Page 14 of Mischief Maker

Chapter Eleven

Kireth

N othing has ever felt so right or so good as this life.

Every day I work in the field, and while once upon a time I found such a thing dangerously tedious, doing it for Faela puts a spring in my step and guides my hands as I care for the crops.

Every evening, I enjoy her body, making her moan and whimper, cry and scream.

She holds on to my horns while she rides my cock and crumples to the bed while I take her from behind.

She’s so tight and wet that every stroke makes an indecent noise.

The flawless, tight grip of her cunt sends me flying over the cliff so hard and so fast that I worry I might plummet to my death.

Nothing has ever felt so right or so good as loving my farm girl.

I’ve stopped counting the tasks, and I don’t know if Faela has noticed yet. She is absorbed, understandably so, in the recovery of her beloved farm. The grass grows thicker and greener than ever, and now her cows and sheep are fattening up, giving us more milk. Meat will be plentiful this fall.

If I do not count them, then our time together can never run out. Now that I have her, there is no possible way I could leave.

The crops are coming back to life and thriving thanks to the potion, my magic, and the mighty power of the sun.

It somewhat assuages my guilt for my part in all of this to see the farm coming back to life.

We spend a few days digging new irrigation to make sure the plants get plenty of water, and soon we will begin harvesting the leafy greens.

Every day that we use the potion, the curse retreats farther.

We are pushing it away from the house and toward the riverbank, and that’s where we plan to capture it.

Faela has an old jewelry box where her mother kept a single silver chain, and it will work perfectly for our purposes.

When the curse is finally small and weak enough to be caught, we will trap it inside, lock it, and throw away the key.

Well, metaphorically speaking. I have advised her we should keep it in the event she makes a terrible enemy one day and wants to wreak havoc upon them.

“That’s an awful thing to do,” she says, but she’s laughing merrily as she says it. “You are such a troublemaker.”

Then the day comes that the curse has been whittled down to a small black globule, occupying a square foot of land just to the northeast of the house.

I call for Faela to bring the box, and we both crouch on either side of the shivering patch of darkened earth.

I torment one edge with a droplet of the potion, and the curse skirts away—heading right toward the box.

“Open it!” I call out. Faela lifts the lid as I drop more potion, driving the curse toward her.

At that moment, I wonder if this was a mistake, and it ought to be me holding the box in case the curse tries to attack.

Then, at least, it would land on me, and I might have a chance of fighting it off.

I don’t know what it would do if it latched onto Faela.

One more drop, and the blob leaps off the ground, ready to run for it. Faela jumps to attention and tilts the open box down... scooping up the curse inside.

She slams the lid, pushes down the latch, and twists the key in the lock. The box clicks with a rather satisfactory sound.

Now the pox on her farm has been removed, and it thrashes and wails from inside its wooden prison. The deed is done.

When we take the box inside and set it on the mantel over the fire, I congratulate Faela on such a marvelous job trapping that wretched thing. She acted quickly and decisively, and I am proud of her.

“We still ought to get rid of it,” she says, eyeing the box warily. “Anyway, I have a surprise to celebrate!”

She practically runs to the cellar to retrieve her prize. When she returns, she’s carrying two big water skins. I watch with curiosity, my damned tail flicking wildly in anticipation. She pours the liquid in the skin into a cup, and I’m overtaken by the marvelous scent of wine.

Oh, and it is sweet, as sweet as my girl’s cunt. My mouth is watering by the time she hands me the cup.

“You’re quiet,” she says, appearing a little nervous. “I thought you liked wine?”

“I don’t like wine,” I tell her, taking it from her hand like it is a fragile baby rabbit. “I love it.”

I drain the cup in a few quick gulps, relishing the way the wine slides down my tongue and into my belly, where it begins warming me from the inside out.

Clearly pleased by my reaction, Faela pours a cup of her own and sips it slowly and pointedly.

Right. Wine is for enjoying at a more reasonable speed.

But the taste reminds me of a time long past, when I enjoyed the company of other immortals and half-immortals, and we had great, wondrous orgies in the hall of the gods.

Faela and I sit outside that night, lying in the lush green grass with her legs sprawled across mine. We each take a sip of wine now and then, and there’s a pleasant, buzzing haze descending on me.

“Kireth?” she asks, and I realize neither of us has spoken in a while. I wonder what she’s thinking about.

“Mmhmm?” I could lie in this spot, having wine with my sweet girl, until the end of time.

“Do you know why that curse was here?” she asks, and sits up a little. “I’ve always wondered what you did when you left and came back with the potion.”

