”

  “That’s him,” said the gruff-looking man at the group’s head.

  “Infamous outlaw, you say?” called Damon. “Are you sure that’s really the type of person you’d want to harass on an otherwise empty road?”

  “For one hundred and fifty gold, I certainly would!” barked the man.

  Damon couldn’t resist whistling at the number. His head had only been worth a hundred gold when he’d left Azurecliff. Avarice and Queen Anise were probably getting impatient.

  He drew his myrblade, but it became immediately clear as the group of horsemen began to charge him down that there was little he’d be able to do with it that would be to his advantage.

  The only way to strike out at the horses reliably would be to come to a stop, and several of the men carried spears or, in some cases, bows. He would be presenting himself as a target if he tried to stand his ground and fight.

  He wasn’t too proud to be above running for his life and took off across the grass, heading straight for a disparate grouping of trees in the distance. The first volley of arrows struck the ground to his right and just behind him, near enough to suggest that they wouldn’t continue missing forever.

  He risked a glance over his shoulder to see if the men were giving straightforward pursuit or perhaps attempting to round him off on the sides. The glare of the setting sun was in his eyes, rendering it a wasted effort. Another arrow hissed by his neck, coming close enough for him to feel the flutter it seared through the air. He ducked his head, barreling toward the trees at full speed.

  More arrows rained down around him as he broke through the branches in search of safety, and Damon staggered as he tried to set a foot down into open air. The ground sloped downward at an angle just steep enough to be dangerous. He fell into a roll and not by choice, stirring up leaves and crushing a rotten tree stump as he descended the unexpected hill.

  He was sure that the horses would be hard pressed to follow, which was all that really mattered. Rising to his feet as he came to a stop, he surveyed the area, listening to his pursuers and considering his next move.

  They would still follow him. For one hundred and fifty gold, they would doubtlessly continue their pursuit, which would mean that at least a few of them would be leaving their horses at the edge of the trees.

  He resisted the temptation to immediately rush back up the hill and try to take the fight head on. Instead, Damon slowly wound his way over to the right, back around, covering his tracks as he went. The men were anything but subtle, and he was able to get a sense of their movements by listening from a distance.

  “We can split the money, but we can’t split the sword,” shouted one of them. “Rovahn’s balls. It’s only fair that if you want his weapon, you take that as your share.”

  “How is that supposed to be fair?” asked another. “You can’t seriously believe that nonsense about it being a magical relic?”

  “One of my friends has a brother who said he saw him use it in person. Froze a river clean over in the middle of the summer.”

  Damon appreciated the apparent size of his growing legend. He took a few more quiet steps through the forest, taking care not to rustle the leaves, and poked his head back out through the trees.

  Sure enough, most of the men had dismounted and given pursuit. There were still two waiting with the horses, along with Tessa, who paced the grass nervously. Damon drew his myrblade and got as close as he could before stepping out into the open.

  “Is that wagon ride still on the table?” he called.

  Tessa let out a high-pitched gasp. The two men drew their weapons, but in the time it took them, the fight had already been decided. Damon stabbed one of them in the shoulder and slashed the other on the withdrawal.

  The woman screamed. Damon ignored her, hurrying to sabotage the saddles of every horse but one and sending them running by slapping them on the flanks.

  “You…” Tessa whimpered and backed away from him slowly. “Please… Don’t kill me!”

  “I was never going to, you ungrateful harlot!” he snapped.

  It was petty, but he couldn’t resist running her down into a patch of fresh mud as he departed on his faithful new mount. She fell a second time, trying to find her feet. Damon howled with laughter as he took off into the evening’s fading light.

  CHAPTER 4

  In a perfect world, Damon would have continued his journey without interruption, without pause, and without looking back. As he’d learned time and time over, the world was far from perfect.

  His stolen horse obliged his commands well enough, and after riding through the evening and into the dark of night, Damon found a relatively remote spot to make camp. He decided to risk a fire after making sure the nearby trees would effectively hide the light, and he set up his tent.

  It was as he’d begun cooking a simple dinner of warmed bread and dried beans that he sensed eyes on him. It was the sort of feeling that set the hairs on the back of his neck to prickling up straight. He was being watched, though he had no idea from where.

  He did his best to keep from revealing that he was aware of that fact. Pulling the cookpot off the fire, Damon gave the beans a slow stir with his spoon, then covered the pot and set the bread to warm on a clean rock alongside the flames.

