Grizzly (17 page)

“Let me talk to these bastards. Don’t make any moves until I give the word.”

Tethur walked behind him, Domnall at his side. As they got nearer, the others tailed off and formed behind.

“Good King Fergus, greetings,” Osmaldis said. Marok was at his side, heavily armored and with a grin on his face.

“I bring you no greeting, Cormadine Osmaldis. This is my land, given to me by right as protector.”

“But of course, your highness. I would never argue that point. And a lovely place you have here, by the way. Very peaceful. However, I represent the Queen of darkness herself, and I bring a request.”

“Say it and be done with it; I have a battle to fight. The sooner you talk, the quicker you die.”

“Your highness, there is no need for such aggression.”

Tethur could feel the energy in the air coming from Fergus, building into a torrent of expletives. Fergus wasn’t one for bargains or time wasting. It was how he got his nickname ‘Mad Dog’.

“There is every bloody need, necromancer. You hold no fear here. We have killed better cunts than you, and buried them. You are here for my daughter, and the answer is no. So run behind your army, quake in your boots and fart like a man ready to meet his fate. I’m done here.”

Tethur grinned.

“Sorry you feel that...” Before the necromancer could speak the final word, the king had swung his sword and relieved him of his head.

“Orc!”

Marok grabbed the head, gripped the warlock’s coat, yanked the body, then turned and ran.

“Irish Kings, do what you do best. Kill at will, bury these monstrosities.”

Tethur led the charge as the eight pursued Marok, his own forces running to him. He turned with his twenty thousand and ran back.

Tethur laughed. Domnall, close by, and Fergus, not one for idleness, ran into the fray. The clash of metal was deafening as the others joined in. Blood flew, limbs fell as the eight and their king cut a swathe for the men behind who now charged in with Ryken, who unleashed his magic.

A heaving mass of bodies, good and bad, collided. It sounded like an explosion. Tree demons and ogres towered over the orcs, running deep, throwing men aside like twigs. Tethur cut one of the demons down, severing its legs with his double-edged sword before piercing its heart in two. The dark army shouted curses and swore like heathens, drowning out the sound of metal upon metal. Only the kings’ chants of death rang out. Orcs dropped, men dropped. The kings cut the enemy down en masse, their warring cries and heavy hands dealing out fear and death blows like any warriors ever seen.

These kings feared nothing. Tethur was in the thick of it. The armor worked well, protecting him and holding back his bear, which growled at his core, demanding to be let out. He saw glimpses of the others with sweat-ridden brows and huge grins on their faces. They were in their element. Soon the dead formed a bloody carpet, a crimson tide flowing into the earth. The sun beat down and turned it to a heavy red crust. Still they came in their thousands. Ogres fell and crushed their own, tree demons were felled like great oaks. But still they came. With the necromancer no more, the dead couldn’t rise, or so he thought. In the distance he saw Marok, the bastard Osmaldis’s head held aloft in his hand. Beneath lay the rest of him. The head uttered words in an ancient tongue and the dead did indeed rise.

Tethur shouted out. Fergus saw him and followed his gaze, seeing the dead warlock.

Half the dark army had fallen at the hands of the Celts but now they stood, corpses, staggering and then bending to pick up their spears.

“Cut off their heads, stop them rising. Unleash your beast.”

With those words ringing in his ears, Tethur took a single breath. As if in slow motion, he felt the air fill his lungs, his chest rose high and he yanked off the shoulder armor.

His body changed in seconds, rising upright, his jaw extending, his arms and legs stretching, widening as long thick hairs covered him. Huge claws stretched from his fingers and he growled so loud several orcs fell at his unleashed breath. The others changed. He saw the raven fly, the king’s hound, the boar, the wolf, the bull, the lion, the tiger and the huge silverback. They charged, knocking and crushing their enemy beneath them. As they killed, they bit, severing necks and holding back the rising dead.

Tethur’s beast swung its huge paws, but now the orcs were renewed with anger as Marok swore orders. They came hard, overwhelming him, and he saw only darkness as they stole the daylight from him and jumped on him in great numbers. He fought back, his chest on fire, his body heavy beneath them. They had him. Around him he heard the roar of his fellow beasts, crying in anger as he fell, his fur retracting, the cold air of death close by as he became the man, the king, in all his naked glory, pierced by the tips of poisoned spears and swords.

