Tale of the Necromancer by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

13

Marguerite lockedup as the second man stepped up close to her side. I am a fool. They are men, and they are mercenaries. I have no means of paying them. Of course, this is what they would want in exchange.

The second man pressed his palm to his chest. “Oskar.” He gestured to the man with the scar. “Tomaz.” Then to the third, who spoke terrible French. “Fritz.”

Oskar, Tomaz, and Fritz. It is nice to know the names of the men who intend to rape me. But did they intend to harm her? She did not know. They did not strike her, throw her to the ground, and rip her clothes from her body.

Maybe it was not a highway robbery. Maybe it was merely a trade. But she did not yet know if it was one she was willing to make.

What choice do I have?

I cannot return to that monster.

Nervously, she muttered, “Marguerite.” She was trembling again as Oskar stepped even closer to her and ran a hand slowly down over her back. It sent a shiver crawling through her.

“We help,” Fritz said as he ran the back of his knuckle down over her cheek. “For you.”

Tomaz reached out to her and carefully took her wrist. He pulled her toward him, gently turning her until her back was against his chest. She was shivering, her mind was reeling, and her stomach was twisting in knots.

“Sag ihr, dass wir sie beschützen werden. Wir bringen sie weit weg von hier,” Tomaz murmured into her ear as he leaned down. He pressed his lips to the hollow just beneath her ear in a slow, sensual kiss. He smelled like dirt and the odor that comes with a man who has worked hard all day. It wasn’t…unpleasant, but something about it made every muscle in her body go even stiffer.

Fritz stepped into her from the front and caught her chin in his hand, tilting her head up to look at her. “We help. We take away. Far away.”

They can save me from the monster. They can save me from Gideon. All I have to do is—is let them have me. She shivered and pressed her back against Tomaz’s chest. She felt like she must be a marble statue with how tense she remained.

Oskar pressed in close as well and turned her head to him. Before she could react, he kissed her. When his tongue invaded her mouth, she let out a startled sound but didn’t fight him. She was too overwhelmed—too confused—to react at first. When he pulled his head back, he let out a shuddering breath. “Oh, süßer Honig.”

She slapped him.

His head rocked to the side, and she froze once more, expecting them to be angry. But Tomaz laughed at her back, a deep chuckle, and the other men joined him. “Eine Kämpferin! Sehr gut. So mag ich meine Frauen.” He caught her wrists in his hands and captured them at her sides. But he wasn’t rough. He wasn’t violent. If she kicked and screamed and struggled, she was certain she could wrench from his grasp.

Fritz was smiling—no, grinning from ear to ear—as he slid a hand over her chest, cupping one of her breasts in his palm and squeezing firmly. A second hand quickly joined the first to mirror the action, and that time she let out a whimper. Confusion consumed her and kept her from speaking, as she watched him in idle fascination as he explored her body over her clothes.

“No fear,” Fritz murmured, his voice low as he groped her. “No fear. No hurt. We help. Trade.”

“M…my husband is a monster. He…kills people. Murderer.” She did not know it for a fact, but how could it not be true? “Husband murderer.”

Fritz frowned and glanced over her shoulder at Tomaz. “Sie sagt, ihr Mann sei ein Mörder.”

“Kein Wunder, dass sie weggerannt ist.” Oskar, the smooth one who had kissed her earlier, tilted her head to his again, his breath washing over her skin.

Fritz began to untie the front of her dress, starting at the top. “We help. Keep safe. Trade. Take far away. Yes?”

My body for freedom. My body for safety. My body for escaping a monster. Oskar was still hovering close to her, his pale eyes searching hers. There was a strange desperation to him, as if he wished so desperately for her to say yes.

“Gentle?” she whispered.

Oskar smiled, a sweet and dazzling thing. He seemed so chivalrous…perhaps they were her knights. They were not the legends of old, but fairytales were lies. This was the part of the story her father had left out for her young ears. This was the currency she had with which to pay.

And pay she would.

“Gentle,” he whispered back. He knew that much in French, it seemed. Oskar closed the distance between them then and kissed her a second time. This time he was slower, more careful. He stayed to his word. When his tongue softly entered her mouth, she surrendered to it.

She let her eyes slip shut. It was many moments before Oskar slowly broke the kiss and placed another tender gesture against her cheek.

When Tomaz gathered her up in his arms, carrying her like he might a bride, she didn’t fight him. She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to see where they were going. This was the price of her freedom. This was the price of her survival.

Perhaps she would learn to enjoy it. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. Something twisted in her stomach. No matter the fact that his was her path forward to freedom, she was afraid. Part of her knew this was more than likely a mistake. If I do this, I am a whore. If I pay them in sex, and receive their protection, that is what I have become.

When Tomaz laid her down, she felt straw at her back. Opening her eyes, she saw that he had taken them behind a small structure. It was dark and far away from where they might be seen. At least it is not a barn. At least I will not be rutted like an animal surrounded by what I’ve become.

Tears stung her eyes. Fritz knelt at her side and wiped them away. “What wrong, pretty?”

“I am a whore…”

He chuckled. “No. No whore.” He kissed her cheek where he had stroked the tears away. “Not job. Trade. Ours.”

Ours.

A whore with three clients is still a whore.

But I will be free of Gideon. Far, far away from where he could find me. Swallowing the rock in her throat—and her pride—she took in a deep breath, held it, and let it out in a wavering rush.

She nodded.

“I fear I will be a terrible harlot. This is my first time.”

Fritz blinked. “Virgin?”

She nodded.