  His fingers settled casually on the hilt of his sword as he caught sight of a tiny movement on the periphery of his vision. He took a breath, waiting, shifting his legs underneath him with small, unassuming movements, picking his moment.

  He drew his myrblade and attacked in the same motion, aiming for his opponent’s center of mass. The sword found only empty air, which should have been impossible given the speed of Damon’s strike. He blinked, eyes refocu
sing against the dark, and making out a familiar, feminine silhouette.

  “It’s good to see you again, Damon,” whispered Lilian.

  She strode forward into the light of the campfire, holding his gaze and smiling cordially. She wore a long cloak, skintight leather leggings, and a white wool tunic belted with silk. Such a normal outfit struck a jarring contrast against the woman, the zanyadai, wearing it.

  Lilian’s hair was dark, glossy, and purple. Her skin was pale to the point of looking cold even against the warmth of the firelight. Her eyes… True Divine, looking into her eyes was like staring into an abyss of black, save for the way they would occasionally catch the right angle to reflect what they saw.

  Despite her inhuman, monsterish appearance, she was still a woman. She was still attractive, perhaps even more so than before her transformation, with firm, full breasts, and a hip-to-waist ratio so alluring that it made Damon wonder if it was a side effect of her demonic diet.

  “Lilian,” he said. “You have five seconds to explain what you’re doing here.”

  It wasn’t an empty threat. She was dangerous. They’d fought before, and he’d only won by the grace of pulling a new trick out of the magic of his myrblade.

  “Kastet sent me to look after you, her loyal retainer,” she said.

  “To spy on me and report back to her, you mean.”

  “Phrase it however you wish,” said Lilian. “I’m here. Isn’t that all that really matters?”

  It would have been a lie for Damon to say he didn’t give serious consideration to attacking her. His trust in Kastet was at an all-time low.

  In some of his more frustrated moments during the search to find a way to help Vel, he’d found himself blaming Kastet for her condition. She’d been the one to push forward the idea of assassinating Queen Anise. Ultimately, they’d taken the risk to forward her agenda.

  “Smells good,” said Lilian, crouching down by the fire.

  “Do you even eat regular food anymore?” he asked.

  “Occasionally. When I’m in the mood.”

  Damon waved a hand at her dismissively and returned to stirring his beans. If she wasn’t there to start trouble, so be it. He would humor her and get on with his night.

  “Where did you get the horse?” asked Lilian.

  “I stole it.”

  Lilian furrowed her brow. “You’re serious?”

  “What? You think I bought it? With what money, exactly?”

  “Would your aesta approve of such recklessness?” asked Lilian.

  “She isn’t here.”

  “I noticed.” Lilian smirked, letting the moment grow full and pregnant before lowering herself to sit next to him. “Am I allowed to share your campsite, or will the noble swordsman see fit to drive the evil monster off?”

  She let her leg fall sideways, knocking into his with incidental mischief. Damon didn’t turn to look at her, but he had to make an effort to refrain from scratching a certain itch on his neck that always seemed to crop up when she was around.

  “Will you let me eat my dinner in peace?” he asked.

  “Will you let me eat mine?” She drew closer to him as she spoke, whispering the question into his ear, against his neck.

  He swung his arm out on reflex, trying to elbow her in the face. Lilian dodged with a movement so perfect and uncanny that it almost stole Damon’s focus of thought.

  “That was a joke,” she said, gently rubbing his shoulder. “Unless you are willing to let me feed?”

  “Not happening.”

  He took his beans off the fire. It was hardly a meal worth savoring, but hunger was the best spice. He hadn’t eaten since the previous night.

  Lilian continued to sit with him as he took his supper. As he ate the first few bites of the beans, he felt the mood shift a bit, or perhaps just his perception and assumptions about her, then and there. She really didn’t seem to want anything from him.

  “Did you stop by Azurecliff on your way here?” he asked.

  She nodded. “In passing. More of a quick foray into The Rosewood Inn than a real visit.”

  She let the implication hang, forcing him to ask his question if wanted his answer.

  “How are they doing?”

  Lilian gave him a small smile, worth its weight in hope. “Malon is a strong woman. She’s set her mind to running the inn and taking care of Vel. She’s managing, Damon. She still has the merchant girl, Keiza, helping her, and Kastet visits almost every day.”

  “And Vel?” he asked, forcing the words out.

  “She’s hanging in there.”

  “Tell me.”

  Lilian put her hand back on his shoulder. “She’s lost some weight. Not a huge amount, but enough to be noticeable. Aside from that and her condition, she’s been in good health.”