***

T
here are those times in life. They move in slow motion. You see the moment coming at you, and you can do nothing to stop it. The hush of reality seems to fade to a dull, lifeless grey. This was one of those moments for Sorscha. Her fingernails cut into the windowsill that she watched from. The battle was something out of an epic fantasy. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she would witness something so real, raw, and deadly. The men fought with pride and roared into battle like mighty Vikings of old.

Metal clanged and men grunted as they fell in defeat. All of Fergus’s men still stood. Glorious and bloody, they took the battle with honor. The rage and vengeance tore through the battlefield in a wave of crimson. It flowed in tiny streams as Sorscha looked down at them. Her gaze followed Tethur. She watched, waited, and feared as the men began to lose.

Anxiety made a fresh home in her gut and she felt the heat of magma swelter her limbs. Fear brought forth the brewing elements of her powers. She felt her mother come up behind her, resting her palm against her lower back.

“I can feel your rage, love. You must beat the magic to own the magic,” she instructed.

The words seared through her like fire as the Earth called to her in her rage. Blades slashed and the men’s blood burned the air. The scent of old pennies tickled the breeze. A rumble shook the castle. Shauna’s arm wrapped around her, and she shrugged her mother off.

“They will not have him.” Sorscha paused. “Mother,” she hissed.

Turning back to the fight, she heard the battle cry ring through the blood-soaked fields and in a burst of armor, leather, and fur—the men shifted.

The Earth wasn’t about to relent. The giant White Orc pinned her with his gaze as she made a path of chaos through the shifted men. Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs. She lifted her chin, a defiant glare in her eyes as she watched the orc. They dared one another silently to enter the fray.

He wanted to see the magic?

The White Orc wanted to bait a Princess of Malandria?

So be it.

The roar that rent the air drew stillness to its spot. Her palms slapped against the cold stone. She hovered out of the window from where she watched. Safe enough for her witness, and yet precarious enough for her fall if she wanted. And fall she did want. Tethur’s body hit the ground with a mighty thud. She felt the vibrations run through her as the Earth sobbed for its fallen mate. Blood mixed with the fresh green grass and she felt him running through her veins in that moment.

The earthquake started low. She summoned the shifting of the plates below ground, singing to the volcanic liquid that pushed to the surface.

“Run,” she whispered.

As her lips closed on that one word, the ground erupted. Stones fell. The castle was in danger. Sorscha could hear her mother’s pleas behind her. They fell on deaf ears. She focused on one point, and one alone; getting to her mate. Sorscha stepped up onto the window’s edge. Hovering her foot over was the only thing she needed to do. Her body was slammed by the mighty Silverback, the lone brutalized warrior that still had the power to come to her aide. His acrobatics brought her quickly down the castle battlements, and he rested her on the ground.

With a wave of her hand, he was dismissed. She lifted her palms and the Earth shuddered below them all. Cracks formed, and the world became an uneven mass. Lava spurted from huge pockets she created next to the enemy. One by one they caught fire. Some melted into the ground and she felt their deaths like a cooling balm one by one.

The power surged forth, shattering the ground as she baited the giant leader of the orc army, the one that dare defy her. The huge beast snarled a roar and she threw her arms up. Heat, power, rage, and sadness at losing her love just when she’d found him rumbled through her and the Earth answered her call. Pulsing waves of lava flowed, tendrils ensnared the beasties one by one. And just as the orc reached her, when her fight was set, a growl, slow, steady, and powerful rumbled to her right.

Chancing a glance in his direction, she watched Tethur stalk forward slowly. His hulking form stood tall and proud. Slowly, Sorscha lowered her arms. The Earth heard her silent call and slowly settled. The flowing rivers of bright orange lava cooled around the charred and dead bodies. Each one registered in her soul. The orc’s gaze darted between the two of them. Tethur came forward, his body blocking hers.

She let him.

The battle was his to win.

Taking a few steps back, she gave herself room to view the mighty orc. He was no more powerful than the huge blade he held in his hand. She had the power of nature.

