Bloody Angel
Heavenly moonlight spills through the open window with a breathtaking glow. A divine angel captivates all who behold her, enchanting their hearts, weaving her spell, and ensnaring them all.
open bedchamber window, immersed in the dazzling argent moonlight. Her silk robe, caught by the breeze, flutters down to the floor. She gathers her hair into a bun using a long, slender hairpin, and she lets a single lock of hair cascade over her seductive eyes. In the stark night, her naked body shines, basking in the moon’s angelic light.
“You’re perfect,” King Eiden lies on the bed, his frail, naked body as white as snow.
“Hush, no words,” Nuria whispers, her hips swaying as she glides toward Eiden. She presses a teasing finger to his lips as her long legs wrap around his waist.
King Eiden’s aged hand glides down her bare back, tracing a teasing path along her spine, reaching her neck. His cock rises, hard as stone.
Nuria presses her breasts against his bare chest. “You should have remained here in Thiel,” she whispers between kisses, her lips nibbling his ears.
“Nuria, what have you done?” King Eiden’s voice slurs, his eyes rolling in their sockets as he struggles to remain conscious.
Nuria leans closer, draping her slender arms over the king’s shoulders. She straddles him and lowers him onto his back. “You should have listened to me,” she whispers into his ear, then kisses his fevered brow.
King Eiden writhes on the bed, his legs kicking in a violent jerk that dislodges Nuria from his groin, sending her tumbling to the floor. His vision blurs as he chokes on bitter bile, streams of sweat pour from his numbing body, and his muscles and bones solidify like stone.
“It is the venom of the Audilucian Viper.” Nuria rises to her feet with a swagger. “The most dreaded creature in all of Tivania.”
Recognition dilates in King Eiden’s horrified eyes.
“The venom of the Audilucian Viper brings a slow and agonizing death.” Nuria moistens her lips with a playful pout. “The Audilucian Viper revels in its prey’s fight for life.”
King Eiden’s body lies unyielding, frozen like stone, his cock still at full mast.
Nuria releases the hairpin from her bun, allowing her hair to cascade freely. She lowers herself onto his throb and wipes cold beads of sweat from his brow. She teases the pointed end of the sharpened hairpin across his chest. “The Audilucian Viper feasts on its live prey for several turns, first drinking fresh blood before consuming the flesh. It injects its prey with a unique venom, inducing paralysis." Nuria rides hard on King Eiden's cock, biting her bottom lip in pleasure as she speaks.
The King’s paralyzing eyes roll within their sockets, tears trickling down his gaunt cheeks.
“Do not weep. I promise, you won’t feel a thing.” Nuria drives her gleaming silver hairpin deep into Eiden’s gut until the end barely protrudes from his pallid stomach.
King Eiden summons his last reserves of strength. Fear, love, and hatred burn within his unblinking eyes. A guttural wail escapes his numb lips, and a single word wheezes from his mouth with a splutter of blood. “Why?”
“For gold, of course,” Nuria responds with a playful frown. She pulls the buried hairpin free, causing blood to pop, then spray from the small puncture, showering her naked body with his blood. “A copious amount of gold.” Her delicate finger caresses the king’s blood-drenched gut, then she sucks his blood from her finger. Nuria teases her exploring finger deep into her mouth, sucking it. “I can taste it—the venom. Just the right amount keeps a man hard all night.” She licks more blood from her finger. “It can keep a woman aroused for two turns.”
“You deceitful bitch,” the words rasp from his lips, his paralyzed wide-open eyes seething with the coldest fury of a storm.
“Bitch?” Nuria leans down, whispering into the king’s ear. “Be grateful it is I and not my brother Coilette.” Her legs tightening their grip as she rides and grinds on his frozen cock. “Coilette, the butcher, possesses a certain expertise with the blade. It’s said he can flay and debone a man alive.“ She shrugs, nonchalant. “I find little pleasure in gruesome bloodshed. I am a woman of simpler indulgences—a painless death, whilst arousing myself to the highest state of pleasure.” Her bloodied hands caress her modest bosom as she rides hard on his cock.
Eiden’s body glistens with a sheen of cold sweat and blood as his unyielding eyes bore into Nuria.
