Chapter 2

Cameron let out a furious string of curses as she looked down at the boy, the Regalia bearer... the boy her master had made her watch over.

“Fuck!”

“Shit!”

“Son of a bitch!”

Once her little tantrum was over, she had time to think. That was a bond... wasn’t it? She ran her hand through her hair. As she glanced at him. The moment their hands made contact, she felt him in her soul; the bond forming with her in an instant. It scared her, and she just‌ reacted.

She had nearly shifted completely. If she had, she doubted she would have been able to hold back. As it stood now, it was an effort for her to force herself to calm the thunder begging to be set free. It took precious minutes for her feathers to recede back into her tattoos and for her talons to become nails once more. It took further minutes more for her tattoos to return to normal, receding along with her feathers until just the ones around her neck remained visible.

When she was fully in control of her form again, Cameron let out a shuddering breath as she looked down at... the Regalia bearer... a flash of a memory gave her his name... Malik, no Mal once more.

“Shit! Shit!” she cursed. “This is not what I wanted...” she groaned. This wasn’t how she expected the night to go at all.

Her plan was simple, take him to see the mother of the land just like protocol dictated for all foundlings, even if he was a bearer, the odds of them bonding should have been like one in a billion and protocol still stood that she should take him to see her. After all, what were the odds that she would bond to him the moment they met, and yet...

This complicated matters. Now she had an obligation, a duty, and worse, Daddy would be pissed...

She bit her lip as she rolled him over, fished through his pockets, and pulled out his wallet. She opened it and found his student I.D. With any luck, he’d have his dorm number on it...

She looked at it... blinked and looked at it again. What were the odds? Part of her thought it was some karmic luck, but the more logical side of her knew this had her master’s, no, her mother’s fingers all over it.

How could it not be when they were in the same apartment? Freaking seers…

“Of course.” She growled as she pocketed the I.D. and lifted the boy into a fireman's carry. She grunted in surprise with the strain, “God damn, you’re heavy.” He was surprisingly heavy even for her enhanced strength.

There was the crackle-boom of fireworks. And she looked up at the glittering explosions in the sky. Lucky her... fireworks going off. Now she didn’t need to bother trying to be sneaky about leaving. There was no point. Everyone was drunk or fixated on the fireworks in the sky.

So she carried him to the dorms, dropping him off in his room. Not that she had much choice now... she had been the one to knock him out. It was the least she felt she could do.

All she could do was sit and wait, and that left her to think about her bond with Mal. Even now she could feel the harmony of their souls. Her heart beat in time with his. It was so strong that she didn’t even have to try. She felt him. And that left her mind drifting to the other Regalia bearers. namely her father; to her he was daddy, dad, or George, but to others, he went by other names: the Welsh Dragon, Saint, the vermillion dragon, the inferno, the crimson king

And he bore all of them with a humble pride and great terrifying strength, but as the dragon king he had to be the sole bearer of the crimson flame regalia Ascalon, the same dragon slaying sword from the myths. Cameron had heard the story. It was real, but what mattered was the power of the Regalia Ascalon, said to be the most powerful fire regalia that held dominion over all flames. Even her own fire that she wielded, the familial bond with her father,. A bond that she could already feel was fading. It was already a shade of what it once was when she was a young girl... but now...

It should have taken years, decades for it to fade, but now even that shade was growing fainter and fainter by the second. The thought made her want to cry, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to lose this connection to her family, to her father, mother, and her aunties. But now she had no choice but to move past that. This was always a risk; she knew it might happen one day. Even if bearers were rare, it could happen.

Even her own mother was no exception when she met her father George, who held the record for the most bonded at seven bonded wives, including her birth mother Dakota, and her master, the last thunderbird, till Cameron herself was born , last seer of the Lakota-Sioux. Regalia bearers normally sought bonds from the opposite sex. And given how strong that harmony can be, it was normal for a bearer and their bonded to become involved, so harems were quite common among them.

On a whim, she held out a hand, trying to draw on her lightning alone, magic born of her own power. They burst to life in her palm, vivid plasma crackling like a roaring fire in her palm...

