Knight of Lust Ch. 01

Their cries rose as one, twisting together and echoing off of the cavern walls.

"Saints' blood," he cursed. "So damned wet..."

His voice shuddered with each word. Nearly overwhelmed, he almost collapsed atop her, but managed to brace his other elbow on the stone. Doing so pressed his muscular chest against her plump breasts, and he managed to lean down, trapping one nipple between his lips for a brief suckle.

"Do not invoke your outlander faith while you are inside me," Solveig growled through clenched teeth.

Caderyn answered that growl with a gentle bite to her nipple, then moved so his lips could graze her soft neck. That delay allowed him to adjust to the wet warmth embracing his cock, giving him a few moments to focus so he did not spill too soon.

With one hand gently cupping her cheek, Caderyn rocked his hips back and forth, grinding a little with each deep thrust. No more growls left Solveig's lips: only quiet moans and gentle gasps. His own deeper moans intermingled with hers, interspersed with the occasional grunt of effort or a soft curse.

His fingers brushed over her lips and he brought his other hand down between her legs. Solveig squeaked as his thumb stroked over her folds, seeking out that delicious little pearl he'd suckled earlier. As her soft thighs quaked against his hips, her arms tensed against the vines.

Tempted as Caderyn was to free her so that he could feel her arms wrapping around him, she looked so damnedbeautiful straining against those bonds. She was, after all, a powerful woman in her own way, an expert in witchcraft, herblore, and the secrets of the north. To see such a woman bound and helpless was more beautiful than the finest artwork on display back in the ducal palace.

Smirking, his hand left her cheek to brush over the vines, taunting her with the possibility of freedom. Her eyes gleamed with wild need but she gave no voice to her desperation. Impressed by that strength, Caderyn gripped her cheek again and rewarded her with deeper, faster thrusts.

Their moans, sighs, and the slapping of his hips against hers created a strange but beautiful melody. The sacred water sloshed beneath his feet as he moved, and she let out a soft whine as she thrashed her head back and forth. With her moans rising higher and higher, echoing the sounds she'd made before her first climax, Caderyn knew she was close.

Gods, how he wanted to just remove his thumb from her sex to make her weep with need, to see angry desperation pulsing in her wide blue eyes...

His buttocks clenched as a shiver went through his core. Caderyn was damned close as well. And yet as much as he longed to spill deep within her and complete the ritual, other wicked impulses took hold. Cruelty guided his hand down towards his cock, just as he began to throb with an almost painful need.

One more thrust would have defeated him.

But instead he took hold of himself and pulled out of her, right on the verge of reaching his peak. Solveig unleashed an angry, wild growl which soon shattered into a thunderous cry as he continued to caress her with his thumb. Her head thudded back against the rock, her thighs tightening around his hips as she tried to pull him back in. Those soft hips bucked upwards off the rock, every muscle of her soft body tightening and tensing.

"You beast," she snarled in between gasps and whimpers, fury dancing with lust with each syllable.

Chuckling and shuddering, Caderyn glanced down at his aching shaft. Milky droplets leaked from the tip as he brushed it against her folds, and then up against her pearl. Her back arched and she cursed, her voice low and ominous, like that of one of Kovgaard's hungry gods.

"Inside me, you fool," she growled. "Do not waste it."

The cold iron in her voice damned near conquered him entirely. A choked gasp fled his lips but he managed to guide himself back inside her with one desperate, clumsy motion. Rocking forward, Caderyn shoved himself in as deeply as he could, and then finally surrendered.

Muffling his moans against her soft neck, the knight pumped his hips again and again as his cock throbbed. Deep, almost painful pulses rippled from his loins and up into his core. The muscles of his back quaked, and he gasped as he suddenly felt her soft hands gripping him. Somehow she'd freed himself without him noticing, but he was too deliriously lost in bliss to care how.

A soft bite on her neck coincided with the deepest and most agonizing throb yet, a spike of pleasure that sent deep shivers up and down his spine. His hips slowed but the orgasm did not; more and more seed spurted forth from his cock, filling the witch's cunt. The consequences of that decision hit him like a blow to the face.

