Malice lay back in that chair for long into the night. It was peaceful at first, the sound of her fire crackling before her, drowning out the ruckus outside her tent. Then she heard the sounds. Growling at first, followed by a whisper that flowered into a voice calling her name.
“Malice, get out here! Malice, I need you.” The voice sounded again, and she knew exactly who was calling for her.
That nasty, delusional cretin was a total downer, but she had her ways of dealing with Zander. She knew his secret. She knew what he wanted and she cringed. Peiper must have sensed her distress, as he came to the tent flap before the sickening whisper was heard again.
“Malice, you whore, get your ass out here.” Zander called again, this time loud enough for Peiper to hear and the male just nodded his head.
Fine, but this was the last time she would be playing his sick and twisted little games. The male had a thing for long, hard…
“We’re ready!” She heard Peiper say and when she exited the tent she found two sentries snapping to attention.
Grabbing one of the soldier’s and pulling him close, she paid very close attention to the grenades strapped to his chest. “Thank you!” She smiled, blowing the male a kiss and with a quick flick of her wrist she was off to find her so-called Master.
The grenades were not your garden-variety, run-of-the-mill bad-ass, hand-held weapons. You see, the grenade itself was attached to a sort of handle about half a foot long. Made great when it came time to toss the bloody thing. Sailed farther and that handle stopped it from rolling away.
Malice chuckled and tucked the grenade’s handle into the waist band of her pants, before going around the corner of the pavilion. Off in the moonlight, in all its not so glory, was the pasty green ass of the Goblin named Zander. There he was, bent over a rock and shaking his ass in the air, begging for her to satiate his needs. His secret, her prison; but not for long.
Putrid little fucker. She had nothing against same sex couples, but holy fuck, this asshole was… Well, it was about to get worked over, real good.
“Please, Malice?” His words sounded vile and vulgar, the want in them turning her stomach.
Malice’s silver eyes flared as she approached him from behind, speaking in a cold whisper. “Beg.”
“Please?” He whimpered, so quick to succumb to her demands when alone and in need.
Oh, if the others could see him in moments like this. Hot and bothered for all the wrong reasons. The Goblins were not Valkyrie. They didn’t look as kindly upon those who, buggered, souls. If they knew what he’d made Malice do in the wee hours of the morning, well, they’d probably do the very same thing she was about to do now.
“Very well.” Malice answered as she laid her hand to his flesh.
“Hurry up, you slut.” Zander demanded as he turned his head away; closing his eyes, anticipating the pleasure…
Malice stripped herself, making sure to drop her pants in front of his face, and placed the head of the grenade between his cheeks. Zander moaned, wiggling as the lust took hold, right up until Malice slid that grenade all the way home with nothing but the handle showing.
“Is that, what you seek?” Malice whispered as the first of the men began to arrive and the colonel handed her a garrote.
It was all over too quickly. “I’m going to kill you, you fucking b..” Was all he got out before the wire was wrapped around his throat.
“You’ll do nothing, except get out of my sight. If I ever see that ass again I’ll pull the pin on the next grenade!” She growled into his ear, a sinister warning should he feel the need to tell their lord about this.
That said, Malice unwrapped the garrote and before the bastard had a chance to scream, ripped the grenade from its resting place. Planting a boot on the blood-spattered cheeks, she sent him into the small mud puddle and tossed the grenade in after him.
“Dammit, I’m never going to get that image out of my head.” Malice let out ruefully as she watched Zander flounder about.
There was a tiny giggle in the corner of the Valkyrie’s mind. The Cat was listening in and quite enjoying herself for once.
’He did deserve it, but you need some sleep. Do try to get some rest, we will need your strength to get out of this!’ The Feline yawned, her ears, eyes and white incisors, visible for only a moment.
Malice smiled at the thing’s concern. It seemed strange to her that anyone cared at all what happened to her; but this critter sure did. Perhaps, it was not all bad after all?
‘Be careful, little sister.’ She whispered back as she left the men laughing at their leader.
The only other person that cared about Malice, was Marena. Malice felt the ache between her thighs, she hadn’t spoken to her lover since Pathen commanded her to destroy Misthaven. She was to prove her loyalty to the Masters if she ever hoped to feel the female’s touch again.
The Valkyrie could feel the need for sleep. The need to relax and prepare for the morning’s journey. It had been a most eventful day indeed and Zander’s latest discomforts, the icing on the cake. Whether the fool took to their Masters and told them all about her sick and twisted move, how they’d laughed at him for it, or the bastard hid away conspiring against her, the outcome would be entertaining.
Again a wave of sleep washed over her, and like a toddler learning to walk, she tripped and stumbled with each step she took back to her tent. The flaps pulled back easy enough, though tonight they felt as if they weighed a million pounds and the carpet was like sandpaper beneath her bare feet. She was exhausted. Amused, but utterly worn out by the time her body hit the bed and she lay back with a sigh.
Closing her eyes, she pictured the perfection that was her dark-haired lover, calling out to her as if to meet in a dream.
It was the Cat who appeared in her place, the image of its eyes and teeth, fading, replaced by a clearer depiction of what was. The Feline moved towards her through the tall grasses, with something hanging from her mouth and in a heartbeat the Valkyrie’s curiosity took over.
‘What do you have there, little one?’ Malice’s mind reached out to the massive spectral beast, while holding out her hand as if to receive a gift.
The Feline willingly obliged, gently bowing her head and allowing the object to fall into her hand. It was fragile, and sharp. Malice had to look closer, the long thin stem covered in thorns and the silky, black petals that fell away in her fingers…
‘Where did you get this? Did Rena give it to you?’ Malice gasped, with the black rose drawing blood from her palm.
The Cat shook its head, in a very Human way, and Malice sat up in her bed and opened her eyes, the rose still in her hand. An intense feeling of love swept through her, tingles shooting off like fireworks beneath her skin and she gasped, the pleasure mixed with the pain the thorns inflicted sending her into spasms. She wanted to drop the rose but she couldn’t.
The thorns were embedded too deep, the blood pooling in her palm as the vines twisted, no danced across her skin as if they were alive. Such an odd sensation accompanied them and a gentle voice escaped from the center of the petals; or perhaps it had been her soul, she cared not with the veil of pleasure wrapped around her.
“I have sought you in the darkest of my dreams. Come to me, hear my call, Marena…” She whispered into the shadows of her tent, wishing for nothing more than the warmth of her presence.