The great hall still hummed with the aftershock of my magic power when Renard Valois raised a hand. Then his voice, weighty, cut through the stunned silence like a thin blade.
"Attendants… leave us," he said calmly. "This discussion is for rulers alone now."
Marina glanced at Elara. And I did the same. Then Elara gave a subtle nod—meaning permission granted.
Sigh. Now I feel bad; Like, I kind of spoiled the mood, or something.
The attendants all moved as one, filing out with modest efficiency. I followed Marina through the massive doors, the heavy marble closing behind us with a soft thud that echoed down the corridor.
Outside, the hallway was cooler, lit by tall windows that let in slanting afternoon light. The other attendants spread out, some leaning against pillars, others murmuring in low voices. Then my eyes immediately found her.
I had seen her when she was inside the hall—a dark-skinned woman who had stood behind Renard. She was impossible to miss: tall, silver hair in a tight braid, black-and-gold coat fitting her powerful frame perfectly.
The tattoos on her exposed left arm coiled like living vines. Resembling those Amazon's patterns… Quite unmistakable, now that I looked closer.
Her dark eyes scanned the corridor with bodyguard vigilance, a frightening large sword strapped across her back.
I leaned toward Marina. "That woman who was behind the king… is she an Amazon?"
Marina followed my gaze, her eyes narrowing faintly. "One could say that. But if you truly are curious, wait for Her Majesty to return. She can answer better than I."
Eh? What does that mean? So she's important after all?
Before I could press on for more gossip, a sudden pressure built in my bladder; so sharp and surprisingly insistent.
Hey, did it always come upon folks like that?! My knees were shaking!
I shifted and fidgeted uncomfortably, cursing Tamar and the others silently. All those honeyed wine during the kissing game had finally caught up with me.
The silver-haired woman then noticed immediately, due to my uneasiness. Her dark eyes flicked to my fidgeting stance.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
I flushed and replied. "Uhm… I… need to, uh… I need the bathroom."
She straightened without hesitation. "In that case, I'll take you."
Marina instantly glanced, one brow raised. "But the meeting—"
"Surely it won't take long," the woman declared evenly.
Her voice was deep and controlled, although still feminine; but more like someone used to giving orders quietly.
Marina sighed, "It can't be helped," and waved us on.
The silver-haired woman led me down a side corridor, footsteps silent on the polished stone.
Up close, she was even more striking than I thought: her skin was deep bronze, her features were very sharp and charming, and her body radiated restrained power beneath the formal coat.
She didn't smile or make small talk. Just her stoic focus… Until;
"I'm Izra, by the way," she said finally, as we turned a corner. "The personal guard to King Renard."
"O-Oh… I'm Benjamin Mark," I replied, trying to walk normally despite the growing urgency in my lower abdomen.
Damn! I'm going to pee my pants. Hurry!
We passed through a garden door into an attached wing; an extravagant guest suite overlooking manicured lawns.
Silk drapes framed tall windows, plush rugs covered the floor, a massive canopied bed dominated one wall, and scented candles flickered on ornate tables. The air was warm and heavy with fluorescent… and something else scented.
I blinked, taking in the luxury. "Huh? This… is the bathroom?"
Izra closed the door behind us with a soft click. "No."
No?! Then how I'm I supposed to—
Wow! The pressure in my bladder vanished as suddenly as it appeared. I didn't want to pee anymore.
Super weird.
I straightened up, releasing my stomach, and quite confused. "Wait… why don't I need to go anymore?"
Izra's dark eyes met mine, as a faint flush rose on her cheeks; for me, the first crack in her stoic expression.
"Worry not. It was just a small spell. I wanted to bring you here without questions."
She reached for the clasps of her coat, undoing them slowly. The fabric parted, revealing toned arms, the full swell of her breasts confined beneath a fitted undershirt, the curve of her waist widening to the strong hips.
And her tattoos covered more skin than I'd anticipated; dark, vines which twisted over her shoulders and down the ribs; They then disappeared beneath her cloth—
Wai— This was what she wanted to do?! Ah, but we just met and all…
"I haven't lain with a man in decades," she said, her voice low and rough with desire.
She shrugged the coat off, letting it fall. "My master, Renard, is divine and, thus, untouchable to me. Moreover, other males are far too weak to match my libido. They break very easily, too."
GULP. B-Break?
Her undershirt followed, pulled over her head in one motion. Her full, heavy breasts dropped free, revealing dark nipples already hard, rising and falling with quickened breath.
And the tattoos framed them perfectly, with vines curling around like lovers' hands.
She really was the most tattooed person I've ever seen before.
"But a god-touched…" She stepped closer, heat radiating from her skin. "You might endure."
My mouth went dry.
But actually, she was indeed breathtaking: her muscle and curve were in perfect balance, her skin gleaming, and her silver braid swaying as she moved. The scent from her arousal hit me, warm and intoxicating.
Soon, Izra pressed against me, her hands sliding under my fur coat, and her palms hot on my back.
Her breath traced my neck, then my lips. It was very close and felt hungry, but it was not quite kissing. Her hips rolled subtly, grinding against my growing hardness.
"So, what do you say? Mate with me, god-touched."
Without waiting for my respectable decline, she stripped the rest of her clothes with considered indolence; her boots kicked aside, her pants peeled down powerful thighs, revealing the silver hairs between her legs already glistening.
Fully naked, she was a true spectacle: every inch inked and sculpted, her body flushed with evident decades of pent-up desire.
I couldn't help the thought, myself: she was magnificent.
Her hands moved to my coat, tugging it open, her fingers brushing my chest through the shirt beneath.
She leaned in, her breath ragged against my face, lips hovering a hair's breadth away from mine.
Her palms began to slid lower, gripping my hips strongly, pulling me even against her bare skin. Heat poured from her; the rubbery wetness of her groin smearing my pants, where her pussy pressed insistently.
My hands instinctively found her waist, my thumbs tracing the tattooed vines. Her skin seemed to burned under my touch.
"I-Izra…" I managed, voice slurred. "Those tattoos… aren't they Amazon?"
She paused, a bit puzzled, her dark eyes searching mine as her fingers worked my shirt buttons regardless.
"What? Elara and Marina didn't tell you?"
She pushed the coat off my shoulders, her hands roaming my chest greedily, and the nails scraping lightly.
"I am Elara's first born. I was claimed by Renard three thousand years ago. And I serve him till date."
Her lips brushed my jaw, hot and open-mouthed, as she tugged my pants lower. "Now… let's get you out of these before the meeting ends."
Her body pressed harder; her breasts crushing against my chest, the nipples dragging across skin, her thigh erotically sliding between mine.
Wet heat rubbed against my thigh, leaving slick trails. Her breath came in harsh gasps against my ear, hands clutching my back like she'd never let go.
I was rock-hard and aching, every nerve of mine on fire from her touch, like I was a virgin again. The room spun with jasmine and her scent, her flushed face inches away—eyes wild now, stoic mask shattered, lips parted and wet.
She moved as if I were a hot plate of her favorite food—one she hadn't eating for a very long time. She needed me... or rather, she craved me.
And the way things were going, I was beginning to want her too.
But the meeting… And Marina was waiting too. The distant sound of voices in the corridor reminded me our time was short.
Izra's hand again slid lower, gripping my cock through the fabric, a low growl escaping her throat.
Like a crazed beast, she wildly snuffled my neck, that I felt cool wind stir at that point:
"God-touched… You smell like you're ready." She murmured, her voice muffled and throaty, and her lips brushing my ear.