That made sense to him.
The biggest issue with getting to Jabez was the number of shadowy beasts in the way. He was sure, if it were just him and the Demon King, he would be able to remove his head.
Ingram only struggled with a fight when there were many foes, but he’d always won any that were more evenly matched.
The Witch Owl tilted her head, but it was her unsure expression that grabbed his attention. Why did she look so worried?
“What are you thinking?” Her tone sounded like a warning, one full of suspicion.
“You said I needed an army.”
“I said an army would be needed, but there is no army that would fight alongside us.”
“This is not true. There are others who want the Demons gone just as much as me.”
She was right. Ingram needed numbers if he wanted to get to the Demon King.
He turned away from the Veil completely, fickle with his decisions in his agitated state. He could scale the cliff wall with his claws, so he didn’t try to find an easier path to the surface world.
The Witch Owl grabbed his tail to yank him back with all her might, letting out a tooth-gritting yell as she did. “No! If you seek to ask the humans, you will not find any friends there.”
He flicked his tail to the side, ridding himself of her, and he began to climb.
The only thing that was keeping the loss at bay was his determination for vengeance. He would find an army, otherwise he feared he would quickly succumb to the nagging anguish that was festering within his chest, right below the surface of his flesh.
Had she not removed his head to bring him to the safety of Merikh’s ward, resetting his thoughts, Ingram may never have gained consciousness throughout his agony-filled rampage.
“Ingram, please! Stop!”
His sight shifted to a hopeless blue.
Aleron...
Staring up at the rocky ceiling of her tiny bedroom, Emerie noted the patterned lines of where the person wielding a pickaxe had carved out her room generations ago. Her nose twitched in irritation at the poorly done job.
With her head bobbing against her scratchy, hard, and uncomfortable bed, it was an odd detail to note... considering the action she was in the middle of.
I wonder what they’ll be serving for dinner tonight.
The food here at this impenetrable fortress was pretty bland, but at least it was hearty. She needed something right now to make her full, since she felt rather empty.
Something warm and wet slid over the arch of her neck, and she twisted her head to offer more surface to play with. Once she patted his head in reassurance, she resumed her thinking.
I’m glad I’m not part of the watch tonight.
Her gaze roamed over to the two dim candles sitting on her oak bedside table. They were just enough to illuminate the scarcely furnished room. A brown scratchy blanket lay beneath her on a bed made of hay, a layer of wool added for warmth and ‘comfort.’ A chest at the end of her bed stored her few personal items, and a plain wardrobe to her right held her clothing.
The only other piece of furniture was a small writing desk that had just enough room to fit her elbows on it, with a piece of parchment between them.
Her sleeping chamber was hollow of life, overly small, and almost identical to the many others housing her fellow guildmembers.
But it was hers, which was all that mattered.
Bryce groaned above her, and she looked over his sweat-slicked forehead.
At least he’s enjoying himself.
How long had she been dating him now? Eight months, maybe more?
Honestly, when he’d asked her out, she’d been surprised someone had taken an interest in her. She’d liked him enough. He was decent looking, seemed to have a kind heart, and was dedicated in his work.
At first, she’d enjoyed being with him, especially when their relationship had quickly formed into something physical, then sexual. She’d missed being touched, had missed feeling like... a woman worth getting hard for.
Her heart had ached for the intimacy, as much as her pussy had pulsated with the need she’d often tried to take care of on her own.
But... it’d been a while since Bryce’s touch had ignited anything within her. Now, she worried she was just placating him, allowing her body to be used so she didn’t have to face the ugly truth.
When liquid warmth filled her inner walls, each spurt nipped at her chest like a horrible parasite. Not once had he asked if he could, just doing as he pleased because they both knew there were no repercussions.
She was starting to feel like a cum dump.
It didn’t help that the moment the last of his twitches receded and he was done rudely crushing her underneath all of his heavy weight, he was quick to pull himself out and tie up his pants.
She leant up on her elbow when he searched for his shirt.
“Where are you going?” Emerie asked, her brows furrowing. He was already dressing to leave – without saying a word. “I haven’t come.”
“So?” He glanced at her and must have noticed her jaw muscle twitching. “You’re better at it than me anyway.”
“So?” she mimicked. “Pleasure is supposed to be equal. If I didn’t come, you should help.”
Bryce rolled his brown eyes as he combed his fingers through his wavy blond hair, the length of it barely even two inches. He smoothed it back, as if she had gripped and tugged it out of place in the wild throes – which she hadn’t.
“I have the third round on the watch, which you already know, Co-ordinator.”
Emerie stood so she could find her pants, then stabbed her foot through one of the legs, followed by the other. “Yeah, but that’s not for a few more hours.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice pitched higher as his eyebrows rose suggestively. “I thought you were going to finish?”
Brushing her hands over the skintight shirt of her uniform, she sulked to herself. I’m not in the mood anymore. Out loud she retorted, “Everyone has to do the shitty watches, Bryce.”
His upper lip twitched in annoyance. “You don’t.”
This time, Emerie was the one to roll her eyes. “There are other, more gruelling tasks I must complete that keep me up until that time.”
Yeah... like a mountain of freaking paperwork and recordings that needed transcribing. Then again, the watch on the wall was just as boring, although colder.
“I still can’t believe you’re ranking up before me,” he grumbled, side-eyeing her. “They said there weren’t any positions opening up in the guild.”
A sigh deflated Emerie.
Considering Emerie had been a Demonslayer two years longer than Bryce, there were many other reasons why he’d been told this.