Oh. That. If there was anything I’d rather less think about.

I’m not sure how much to tell her. Outright lying feels wrong—not to my good Faela. But there are many undignified points in the story on my part. Ultimately, what happened here is my fault, isn’t it?

The death of her mother. The struggle and the strife on the farm.

That’s an ugly thought, to know I am to blame for all this. What would my sweet girl do if she learned the truth? She would be devastated. She might even dismiss me and send me back to my temple.

I can’t have that.

“I went and saw my mother,” I confess. I slide closer to her, bringing her head onto my chest so she’s using me as a pillow and I can play with her hair while I drink more wine.

Faela tilts her chin up to look at me. “Your mother? Who is that?”

“The goddess Lucia. Well, ‘mother’ is the best approximation of our relationship.” I snort. She was really a terrible mother in that sense of the word.

“Wait, the goddess? She gave birth to you?”

Again I laugh. Talking with mortals about the affairs of gods has always amused me because they are so certain that their experience is universal.

“She made me,” I explain, and go on to tell her how Lucia carved me from stone fully formed and breathed life into my lungs.

“So you’ve always been this way?” Faela asks.

It depends on whether she means in body or in mind.

Certainly nothing has changed on the outside, but I feel as if the interior Kireth I am now is nowhere near the one I was only a few months ago.

I have discovered a whole new plane of existence here, separate from either the mortal or the immortal one.

Instead, I just nod. “Always.”

“Hmm,” she says, and returns to lying back against me. “So Lucia decided to help us?”

“She recognized the curse when I described it and gave me the recipe.”

“That was very kind of her,” Faela says, and there’s a little twinge in her voice like she senses there are some words missing. “I didn’t realize that gods were so selfless.”

“We are mother and son,” I say by way of explanation. “More wine?” I am eager to change the subject.

Faela hands me her cup without a word and falls back on the grass to look up at the stars as I fetch us refills. We consume more and more of the delicious nectar until we are rolled up together and giggling, and I’m kissing her face all over. She wails with protest as she laughs, trying to escape.

“Just stop being kissable,” I say accusingly, my voice slurring.

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” Her body is rubbing so deliciously at my groin that I might just pop off right here. I pull her against me and peel up the skirt of her dress, where I find she’s wearing nothing underneath.

“Oh, you minx!” I reach down and grip her soft, pretty hips. She thrusts them into me, and with all that heady wine bubbling up inside me, I only want one thing.

I test her first, winding a finger down between her legs.

Usually I fuck her with my mouth first, cock second, but tonight is different.

We have finally conquered the menace that kept this wonderful, hard-working girl locked up.

I need to feel her wrapped all the way around me, the only sound on the farm her colorful moans.

Faela gasps as I push a finger inside her, and she’s already soaked for me. I wonder how long she’s been lusting already.

In one motion, I roll on top of her, and my hips easily find their place between her legs. I hike up her ass with my hands because I plan on fucking her hard and deep. Her eyes are wide, her lips spread in a circle. When she says my name, there’s a fervent need in her drunken voice.

“Please, Kireth,” she says, her hazel eyes bright under the starlight.

Of course I acquiesce, positioning the head of my cock right at that small, pinkish slit. It gasps for me, opening and closing as her body thrums with her desire. I need to fill her and become filled with her.

Faela is so wet that it’s easy to plunge into her, and she writhes underneath me. I fuck her like this, burying myself so deep that my sac slaps against her fine, round ass until she’s tearing out grass with her hands and her head is thrashing back and forth.

“Kireth,” she moans. “You feel so good, I might die. Please, please—” She descends into nonsense as I reach as far into her as I can and pump there, searching out the place that drives her wild.

Almost immediately her climax takes her, and Faela screams as her head falls back and her cunt grips like a vise around me. Oh, yes, this is definitely my purpose for existing.

I pour all of myself into her, knowing that she is drinking the remedy I make every week. Each thrust tears more of my own orgasm out of me, and it’s beyond anything I’ve had in my long, long lifetime.

I struggle not to simply collapse on top of her. Instead I roll us over, my cock still engorged inside her, and press her forehead to my chest.

Faela traces the patterns on my body with the pad of her finger, as if she enjoys the feel of my skin. It is a wondrous thing to be loved by this woman.

“I’m so glad that terrible curse is gone,” I murmur against her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of it, of her . The wine is working its way through me, and I think how all that matters to me now is her happiness. “I’m sorry for my part in it.”

Faela’s body stiffens in my arms.

“What?” she asks quietly. “What do you mean, Kireth?”

My mouth closes so hard my teeth clack together. What have I done?