Chapter 47
Written by Bayzo Albion
The Forest Queen, perched nearby, watched me with those piercing eyes that seemed to delve straight into my soul. She broke the silence: "What occupies the thoughts of our quiet Master?"
"About how to get you into bed," I admitted bluntly, locking eyes with her amethyst gaze.
*Do her eyes change color with her moods?* I wondered silently.
She laughed—a sound like the tinkling of a forest stream, cool and invigorating. "Flattering... But we Forest Sovereigns don't feed on the life energy of mortals."
"Why not?" I frowned, genuine surprise creasing my brow.
"We draw sustenance from the forest itself," she explained, her voice softening like a gentle breeze. "Its sap, its breath, its magic..." She trailed her hand through the air, and tiny fireflies sparked to life between her fingers, dancing in a golden glow that illuminated the delicate veins in her skin.
I held her gaze, the weight of it pulling her to continue, as if compelled.
"We... cannot bear children, if that's what you're wondering," she added, a faint shadow of a smile touching her lips. "But we can share a bed. That's why so many men dream of claiming a nymph as a wife..." For the first time, a playful, teasing lilt crept into her tone, like a hidden melody in the wind.
The Baroness, who had been lounging idly and observing our exchange with a lazy amusement, smirked. "Throughout the ages, only the greatest warriors could hold onto three women. But our Gandalf here... he's not just tamed us three—he's made it so we don't want to let him go."
The Forest Queen, savoring each word as if tasting fine fruit, added thoughtfully: "Perhaps the secret lies in how he doesn't try to 'tame' us at all. He lets us be ourselves—wild, unpredictable, authentic..."
I simply smiled, watching as the first sunbeams played in their hair: golden like autumn leaves; silvery as chilled moonlight; fiery as a blazing sunset; and dark as a moonless forest night. This was my morning. My reality.
"You're strange. Utterly, hopelessly strange," the Forest Queen said, shaking her head slightly, though there was no hint of rejection in her eyes—only a spark of intrigue.
"If I were any different," I replied, tilting my head with a grin, "you'd be yawning from boredom by our third day together."
Her lips twitched, and I knew I'd claimed victory in this morning's verbal sparring match once again.
"That's the trouble," she murmured, her voice like the rustle of leaves in a dawn breeze. "You always find the words that disarm me. No room to argue, no chance to counter—it's like playing chess against the forest itself, where every move is foreordained."
"Well, it's time we..." I began, but the Forest Queen interrupted, her eyes igniting with a mischievous fire.
"Have some fun—three against one! Think you can handle that kind of intimate challenge?"
*Morning doesn't start with coffee,* my inner voice snickered wickedly.
– – –
Three hours later.
The Forest Queen regarded me with a cool, appraising interest—like a scholar examining a rare and baffling specimen under glass. Her gaze lingered, dissecting every nuance of my form.
"How... intriguing," she murmured, her voice whispering like leaves stirred by a faint wind. "You recover your strength faster than an elf awakening from a century-long slumber. And all from mere food. What's your secret?"
"I just love women. That's all there is to it."
Her slender brows arched in elegant surprise. "So much that you've spent years honing only your endurance, forsaking magic and martial arts?"
"Yes."
"Just 'yes'?" She tilted her head, as if straining to catch an unspoken echo. "I'm perplexed. What drives such sacrifices? What's the purpose?"
"Love," I said, meeting her eyes without flinching. "How about we make love? Just once."
Her lips parted slightly, betraying a flicker of curiosity before she masked it with a sly smile.
"After a night with me, your manhood won't rise for any other woman. You realize that?" There was no malice in her words, only an unyielding certainty, like the roots of an ancient tree.
"Is that a curse?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No," she replied gently, yet inexorably. "It's... for your own good."
"'The road to hell is paved with good intentions,'" I quoted, the proverb hanging in the air like a challenge.
Her gaze warmed for an instant, the corners of her mouth quirking, but she swiftly reclaimed her icy composure.
"Then make me regret refusing," she said, her voice laced with defiance.
I leaned in closer, her breath brushing my skin like a feather.