If the alchemy and witchcraft had worked, his seed was seeking her womb. The thought almost set him off again and he groaned once more against her neck, his body pounding against her for three more deep, desperate strokes before finally falling still.

After a few moments of resting his twitching, muscular body against her soft curves, Caderyn finally rose so he could meet her gaze.

"One path of many," he murmured.

Her lips rose, stealing another quick kiss.

"One path of many."

With a lazy smile on his face, he glanced to the vines, which now drifted in the water beside the rocky altar.

"How did you manage that?"

"They were quite loose from the beginning," she said, her heavy-lidded eyes drifting to his lips. "The bindings were a test, that was all. A test of my own willpower...but also of yours. To see if you would simply sate your own needs, or tend to mine."

"I suppose we succeeded in that test, then," Caderyn said in between heavy breaths.

"Indeed."

And with that, she reached up to grasp his cheeks, and then pulled his lips towards hers for a deep, gentle kiss. Both of them moaned, sinking against one another, reveling in the tender contrast to his last few wild thrusts. His tongue darted against her lower lip and he raised himself up, his brow furrowing.

"And now what?" he asked. "How will we know that it worked?"

"In all of the dozens of times this coven has conducted this ritual, no witch has ever failed, provided the man is worthy," Solveig said, reaching down to brush her fingers over the rune painted just above her sex. "The ritual is a powerful, potent one. And the gods favored this union."

He shuddered at the certainty in her tone.

"How can you tell?"

Solveig gripped him by the chin and tilted his gaze upwards. All of the glowing mushrooms within the cave had shifted from blue to red, casting a ghostly crimson gleam upon the water. His lust-addled mind could find no plausible explanation for how that could have happened. Perhaps the hungry gods of the north had indeed smiled upon them.

Fear grasped his heart at that notion, and he slowly pulled out of her.

"You will rest the night," Solveig continued. "Then at dawn, we will provide you with a recipe for the cure, and a boat so you can return across the lake."

Thanks to the weakness in his legs, Caderyn could not fully rise yet, and instead sat down on the rock next to her, staring down at the red reflections in the sacred pool.

"It is not just about curing my mother; I also need to hunt down the ones who sent the assassin after her."

Solveig slowly rose and looked at the swirling blue mist that lingered throughout the cavern. He wondered if the masked witches were still lurking there; his wild lust had completely banished thoughts of them from his mind.

"I am sworn not to reveal certain secrets of Kovgaard and my coven," she said, her fingers rising to brush along his sweaty back. "But I swear to you that my coven provided no such poison to anyone."

Sighing, Caderyn contented himself with the fact that at least he'd found a cure for his mother's ailment. Perhaps other, wiser members of his family or the ducal court would be able to piece together the conspiracy. After rising to his feet, he turned and scooped the witch up into his arms. She let out a surprised laugh as she clung to his shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"If I am not permitted to visit you or the child after this, the very least I can do is be chivalrous and carry you back to your quarters."

Her soft laugh echoed through the misty chamber. Slow, shaky steps took him from the pool and down the dark corridor, back into her room. He set her down on the pile of fur blankets, then slipped his now-dried leggings back on.

As Solveig relaxed on the furs behind him, he stared out at the moonlit water, his mind drifting towards an uncertain future and the unexplained events of the past week. Though he'd earned a potential cure for his mother, he still longed to understand more of what he'd endured.

"You killed me," Caderyn said softly.

"The lovemaking was notthat intense, Caderyn," said the witch with a gentle, hoarse laugh.

Though his eyes remained on the lake, he could still detect the mirth in her tone. Amused that she'd deployed a silly quip just like he would have done, Caderyn burst into soft laughter.

"That's not what I meant," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "In the visions I saw after I was poisoned, you killed me. You wrapped one of the vines of that glowing tree around my neck..."

Solveig rested on her side, watching him with those icy eyes, one hand resting on her hip, the other idly toying with her long black braid.

He brushed his fingers over the same spot where the vine had gripped him.

"One path of many," Solveig said softly. "A consequence of the poison. It sent fractures through your soul, allowing you to glimpse possible futures."