Only when she looked closer, there was something more there... she could feel it; it felt easier to wield, lighter almost. She wasn’t even drawing on her new bond, and yet she could feel his power, fire yet not. It blended with her magic, her lightning so cleanly that she only noticed the difference because she was looking.

It felt like her power, like her magic, but it had his touch to it. His power blending with hers so cleanly, where it anyone else, could they ever tell the difference? She closed her hand, snuffing out the harmonizing mix of their powers. It made her wonder what would happen if she drew fully on his power. After all, even with her father’s bond, her flames, her father's gift, the ones she possessed no longer, hadn’t been this strong.

But for now, that was a worry for later. She locked eyes with him as he sat down.

“Soooo...?”

The two of them had a lot to talk about...

Lyra’s heart beat a mile a minute as she walked back to EΔΣ. it was small nascent barely even there. but she could feel it, the connection between them. He had bound her to himself. like the red string of fate tying their fates together.

her body already taking on his ideal form, such was the nature of a succubus. bust shrinking from their formerly ludicrous proportions, hips widening, growing taller. Freckles bloomed across the bridge of her nose, and her hair, her blonde hair that drew the eye of any man, darkened until it was a gorgeous red-brown.

Sorority Row was as quiet as the grave by the time she arrived at the door of EΔΣ. the motto, well the public one anyways, Excellence, direction, sisterhood glittered above the door. She'd only just opened the door, and she was greeted by the sight of the den mother Allegra, sitting in a chair, her spade tipped tail swishing back and forth giddy with glee. as she languidly stroked the cock of a young first-year werewolf.

“Come now, give Mommy some cream.” She teased the young wolf. before she caught sight of Lyra.

“Ly- oh, my,” she gasped, her meal forgotten. “What happened?” taking in not just her changes, but Lyra’s torn and burnt top.

“I...” Lyra opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, at a loss for words, “a Regalia,” she eventually settled on. “I-I've never felt this before.”

“Oh my,” Allegra cooed. “They all swore you’d never find that person. I held out hope, though. Some people just need more time to blossom.”

She stood, “Come now, explain what happened, and then we’ll move your things. You'll need your privacy now.”

And so she did. It took her little time to explain how she was accosted by werewolves on the football team. How her prince had saved her, and how he had done the unthinkable. Then how he was stolen, at least in her opinion.

and it left Allegra floored, of all her girls to settle down, she’d never thought it would have been the most serious of her girls, Lyra, Lyra who was already in her final year of school, Lyra who seldom fed, Lyra who was more focused on getting a good degree than a man or men.

Lyra practically danced as she was escorted up to get her things. Though it wasn’t any surprise when she found the tiniest thong hanging from the doorknob. Courtesy of her roommate, Aria.

She didn’t need to listen all that hard to know what the other woman was doing.

The thump, thump, thump of the headboard hitting the wall was audible all through the hall, as were her moans.

“harder daddy! fuck my teen pussy!” It wasn't a surprise, really. Only question was which professor she had in her bed today? “Knock me up! You want to put a baby in your little girl don’t you!” Aria had a Daddy/DILF kink a mile wide.

To be entirely fair to Aria, her bed wasn’t the only one rocking, nor were her moans the only ones on this floor. The others just had the decency to erect the sound-dampening wards. Aria did not.

With a long-held sigh of a saint. Lyra opened the door. The sounds of her soon to be former roommate doubled in volume. She came face to face with the sight of Aria, on all fours, while the hunky older man plowed her creamy cunt from behind. His balls slapping her clit with every thrust made her roll her eyes.

salt and pepper hair, easily confused for Hugh Jackman, looked like a lumberjack, with an even bigger cock based on how Aria’s belly bulged. Man reeked of wolves too, so he was definitely a para. Huh... her fine arts professor, six hours ago Lyra would have said that Aria had good taste. Now she was just nonplussed; the sight did nothing for her now. Not even when Aria’s eyes rolled back in what had to be an amazing orgasm.

“Oh, coming!” the girl shrieked. “Fill me up! gimme your cum! your- ah! ah!” he obliged her, filling her womb. Not that she needed to worry about that. A succubus only got pregnant when she wanted to, or with their mate.

