Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

Chapter 188: Letter From the Dark King

The bellow of the beast was like the long moan of a wildman—who hadn't cum in a decade.

"Yikes, she's gonna get skewered," someone said, and instantly earned the demonic shade of Rafel's eyes no one really wanted to see. He decided if it came down to it, he'd burn the bull before ever its macabre horns came close to a shock of Bruna's inky, magenta-dyed hair. Rafel had a soft spot for the girl ever since the first day her mum—whom he'd been shagging at the time introduced them.

Brunhilda's mother, the Countess Cordelia of House Penderghast had been a lovely ripe addition to his harem back when he was Earl, and now with her father gone and her mother imprisoned in her own villa at Titans Landing by the Dowager queen Lilith, Rafel felt responsible for Bruna in a way. He was after all part reason her poor father had been murdered anyway.

If she tried to call him daddy, he wouldn't stop her. Plus he wanted to make the introduction between Percival and the goth beauty, past the platonic friendship that is. He could sense something there. He might have to equip his [Lust Resonant] ability to get the both of them going, but it was fine. In his mind, another one of the many reasons Bruna had to survive the bout with the bull.

[Lust Resonance]

[Description: Ability to arouse sexual relations out of couples. BxG. GxG. And, BxB. Role is available to only RANK A Hellions with potent sin systems. Hosts can cause resonant vibrations in the air that will be picked up by the subjects of his/her desire.]

[These frequencies are high pheromones, in which case subjects don't even need to be remotely attractive. It amplifies sexual charge, and can be highly dangerous to the occasional erotomaniac.]

[Skill can be leveled up to MURDER FRENZY mode.]

[Poison: Subjects are liable to be killed by their own repressed need, or in the tumultuous fulfilling of it, if the Host so desires.]

[Level: Hallowed, XXX Class.]

[Current Host: The Seventh APOLLYON.]

Rafel blinked Peitho's holographic display inside of his head away. Through the corner of his eyes, he spied Gretchen with some new girl in her lap; the doe-eyed vampiress was gently feeding off her neck. White fangs slurped in veins like a straw. The coppery tang of blood hit Rafel's nose and he suddenly felt like a six month-sober addict alone in a bathroom with his favorite snot-nose powder.

He ignored the pull of the girl's blood. Unlike Gretchen, he didn't the sanguine richness to survive.

On the bright sands of the arena below, Brunhilda was just attacked by the marauding bull. It rushed out at her, headfirst, horns brandished like furious knives. The head of the bull was large and bearded. The he-bison wore its charcoal mane like a strange crown. The beast's hooves caused the brown grains of the arena to dance as it pounded to ram with its horns the red flag, and the girl behind it.

At the last second—the bull's frothing nostrils had just touched the flag—Brunhilda leaped on her feet, twirling a flip in the air to land solidly behind the animal on her feet.

It was perfection: her somersault. She dodged the bull's stout bones and massive head with an easy enough smile. A skill however that was hard to master, and in this very situation, muster. An applause rose in the amphitheater's levels. Rafel didn't think he needed to, but he was proud. The clapping went on for the matadora.

And the entire canopy for [Raven Arc] did a standing ovation, their hands thundering for their girl champion as crow-black flags with shadow magick sigils waved under the arena's bright white lights.

The bull turned. Unceremoniously. Angrily.

"Here kitty kitty!" Brunhilda waved her flag in front of the animal, grinning and stoking the beast even more. As if it could hear her, the bull turned up its great, black head in defiance to her name-calling. It bellowed brass into the night sky, chastising its opponent for comparing it to a pussycat.

MOO!!! MOO!!!

If the spectators could hear the animal's language, they would clearly be hearing the words: "Do not compare me, the mighty black bull to a fucking puss, you stupid little girl. I'm gonna run you through with my iron phalluses and squash you like a bug."

Alas, all the crowd did hear was enraged mooing. The commentators up in the high levels were having the time of their lives with the wonderful display of man and beast gallore. In this case, woman and beast. Bob said to Stefan, "my Lord, I haven't laughed this hard since Nobleman Sagan loosed a fart in Her Majesty's presence! This is some fine entertainment, Steve."

"Yes, Bob." Stefan admitted. He sent a quick glass from their cubicle high up on the theatre to the battle below. The bull was now jumping on its hooves, stirring sand and dust. The crowd was a flood of bawdy laughter, guffawing at the beast's obvious ire. Stefan roared. "Now that is some angry bull, Bob."

He turned to the witnessing crowd and continued, "we are here live at the ending match of the Triathlon at the Corynthian Academy's spring Games, the second round of the much vaunted competition; where, as you can see, a young lady is bringing new meaning to the term 'grabbing a bull by the horns'."

