Chapter 6: The Second Claiming
Kael stirred against her, his breath warm on her throat, and Salem let the lingering heat of their coupling settle into her bones like a draught of warm wine. She ran her fingers through the grey fur of his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
"You are beautiful," she murmured. "But you are not enough."
His ears flattened. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "That's a fine thing to say with my seed still dripping out of you."
She smiled, slow and feline, and pushed herself up on one elbow. Her silver hair fell in a curtain over one shoulder, and the lamplight caught the dark veins that laced her arms. Kael watched her, wary and hungry, his cock still nestled in her warmth.
"What if I told you I have seen another," she said, "one whose lineage could strengthen our bloodline beyond anything I have yet found?"
Kael's amber eyes narrowed. "Another. You mean another beast to fuck you."
"I mean another father for my children." She reached down, her fingers circling his balls, feeling them still heavy and spent. "A horse faunus named Ruben Bakker. I found his profile on that website. Tall, broad, hung like a stallion. The kind of man whose sons would tower over armies."
"He's not here," Kael said flatly. "He's across the sea, if he even exists."
"He exists." Salem's voice dropped, silk and iron. "And I intend to have him. Him, and others. I will gather them one by one, the finest specimens of faunus blood in all of Remnant, and I will build a dynasty from their seed."
Kael's jaw tightened. His cock twitched inside her, half hard again, and she felt the pulse of fresh blood through it. She smiled up at him, letting her thighs squeeze around his hips.
"Jealousy becomes you," she whispered. "But there is no need. You will always be first. The cornerstone of my new world."
"And this horse faunus? What makes him so special?"
"He is in Menagerie." Salem's crimson eyes gleamed. "The faunus homeland. A nation of our kind, restless and simmering with revolution. There is no better place to plant the seed of a new race than in the very heart of the creature I mean to inherit it all."
Kael's ears swiveled forward. He studied her, reading the certainty in her face, and something shifted in his expression. Not surrender. Resolve.
"You're really going to do this," he said. "You're going to walk into the middle of a faunus uprising and offer yourself like a prize mare to every stallion who catches your eye."
"I am going to do exactly that." She slid a hand down his chest, nails raking lightly through the grey fur. "And you are going to help me. Travel with me. Guard me. And when I take my new consorts, you will watch."
His breath caught. His cock stiffened fully inside her, pressing hot against her walls.
"You want me to watch some horse-faunus breed you?"
"I want you to want it." She rolled her hips, grinding against him. "I want you to understand that this is bigger than you, bigger than me. I am not a woman seeking pleasure. I am a queen building a dynasty. And you, my wolf, are my first general."
Kael stared at her for a long, heavy moment. Then he laughed, low and rough, and rolled her onto her back beneath him. His cock drove deep, and she gasped, arching against him.
"Fine," he growled against her throat. "We go to Menagerie. We find your stallion. But you'll be so desperate and aching by the time we arrive that you'll beg me to take you in front of him, just to take the edge off."
"Promises," she breathed, wrapping her legs around his waist.
He showed her just how much he meant it.
The ship cut through turquoise water under a sky so bright it hurt to look at. Salem stood at the prow, the sea wind whipping her silver hair around her shoulders, and let the sun kiss her pale skin. She wore a simple travelling dress of dark blue linen, a wide-brimmed hat shadowing her face, and the glamour of a harmless merchant widow settled over her features.
Kael leaned against the railing beside her, his amber eyes scanning the horizon. The voyage had taken six days, and he had made good on his promise. Every night he had taken her to the cramped cabin, filling her with his seed, whispering filthy promises about what would happen once they reached the faunus homeland.
Her cunt still throbbed from his attentions that dawn, raw and sensitive, and she found herself pressing her thighs together just to feel the ache of it.
"Menagerie," Kael said, nodding toward the swelling outline of land ahead. "Smells like salt and rot and revolution. Can you smell it?"
Salem inhaled. Beneath the brine, beneath the fish and the tar, she caught it: the acrid tang of gunpowder, the smoky stench of burning refuse, the sharp copper undertone of old blood.
"I can smell opportunity," she said.
The dock was a chaos of noise and colour. Faunus of every shape and stripe moved through the press of bodies: cat-eared dockworkers hauling crates, a bull faunus with twisted horns barking orders, a snake faunus coiled on a barrel with a cigarette dangling from her lips. The heat was oppressive, heavy with humidity and unwashed bodies.