“Oh, hey roomie,” Lyra barely had enough time to grab her suitcase before Aria came too.

“Want some?” she asked, gesturing to the professor, whose eyes were entirely glazed over with lust brought about by Aria’s nature. Because it was the polite thing to offer your roommate part of your meal.

“N-no, I'm full already.” Lyra lied. “He’s not exactly my type besides.”

“Okay,” Aria shrugged, pushing the professor onto the bed. His cock standing tall and erect. “Yummy, Moooorre f-for m-m...e~” she moaned in a sing-song voice as she sank down on his cock, eyes lidded as she bounced shamelessly on his length. Naked as the day she was born.

“My daddy has such a magnificent cock~” she panted, slowly working her pussy up. Then down his cock with a long drag.

It wasn’t until she had her second orgasm, spraying her release all over his chest, that she finally noticed what was up. “Oh, sh...it your hair! Oh my gosh, what happened to you!?!”

and by then Lyra had already cleared out her drawers, tucking all of her lacy things and unmentionables into a case and was working on her closet.

“Yes, my hair.” Lyra hummed, toying with a red lock of hair, staring into the mirror with green eyes that were hers now, with a body so unfamiliar, yet familiar.

“Ly spill girl.” Aria came off his cock, seed leaking down her thigh even as she embraced the other woman in a hug.

Heat warmed Lyra’s cheeks; Aria was always the most outgoing and friendly one. “I found him, my person, I found him, Ria,” she said, using the nickname from childhood.

“Oh my God! Ly, I'm so happy for you.” She cheered, bouncing in a way that drew the eye to her... ahem, assets...

“Ria, you slut, you’re dripping on my shoes,” Lyra groaned, as if this was a conversation they’d had many, many times. Because it was.

While Lyra liked to portray the airhead, Aria actually was an airhead, uninhibited and clumsy at the best of times.

“Oh, sorry,” Aria squeaked, cupping her crotch. “Man, he really pumped me full,” she giggled, her normally trim tummy bulging ever so slightly now.

“That's cause you eat too much, you slut,” Lyra huffed. “I need to pack, and you need to lay down and digest your meal instead of dripping it all over my clothes. I don't need to smell like pussy in the morning,” it was said with good humor, but Lyra was serious about not smelling like a whorehouse. They might have already gone smell-blind to the scent. but everyone else would smell them a mile away.

“Sorry, sorry,” Aria climbed into her bed. Leaning back with feet in the air, hips canted just right to aid in the digestion of her meal. “I’m gunna miss you, you know.” She snuggled in close to her professor, using him like a teddy bear.

“I’ll just be downstairs.” Lyra said, packing up the last of her things.

“It won’t be the same.” Aria sniffled.

“Ria...”

Lyra watched as Aria rummaged through her nightstand drawer, her ‘toy’ drawer. “Here I want you to have Mr. Stud and Mrs. Masher.” She handed over her favorite toys: a large emerald-studded buttplug and the largest of her dildos, the one with womb-mashing action.

“Gee, thanks,” Lyra sighed, only taking the toys cause not accepting would make Ria cry. And like it or not, horny sexpot horny Ria was a lot easier to deal with than crybaby Ria.

“Say,” Ria grinned, the grin that always got them into trouble. “You sure you wouldn’t want to go for a tumble in the sheets for old times sake? We are coitus sisters after all.” She splayed her fingers, spreading her sex, dripping with seed. “one for the road from my sister?”

In the past she would have happily agreed, but now something about the concept of another man's seed turned Lyra’s stomach. “I-I think I'll pass.”

“R-really?” Ria looked up at her with large soulful eyes, the eyes that no one could say no to, not even her.

“How about I just flick your bean?” Lyra offered as a compromise.

“Okay, really?” Like flicking a switch, the impending waterworks stopped. “But you have to wear Mr. Studd.”

She was already deep-throating the buttplug, the emerald phallus, her throat bulging impressively as she lubed it up with throat slime, and Lyra shivered. Ria was giving her the succubus special, knowing what their bodily fluids did to a person.

Lyra sighed, undoing her belt, pants falling to the floor. Tonight she’d love her friend and tend to the fire that was her bond. but tomorrow she’d find her prince.