Page 16 of Eboenia

“Babyyyy. Go deeper,” I begged, my nails raking down his back. He pinned my legs against my ears and slammed into me, stealing my breath, my thoughts—everything.

He didn’t slow down. He didn’t let up. He fucked me like he owned me, like he wanted to break me down and rebuild me from the inside out. As I teetered on the edge, fighting for control, he leaned in and licked a slow line up my neck. The sensation shattered what little resistance I had left—I cried out, body convulsing as I squirted hard around his dick, trembling, desperate, and completely his. He held me through the aftershocks, and in that moment, I knew I’d surrendered every part of myself to him in this moonlit paradise.

“AHHHHHHHHHH!”

A man’s scream jolted me awake. I shot upright, heart pounding, realizing I was still in the garden room. My pillow was soaked with my own nectar, and my legs were practically glued together. I had to pry them apart, cheeks flushing hot as memories of War pinning me beneath him flooded back.

“This is sooo gross,” I muttered, grabbing the robe beside me. It swallowed my short frame, but as I pulled it on, War’s scent wrapped around me—powerful, earthy, with hints of pine and patchouli.

Aww, he finally gave me something to wear.

“NOOOOOOOO!”

Another scream echoed through the garden. My legs ached, my body sore and heavy, as if War’s touch had drugged me into a deep, intoxicating sleep. Rubbing my temples, I pushed myself up and left the garden room, drawn by the commotion. I followed the noise up the wraparound spiral staircase that was hidden by a life-size unicorn statue. War’s home was so big with many hallways, I hoped I wouldn’t get lost. The chain connected to the collar around my neck extended everywhere in the tower.

As I climbed higher, I noticed that the walls were covered in intricate drawings, not paintings. At the base of the staircase, the words “Once upon a time” were scrawled in elegant script, setting the tone for the story that unfolded in images along the walls. The drawings told a tale—scenes of forests filled with fairies and hooded warlocks, their weapons raised as they rode on unicorns. One warlock caught my eye: he bore gear-shaped markings, just like War, and carried the same staff that Hoax now wielded against the people of Charmden.

“What is this?” I asked aloud.

Confusion washed over me. I had never truly understood the war between Charmden and Hex13, only that they had been killing each other for centuries. It had never occurred to me that, at one point, we might have been part of the same world. I continued up the staircase and nearly stumbled when I saw a drawing of the warlock with the dragon staff handing a fairy the wand that I now possessed. She had black wings with golden flower patterns inside them and horns that resembled the unicorns’ in Charmden, but with a slight curve.

“This must be my ancestor. Was she cursed too?” I wondered aloud.

I quickened my pace up the stairs, eager to see the next chapter. The following drawing showed the warlock and the horned fairy lying in a garden of flowers, leaves covering their lower bodies, naked from the waist up—they were lovers. Urgency surged through me, and I hurried up the next flight, nearly tripping over my long robe. This drawing depicted the horned fairy standing beside a swirling portal as elves poured through. The warlock—maybe I should say wizard, since he bore War’s markings—was on a horse, glaring at them, his face twisted with betrayal.

I pressed onward up the seemingly endless stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. The next scene made my stomach drop: the horned fairy, now in a white gown, stood in the pool beneath the waterfall where we held our ceremonies. She was marrying an elf. I squinted at the faces.

“Is that Hoax?”

I stared into his eyes, and recognition hit me—his sadistic ass, handsome and much younger then, but those eyes were unforgettable. Dove was there too, glaring at the horned fairy while the others danced in a circle, celebrating the wedding. My stomach twisted as I reached the top. Blood splattered the walls, marking the beginning of a bloody battle. War had erupted—elves and fairies against warlocks. My heart plummeted when I saw my headless ancestor lying in a garden of flowers, chaos raging around her. Did the wizard kill her? My gaze followed the story to the ceiling, where the wizard was shown burning alive in the woods, watched by mournful warlocks. At his feet, his magical source—the gears—fell away, turning to ash.

“Did they skip some chapters?”

“My brother is a good painter, ain’t he?” a voice said behind me.

Startled, I spun around. A man stood there, resembling War but he looked a few years older, with long locs. He wore a black hooded cape, jeans, and combat boots, a heavy gold chain around his neck with a red diamond Roman numeral thirteen medallion.

“Ummm, where is War?” I asked.

“He’s in the training auditorium with his warriors. What are you doing on this side of the tower?” he asked, peering down at me.

“I heard a man screaming. I got curious.”

He reached out and touched my face. I jerked away from him. “You are a beautiful little creature. And you shouldn’t roam the halls alone—some of us have sick thoughts about fairies. Might even cut your head off,” he replied.

“And some of us ain’t scared of no worthless ass warlock! Fuck you!” I spat.

“Ummm hmmm, a feisty one. No wonder my lil’ brother put a leash on you. You must’ve given him some magical pussy,” he chuckled.

“Gave it to him nice and slow, just like how I’m going to do you when I slice your throat open and watch you burn like that wizard in the painting!”

He raised his hand as if to strike me, but a door swung open. War strode out of a room where warlocks practiced magic—a makeshift school. He was shirtless, wearing clear glasses with gold frames. My breath hitched at the sight of him, the way his chest flexed with each stride, the arrogant confidence in his walk. His black jeans sagged just enough to tease. He glanced between me and his brother, anger flashing in his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing up here?” War bellowed at me.

“Being fucking nosey!” his brother answered.

“If I’m going to be living here, I should be able to go everywhere in this building!” I shot back at his brother.

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