Page 15 of War Mage (The War Brides of Adrik #4)
Grazrath
T he night’s depravities wind down, the orgy I hosted provided a glut of sex, blood, and pain. Naked bodies lay on the floor amidst the carnage, some alive, some not. The display did little to relieve my boredom, however. It is difficult to be satisfied when I cannot join in on the mayhem, but my cock doesn’t work right ever since that fucking Lady Pellia almost sliced it off with her dagger. Her death, when I get ahold of her and her orc, will not be swift. So, no, I cannot partake in sexual pleasures for long before my cock goes unwillingly soft. To keep face in front of the mortals I must only watch from a distance. It is frustrating because there is nothing I love more than the marriage of my own sexual pleasure with the exquisite agony of my partner. Watching other’s uninspired performances while feeding on the tepid pain and misery they cause is aggravating. When I finally get a magical slave to feed on, I will be able to heal my body completely and fix this defect.
As it is now sunrise, the vampires around me come down from the high of the bloodlust that the orgy entranced them in and slowly make their way out of the throne room back to their quarters to sleep. I will soon do the same. Normally, in my true body, I do not need to sleep. Being hosted in a mortal body, however, has its challenges. One is the need to sleep, though thank all that is unholy that I do not need to eat solid food, the blood of my slaves enough to sate that physical hunger.
Servants come in with carts to dispose of the dead bodies and my boredom is back. Already, I tire of the new, weak blood slaves that Malik scrounged up for me after I killed the last batch. I need someone special, someone unique. Someone with magic. I curse the Adrikians again that they must have hindered my last shipment from Vargan. It is already unbearable that I must rely on a mortal to supply me with what I need. To have negotiated the contract only to not have it even be fulfilled is an affront.
I get off the throne and stretch, my silk robes pulling across my chest. Time to go to my rooms. At least during the oblivion of mortal sleep I cannot feel this incessant boredom. But before I can leave, Malik enters the room, stepping gingerly over the remaining bodies on the floor.
“Malik,” I greet, my lips curling in disgust. The war effort is still not going well and every day that Queen Adalind still isn’t in my clutches is a day closer to the vampire prince finding himself chained in my slave stable. But he doesn’t know that.
“Good news, my lord,” Malik begins, with his characteristic bowing and scraping.
That piques my interest. “Good news? You have broken through the front and have advanced the battlelines?”
The vampire prince wilts a little under my words. “Erm, no, Your Demonic Majesty. No change at the front. But Magistrate Zadicus has sent word. He’s on his way and he is bringing an offering with him. A mage.”
Everything in me goes still. “A mage?” I ask, not bothering to hide my eagerness. “On their way here? Now?”
“Yes, they are only scant days away from Evernight,” Malik tells me, unaware of the weight of his news. “Apparently, Vargan the Honorless’ ship was not caught by the Adrkians but went down in a storm. But they were able to save one of the cargo, an air mage said to have potent magic.”
Shivers of pleasure run down my spine at the news. A mage, coming here. To be given to me as an offering. I cannot help but laugh. “Do you not know what this means, Malik? The war is as good as over!”
“My lord?” questions the prince, not understanding.
“When I finally get to feed on a mage of power, I will replenish the stores of my demonic energy. I will be able to summon dark magic unlike this world has seen since the God War! I will crush the forces keeping us at bay and swarm over Adrik and Orik. Then, when we have a sentient blood slave for every vampire in Barakrin, we will pour over Anar’i and black out the sun!”
“What joyous news,” Malik replies, bowing. “I look forward to seeing you at the peak of your abilities.”
“This Zadicus will be rewarded heavily,” I remark. “A duchy in Barakrin and a kingdom of his own once we have enslaved all of the continent.”
“It will be done,” Malik says, bowing again.
“Now get out, Malik,” I say carelessly. “And do not disturb me again unless you have favorable news from the front.”
“Of course, Our Lord of Pain and Misery,” the prince says, backing out of the room. “I will do my best to serve you.”
His sniveling is distasteful, but even having to interact with Malik doesn’t sour my mood. An air mage. Coming here. Perhaps the primordial powers, the ones that created gods and demons, are smiling upon me.
Now, all I must do is wait.