Salem stepped off the gangplank, her boots clicking against salt-crusted planks. She drew stares. A pale woman in a fine travelling dress did not belong in this tangle of strained muscle and simmering anger. More than one pair of eyes lingered on the graceful curve of her neck, the sway of her hips.
"Eyes forward," Kael muttered, his hand settling on the small of her back. "You're advertising."
"I am." She smiled, serene. "Let them look. When they touch, it will be on my terms."
The village sprawled beyond the docks, ramshackle structures patched together from driftwood and salvaged metal. Flags hung from windows, faded purple and black, the colours of faunus resistance. Graffiti scrawled across walls: Freedom. Equality. Burn the cages.
Salem drank it all in.
She found a tavern at the edge of the market square, a sagging building with a faded sign reading The Drowned Shark. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the low rumble of voices. Faunus packed the tables, drinking and arguing and laughing. A bear faunus tended the bar, his massive arms scarred and tattooed.
Kael found them a corner table and ordered two mugs of ale. Salem sat with her back to the wall, watching the crowd with half-lidded eyes.
"Do you know where to find your stallion?" Kael asked, not looking at her.
"I have an address. Watts was thorough." She pulled the scroll from her pocket, scrolling through the confidential file. "Ruben Bakker. Mercenary by trade. Recently returned to Menagerie to join the resistance. He has a contact in the dockside quarter, a weapons runner named Sable."
"And you plan to just walk up to him and say 'hello, I'm the Queen of the Grimm, I'd like you to father my children'?"
Salem smiled, slow and curved. "Something like that."
Kael leaned back, his arms crossed. "This is insane."
"This is exactly right." She reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing his calloused fingers. "Have a little faith, wolf. I have been planning this longer than you have been alive."
The door of the tavern swung open, letting in a blade of white sunlight. A tall figure stepped through, silhouetted against the brightness, and Salem's breath caught.
He was magnificent.
Seven feet of lean, powerful muscle. A horse faunus with gleaming chestnut skin, a shaggy mane of dark hair pulled back from a face sharp as a whetstone. His ears were long and pointed, his nose flared with the scent of the sea. And he moved like a predator, unhurried and unconcerned, every step economic and dangerous.
The man walked to the bar, and the bear faunus greeted him with a nod. He took a mug of something dark and drank, throat working, and Salem watched the column of his neck, the strain of tendons, the flex of his shoulders under a worn leather jacket.
"Ruben Bakker," she whispered.
Kael followed her gaze and made a low sound in his chest. "That's him?"
"That's him."
"You're sure?"
Salem rose, smoothing her skirts. Her heart hammered in a way it hadn't in centuries. She felt the same giddy anticipation she had felt scrolling through his photos, touching herself at the thought of his massive body, his thick cock.
Except now he was real. Now he was here.
"Stay close," she said. "I want to see if he takes the bait."
She crossed the tavern, weaving between tables, her movements unhurried and confident. The horse faunus did not notice her until she was at his elbow, and when he turned, his dark eyes swept over her with frank appraisal.
"Help you?" His voice was deep and rough, the rumble of gravel under stone.
"I certainly hope so." Salem tilted her head, letting the brim of her hat shadow her face. "A friend told me you're the man to see if I need a problem dealt with. Something quiet. Something discreet."
Ruben's gaze sharpened. He took a slow swallow of his drink, his throat bobbing, and set the mug down with a heavy clunk.
"Friend's got a big mouth. What kind of problem?"
"The kind that involves a shipping contract and certain parties who would prefer it never reached Atlesian authorities." Salem slid a folded slip of paper across the bar toward him. "I have the details written down. And I'm prepared to pay generously for an answer by nightfall."
Ruben glanced at the paper. Then back at her. His nostrils flared, and something flickered in his eyes. Curiosity, she thought. Interest.
He picked up the paper, unfolded it, and scanned the contents.
"This address is in the old fisheries district," he said.
"I know. I'll be waiting there after sunset."
She turned and walked away before he could respond, feeling his gaze on her back the whole way to the door. Kael fell into step beside her, his ears flat, his jaw tight.
"You just dropped your alias and gave him your real location," he said low. "Bold move for a queen who's supposed to be untouchable."
