SHORT SPICY STORIES

FIRNES: Firnes are powerful immortal creatures (naturally women) who draw powers from Men's semen. They cannot be killed unless they are seriously mentally unstable (which is rare). But even when healthy, they can be killed my Male Firnes (which are rare as well).

HORDE: A horde is like a pack.

LAIR: This is where a Firne Horde inhabit.

KYRIAR: This is the leader of a Horde. A group of Kyriars are known as The Amethyst.

SYFIRL: The supreme head of Firnes. Above the Amethyst. She resides in Amperes and have total control over it.

AMPERES: The headquarter of Firnes. They visit once in a while. It's hidden in the real world and cannot be entered or exited unless the Syfirl permits.

~

Lust.

What amazes me is his attention to details. Oftentimes, I wonder if he'll be so intricate when fucking me-if he had the chance.

He's sat on the leafy ground twenty feet away from me, leaning against a thick tree.

His demeanor is relaxed, judging from how he drew a knee to his chest while leaving the other stretched out on the ground, both pulled apart to let his hands rest between them. I believe they're grazing his crotch.

I lift an exhausted paper scroll to my face. On it is a drawing carefully illustrated with charcoal.

Nineteen hours ago, I met Azalea. And he's already made a portrait of me.

Bringing the paper down, I stare at him and wonder whether even now I'm living rent free in his mind.

"Ha, you wish!" Loka hisses from behind me. The bastard-ass thinks her hour glass figure automatically makes her shine among other females.

She's quite the joker.

"Don't pretend like I don't know what you're thinking," she continues despite the fact that I'm ignoring her. "Your eyes tell. Even the poor guy would think you're falling in love with him."

I raise a brow, looking over my shoulders at Loka, rolling up the paper and tossing it to her.

Then I pick up the heavy shackles before standing up to approach Azalea.

The guy looks at me as I near him. He has a smoking frown on his face that could possibly torch the world if I were to create a spark.

As I reach where he's sitting, my shadow casts on him, shading him from the sun, while he looks at me with narrowed eyes; eyes that have seen more evil than the word itself.

Evils created by the very hands he used to sketch my image.

"Get up," I tell him.

He looks away, huffs a smile. Then-sluggishly-he obeys. "You do realize who I am, right?" he asks, almost chuckling.

"Your hands," I mumble instead, hearing Loka guffawing from my previous spot.

Her laugh alone answers Azalea's question, seeing how my last two words noted that I give no shit about the man's who and what.

More confirmations when he stretches his hands to me, and I push the shackles' cuffs around his wrists.

My prisoner-that's all he is; who he'll ever be from this moment onward.

"What exactly are you called; bane or hell?" Azalea says again.

That as well would have been ignored if Loka didn't chip in. "She's Socculus."

For fuck's sake.

Azalea huffs. "That a name?"

"Yeah... I think." Loka strolls away on that note, while I carefully make sure that the chain between Azalea's cuffs are tight enough to let me drag him through the woods if he triggers my temper.

I grab his arm and shove him to my front. "Move."

The chain is what connects us, wrapped around my wrist, clinking as the motherfucker walks.

He chuckles before mumbling, "Socculus, as in... Soccu... lus...t." Another silence. "Hm. How interesting." I'm still eager to maintain the silence. "Lust is better. The other's a mouthful."

"Your tongue would fare better rolled behind your teeth," I snap against my will.

Azalea chuckles again-that angers me the most. "My tongue would fare better tasting your ravishing sparks of deviltry. And it still won't roll behind my teeth. It never will."

I pass him a glare as I walk past him, pulling him with the chain harshly that he stumbles.

To the Firnes, Azalea is an offender. A grievous one.

He's a formidable witch who rules a powerful, autocratic society of witches that calls themselves The Silver Coven.

They terrorized all creatures in their vicinity, especially humans, until their victims' pleas reached our ears.