With a huff of a laugh, he said something to the others under his breath that she didn’t quite catch. But at their expressions, she knew he had relayed the message.

Oskar tutted. “Was für ein Mann verschmäht so eine schöne Frau?”

Smiling, Tomaz nudged her knees apart. She let him kneel between them, and she watched in rapt fascination and nervousness as he placed a hand close to her head to lean down over her. He caught her cheek in his palm.

He kissed her, fiery and passionate. Where Oskar was sweet and tender, invading her mouth like they were in a dance—Tomaz claimed her like they were in a brawl. His tongue tangled with hers.

She moaned against his lips. She couldn’t help it. It was…it was good. When he parted from her, her body felt flush, and her chest was rising and falling faster than it had before. He smiled down at her again, his dark eyes smoldering in lust. “Tja, ich würde sagen—sein Verlust, unser Gewinn...und natürlich ihrer.” He sat back.

Detached, feeling almost as though she weren’t really there, she watched as they undressed her. Tomaz finished unlacing her house dress, and she let them pull it from her. Her underthings followed shortly after.Soon, she was naked before them, lying in the straw. She felt like a foolish peasant girl, lured away by the promise of kindness in exchange for debauchery. And that is what I have become.

Oskar lowered himself to her, and she gasped as he captured one of her nipples in his mouth, worrying it between his teeth, sucking on her as though he were a babe. She whimpered in nervous fear and twisted her hands into the hay beneath her. But matched with it in equal step was…was pleasure. It felt like bliss.

“Shh, shh.” Fritz lay down on his side beside her and turned her to meet his gaze. “Look me.”

“Watch,” she halfheartedly corrected him.

Chuckling, he stroked her cheek. “Watch.”

Tomaz let out a hum from over her. “Wenn wir ihr Deutsch beibringen, haben wir den verführerischsten Übersetzer, den ich je gesehen habe.”

When his hands grasped her knees, she went rigid and let out a squeak of fear. She looked up at Tomaz to see him still kneeling between her bare legs. He was staring down at her sex, a hungry and needy expression consuming him.

And he had freed himself from his pants.

Oh, oh, God above. Oh, God above!

She knew what it meant to make love. She did. Though she had never experienced it herself, the details had not escaped her. She also understood fucking. And that was what this was. It was not love. It was a transaction. She knew what she had implicitly agreed to with them.

But to see him there? Like that? Ready to plunge himself inside her?

Panic broke over her, and she struggled. She shoved Oskar away from her.

“No, no, watch—” Fritz turned her head back to him. “Watch me. Marguerite. We help. We save.”

“Save…” She shivered.

“Husband…evil. You, ours. Join.” He gestured at the three of them. “Speak for us. Be ours. Teach French.” He chuckled. “My French bad.”

“It really is terrible,” she replied, her voice caught as barely more than a whisper.

“Safe.” Fritz ran a hand over her cheek, before slipping it into her hair. He placed his forehead to hers. “Marguerite safe.”

Safe. Free. Far away.

She nodded once again, however much she trembled. “Join. Yes…”

Oskar went back to playing with her breasts. He ran his tongue over the hard bud of her nipple and groaned. She gasped in response, her body reacting to the sensations, sending a sharp thrill of pleasure arching through her. “Ich glaube, ich bin verliebt.”

“Ich auch,” Fritz whispered as he crept his face closer to hers. “Marguerite…stole hearts.”

She chuckled. “Now you’re lying.”

He shrugged a shoulder. And then he kissed her. Tomaz was fiery and passionate. Oskar was sweet and smooth. And Fritz was like kissing a playful imp. He was teasing, always breaking away just when she wanted more to watch her before descending again. He nipped at her lips mischievously, chuckling at the noises she made.

Tomaz was stroking her thighs slowly before running a hand over her stomach, splaying along her abdomen. It seemed he didn’t want to startle her. She appreciated that. But when one of Tomaz’s hands left her knee to slip between her legs, she gasped and broke away from Friz to watch Tomaz.

He smiled down at her reassuringly. “Gentle.”

Then he touched her. His hand stroked over that part of her body that no one had ever touched, save her. She could not look away. Fritz kissed her cheek, his free hand stroking her body. Oskar sat back as well, and she noticed him undo his own trousers to pleasure himself.

“Gentle,” she repeated, her heart once more pounding in her ears.

Tomaz’s fingers worked over her, slowly, carefully, tenderly. Caressing her, toying with her, sending pangs of pleasure arching up through her spine. His dark eyes stayed trained on hers, as if watching for any sign of resistance.

If she screamed, they would stop. She was certain of it. This deal was hers to make, not theirs. This was not rape. And for that, she was immensely relieved. Perhaps these men could be my friends…perhaps they could be my lovers. Father had many women. Why might I not have many men? Is that not only fair?

She reached for Fritz’s hand, and he took it eagerly, squeezing it tightly.

“Good, Marguerite. Good, yes,” he urged her, kissing her cheek. “Safe.”

Tomaz shifted, leaning forward, lowering his body between her legs. Oskar had to move, shuffling to kneel by her head. She could see him in the corner of her eye, stroking himself, and knew that tonight would not begin and end with the man over her.

Tomaz kissed her then, softer than the first time, but not by much. She surrendered to him. She surrendered to this.

Perhaps this will even feel good. It has so far.

He parted from her to prop himself over her body, and she felt him there at her entrance.

It was time.

Spreading her knees wide for him, she braced herself.

Two dark claws split through Tomaz’s eyes from the back like meat on a skewer. Two jagged, black points jutted from the sockets.

Blood poured onto her face.

Marguerite screamed.