Bob went off where his fellow commentator left: "Yes. Our young lady is Brunhilda Penderghast, representing the Shadow faction, Raven Arc. Her faction mates are cheering for her. And even the other canopies of the blues, reds, and golds can't help clapping. She is the final contestant with this raging beast. And she is definitely showing promise.

Stay tuned for more. And as they say at this college, stay magical, Corynthia!"

The glinting screens shot back to the fight below, where Brunhilda was quite literally grabbing the bull's horns. She held onto the strong, pointy protrusions as she grappled with the giant head of the animal. Its heavy fore-hooves scratched at the sands, kicking at dirt, and pushing Brunhilda back as it reared forward. She held onto the horns right.

MOO!!!

The bull lunged forward with great strength, tossing up its head. Brunhilda was raised several feet in the air as it threw her up. She let go of the horns, flipping midflight before she connected with hard ground.

MOO!!!

No sooner had she touched solid earth that the bull was charging again for her. It ignored the red flag abandoned on the tousled sands and rammed forward instead for the gothic matadora. Brunhilda began to run. She turned around and made a beeline for the east corner of the arena. The bull, incited by her retreat, bellowed loudly and pounded faster.

Moo! Moo!! Moo!!!

The crowd had fallen into something of silence and reached forward in their seats. Brunhilda ran straight for the wall under the first level. The bull followed her, fully intending to spear her into the stone. It was unexpected when Brunhilda ran right up the straight wall, three steps, fast as a beaver, and then she executed a smart backflip.

The bull couldn't stop its momentum and crashed into the walls headfirst.

The horns sank into the stone.

It was impaled, struggling to break its huge, black head free. Brunhilda, now behind it, smacked the muscly bull's ass for good measure. The he-beast reared back and fhe spectators broke into hearty laughter. Rafel smiled sweetly when Brunhilda hefted herself onto the back of the caged bull. If struggled for a few more seconds, but eventually fell to the floor on its belly. Defeated.

She had broken the bull.

Brunhilda was awarded champion of the bull taming bout—and both horns of the bison were wrapped in ornamented chiefleather in a gift box and delivered to her dorm room after the bull had been led away and cut up for the canteen's broth dinner. At the end of the Triathlon, the Phoenix Arc were still in the lead. But now, Pegasus and Raven were tied.

And Griffin Arc was a close second behind at third place. Students already anticipated the next round of the Games.

It was at about midnight in Salem Hall few hours later, and all of Rafel's friends were gathered in his large suite by the fireplace—Aya Naamah clearing out the plates of the late-night supper they'd just had—when Ravenna sidled closer to the group. She was closest to Rafel and nearly in his lap. She played with her hair and Rafel knew something was up.

He cradled her face in warm candlelight.

"What's up?"

Ravenna let him hold her a moment before she pulled from his touch; they weren't necessarily alone. There was Corazón at his other side. Percival opposite them. Brunhilda leaning over the armchair beside him casually. And Aya had just returned from disposing of the dishes. Ravenna cleared her throat at the different, beautiful sets of eyes now on her.

Everyone had gone silent and waited on her to say something. She didn't stop playing with the ends of her raven hair as she opened her mouth and told it to them.

"Uh guys, I have something to tell you. I received this today..." She reached behind to bring out a letter with an unbroken seal from the back pocket of her blue jean-shorts. She folded her long legs again. "...it's from my father."

"That bastard!" Rafel growled. He caught himself and was about to apologize, but Ravenna eased him by clutching to his hand.

"It's okay," she said. "I get it."

The King of Eldoria wasn't going to win any Father of the Year awards. Even the broken ones.

Ravenna leaned across Rafel's chest, smelling his wildness in the process. She offered the envelope to Corazón. "Please, will you read it, Cora?"

Corazón looked first around the circle of their close-knit bond, and then to Rafel. He nodded. Clearly, the level of trust between the friends was pretty high for Ravenna to thrust a letter, grafted with the black seal of the Morningstar sigil, into another person's hand. A handwritten note of her dad, the dark King, the Usurper himself. Looking in alone could bring an execution.

"I want you to." Ravenna urged. And Cora took the envelope from her hands.

Ravenna withdrew and settled into Rafel's warm body. Rosa sat above the three of them, on the sofa which they sat under. She threaded her hands through Rafel's wicked-red hair. All seven of them in that quiet, firelit chamber listened to the sound of Cora's soft voice as she broke the seal made with the royal signet of Titans Landing, unfolded the script, and began to read aloud:

"Dearest daughter. It is I, Daddy. . ."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]