The Syfirl sent my horde to their aid. But the war sparked at a wrong time-summer season-when Firnes prefer to cuddle under icy pools instead of treading roads to battle.

We prefer to fight in winter, which is why we captured Azalea instead with the hope that his influence in the world decreases with time.

Except, Loka and I now have to put more effort at hiding while transferring the offender to Amperes, as his loyalist are still as fervent as they are outrageous and extremely brutal. And we're in no mood for a bloody clash.

All we have to do is follow the Forest of Oaks that leads directly to Gar Valley. Then we'll journey through the Creeping Tunnels of Eyesrall that is underneath the Gallant Peaks. From there, we'll make it to a waterfall, where lies the portal to Amperes.

If opening the portal at random places weren't forbidden for security reasons, it would have been easier to transport the criminal.

Now, avoiding the city and places with any trace of human would be the best option so as not to come in contact with Azalea's supporters.

"Do you really think this... darkness can hold my people from coming for me?" the man asks, and I catch Loka hanging upside-down from an oak branch.

The Forest of Oaks is known for its utter darkness. What exactly would invite light in a place shaded by a canopy of large oak branches?

And more so, why would anyone think we'd go through this dangerous path?

Only, we're Firnes, and we fear nothing.

Azalea catches up to walk side by side with me, looking at me. For some reason, that makes me feel small due to his gigantic form.

His broad shoulders would totally obstruct my view if I stood directly behind him.

As his stare persists, he huffs. "It'll be relieving if you can say more that one word at a time." I ignore him. He chuckles. "You know it's hot when you glare at me side-eyed, even if it's just for a moment."

I hold back the smile that nearly shows up on my face. Weird. I rarely smile.

Now it makes me wonder-why the hell am I flushed? I shouldn't be. Not for any anyone. Not for any man. And certainly not for Azalea.

He's my prisoner for god's fucking sake.

"Face

forward, captive," I hiss.

Azalea

raises his bound hands in surrender. "I will, Captor, if you'll

indulge me."

"It's

Socculus to you." I'm nearly snapping again.

"But

I prefer Lust. I say what I want."

In

as much as I feel like I want to hear him talk, it's needful that

he remains silent so I can maintain the codes that I'm supposed to,

and not keep my prisoner entertained.

"I

need a mouth gag, Loka!" I shout to the girl who's now way in

front of us.

Azalea

laughs as I sense his eyes go down on my body. "You need no

material gag when you have the most enticing lips to seal mine."

I

realize his gaze is stuck on my boobs.

In

truth, I myself have dressed rather too inappropriate for someone

going to battle when-of course-my cleavages are too exposed.

My

thighs are peeking out through my satin material as well. But those

are normal for Firnes.

It's

in our nature to be clad in skimps; mostly a thin satin cloth worn

around the bust area, and another wrapping the thighs and butt. This

exposes most parts of our body.

Loka's,

however, is worse. Her nipples are protruding through the cloth and

if she lifts her leg even a little, one can see her privacy winking

at them.

In

contrast to ours, Azalea's attire is moderate; not fit for a witch

master though.

His

skinny jean outlines his thick thighs. On top it is a sky blue button

shirt with sleeves grasped by his arms. Sleeves that I badly wish he

had rolled up.

The

shirt buttons are fighting to keep his chest within the cloth. But it

would seem his huge form has other intentions.

I

grab his arm and push him forward once again. "Move it!" He

shouldn't be looking like me I'm a slut craving attention.

We've

walked a long way in the Forests of Oaks before Azalea's

sluggishness gets worse. And Loka is nowhere to be found.

"You

do realize a slave deserves to rest, right?" the witch says while

craning his neck to look over his shoulders at me.

I

refuse to meet his stare. But I do observe him with my side-eye.

"You'll rest once you keep your trap shut."

Azalea

huffs. "Please..." he whispers, still walking slowly in front of

me.

I

stop moving. It won't hurt anyone if we all take a break, yeah?