  “Right,” he muttered. “Well. That’s about what I expected.”

  “Have you found any new leads on—”

  “No,” he said tersely.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  “She’s still my friend, Damon,” said Lilian. “I care about her, too.”

  He didn’t say anything more to her as he finished eating. After washing the pot out with a few drops of water, he set it back inside his pack and crouched in front of his tent.

  “I’m going to sleep,” he said. “You should take your leave now.”

  Lilian let out a mock hurt gasp. “Are you serious? You’re going to make me sleep out in the cold?”

  “You’re nocturnal,” he said. “It’s not as though you planned on staying the night at my campsite, regardless.”

  He took off his shirt and pants and slipped into his bedroll. The nights had been chilly as of late, but his quilt was warm and the lack of bugs a welcome change from the summer.

  Lilian poked her head through the tent flap. “You aren’t wrong. I do plan on leaving before the night’s end, but I could spare a few hours, if you’d allow it.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to sleep wherever you can find the space,” he said. “As long as you’re not in the way.”

  He knew what her game was. What he didn’t know was why he was inviting her to play it with him. Damon wondered if he chafed at being lonely more than he let himself admit.

  “Trust me, Damon,” cooed Lilian. “I won’t be in the way.”

  She entered his tent on all fours, body naked, barely visible in the light of the dying fire.

  “True Divine, you’re worse than Vel and Ria can sometimes be,” he said. “Get out of my tent.”

  “Make me.”

  He’d known she’d say that, or something like it. This was the only way he could let his guard down around Lilian. By pretending as though he was keeping it up, going through the motions of due diligence and just happening into a horny mistake.

  He lunged at her, trying to wrestle her toward the tent flap. Lilian let out mocking giggles and began pulling at his undershorts. He acted as though he was annoyed by that, but found it strangely hot to have her tugging at his waistband and caressing the muscles of his abdomen with such brazen confidence.

  It would have been a lie for him to claim that he hadn’t thought about Lilian in a sexual way in the time since her transformation. He was intrigued by the change she’d undergone, even setting aside the effect of her bite.

  She could still bite him. Just because she hadn’t forced her fangs into his neck over the course of their interaction didn’t mean she was harmless. He thought of how Malon would react to the situation he’d put himself in and could all but hear her chiding tone.

  Mind yourself, solas. She’s dangerous, and she knows where you’re weak.

  “Oh,” said Lilian, in a throaty voice. “What’s this?”

  She’d gotten his undershorts down and worked his cock out into the open. Her hand ran up and down his length as it eagerly grew to full size under her tender, insistent touch. Damon felt the tip of one of her claws gently press against the underside of his shaft and clenched vario
us muscles in surprise.

  “Be careful with those,” he growled.

  “Do I still scare you, Damon?”

  There was a waver in her voice as she spoke the question. She actually cared about his answer, he realized.

  He stopped wrestling against her with aggressive movements and instead took her firmly and dominantly in his arms. He kissed her on the lips, the first time he could remember doing so since she’d undergone her change, and then lowered her down to his bedroll.

  She was still naked. He’d known this, but knowing that a woman was naked and suddenly having her spread out and accessible on the ground were two different things. His cock probed into the sweetness between her thighs. She was either careful and diligent at shaving, or naturally smooth.

  She buried her face into his shoulder as he sank his cock into her. Coming from any other woman, it would have been an innocuously intimate gesture. From Lilian, it was like having a knife pressed against his throat. A set of fangs, more accurately.

  He didn’t trust her, not unconditionally, but he understood. In a way, sex had always been a way for Damon to understand the essence of each woman he’d been with on a deeper level. He saw Lilian as she was now. Her fangs, her skin… Her identity as a zanyadai was both a sword and a shield. The only way for her to hold his respect, from her point of view, was to keep those fangs bared, even now.

  He thrust into her faster, marveling at the strange, almost active sensation of her womanhood. It squeezed and shifted, almost twisting itself in the sort of shapes a girl might roll her tongue into, to get a laugh out of her friends.

  Well, she was going to get more than a laugh tonight.

  He could feel the tension and pleasure coursing through Lilian’s body more directly. She was more sensitive than she’d been as a woman. It was a realization that made Damon smile on the inside to notice, the sort of thing he would once have boasted about to Austine. He slid a hand down and gently teased her womanhood with a finger as he slowed his pace, letting his cock spread her open with deliberate slowness.

  “Where… do you think you’re touching?” she whispered.