Elfhome

“It’s soft because he’s young.” Tommy lit his last cigarette, dragged the smoke deep into his lungs and wished he had a whiskey to chase it. It had been a shit day. “It will shed out to coarser fur when he gets older.”

“I’ve never seen a child before.”

Tommy thought she meant “oni child” and started to bristle. Why did the elves insist that they were always “oni” and not “human?” They were equally half of each.

Jewel Tear, though, took no notice of his soft growl. “He’s so small. I don’t remember being so little, but I suppose I was.”

It was then he realized she meant “child” in general, but that didn’t seem possible. Elves weren’t adult until they were over a hundred years old. “You’ve never seen a child before?”

“They’re like mythical things. Oh, I’ve met a few older doubles at Summer Court but you can’t really count them, they’re all but adults by that time. They’re not tiny like this.”

The elves’ terror of the oni’s proliferation suddenly made a great deal more sense. Tommy couldn’t put a number to the infants he’d held, diapered, held as they died from beatings their own fathers gave them, and quietly disposed of. He was only twenty-four. To live to be more than a hundred and had never seen a child?

“Can he talk?” Jewel petted the sleeping boy like he was a puppy. “Or isn’t he old enough yet? When do children start to talk? My mother was horrified that all I did for months after I was born was laugh and cry — she thought there was something wrong with me.”

“Yes, he can talk. He’s just shy. He’s never met anyone outside our family.”

“Because of how he looks.”

“Yes.”

Jewel took Spot’s very small and human hand in hers and studied it closely. “His mother was human? Your mother’s sister?”

“Yes.”

Carefully she shifted the boy off her lap and gave his furry head one last pet. “What of his father?”

He took another drag on his cigarette and breathed out the truth. “I killed him.”

He’d never told anyone. He might have been Lord Tomtom’s bastard son, but the warriors his father had brought from Onihida were all considered royalty compared to the half-bloods born in Pittsburgh. His father would have executed Tommy if he’d found out. It had always been too dangerous to tell anyone. Tommy wasn’t even sure why he told her.

She nodded, neither shocked nor dismayed.

Tommy found himself explaining. “The oni used my mother and aunts as whores. It was safest just to suffer. But Spot’s father was more animal than most oni. He hurt my aunt badly. I had to do something.”

She watched Spot sleeping for a minute before murmuring, “It was good of you to hate the father, but love the child.”

He scoffed at the use of the word love. He cared for his family and valued them but only the weak used words like “love” and “cherish.”

Any intelligent reply he had in his head vanished when she plucked at her dress bodice to cool herself. It left him with just hard want. For a moment or two, she didn’t notice his focus. Then she realized where his gaze was riveted. She stilled, and then hooking her fingers into her bodice, she slid it down, freeing her right breast.

His hand cupped it before he even realized he had moved. It was perfection of a breast, filling his palm without overflowing, softer than silk, the nipple red and beautiful as a flower. He caressed it lightly with the pad of his thumb and her gasp made it feel like a cord had been threaded down through his body, wrapped tight around the base of his dick, and yanked tight.

He managed to stop himself inches from kissing her. She had her head tilted up, lips parted, ready for him. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

She blushed and tried to look away.

“Answer me!”

Anger flared in her eyes. “I’m fertile. I know what they did to the kitsune. They promised me the same when they got me to whelping pens.”

“So you’re using me to get yourself pregnant?”

“It’s not as if you haven’t enjoyed the process.” She snarled. “And yes, if I can fill my womb with your child, there won’t room for them to get some monster on me, no matter what they mate me with.”

Her eyes blazed at him, full of fury and determination. He had the sudden image of her knocking him down and straddling him to get what she wanted. The thought took him to his knees. She tangled her fingers tightly in his hair and pulled him to her breast. It tasted as perfect as it looked. It was even better as he watched her anger melt to pure wanton pleasure.

He had heard once that the original lords of the elves had bred the domana to be the perfect whores. He could readily believe it as he stripped her bare. Everything from the unbelievable softness of her skin to how she contracted around him as he nibbled on her ears, it was as if she’d been created bring pleasure. He would never again have a female so perfect in every way. He wallowed in her perfection.

Yes, he was going to enjoy filling her womb. He’d worry about the consequences later.

32: Scry