Truth Can't Be Faked (4)
Theorad could not bring himself to stop Ashley. He could scarcely imagine the anguish it had taken for her to act on this decision. And now, joined so intimately with her, he could hardly ask her to move away.
Taking his silence as agreement, Ashley set her hands on his shoulders and began to move.
“Ah… hah…”
At first her breaths spoke more of discomfort than pleasure. She sometimes stopped, uncertain of the unfamiliar position. Too embarrassed to meet his eyes, she kept her gaze lowered.
Her shyness was at once endearing and painful to watch. Theorad lifted his hands and gently caressed her breasts. Her soft skin warmed his palms, and he found it difficult to keep his hands still.
Ashley gasped and flushed as his touch grew more intimate.
“Th-there… no, you can't…”
She had permitted him to touch her before, but now she voiced an objection. Whether it was embarrassment or something more, Theorad laughed softly and continued his caress.
“Ah… Theorad…”
Ashley leaned against him, her arms circling his neck. With each tentative movement, pleasure began to temper the pain.
Yet she slowed. She seemed anxious that if they continued too urgently, she would lose control before he did.
“How… ah…”
Her voice near his ear stirred him further. Theorad caught her hips, and soon their movements grew more vigorous.
The room filled with the sounds of their uneven breathing. Ashley clung to his neck and shut her eyes as the intensity increased.
“Ah… ah…!”
At last her body tightened and trembled against his.
“Ah…!”
A little shudder ran through her. She had reached her climax.
Theorad smiled faintly and spoke while she struggled to recover her breath and blinked away tears.
“Ashley, I never knew you could be so passionate. You're enjoying this quite a lot.”
“N-no… only with Sir Theorad… I…”
Her soft voice overflowed with affection. She buried her face against his neck, as though insisting that only he could make her feel this way.
“I love you. I love you so much, Theorad…”
She kissed the side of his neck in the lingering haze of pleasure, clinging to him with almost puppy-like devotion.
Her tenderness brought Theorad close to the end of his restraint. He took the lead in their embrace.
“Ah…!”
Their movements became stronger. Ashley welcomed him now, her earlier pain giving way to pleasure.
“Inside… please… ah, yes…”
As their passion intensified, coherent speech became difficult. Both were swept up in what they were feeling, conscious of little beyond each other.
Their abandoned restraint only drove them further. Theorad felt his climax approaching and could no longer hold himself back.
“Ah…!”
Ashley sensed it too and pressed herself closer. Theorad held her tightly and ejaculated inside her.
“Hah…”
They remained in an exhausted embrace. Theorad leaned back against the chair; Ashley rested her chin on his shoulder, breathing faintly and making no move to separate from him.
For a time neither spoke. Then belated guilt crept across Ashley's face.
“I'm sorry…”
“…What for?”
“I was foolish… I told you to indulge yourself, then behaved so recklessly.”
Theorad could not help laughing softly.
“Now you realize?”
Her warmth still pressed against him. He let the silence settle and gently smoothed the back of her disheveled blond hair.
“In any case, perhaps we should hold the wedding ceremony as soon as we return home. It would be best to avoid any cause for suspicion, wouldn't it?”
Only now did Ashley fully confront the risk they had taken. Tears gathered in her eyes. She bit her lip and clung more tightly to Theorad.
“…I'm sorry.”
So clever, and still so young.
Theorad held her as long as she needed, quietly comforting her until the edge of her guilt began to fade.
Meanwhile, at a Black Dogs guard post…
“…”
Men in black masks stared ahead with bored expressions.
The post had once served to direct noble clients arriving with requests and turn back travelers who wandered onto the grounds. Two or three guards had ordinarily been enough.
Now more than ten men were on duty. Their leader, alarmed by rumors that Theorad Deharem had returned from the dead, had reinforced the watch.
Returned from the dead? What kind of nonsense is that?
The order made little sense to one of the men, Kirdkel. He had also heard that the organization meant to move its hideout soon, another decision that struck him as ridiculous.
He leaned against the wooden watchtower and yawned.
How long until my shift ends?
He wanted to return to headquarters and sleep. Older members of the group were laughing as they talked about assaulting village women, but Kirdkel, a recent recruit, felt only irritation at being stuck on guard duty.
They told me joining would let me commit whatever crimes I liked and take any woman I wanted…
Instead, he had endured grueling training, curses from his seniors, and kicks to the stomach. He could not take part in real assignments until he had completed his probation, so for now he had to endure it.
“Huh? What's that?”
A lookout atop the tower had noticed something. He squinted into the distance, blinked several times, then cried out in terror.
“A g-ghost…! No! It's Theorad Deharem!”
The other killers frowned. Surely this was a joke. Yet when they looked, they too froze.
Theorad Deharem was walking toward them across the open plain.
He adjusted his clothes as he strode forward, showing no hesitation, as though he had known exactly where to find them.
“What the hell? Why is that bastard alive?”
“I don't know! Shut up and ready your weapons!”
Running from a mage would be foolish. The guards gripped their weapons and prepared to attack.
Kirdkel did the same, though he was terrified by the approaching man, who paid no heed to the armed men awaiting him.
The figure in Theorad's likeness halted a short distance from the post. While the guards' palms grew damp with sweat, a cruel smile crossed his face.
“What a swarm of flies you've gathered here.”
The words carried a crushing pressure. It was an insult, but no one dared answer. One person seemed to overwhelm them all, and the guards began to retreat.
“Afraid? You thought you'd killed your enemy, and now he's standing before you. You must think you're seeing a ghost.”
The man shrugged, openly mocking their frightened faces.
“How insulting. To think scum like you imagined you could kill me. You're hardly worthy of the effort.”
The smile vanished. His face went cold; an almost tangible murderous fury settled over it.
“Worthless worms. You dare raise your weapons against me…!”
The air shifted.
The guards sensed magic being prepared and charged, Kirdkel among them. He had been taught that even a powerful mage was vulnerable if struck before completing an incantation.
In the next instant, Kirdkel learned how little that lesson was worth.
Slash—
The leading attacker lost both legs and fell before he could scream.
What…?
The next men to rush forward were cut down as well. Limbs were severed in an instant; some attackers were cleaved through the torso and fell with their entrails spilling out.
How is this possible?
Kirdkel could not understand what he had seen. In the space of a blink, invisible cuts had passed through the charging men, leaving them scattered across the ground.
Blood struck the dust. Only a moment later did the screams erupt. The sight was so dreadful that the survivors lost their will to fight.
Kirdkel stared at his fallen seniors, horrified to realize that he alone was still unhurt.
“Ah… uh…!”
His weapon slipped from his trembling hands. The man in Theorad's likeness was walking directly toward him, his overcoat still untouched by blood.
Step. Step.
Kirdkel retreated in panic, stumbled over a stone, and fell.
“Ah…!”
He looked up to find those cold eyes already above him. The figure seemed as irresistible as a natural disaster. Kirdkel forgot how to beg for mercy and began to weep.
“Go back and tell them.”
The figure wearing Theorad's face pronounced the warning.
“Your nightmare has arrived.”