Black Hellebore: Brishen Gets Laid and then Deleted

Warning: Adult Content, 18+

“Witch, open the gate for me.”

Ildiko hurtled out of sleep and into darkness, the command of a Wraith king trapped in her throat as she bolted upright in bed with gasp.

A strong hand shackled her wrist in a gentle but unbreakable grip. “Easy wife. You were dreaming.” Brishen’s soft voice filled the quiet space of their curtained bed, a welcome sound above the roar of her own pants in her ears.

Despite the sweat streaming down her body, Ildiko shivered. It was a dream that yanked her from sleep, the same dream she’d had several times since Brishen had rescued her at Orshulgyn and brought her home to Saggara.

The first few times she’d startled awake, he had leaped out of bed naked, sword in hand, and ready to clash with whatever or whoever dared to breach the sanctuary of their bedchamber. Even the battalion of guards stationed outside their door, and that of the queen regnant, hadn’t eased his fears. It had taken a fortnight and much cajoling from Ildiko to abandon the pallet he’d tossed on the floor at the door’s threshold and rejoin her in the bed. Another week had passed before he no longer went from sleep to battle-readiness every time she woke from the persistent dream.

“I’m sorry, Brishen.” She lifted her arm to kiss the back of his hand. He released her wrist, his presence nearly invisible beside her except for one candent eye. “It seems like you won’t see a decent day’s sleep for a while thanks to me.”

He entwined his fingers with hers, claw tips tickling her knuckles. “You know I couldn’t care less about that.” His pause held a wealth of regret, though she’d told him many times that a bad dream was a small price to pay for the gift of her life. “Same dream?” he asked.

She nodded, knowing he could easily see the gesture even if he was nothing more than a blacker silhouette to her own gaze. “The same words too. I speak them with Megiddo and we say them to a woman I don’t recognize.”

The memory of a young woman with auburn hair and eyes wide with fright as she tried to back away from the thing facing her haunted Ildiko. She didn’t doubt the “thing” was her. Or Megiddo. Or both.

She…he…they stood within a ruined enclosure, staring at a winter forest frosted in snow and bejeweled in ice. A writhing miasma of shadows swirled about them, twisted faces with fanged maws opened wide in screams and howls. Madness entrapped within a cloak worn by the doomed monk.

The first time she described the scene to Brishen, he’d paled to the color of cold ash. “Those are the galla.” One of his hands flexed as if he wanted to shred the memory of the abominations who’d attacked Haradis and changed the fate of the Kai forever. “Were they torturing him?” Dread at her answer threaded through his voice, along with the awful guilt she’d seen bow his shoulders many times.

Ildiko had clasped his arm, though she didn’t know if she did so to sooth him or warn him. “No.” The gods had granted her the mercy of not yet witnessing Megiddo’s suffering as Brishen had, but what she’d seen made her shudder. “I don’t think he’s their victim anymore, Brishen. I think he’s their master.”

She didn’t think he could pale any further but he managed, his lips tight against his teeth in an obvious effort to hold back a gasp. Frightened by his reaction and the lingering image of Megiddo’s grotesque cloak in her memory, she’d squeezed Brishen’s arm. “Is that bad?”

He’d shrugged. “It could be. Who knows what powers exist in that cursed realm and how they might warp someone over time?”

Those words still made her shiver even now despite the room’s warmth. She threw off the covers and swung out of bed. Brishen’s voice whispered behind her. “Where are you going?”

She pushed aside one of the bed curtains, blinking against the sudden illumination spilling from the lantern hung from a hook adjacent to the shuttered windows. Light from the guttering candle enclosed within cast flickering shapes against the walls.

“I’m sticky,” she said, offering Brishen a brief smile over her shoulder. “And thirsty. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for her return, abandoning the bed as well to follow her to the table nearby where a pitcher and wash basin were kept for their use. He poured them both goblets of water while Ildiko retrieved a pair of small cloths from one of the trunks set at the foot of the bed.

She took the cup he offered with a nod of thanks downed its contents. “You didn’t have to get up,” she said, wiping water droplets from her chin.

Brishen drank his water and set the pair of goblets aside before taking the cloths from her. “I want to.” He poured the remaining water from the pitcher into the basin and submerged one of the cloths before wringing it out. “I know the havoc such sleep terrors play on the mind. You’ve always stayed awake with me when I suffer them. Why wouldn’t I do the same for you? This is my fault anyway.”

The regret in his voice – the guilt—made her heart ache. She grabbed his wrist. “Look at me, Brishen.” He stood docile before her, his yellow gaze steady on her face, his scarred features somber. “Are you sorry you saved me?”

A ridiculous question and judging by how his body went rigid, an insulting one. He jerked in her grasp, claws tightening around the cloth he held. “Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Ildiko stood on tiptoe and leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “Because you keep apologizing for it. Stop. You gave up what remained of your magic to save me. An enormous sacrifice atop others you’ve already made. My price to pay for the gift of breathing is a small thing by any comparison. I would spend a lifetime fighting bad dreams as long as I can do so in our bed by your side.”

He pulled her into his arms. “There’s no sacrifice too great, wife. No price I won’t pay…”

Ildiko covered his mouth with her hand, cutting off his words. “Don’t say that,” she warned, dread knotting her insides. “There is always a line that can’t be crossed. Best not to tempt Fate.”

He kissed her palm, holding it to his mouth a moment longer before lifting it away to stroke her knuckles. The half smile he wore was one she didn’t see very often these days and one she missed. “When did my fearless wife become so cautious?”

She snorted and thrust her chin toward the door connecting their room to the nursery. “When I became Tarawin’s mother. There’s no fear like that of a parent.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said with a sigh. He held up the damp cloth. “Still want this?” He teased it out of her reach when she nodded and tried to take it. “Humor me,” he said.