Salem smiled, bright and predatory, as the sun sank toward the horizon.
"Menagerie is the heart of the faunus revolution," she said. "And I intend to plant my seed in its very heart. If I am to do that, I need him to come to me of his own accord. A queen does not chase her consorts. She lets them come to her."
Kael shook his head, a reluctant grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're something else, woman. I'll give you that."
They made their way through the winding streets as the shadows lengthened. The fisheries district was quiet, shuttered, the smell of brine and rot so thick it coated the back of her tongue. The building at the address was a crumbling storefront, its windows boarded up, its roof sagging.
Salem pushed open the door. Inside, dust motes swam in the golden light slanting through the slats. Empty shelves lined the walls. A single oil lamp sat on a crate near the back, unlit.
She lit it. The flame flickered, casting dancing shadows across the peeling paint.
"Now we wait," she said.
Kael prowled the perimeter, checking the corners, testing the door. His wolf ears swiveled, tracking every sound from the street.
"You're sure about this?" he asked.
"For the first time in centuries, I am sure of everything." Salem settled onto a crate, crossing her legs, the skirt of her dress pooling around her. "Ruben Bakker is a mercenary. A man who sells his strength to the highest bidder. He will come. He will be suspicious. And then I will give him a reason to stay."
Kael crouched opposite her, his amber eyes glinting in the lamplight. "You're going to offer him the same deal as me."
"I am going to offer him something better." Salem leaned forward, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Not just freedom. Not just gold. I am going to offer him the chance to be the father of kings."
The hours stretched. The lamplight guttered and smoked. Kael dozed in the corner, his tail flicking in his sleep. Salem sat motionless, patient as stone, watching the door.
She did not have to wait long.
The door creaked open, and Ruben Bakker stepped inside. He filled the doorway, a silhouette against the dim blue of encroaching night. His chestnut eyes swept the room, found Salem, and lingered.
"You're a hard woman to find," he said. "That address you gave was a front. Doesn't exist. I spent two hours walking in circles before I realized you wanted me to track you here."
Salem smiled, a slow, pleased curve of her lips. "And yet you found me."
"Found you? No." He stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floorboards. "I smelled you. From a mile away. That's not perfume you're wearing. That's something else. Something old."
She rose, unhurried, and met his gaze. The glamour held, but she let the edge of her true nature show just a hint in her eyes. A flicker of crimson between the blue of her disguise.
"You're perceptive," she said softly. "That's good. I value intelligence in my consorts."
Ruben's ears flicked back. "Consorts. That's a big word."
"I mean it literally." Salem stepped toward him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. She reached up and pressed her palm to his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat, the solid wall of muscle beneath the leather. "I am the Queen of the Grimm, Ruben Bakker. I have lived for longer than your people have had a name. And I have decided to create a new race, a race of faunus, to inherit this world after I am done with the old one."
His breath caught. His whole body went rigid, and she felt the instinctive tension of a predator assessing a threat.
"You're insane," he said.
"Possibly." She slid her hand up to his jaw, tilting his face down toward hers. "But I am also very, very real. And I have seen your photos on Hunks of Remnant. I have dreamed of your body. I have touched myself to the thought of your cock inside me."
Ruben's pupils blew wide. His breath came harder, and she felt the subtle stir of his cock against the worn fabric of his trousers.
"I can give you anything," she whispered. "Gold. Power. Freedom. A legacy that will outlast the stars. All I ask in return is your seed, and your loyalty."
He stared at her, chest heaving, the air between them thick and electric. His hand came up, slow and deliberate, and he cupped her cheek in his calloused palm.
"The Queen of the Grimm," he repeated, testing the words. "Here. In Menagerie. Offering to fuck me senseless."
"I am offering to make you a king," she said. "Side by side with my wolf, the first of my consorts."
Behind her, Kael stirred. He rose from the shadows, stretching, his amber eyes flicking between the two of them.
"You gonna take the deal, horse?" he drawled. "Or you gonna keep her waiting all night?"
Ruben's gaze flicked to Kael, assessing him, sizing him up. Some silent communication passed between the two faunus, a recognition of beasts.
Then the horse faunus laughed, low and rumbling, and gripped the back of Salem's neck with a possessive hand.
"Queen," he said, savoring the word. "Take me to your fortress. Show me what you want me to breed. And I'll give you sons that'll shake the world to its foundations."