"Stop,"

I mumble.

Azalea

instantly slumps to a sitting position on the ground, groaning out

his exhaustion, while I walk past him to lean against an Oak tree

next to him.

He

analyses me before mumbling, "A captor can grow tired too." I

look away from him. "Come on now. You cannot say you don't long

to sit right next to me."

"No,

I don't."

Azalea

suddenly sits up. Looking at him now, he doesn't seem like he was

tired at all.

"You've

been avoiding my gaze since we met. Is there something wrong with my

eyes?" he asks as he stands in front of me.

His

height is intimidating. Too intimidating that I start to feel like

I'm shrinking where I stand.

And

I'm still not looking at him. Instead, I stare over his shoulder at

a duo of birds perching an oak branch.

Azalea

holds my chin with his index and thumb fingers before turning my head

to his direction, yet my eyes remain astray.

"You

seriously don't wanna look at me, huh? Does my stare sting that

much?"

I

still do not look at him.

Then,

the next moment, he leans forward, tilting a bit downward to my size.

His

face draws closer to mine, and my heart skips a bit. I don't know

why it did. It's not supposed to.

Now

I'm left marveled at how my shrinking self serves Azalea the daring

attitude he displays now.

He

keeps coming near-attempting to exhaust every damn inch between

us-until Loka bursts out of nowhere with an urgent message.

"They're

here, sister! The bastards are here! Party time... ho ho ho!"

The

girl skips off while I push Azalea backward and slip out of his

front, looking around as the noise of crunching leaves fill the

woods.

There's

a crowd of people rushing toward us, and we're just about to find

out who they are.

I

catch Loka standing behind me the next moment. Our legs are in

position, but our hands remain by our sides. Yet, it doesn't mean

they won't go straight into our attackers' chests when they have

to.

Azalea,

on the other hand, is flanked between us. He won't try to run when

I'm tightly holding the chain connecting his cuffs and my wrist.

He

just looks around as air whooshes past us, the sound of stomping feet

getting closer.

Then

the intruders burst out of the dark woods.

It's

no surprise to know they're Azalea's loyalists. I was a fool to

undermine the kind of faithful dogs he has trained to grovel at his

feet-to the point that they even track him to the infamous Forest

of Oaks to challenge two Firnes; for that matter.

"These

folks have ticked their deaths already," Loka shouts above the

hubbub, affirming my own thoughts.

They

will die here today.

I

close my eyes to embrace the full darkness dwelling behind my shut

eyelid.

The

only thing I register now is the yelling crowd. Followed by harsh

wind. Then there's the chain grazing my wrist as a sign of Azalea's

small movements.

In

all, I smell death.

A

metallic harsh stench whizzes past my nose; unforgiving. It's

one

blade making

for my chest.

I

don't see it. I feel it. And it's not hard moving to a side to

avoid it.

Another

blade tears

through the air,

followed by a swung

arm. I grasp the

arm with

my left hand-the same hand I wrapped with Azalea's chain.

In

doing that, Azalea's back bumps mine. But I don't care as I

tackle my attacker, diving my right fingers into whatever seems to be

his throat.

He

makes a choking sound before falling with a thud to the ground.

Ten,

twenty, thirty.... Twenty five, eighteen, seven.

That's

the order with which I take the intruders' headcount before I open

my eyes to find the bodies scattered on the ground, each with missing

parts; could be their limb, head, heart...

The

recent decapitated soldier

lost his

eye, which Loka now sits comfortably on his

corpse

while

munching the missing eye.

In

a split second, she stands up and zips around the area. My ponytail

hair brushes my face due to the breeze

created by her.

In

that same second, the remaining seven all fall dead with parts

already digested by the Firne.

She

stops some trees away to look

at me, smearing

the blood on her hands horizontally over her lips before flashing me

a bloody mischievous grin.

"Wow,"

Azalea mouths. I notice he's staring at Loka as I blow away

the long

strand

of hair resting across my face.