"What possible future would entail me deserving death by your hand?"

Solveig rose from the furs and moved to stand behind him, her soft lips dancing along his shoulders and neck.

"I do not know. We only reserve such a fate for those who deeply wrong our coven."

Her kisses trailed along the back of his neck, then his ear, then she leaned over his shoulder to gently kiss his cheek.

"If you must dwell on it, see it as a warning not to betray our coven. That is all."

Solveig moved to stand beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder. Together they stared out at the moonlit lake. Fireflies gleamed in the distance. A wolf howled from far out in the darkness, followed by the cry of an owl.

"Gods, what a beautiful land," he murmured after what felt like an eternity. "I'll want to return. I know that..." He winced. "I know that it will be forbidden for me to return here, but there is still so much more of the north I'll want to see."

"And there is still much of a south I would like to see as well," Solveig said softly. "But those are distant dreams. I doubt I will ever return there."

"Return?" Caderyn asked, frowning down at her. "You've been before?"

"I was born there."

He blinked, shocked into silence by those words.

"My mother was a warrior whose lover was..." She chewed her lower lip for a moment. "He was part of the army who marched south with the invasion; she was so devoted to him that she joined the war despite being many months pregnant. I think she also longed to give birth in the aftermath of the victory, so that the triumph could serve as a blessing for her child. She lost an arm in the battle outside Fellhaven, but survived to give birth to me even as she was recovering from her wounds."

"Saints' blood," he cursed.

Caderyn thought he detected a bit of pain in her eyes when she spoke of her father. Had he been a cruel and wicked reaver? A man of honor? Had he been among those who had betrayed Ulrik to aid the southerners? Or did Solveig not even know?

The unanswered questions provided a painful reminder that one day his own child would grow up knowing nothing about Caderyn.

She smiled and sighed.

"The gods smiled upon her for her bravery, for I was born healthy and the birth was easy, all things considered. So when I became old enough, I sought out this coven in order to repay the gods for their gifts."

As a boy, Caderyn had often walked along the battlements of the city, staring out at the great plain where that horrific battle had taken place. He'd imagined himself as a great hero, a brave knight charging against the invading northlanders. As he'd grown older, he'd heard grisly stories of that day's carnage, which had tempered his heroic delusions somewhat. Not once had he imagined a child being born amidst such horrors.

"Such a strange thing," he said. "The soldier who nearly killed your mother was likely a knight sworn to my parents. And now..." He glanced down. "And now you'll bear my child."

"Oh, my mother will find that very amusing when she finds out during her next visit," Solveig said with a soft laugh. "True northlanders find mirth in darkness."

"So your mother can visit you, but I will not be able to visit my own child?" he asked, a bit of iron slipping into his voice.

"If you were a man of Kovgaard, it would be different." Her fingers ran across the scar on his cheek left by the fallen assassin. "But the children sired as part of such a ritual will be infused with divine power. Such power risks being...corrupted if they are exposed to an outlander."

Northern customs were as nonsensical as they were infuriating. Why would a child be 'corrupted' by his presence, but not by the fact of their parentage? And what was this 'divine power' nonsense she spoke of? From what he'd heard of Kovgaardians, they cared more for deeds and actions rather than bloodlines and birthrights.

His scowl deepened as Solveig rose from his side without a word. The sounds of her soft footfalls faded down the corridor. Confused and irritated, he snatched one of the fur blankets from the pile and curled up on the hard, rocky floor. Compared to some of the nasty taverns and brothels he'd slept in, that cave was very nearly a palace.

As Caderyn sank into slumber, he dispelled his confusion by focusing on his mother. Despite the cost and despite his bafflement at the future, at least his mother would live. Of course, she and his father would be quite cross with him for running off to the savage north, but he was almost looking forward to that next tirade.

Those reassuring thoughts guided him to sleep.

**

When he awoke to the warmth of dawn upon his face, Solveig was seated at the little table, fiddling with something. Yawning, Caderyn rose to his feet. Had they not parted on such grim terms the night before, he'd have made an effort to fuck her again, if only to have one last fond memory before the long journey home.

