Squad Games [Squad Building LitRPG] [Book One Complete]

Chinara had already orgasmed once. She was beginning to think she might have a second.

He had one hand on her hip; the other squeezed her breast. The repetitive slapping sound got faster, and he groaned, coming to the end. She felt him twitch inside her, then felt the wetness. A few final thrusts and she was quivering again.

"Fuck, I needed that," she gasped.

"Glad to help." He lay next to her. She was comfortable with Alfie. He wasn't an egotistical bastard, a quality that many underestimated.

"Getting close to death, or enslaved by a necromancer, makes you think of the things you'll never do again. That was quite high on my list."

An unbidden memory of Princess Eyota stroking her face bullied its way into her mind, making her feel queasy and hot with rage.

"Oh. I wasn't top of the list, then?"

"Don't get full of yourself."

She traced a finger over the line of the scar on his arm, where Stricken had ripped off flesh. It didn't look too bad now, but it would never leave him. "I never really thanked you for coming to my rescue at the farm."

"I'd have done the same for anyone in the squad."

"Oh. I thought I was special."

"What gave you that impression?"

She slapped him. "Actually, I'm glad you said that. I wanted to tell you something. I don't mind if you screw Wynter."

He propped himself up on one arm and gave her a funny look. "Well, I wasn't expecting that. A weird thing to say to someone right after making love."

"Yeah, well. I'm just letting you know. You're welcome to go there."

"Well, I suppose I'll bear that in mind. Everyone wants a visit from The Guvnah, eh?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Feels like someone has to."

She sighed. "You're great in bed. You're a Level 8 warrior. And you're my gods damned hero. Will that do?"

"It's certainly more like it. Maybe your expression and tone of voice could match the words?"

"Maybe they would. Except now that's over—and honestly, it was fucking brilliant—reality comes rushing back."

"True. We got ourselves a hiding and lost some good people. Doesn't sit well with me at all."

"And I have to go for a meeting with Stiff and a half dozen other people and relive the whole experience in front of them."

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"When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Ah. Want some moral support?"

She shot him a piercing look. "I'm not some pathetic victim, you know."

"Yes, I know. So I can stay here then?"

"I suppose so."

"Good. Because I'm feeling quite sleepy."

***

Vixen finally showed up at Foberoy's house. She was ushered into his study, where an audience awaited her. Lothar sat with Foberoy, Rosalind, and Seregin. All four needed to learn about her time with the enemy. In addition, there was The Baron. He had arrived back in Avolo after his mission and needed to be brought up to speed.

"Sorry I'm late," Chinara said. "Got a bit lost."

Lothar didn't believe that for a moment, but let it slide. There was every chance the girl was feeling vulnerable after her ordeal.

She slumped into a chair. "Alright. What do you want to know about first?"

"The necromancer," Seregin said, greedy for information.

Urkal passed her a cup of whisky, which she made use of before she began.

When they got into it, Vixen could shed little light on Amotken, the sorcerer. She had spent more time in the company of the army's leader, a certain Princess Eyota. Accounts from the battle at Harris farm said Eyota had broken the resistance of his squad. Pecs was dead, and maybe Greenblade and Mental as well. She also revealed Amotken had her trailed by an old acquaintance.

"Stricken!" Lothar said, aghast. "But he's dead!"

Rosalind put a hand on his. "Remember, Stiff," she said gently. "Amotken is a necromancer."

"I know, but Stricken was fully dead. I saw him myself."

Everyone gave him a strange look, like he was simple. I'd rather be simple than understand dark magic like this. When someone is dead, they should stay dead. That's how it's supposed to work.

"Thanks for sharing what you know," Rosalind said to Vixen. "And I'm sorry I left you in the Deepwood."

Chinara shrugged. "You had to leave without me. I don't hold it against you."

"Thank you. Many would, I'm sure."

Lothar turned to Seregin, who wore a disappointed expression. "Has this changed our approach?"

"Not against Amotken. We were agonisingly close to killing him. Thing is, we won't be able to take him by surprise next time. Then there is this princess, and the other one."

"Stricken."

"Yes. If they're invincible, save against Blueblade, it makes our task that much harder. If Amotken has any sense, he'll have at least one close from now on, as bodyguards. Then there's Clamor, and The Harvester."

Lothar nodded. It was a tall order. Meanwhile, he was losing mercs, and the Sargassians had a clear route to Avolo. "Baron? Any thoughts?"

The thief rubbed his chin. "You mentioned Eyota's father, the emperor? He has the ultimate authority?"

"So Eyota told me," Vixen said. "He is the only one she seemed to look up to. She didn't take orders from Amotken."

"But he isn't with the army," The Baron said.

"Maybe he leads the second army out west?" Lothar suggested.

"I don't think so," said Vixen. "My understanding was he stayed in the forest. He has a palace there."

"You're thinking of going for the emperor?" Seregin asked The Baron. A gleam in his eye suggested the elf lord liked the idea. "Surely, he will have minimal protection. It might help us turn the tables on the enemy. Rosalind could take us to his palace."

"I could," De Cheney agreed. "Though we said I would make contact with our squad out west."

"That'll have to wait," Lothar said.

Jaelin's squad had become something of an irrelevance. The Sargassians had captured the Harris farm. His last report from Valnor and Tree was that they had killed and cooked the entire herd of cattle. That gave them enough food for a siege of Avolo.

He turned to Urkal. "The enemy could be here in a day. I'll stay and help you prepare defences. Seregin, I need you here when Amotken arrives. Rosalind will lead a team to the Deepwood to capture the emperor." He locked eyes with her. He didn't want to risk her. But at this point he needed to deploy his pieces strategically. "With any luck they'll be there and back before the Sargassians arrive. However, we need to prepare for the worst."

"The citizens of Avolo thank you for your help," said the mayor.

"Yes, well. The Rotten Apples live in Gal'azu. We don't want it conquered by this necromancer bastard."