Rune and Ruin

27 - Fur and Fangs

391 B.C.E. - High Southern Plains of the Tasuri Peninsula, Base of the Shaper Mountains, Spring, Month of Lunius

Thania

"Sore, sweetheart?" Tems nuzzles my hair as I startle in his sudden embrace. "What are you thinking of so deeply?"

I blush, and he smirks knowingly. Of course, I'm thinking of the games we've been playing. It's as if I can't get enough of my men. It's embarrassing how often the bond pushes my wanton thoughts their way, and Falx and Tems always respond in kind. Always.

It helps distract me from thinking of Quintus and the looming war on the horizon. I can barely concentrate on anything but my men and the war. Leda has taken to patting my cheek, sometimes a little too hard, to grab my attention.

Of course, the secret I harbor doesn't help.

I can feel the goddess smile, and I peek at Tems to see if our bond has let him in on my little secret. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head down and kiss me. I sigh happily, melting into his broad frame.

He lifts his head and chuckles. "You're insatiable," he murmurs approvingly.

My blush returns, but I smile. He has no idea that I'm expecting our second child, and I know the goddess is keeping it from them for some reason or another.

I start to daydream again, imagining how I will tell them. They'll be utterly ecstatic. Maybe I can have Leda tell them. Oh, they would love that.

"My darling," Tems croons in my ear in a cadence I've only heard a handful of times in my life. "I want to know what is putting such an exquisite smile on your face so that I may see it repeated again and again."

I shiver, my smile faltering.

"What?" concern instantly colors his voice.

"I'm not used to you speaking in that manner," I tell him frankly.

He looks a bit astonished, then it eases into a knowing glance. "It reminds you of Rune," he states.

"Mostly of Lady Corrine and Falx's father."

Irritatingly condescending

"I won't speak that way again," Tems says.

"No," I reply quickly. "I... I like it when you say beautiful things to me. I'm just not used to it."

"Did you like the way we spoke to you the other night?" he asks, his voice dropping, his demon growling huskily, his eyes flaring red around the iris.

I hide my face in my hands, knowing that I must be the color of an overly ripe pomegranate. "Yes," I mumble against my palms.

"I could tell," he whispers. "The way your pussy slickened for us."

"Tems!" I can't hold back the snicker, so I try to smother it.

"My naughty, dirty female. Your pretty, pink pussy is soaking wet now, isn't it? Your rosy little nipples are tightening. Insatiable." He teases me until the drums begin. Tems stops laughing, wrapping me tightly in his arms. "So, Falx was correct again, that clever bastard."

"The shapers spotted the scouts?" I ask, but the deep, rhythmic boom of drums answers the question for me.

"Let's get moving, sweetheart," Tems says. "We're marching."

The belators are flowing south. Their liquid movements a deadly poison heading straight for the shapers. I have seen it before, but never so close, and never have I been able to pick out faces that I know, that I consider friends, from the fatal flow of warriors.