Chapter 52: Volume 1- [ - 53 ]
I buried my face in Sera’s hair. Over the top of her head, I could see the two women on the cliff, watching. The tank’s yellow eyes were narrow, assessing. The healer’s green eyes were wide, curious.
My hand drifted down Sera’s back. Found her thigh. The intact one. Squeezed. Then moved to Lira — finding the stump where her leg ended, feeling the new skin, the rounded shape of it.
‘Ah, shit,’ I thought, and the thought was not grief. ‘It’ll be easy to fuck her sideways now. One leg to hold up instead of two.’
But I could not say that. Because I was a monster, yes, but I was a smart monster. A patient monster. The kind of monster that hugged crying women and held them while they thanked him for saving the life he had endangered.
I heard their internal thoughts — the trust, the love, the complete absence of suspicion — and used them. Adjusted my grip. Tightened my hold. Whispered the words they needed to hear:
“I am here. I am not going anywhere. You are mine, and I protect what is mine.”
They cried harder. Held tighter. The performance was complete.
I stood. Turned toward the cliff. And gave a ninety-degree bow.
“Thank you,” I called up, my voice carrying the earnest gratitude of a man who meant it — because I did mean it, in the way a con artist means his gratitude when the mark walks into the scam. “Thank you for saving them. I — if you had not arrived—”
My towel slipped.
It was not accidental. The knot I had tied was perfect — I had learned knots in my previous life, sailing and camping and doing the hundred small practical things that a modern man does without thinking. The towel slipped because I untied it, letting the fabric fall, revealing my cock — heavy, thick, even soft, hanging between my thighs like a pendulum.
The tank’s internal voice was instantaneous:
‘What the — for the love of — cover that thing. COVER IT. Why is he — does he not realize — that is—’
The healer’s internal voice was different. Curious. Clinical.
‘Oh. That is a male reproductive organ. I have seen illustrations in the biological texts at the Academy, but never a living specimen. It is larger than the illustrations suggested. The pendular motion when he shifted his weight is interesting — the weight distribution suggests a high seminal capacity. I wonder if—’
I did not cover myself. Instead, I straightened from the bow, met their eyes, and spoke as though nothing were out of the ordinary.
“I am Caelum Veyne, lord of this estate. I was traveling with these women — my companions — when we were set upon by monsters. I am grateful for your intervention.”
The tank — her name surfaced from the depths of my meta-knowledge: Seraphine Durnheim, the Iron Aegis, a noble-born warrior of the hero party — stared at me with an expression that was equal parts irritation and disbelief.
“I am Seraphine Durnheim,” she said, and her voice was clipped, military, the voice of a woman who was used to giving orders and having them followed. “This is Elwen.” She gestured to the elf. “We are patrolling this region on behalf of the Adventurer’s Guild.”
‘For god’s sake, cover yourself,’ her internal voice added. ‘Why is he just standing there with his — does he not have any shame — it is right there — I can see — it is—’
Elwen tilted her head. “The male organ is quite prominent in this specimen,” she observed, and her voice was the voice of a woman who did not understand why the observation might be inappropriate. “Is this a secondary sexual characteristic of human nobility? I have read that certain species display larger reproductive organs as a marker of—”
“Elwen,” Seraphine said sharply.
“I am merely observing—”
“Observe later. When he is clothed.”
I smiled. Let the towel hang. Let them look. Every second of exposure was a second of imprint — the image of my cock, its size, its weight, the heavy balls beneath it — planting itself in their minds whether they wanted it or not.
“I apologize,” I said, and made no move to pick up the towel. “We were ambushed. My clothes were torn. I have been fighting and — attending to the wounded. It has been a difficult morning.”
‘Attending to the wounded while naked,’ Seraphine’s internal voice was dry as dust. ‘Of course. Naturally. Because that is how one attends to the wounded. Without trousers.’
‘His body temperature appears elevated,’ Elwen’s internal voice mused. ‘The vasodilation in the reproductive organ suggests recent physical exertion. The presence of residual seminal fluid on the thighs of the two women behind him suggests recent reproductive activity. Are they his mates? The dynamic seems unusual — one appears to be missing a leg, and both show signs of significant distress and attachment behavior consistent with—’
“Indeed,” Seraphine said aloud, cutting off whatever Elwen was about to say next. “You did well, Lord Veyne. Fighting wolves alone is no small feat.”
‘We saw him kill five,’ her internal voice admitted grudgingly. ‘Five corrupted wolves. Alone. With that — weapon. Whatever it was. The sound it made — like thunder — I have never heard anything like it. And his movement — the way he dodged the first wolf’s lunge — that was not untrained movement. That was a man who has killed before.’
“I would propose,” I said, stepping forward, the towel still on the ground, my cock swinging with the motion, “that you accompany us. My manor is not far — half a day’s ride. I can offer food, rest, and compensation for your assistance.”
Seraphine’s eyes tracked downward. Snapped back up. Her face was red.
‘COVER IT. COVER IT. COVER—’
“We would be happy to accompany you,” Elwen said, before Seraphine could refuse. “The road is dangerous, and your companions appear to require additional protection. It would be irresponsible to leave you unescorted.”
‘His reproductive organ is still visible,’ Elwen noted internally. ‘The Seraphine human appears to be experiencing significant distress related to its visibility. I wonder if this is a cultural taboo I have not yet catalogued. The humans seem to have many taboos about natural biological functions. I should observe further to understand the—’
Seraphine looked at Elwen. Looked at me. Looked at my cock, which was at eye level given the height of her horse. Closed her eyes. Took a breath.
“Fine,” she said. “We will accompany you. But for the love of all that is holy — pick up your towel.”
I picked it up. Wrapped it around my waist. Smiled.
‘Level 2,’ I thought. ‘Opening that shop will not be tough after all.’
The carriage moved. Seraphine and Elwen rode behind us on their horses, maintaining a distance that was professional but close enough for conversation. The sisters sat inside with me — dressed now, their bodies covered, their hair combed, their faces washed. I had made them presentable with the same care a man gives to wrapping a gift he intends to display.
Lira sat against the wall, her remaining leg tucked beneath her, the stump of her right thigh hidden beneath the dress. She was pale, her eyes distant, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. Sera sat beside me, her head on my shoulder, her hand on my arm, her body curved against mine with the boneless compliance of a woman who had been claimed and was content in the claiming.
At every stop, I performed.