The orc threw his head back, screaming to the heavens as if they would come to his aide. Faster than Sorscha could blink, she watched Tethur’s arm move. His claws were primed and out; the gouges sprayed blood as he hit his target. The orc fell to his knees, his chest ripped open as rivers of red bled from him. Sorscha felt the tickle of warm stickiness on her cheeks. She nudged her chin in the direction of the maniacal creature. With a gutted sound, he got to his feet and took off towards the tree line.

––––––––

A
hush settled over the Realm.

The bad had been shown its due.

Sorscha lifted her chin to look up at Tethur. His body swung around and her breath caught. As the man—boy, he was epic. Yet, as the bear...

Yeah, she felt like a kinky pervert being attracted to the bear. Something about the beast brought out wild fantasies and desires not allowed in normal society. Her tongue flicked, dampening her parched lips. A snarling snort came from Tethur and steam spilled from his nostrils.

God, that was hot
.

She pressed her thighs together as a fresh rush of liquid spilled from her cunt. Battle, war, the fight, the bear... she was so turned on she might cream her leathers right here on an orgasm.

Tethur must have thought the same thing because he charged. As he moved like a freight train towards her he shifted. The fur melted into his flesh, his body shrank to human size, which for Tethur, let’s face it, was quite huge. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she braced her body for impact but it didn’t come. His steel arms wrapped around her body and he shifted around, taking the brunt of the collision with the moist ground.

He didn’t wait for her to move. Quickly he rolled them, pinning her under his body. Looking down at her, his eyes like fingers lingered over the rise and fall of her chest, the way her thighs spread willingly for him.

Sweet baby, Jesus, he is going to fuck my brains out.

“Do it,” she demanded.

He needed no further coaxing. Within moments her pants were ribbons around her body. Already nude from the shift, he rose up on his knees. Sorscha sucked in a breath. Her mouth went dry as she looked at his huge cock standing straight and proud, ready for her. Watching a sexy bead of pre-cum seep from the tip, she rose up on her elbows, only to be shoved back to the ground roughly.

“HEY!”

Sorscha glared up at him, but his expression gave nothing away. Grabbing hold of his dick, he started to stroke, using the precum to lube up his girth.

“I need to fuck you now, Sorscha. We could have both died, and I need to fuck you now,” he growled.

Nodding, she lay back, spreading her legs wide for him. He didn’t guide his cock like he had the night before. Gripping her legs, he yanked her up his thighs, and shoved his dick home. The pain and pleasure shot through her and she screamed his name. He wasn’t easy on her. This was fucking in its rawest form. Pumping his cock, he bottomed out as she felt his balls slap against her virgin asshole. All she could do was wrap her legs around his waist and ride with him. Her hips ground and swirled, finding that place that brought her to finish quickly. The walls of her cunt stretched and met him pump for fucking pump.

Roaring, he ripped open her leather vest and went after her swollen nipples. He pulled with each pump. The pain wrapped around the pleasure so the lines were blurred. With his face buried in her tits, she wrapped her arms around his back and with each hard thrust she scoured her nails down his back.

Her heels dug into his hard ass and she forced him to move faster without words. Speaking was out of the question at this point. They both needed this so fucking bad it was insane. Battle had brought out the beasts in them both and they were venting on each other—fucking out all the adrenaline. She felt him swell inside her. His cock pulsed as he pumped her good and hard. Her pussy fluttered around him. The sounds of their wet sex only heightened the pleasure.

Tethur’s tongue dragged up her body slowly, totally belying the beastly rutting he was giving her. Sorscha could feel them both growing closer. Her body grew hot and tingled, the sensation of her lower belly getting tense as her womb convulsed, nearly mading her orgasm.

“Fuck, holy fuck, fuck harder, harder. I’m there...” She screamed as she came. Her body convulsed in his arms as he continued to fuck into her. Sorscha threw her head back, his mouth hovered over her neck before his long teeth sank home, owning her all over again. She felt liquid heat under her fingers and knew she was drawing blood. One more hard thrust and his hot seed filled her deep. Another orgasm snapped to life inside her and she writhed in his arms. It was too much, yet not enough. She tried to escape him but his deep pumps set her off into a spiral.