“I know, it’s the same with all dying men—the urge to utter their final words, to cry out in hate, to fight until the last breath.” Nuria licks more blood from her finger before driving the hairpin back into the king’s stomach. “It is true what they say about you, Galt’s. You are strong.” A glimmer of admiration flickers in her eyes. “And foolish.”
Nuria's condescending eyebrows rise. “You were a simple task.” Nuria yanks the gory hairpin from Eiden’s stomach, probing her finger deep into his gut. His body twitches as she prods and explores his sloshing innards. “Why are all men so fucking easy?” She jabs her finger deep into his belly, withdrawing it to smear the blood across his chest. She then wipes the sweat from his brow, smearing it over his ashen face.
Nuria runs her bloody hands over her small breasts, bouncing on his mast. “Remain still and listen, if you will, King Eiden. A great cycle ago, we received an invitation from your son’s consort, Morana, offering us more gold than we could ever dream of.” She bites her bottom lip as she rides, and she bounces on him harder. “Your gold. The irony of it all.” Nuria wipes more sweat from the king’s pallid face, leaving streaks of blood on his graying cheeks. “A daring plan, your son, this Prince Madon, not only wanted us to kill you but also wants to go to war. Had you thought more with your mind and less with your cock, the outcome might have been different.”
Nuria’s eyes roll as she reaches climax with a short gasp of pleasure. “I had made my own arrangements, and all you needed to do was make me your queen. Yes, I would have still robbed you of gold, but at least you would have been alive—and I would be queen!” Nuria plunges the hairpin deep into King Eiden’s stomach, spiraling it around like a corkscrew. “I believe I nicked your liver.” She pouts playfully, a hint of wildness in her eyes as the hairpin sloshes around in his sloppy innards.
A violent shudder vibrates through the king.
“Oh, you are strong. If I’d met you in your prime, I dare say our chore some fucking would have been far less tedious. Thankfully, your household guards are both discreet and more virile.”
A loud roar turns into a low, muffled growl in King Eiden's throat.
“I’m just teasing you.” Nuria giggles, wiping the sweat from the king’s bloody brow.
King Eiden whines like a beaten dog.
“I know. I know." Nuria's voice is playful and mocking: "By now, the venom must be in your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.” She nods to herself. “Your blood is thickening, and your heart rate is slowing. My brother, Coilette, taught me that a well-placed puncture hole in the throat prolongs life.” Nuria drives the hairpin into Eiden’s throat, positioned just below his jaw. With a quick spurt of congealing blood, she pulls it free. The king’s breathing wheezes and rattles, and speckles of blood bubbles from the small puncture hole. “You see, that’s better.”
Nuria nods to herself in approval. “Seduce you, bed you, and slay you on Thielian soil—your son’s desires fulfilled and paid for. But what woman doesn’t dream of becoming a queen?” Nuria scowls and peers down at Eiden with a deep frown. “Growl if you can hear me,” she says, giving him a rousing slap on the cheek.
A low rumble erupts from King Eiden’s anesthetized body, bloody air rasping through his punctured throat.
“Good. I’m not talking to myself,” she sneers. “We were so close; it was almost perfect. You daft old cunt, you could have fucked me dry until your last breath, and you would have been none the wiser.” Nuria sucks on her bloodied forefinger finger, teasing it in and out of her mouth. “As for that fool, Adal, he only wants your gold. He would have been a powerful ally in the union of Galt, Thiel, and The Colligi,” she says, driving her hairpin over and over into Eiden’s stomach, blood popping from the puncture holes and spraying onto her naked body. “Kings,” she says, shaking her head in frustration. “Alas, King Eiden, I must bid you farewell. I have other matters to attend to. Your guards must be wondering what has befallen them. Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick. I’m paid to kill you all, not to torture you.”
Nuria squats over the king’s wheezing body. “Farewell, King Eiden. It’s nothing personal, just business.” She places the tip of the hair needle on the King’s chest and, with all her weight, drives it between his cracking ribs, straight into his heart. The last wheeze rattles from the throat of the dead king as she yanks the bent needle free which spurts with a shower of splattering blood.
Nuria stands, immersed in the glorious dawning light, drenched in blood from head to toe. She strolls to the open window overlooking the estate gardens, where the paralyzed bundles of guards lay still as stone statues in the orchard’s glade. Nuria watches Captain Aiwelf approach the guards from the retreating shadows.