"The formula for the cure," Solveig said softly, tapping a little scroll beside her on the table.

"Thank you," Caderyn said, crossing over to the table after donning his clothes.

Upon collecting the scroll, he raised an eyebrow at the little silver chains she was tinkering with. Upon the chains were several dark blue fangs, inscribed with Kovgaardian runes. Beside the necklace was a matching one. After adjusting the fastenings which affixed the fangs to the chain, she patted the seat beside her.

His curiosity rising, Caderyn obeyed, then she lifted the chain and placed it around his neck.

"The legends of our coven say that this lake was formed when a dragon crashed to the earth, having been slain by a giant in a horrific duel in the clouds. Its fall created a crater, which was soon filled in by the rains. Its silvery blood coursed through the earth, and witches collected its fangs."

Caderyn had heard many such tales of giants, dragons, and great heroes from Ketrik and his parents' Kovgaardian mercenaries. Glancing down, he brushed his fingers over the fangs, which were like no beast he'd ever seen before. Perhaps the tale was indeed true, or a fragment of the original truth.

"Take this, as a blessing and a memento," Solveig said, her fingers wrapping around his and the fang. "And then this second necklace will adorn the neck of our child. A connection to cross the borders between our lands. You may not be able to ever see our child, but at least you will share the strength granted by that ancient legend."

The offering stole his breath. Caderyn looked between the necklace on the table, then to her eyes, then down to the amulet around his neck. Sighing, he raised her hand so he could give it a gentle kiss.

"I know I am not allowed to visit, but what about a gift?" he asked, to which Solveig nodded.

Of course he had not really brought much of note, since he had not expected to be fathering a child as part of his visit. He glanced back to his pack and his cloak, then to his boots. Rising, Caderyn crossed the chamber and withdrew a slender knife from a hidden sheath in his boot.

"A simple blade," Caderyn said. "But an important one. When my father was a mercenary, someone took out his eye with this. He claimed it as a grisly trophy, then eventually gave it to my mother. During the war, when an assassin slipped into her tent, she used it to defend herself. Without this knife...I would not be here. This knife thus helped purchase the life of our child, in a way."

Returning to her side, he placed it within her hands.

"Give it to our child when they are old enough. Please."

"An honorable and fitting offering," Solveig said. "May it protect the child as well as it protected your mother."

"Thank you, Solveig. And I apologize for being cross with you last night. This is...difficult for me and-"

Caderyn let out a soft laugh, then shook his head.

"And yet it will be even harder for you, of course," he said.

"I will have the coven to look after me and the child. We have good relations with the nearby villages, and they always help as well. The child will be well-loved by the coven and the people of this land, no matter the path they choose."

Her fingers rose to gently grip his chin. Once more her thumb brushed over his scar.

"One path of many," she said softly.

"One path of many," he repeated, the words barely audible over the rustling of the wind.

Her lips pressed against his in a soft, almost loving kiss. Caderyn trembled beneath her touch, hating that it had taken the near-death of his mother for him to meet that woman, and lamenting the fact that he would never see her again. Over the course of his life he'd had dozens of lovers; not a one had inspired the strange longing that now burned within him.

Perhaps that was due to the visions he'd suffered, which had hinted at a deeper connection. Perhaps it was due to the child that she would one day bear. Or perhaps the sense of longing was due to the certainty that he'd never see her again.

The pain of pleasure denied was a cruel knife indeed.

Finally he rose, collected the last of his clothing, then began the slow, ponderous march towards the shore. A rowboat awaited him, already loaded with supplies for the journey home. Caderyn paused and turned back.

Solveig stood at the entrance to the cavern. In her left hand was the knife he'd given her, in the other was the necklace she'd made for their child.

By the gods and their saints, he should have done more. Should havesaid more, even if only to offer a silly, stupid joke one last time. Instead all he could do was give her a somber smile, then he turned to push the rowboat out into the water.

Alone, with the Tree of Lament looming high behind him, he rowed across the lake.

**

Thank you for reading! If you want to learn more about this setting, be sure to check out my other series, including 'Duchess of Lust,' 'Breaking the Barbarian,' and 'The Gifts of the Witch.'