She complied with his gesture that she turn so that her back was to him, the tremors spawned by dark dreams now delicious shivers as she stood happily in her husband’s loose embrace.

He glided the cloth over her skin, charting a path down her neck to her shoulders, pausing for a moment so she could pull her hair to one side and expose her nape and back. He followed the track of the cloth, kissing the ticklish lines of her shoulder blades, the sensitive patch of skin at her nape, the shallow indentation of her spine.

She swayed in his arms, her breathing becoming more shallow as her heart pumped the blood faster through her veins. Each pause for him to wet and wring out the cloth seemed a lifetime of anticipation, satisfied only when he bathed her back, her arms, her thighs.

“You are a terrible tease,” she accused when the cloth passed between her breasts but never over them.

The vibration of his low laughter thrummed gently along her spine. “You’re simply impatient, wife.”

He held her in place when she tried to turn and face him, his chuckle a zephyr at her ear when she growled a protest. The wet thud of the cloth landing in the wash basin accompanied the sudden change in his own breathing as he bent to nuzzle her temple. The loose clasp with which he held her tightened, and Ildiko moaned her approval at the feel of his stiff cock pressed to her buttocks.

His hands, slender torturers, finally showed mercy, rising to cup her breasts and tease her nipples between his fingers. Ildiko gasped, arching against him. Brishen rubbed his cheek down the side of her face, going lower until his mouth pressed along the side of her neck. Sharp teeth scraped sensitive flesh, a delicate abrasion that sent lightning through her body. She breathed his name as a supplicant in prayer to a god.

She gasped when he spun her around, tossed the cloth aside and scooped her into his arms. The bed covers were soft under her back as Brishen laid her down and stretched atop her. She welcomed him with a smile, embracing the dark shadow he’d become with her arms and legs. Lean and muscular, he pressed her hard into the mattress with his considerable weight until she exhaled a slight wheeze.

Instantly he lifted, and with one smooth motion rolled them both until he lay on his back, and she straddled his hips. His eye glimmered bright in the darkness, and Ildiko caught a glimpse of bright white teeth in a grin guaranteed to make any other human woman faint with terror. “I see you, pretty hag,” he said, his voice a deep purr. He drew invisible lines on her upper thighs with his fingers, making her legs flex at the ticklish touch of claw tips.

Ildiko laughed. “I can’t see you at all, husband.” She rose, freeing his cock where it nestled against her. The sound he made was both groan and gasp when she grasped the base of his shaft long enough to hold him still before taking his entire length deep inside her. “But I can feel you.” She rocked against him, legs squeezing the sides of his hips. “All of you.” The sudden fullness in her lower belly, the heat and thrust of his cock within her was a pleasure she embraced with every nerve and muscle.

His fingers flexed against her buttocks, leaving pleasure-points on her skin and the breath trapped in her lungs. She leaned down to kiss him, heedless of his sharp teeth, fully trusting his ability to make love to her mouth with the same fervor and care he demonstrated with the rest of her body.

She ran her tongue along his lower lip, coaxing him to open his mouth so she could explore with her tongue. He tasted of the orange slices they had shared earlier and the plum wine served after dinner. A heady mix that sent the blood running hot through her veins. She thrust her tongue in his mouth over and over, mimicking the rhythm of his cock inside her.

Brishen broke the kiss with a gusty exhalation. “Gods, Ildiko.” The words were breathless, raspy and soon gone as he resumed the kiss with same enthusiasm she’d shown. He gripped her hips and rolled them a second time so that she was once more on her back.

When they came up for air, she held him tight, heels digging into his lower back. “Harder,” she said, arching to better enjoy the long stroke as he made love to her, made her forget disturbing dreams and grim memories.

He laughed, and she laughed with him when he said, “As you wish, Hercegesé. I’m yours to command.”

His skin was slick with sweat, as was hers. Brishen bent to suckle her breasts, oh so careful. Oh so sensual. The feel of his tongue swirling across her nipples made her back arch, and she buried her fingers in his hair, chanting an incomprehensible plea for him to stop, to not stop.

He didn’t stop, only changed his position enough that the grind of his pelvis on hers rubbed the spot that obliterated all thought and ability to speak and sent hot lighting hurtling through her entire body.

She climaxed with a thin exhalation, trying not to bring the roof down with her cries, or worse, wake the sleeping baby in the adjacent nursery. The effort to stay quiet only heightened the sensations. She squeezed Brishen hard enough around his waist to make him grunt as she rode the last waves of her climax.

Brishen didn’t slow his thrusts, even when Ildiko’s legs loosened their grip on his midriff and her hands let go of his hair. He raised his head to kiss the underside of her chin. ‘You are beautiful when threaten to scream the rafters down, wife.” He lifted himself high enough so that she could once more gaze into that lambent eye and clasp his wide shoulders. “My turn,” he said.

His rhythm changed from the long, deep glides to quick shallow strokes, each one punctuated by a soft groan that grew louder each time until he climaxed in Ildiko’s arms, face buried in her neck to dampen the sounds of his pleasure.

She held him close, savoring the heaviness of his body on hers, the feel of warm semen trickling out of her to coat her thighs, the way his chest heaved against hers and his breath gusted along the column of her neck. Brishen Khaskem was the reason she breathed, the gift she never expected from gods who, for whatever reason she couldn’t fathom, deemed her worthy of loving him and having him love her in return.

He nuzzled the soft skin just beneath her earlobe with his nose. “Do you think we woke Tarawin?” he murmured.

Ildiko stroked his damp hair and smiled into the darkness. “If we did, I promise to defend you against her enraged nurses.”