Nuria breaks into a sprint, stark naked, running through the dawning, gloomy half-light of the empty villa. She bounds down the stairwell, rushing out into the estate garden, sobbing with frantic screams. She sprints into the coming dawn; chalky limestone clouds puff up at her feet as she hurtles toward Captain Aiwelf.
“Help, Captain! Raise the alarm!” Nuria throws herself into his arms.
“Captain,” Nuria sobs, her shuddering body collapsing into Aiwelf’s chest. She pulls him tight with wailing sobs, her bloodied face pressed against his chest. “Captain, the king—”
Captain Aiwelf steps back, pushing Nuria away from his body. His mortified eyes bulge with incomprehensible horror as he stares up and down at her blood-drenched nakedness. A word forms on his lips as Nuria drives her hairpin into the back of his skull with a cracking crunch. A moment of silent understanding passes between them. The guard captain crumples with a metallic thud to the grassy floor, twitching at death’s feet.
Nuria gives the hairpin a sharp tug, but it remains stuck, so she leaves it buried deep in his skull. She then picks up a pike spear from the grass and glides between the toxin-induced bodies as she administers death’s kiss. One by one, each guard succumbs to death’s bloody angel as she drives the spear pike into their squishy, wide-eyed sockets. Nuria stands amidst the corpses, drenched in blood, shimmering in the dawn’s morning light.
Beyond the garden, in the estate courtyard, the sound of hooves with a rattling carriage comes to a stony standstill. Hooves stamp and stomp on the limestone floor. Leather reins creak, and chains rattle. A loud snort comes from a pair of Friesians’. Their ears twitch and their nostrils flare as they inhale the lingering stench of fresh blood and death.
“Sister, come on, be quick.” Amelia’s beckoning voice carries over the stillness from the open carriage window.
Nuria’s bare feet pad through the trimmed grass, the sweet peaches swaying in the orchard overhead. She walks toward the carriage, and a hue of rising orange sunlight bathes her in gory glory.
“Sister. Sister. Sister,” Amelia tuts. “Quite the mess, aren’t we?”
“Shut up, Amelia,” Nuria says as she opens the carriage door, the eye within the blooming rose carved into the wood. In the carriage corner, her sister sprawls, resting her legs on top of a wooden chest.
“Well, give me a hand,” Nuria clambers into the carriage.
“Where’s your dignity?” Amelia rolls her eyes, a snort of laughter escaping her nose. “Have you no shame?” She rummages in a small leather bag in her lap, finds a bundle of tangled black silk, and throws it to her sister. “I figured it would be messy. It always is.”
Nuria unravels the silky black gown, offering her sister a begrudged nod. She bangs on the side of the carriage, and the driver clicks his tongue, propelling it forward.
“Hold,” a commanding voice calls into the carriage window. The carriage comes to a grinding halt. In the low light of dawn, a hooded and cloaked man stands at the carriage window, his face concealed by a cavernous hood. His words rasp from behind the veil. “Is it done?”
Nuria wrestles with her silk gown, slipping it over her blood-matted hair.
“Done.” She holds a firm gaze on the cloaked man.
“Then we have concluded our business. The gold is unmarked, as agreed. I will send word to Galt that their king is slain. Murdered by Thielian hands.” He nods to himself. “You have done well. Your reputation doesn’t do you justice. King Madon and Morana may call upon you again.”
A long silence fills the air as the horse’s twitch with nervous anticipation. The glimpse of icy eyes stares into the carriage from within the robes’ deep hood. The man licks his lips, and the air crackles with a faint hint of malevolent power. “King Adal already suspects you,” his words chew in his mouth. “Be swift. By the rising of the second sun, there will be a price on your head. Your carriage will travel to The Planks untroubled. My grain ship returns to Tivania as soon as you arrive. The Port Master is expecting you.” He steps back from the window and gives a loud bang on the carriage door.
The driver doesn’t hesitate, and the carriage lurches forward as the hooded man watches as the carriage thunders away.
The carriage full of gold carries Nuria and Amelia Colligi back toward The Planks. It weaves through endless pastures of golden wheat and over the greenest plains.
The Colligi sisters sit in silence, watching the world fly by. They speak no words as the wind blows through their hair, snuggling together in peaceful silence, their blissful faces bathed in the bright golden sunlight.