"I'm the best at what I do," I whispered with the quiet assurance of someone who never bluffs. "I've trained through ordeals that would turn any night with me into legend."
"Your words are empty air so far," she retorted coolly, though a tiny flame of interest danced in her eyes, betraying her facade.
I smirked, leaning even nearer until I could inhale the subtle, earthy scent of her hair—wildflowers and moss after rain.
"After a night with me, you'll become a nymphomaniac... specifically, *my* nymphomaniac."
She snorted, but her breathing deepened, quickening ever so slightly.
"What's the wager?"
I narrowed my eyes, pretending to ponder the stakes.
"Fine, I've changed my mind. Truth is, I just want to try something new... and you're lying here so conveniently before me." I trailed my fingers lazily along her shoulder, pressing just enough to feel the warmth of her skin yield beneath my touch.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't pull away—instead, she held still, as if daring me to continue.
"Afraid of losing?" she taunted, her voice a blend of mockery and provocation. "Then let the stake be our loyalty to each other. As partners, naturally."
"So, if I lose, I'll be devoted to you... and if I win, you'll be devoted to me?" I clarified, holding her gaze steady.
She nodded, unblinking, her eyes like polished gems.
"Precisely."
*And what about the plot? Where's the drama? The passion and love? What kind of union is this without emotion?* a lazy voice grumbled in the back of my mind.
"How do we decide the winner?" I asked, shoving aside the intrusive thoughts.
"Magic will judge," she said calmly, though her tone carried an undercurrent that blurred the line between promise and peril. "It's always fair."
I squinted, sensing a trap lurking beneath the surface.
"But there could be tricks... like illusory magic."
She smiled slowly—a predator's grin, the kind that hides an ace up the sleeve.
"You'll find out when the trial begins..." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, and in her eyes gleamed the thrill of the hunt, selecting its prey with deliberate care.
We sealed a magical contract, binding it with drops of our blood. In that instant, the air hummed with the aura of ancient spells, and invisible bonds—silken yet unbreakable—wove around us like threads in a tapestry. I felt our fates intertwine irrevocably, a knot that could never be undone without unraveling everything.
The Forest Queen's gaze drifted downward, lingering for a heartbeat before she smiled—a slow, knowing curve of her lips, warm and predatory all at once.
"Do you have any strength left?" she asked softly, tilting her head like a cat poised to pounce.
Under her scrutiny, it stirred to life, swelling with renewed vigor as if summoned by an unseen force, heat flooding through me.
She chuckled, shaking her head in mild disbelief.
"But you're still weary. Rest. Otherwise, our contest won't be fair." Her words wove together concern and sarcasm, sweet as honey laced with subtle venom.
I met her enigmatic stare—deep pools where one could drown if they lingered too long.
"I'm willing to lose," I said with a faint smile. "Just to make love to you. The rest... doesn't matter."
She froze for a heartbeat, as if deciphering whether I was jesting. Then something primal ignited in her eyes—a raw blend of astonishment and fascination that made her seem more alive, more vulnerable.
"You're... mad," she whispered. "Willing to go this far just to lie with me?"
*That's how you spin a tale... Heh, you're good,* my inner voice chuckled approvingly.
She drew nearer, her breath scorching my skin like embers from a dying fire.
"You know there's no taking back blows after the fight, right?" Her voice was low, thrumming with challenge. "Won't you regret not being at your peak?"
I held her gaze, unflinching.
"Never."
Her smile widened—confident, unshakable.
"Then victory is already mine," she declared, her tone that of a predator claiming its prize.
Her fingers glided lightly over my abdomen, descending with deliberate slowness, igniting fresh waves of desire that coursed through my veins like wildfire.
"Let's see how resilient you truly are, my brave hero..." she murmured, her words a tantalizing mix of derision and allure.
The last thing I recall is her hand sliding softly down my back, her body enveloping mine in a warm, protective cocoon. My mind faded into oblivion as I sank into that embrace, drowning in its sweetness—a deep, enveloping sleep where the world dissolved, leaving only her.