Demon's Promise: a high fantasy femdom novella Read Online Free Page B

around?”
    She made a noise somewhere between a huff and a
growl.
    Ruen decided to take that as a yes.
    It was, perhaps, inevitable that he found his
footsteps leading him to the old shrine.
    He’d dreamed of it again. Almost every single night
he’d dreamed of it. That majestic white stag. The black vines
coiling around and around until he was lost in a writhing mass of
darkness. Pain, sharp and crystalline, stabbing through a hot haze
of profane arousal.
    Part of him still couldn’t believe what had happened.
What he had done.
    But when they reached the end of that icy trail, a
sharp wind arose, and Ruen confirmed to himself once more that none
of that night had been a dream.
    Where the shrine once stood, nothing but rubble
remained.
    Ruen felt a tinge of sadness at the scene. No matter
what confused horrors he now associated subconsciously with the
site, it had been a building with history. With memory. Abandoned
first by humans, and then by the spirits it harbored, and now at
last destroyed, never again to be rebuilt.
    At his side, the demon hissed.
    It was a chilling sound, different from her usual
expressions of impatience or disapproval. Caused him to start,
almost back away.
    But he clenched his teeth, held his
ground against the sense of wrongness crawling up and down his
spine, watched to see what she would do.
    “This is an old, forgotten place of power,” she said
at last, and there was a tremor in her voice he had never heard
before. “Little wonder yours awakened here.”
    Then she shivered, eyes glazing over.
    “Miss Ash?”
    His voice seemed to recall her back to herself.
    “I do not care for this place,” she said bluntly.
    “Let’s go elsewhere then,” Ruen suggested. “The
lake’s not terribly far off, if you’re not too hungry yet.”
    With an imperious nod, she turned away from the
shrine.
     
    * * *
     
    The lake was a considerable success (though to Ruen’s
disappointment, the outing was cut short when a servant came
running to inform them of an emergency regarding pantry thieves
that was soon enough sorted out as a misunderstanding). It was
enough of a success, in fact, that Astarte hinted not two days
later about possibly enjoying a second visit.
    Ruen gladly complied.
    The sky was clear, the air a little less cold than
usual; the food pleasant, and the company pleasanter. The forest
stretched dark behind them, meeting the silhouette of mountains
further north.
    “And what is this concoction called?” Astarte
murmured, leaning in to pluck another item from the plates he had
laid out.
    “This is gingerbread, Miss Ash. Do they not have it
at the capital?”
    She nibbled delicately at it, white teeth flashing
briefly between her red lips, but gave no indication of whether or
not she found it to her taste.
    “They do,” she said. “However, the confectioners at
the capital pride themselves in their innovation and artistry.”
    “Ah. So they do not stoop to producing such rustic
flavors?”
    “Perhaps some may be convinced to.”
    Ruen paused for a moment to interpret her comment,
then replied, “A pity you did not come during the summer. The local
specialties during that season are especially varied.”
    “Oh?” she said, suddenly leaning close, peering up at
him with those startling silver eyes.
    His pulse leaped. “Er, yes. There are several chilled
desserts, for instance –”
    “Hold still,” said Astarte, expression utterly blank,
and Ruen faltered. Noticed that she’d snaked her arm around him and
that her hand was wandering up his back –
    Icy cold exploded at his neck and trickled down his
spine.
    “Argh!”
    Ruen realized what she had done at the same moment
she drew back, still staring innocently at him. He squirmed,
glaring at her, trying to pat the snow out of his clothes.
    “Winter is my favorite season,” she declared.
    Ruen, who knew very well that the capital’s climate
did not even sustain much frost during the coldest months, gritted
his teeth –