Page 151 of To Trap a Soul

With her body still tremendously shaking, she shunted her head forward. She darted her gaze between his tendril and his hand, her dark brows so furrowed he would have thought she was in agony.

Eventually her legs started to kick as she squirmed against his tempo, Weldir going faster and faster until he found a rhythm he liked. One that he didn’t feel any adverse effects from, like mortal tiredness or strain, and was probably far too much for her human body. But he relished the way she twisted and squirmed, and how her hair waved in all directions as she threw her head around.

Little bubbles of creamy-white liquid floated around them, the evidence of her ongoing climaxes. Her release coated her pussy, her clit, and even trailed down her backside before dripping off to join the others hovering away from his pumping hand.

He rather liked that too. It was adding to his realm in a way he never thought possible, one of pleasure and need.

Her features pinched, and she let go of his shoulders to grab his hand.

“Please. Stop.” Her nails tried to dig into the darkness of his body, but she couldn’t find purchase when he didn’t want to give it. “I can’t take anymore. It’s too much.”

Weldir let out an annoyed, growly huff, not wanting to stop playing with her when he was rather enamoured with the moment. He’d never had this female soft for him before, this pliable, or this close, without her having a wary gaze.

Yet despite the longing to continue, he did as he was asked. Only then did her body, which had entirely locked up, relax. Just as he went to pull his fingers from her, he realised he’d almost forgotten the point of her coming to his realm.

With the tendril wrapped around his fingers so she wouldn’t be bothered by it, he realised his essence within her pussy. He waited a moment to make sure it was deep and then removed everything. He was slow about it when her breath hitched with each inch he withdrew, her littlecuntquite swollen.

He’d learned all manner of words he could use.

When he was gone from her, he noted her slack-jawed gaze. There was surprise in it that he’d pleasured her well, perhaps even a little bit of awe, and both left him and his mist vibrating with contented satisfaction.

Liquid dripped and floated off his hand and bubbled through the air in his weightless realm. He looked down, inspecting the sheen of light grey from his essence on the tips of his fingers, while the rest of their lengths and much of his palm was covered in a wetness that was solely hers.

Seeing the contrast of its shine against his hand, he realised he wasn’t as oily in appearance as he’d thought and was actually quite matte. He’d never had anything to compare himself to before.

“Interesting,” he muttered, brushing the pad of his thumb through the evidence of her climaxes clinging to his fingers.

He was disappointed when he eventually had to let go of the mana-fatiguing control he had on his physical manifestation, and let it disappear into the nether of his realm as parts of him dispersed. He knew he disappeared from her sight entirely, even if he never left her side.

It took her a long time to stop shuddering and quivering. To grasp some control of her unsteady breaths and thundering heart.

When she did, she looked around at the emptiness, with her eyes wide and her lips wordlessly muttering.

He thought it might be, “What the fuck did he just do to me?”

He was rather pleased and triumphant about that too.

January 3rd, 1756

As the summer midafternoon sun slowly warmed her raven feathers, creating a warm blanket across her back and shoulders, Lindiwe sat on the very edge of one of the most exquisite and majestic places she’d found thus far in her travels.

Discovering it the first time she’d touched her feet down in Zafrikaan had been an accident. She’d merely followed a daunting and expansive river as it snaked its way across the lower end of the massive continent. With wings unfurled and flapping as she flew, it’d taken hours as she strived to discover where it ended – without taking a smaller, thinner path that branched off it.

The moment she came to this location, it was like her very soul had returned to her chest and doubled in its size and heat. This overwhelming sense of awe had struck her, and she’d been stuck in the air, doing enough to keep herself from falling but unable to tear her eyes away. It radiated immense beauty and power.

For as far as the eye could see, the world dropped off into a great gorge. Nothing like the Veil, as it was much thinner anddefinitely not as long, but it was surprising that something like it could be naturally made.

The impressive river she’d been following, that was so large it had lush green islands scattered all throughout it, ended in that gorge. Water cascaded off the edge for what had to be thousands of kilometres. Thunderous mist sprayed into the air, the falls loud and ravenous as they fell to the bottom of the gorge. Rainbows glittered constantly, refracting the sun above and creating an almost heavenly aura.

Upon viewing it, if it wasn’t for her attachment to Weldir, the old Lindiwe may have thought the Heavenly Father truly existed by the mere design of it.

On the other side of the river that disappeared into the depths lay forests and meadows teeming with wildlife. Of course, Lindiwe had also spotted the telltale signs of a few Demons, yet the area had been mostly untouched.

But this place was a testament to the power of nature.

She’d appreciated it back then, and even more a second time.

Which was why she’d chosen to take a seat on a tall yet narrow island of wet stone between two cascades and soak it in as she had before. Not even the early summer heat bothered her, although she did have her tunic sleeves rolled up and her hair twisted into a thick bun.

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