The

Firne

starts taking slow paces towards me. "You're still clean, sister,

except for that hand." She

points at my right fingers. "Chilling in battle, eh? That's very

like you."

Walking

past

me to lead

the way, she's

bathed

in blood and revels

in it. I won't lie, Loka

does look good whenever she's bloody.

The

only thing aloof is that she's not naked. It's usually a ritual

for her to strip, fuck, then kill. Funny how she's now simply

skipping the first two.

"That's

because you let me do all the work," she snaps. She isn't mad, I

swear. It's just the blood.

"I

killed two," I argue as I push Azalea

forward, following Loka's lead.

The

Firne

scoffs. "Two equals none."

"It's

more than I've unalived in the past years."

"That's

where the problem stems from. It is in our nature to kill, Socculus.

You're becoming weak at heart. Whatever

happened to the brutal Socculus; the queen of blood and night?"

I

shrug. "Nothing."

"Then

I shouldn't be wondering why our prisoner isn't dead yet." Loka

stops and swings

around to face me.

That's when I notice her eyes have turned

red.

And

it isn't like blood splashed on her eyes. It's

literally inside her irises.

"The

Socculus

I know wouldn't bother bringing

this weight,"

she adds. "His

head would be off already. His bastards too."

I

walk past Loka with a stoic expression

on my face,

mumbling, "Your anger is boring, Loka."

"Yes,

it always is to you 'because then Loka will be jumping through

hoops in the next second, looking

out for who's

next

to devour'."

"You

think?" I stop and turn to look at the

girl.

"You

think I'm making an exception for this son of a bitch?" I point

to Azalea who

gasps.

"Whoa..."

"I

think you've changed," Loka

stresses. "It's

not about Azalea; he doesn't matter."

Azalea

raises a brow. "Ha..."

"Or

you're just restless that you haven't touched him," I

scoff. "I

know how badly you want to fuck him."

"Well,

don't you?" Loka

asks. And as I try

to speak, the words doesn't come out. "The

two things Firnes

are most

good at are fight and fuck, y'know. Lately, you've done none."

"You

know what? You can have him." I grab Azalea's forearm and shove

him towards

Loka, tossing the chain to her.

She

can have him however she likes. It's no business of mine.

"I'm

happy to share," she says behind me as I continue walking.

"To

hell with you, Loka!"

~

The

night soon closes in on us. Now we're sitting at the edge of the

Forest of Oaks, directly overlooking Gar Valley.

It's

best to journey across the latter at sunrise because

at sundown the dreadful Gar beasts would

hover

above the sand, searching for their cursed victims to tear

apart.

I

can see them now loitering in

the

air, their resonating

shrieks

a... pleasurable?... sound to my ears.

They

can't get into the Forest

of Oaks

since their large wings would definitely get caught in the tree

branches. It's

the only thing saving us from being badly injured already. Or-for

Azalea-dead.

Speaking

of death, I'm sure the witch doesn't know he could actually die

from hanging out with Loka.

I

can hear them burst into loud laughter

from

time to time.

They're

sitting some paces in front of me, a small fire serving as our

demarcation.

At

first,

I don't regard

them.

But when their

ceaseless chuckles start to ring in my head over again,

I look at

the duo

with a sigh.

Unlike

me, Loka

prefers leaving

the chain linking her wrist to

Azalea's

handcuffs

intact even

while resting.

Maybe

it gives

her a sense of intimacy. I wouldn't doubt that since the girl is

prone to oddity.

Watching

them bite together into the roasted thigh of a pig disgusts me.

Human

food. I

hate it. It isn't made for Firnes.

We

can

survive

without it.

Loka's

only having it now since

she

and Azalea

both struggle to take a bite at the same time without greasing their

noses.

It's

fun-at least to them.

The

more I watch them, the more their action bites my ass. Now I want to

strut over there, grab the meat, and shove it down Loka's throat.