Gerall's Festivus Bride

by Rebekah R. Ganiere

  Erik and Adrian shook hands, and then Adrian dropped to all fours, transformed and raced off.

  The brothers gathered around the dead man.

  “What should we do with this one?” asked Hass.

  “Take him with Charlie and dump them together,” said Jamen.

  Hass and Ian headed to the horses and gathered them up.

  Gerall pushed the hair from Eloa’s face. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Where’s Father Ohana?”

  Gerall whistled to Erik. “Priest is gone.”

  Jamen ran to the church as the twins arrived with the horses. Gerall helped Eloa up and then mounted behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  Jamen ran out of the church. “He’s not in there.”

  Erik nodded. “Good. Hopefully, he will stay gone.”

  “I have a feeling he was the one behind everything happening here in Westfall,” said Gerall.

  “If that’s the case, then we most likely haven’t seen the last of him,” said Jamen.

  “Let’s get home,” said Erik. “We’ll come back tomorrow and board the place up after the close of Festivus.”

  The group mounted their horses and headed out of Westfall.

  “So, you are dark fae,” Gerall said. “I think there is much you and I need to discuss.”

  He could hear the quickening of her heartbeat.

  “Yes,” she said. “I suppose there is.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eloa shivered in the night air as they pulled up to Gwyn manor once more. Zelle and Scarlet exited the house and waited for their husbands. Gerall pulled the steed to a stop and hopped down before helping Eloa to the ground.

  “We need to talk,” said Erik.

  Gerall placed his hand on Eloa’s back and ushered her forward. “Later.”

  “Gerall—”

  “I said later!” he snarled.

  The group fell silent.

  “Gerall,” said Snow. “You need to feed. The hunger is clouding your judgment and your words.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he spat. “I’m trying my hardest to keep it together.”

  Sage walked out the door. When had Sage returned from Tanah Darah?

  Sage placed his hands on either side of Gerall’s face and looked him over. Sage’s voice came out calm and gentle. “Let’s get you fed. It will help you see more clearly.”

  “I will feed,” Gerall said. “But first there are some things Eloa and I need to talk about.”

  Tension fell thickly between them— someone needed to take charge before things got ugly.

  “An hour,” she said. “Give us one hour.”

  Though there wasn’t a consensus between them, the brothers stepped aside, and Eloa walked with Gerall and into the house.

  Gerall closed his bedroom door behind them and locked it. She glanced about the room and noted that nothing had changed since she’d left. Gerall walked to the window and touched it with his hand.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I broke the window when I left. Cinder must have fixed it.”

  She wanted to ask him why the window had been broken, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

  Gerall turned and strode to where she stood. “You are a dark fae?”

  She nodded.

  “Your doing or your father’s?”

  “I don’t know. He was a dark fae, so I guess it passed on to me. I had only ever once used the magick before. But I cannot deny that I used the magick on Charlie to get answers.”

  He brushed a hair from her face. “I’ve read about dark fae. They say the pull of the magick is strong, enticing.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Show me.”

  “I... I cannot. If I do—”

  “Show me what your magick can do.”

  Eloa didn’t want to show him, but for unknown reasons, she placed her hand on his chest and let the magick flow from her palm into him. The magick made her tingle, and she fought back an audible sigh.

  Gerall’s hands squeezed her waist tightly, and the cords in his neck pulled taut. The desire to do more wafted through her beckoning her. No! She jerked her hand away. He closed his eyes and gulped for air. When he opened them again, he smiled, revealing long, white fangs.

  A chill spread through her at the same time a knot of excitement furled in her belly. He’d liked it.

  “Didn’t that hurt?” she asked.

  “Yes.” His voice rang out husky and low.

  Eloa licked her lips, and before she could blink, Gerall lowered his mouth to her throat. She gasped, and every muscle in her body tensed. He sniffed her, and his tongue wound its way across the vein that pounded against her skin.

  “Are... you going to bite me?” she stammered.

  A part of her, a dark and forbidden part wanted to say yes. But another part screamed at her to be afraid. Eloa pushed the fearful part away and stood straight. She had nothing to be afraid of. She possessed powerful magick. She wasn’t some stupid farm girl who didn’t know a vampire from a werewolf. Besides, this was Gerall. Her Gerall. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he could have a hundred times over in the past hours. But he hadn’t. He’d held back.

  “Do you want me to bite you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Gerall’s tongue stopped moving. Eloa sucked in a deep breath and held it as his fangs dragged down her skin.

  “Are you sure? I don’t know that I can stop if I start.”

  Eloa placed her palm on his chest again. “I’ll stop you.”

  Gerall kissed her neck again, picked her up, and pinned her against the wall. Eloa wrapped her legs around his hips, and he kissed her again. Fear trembled her limbs as he licked her once more, and then his teeth pierced her skin. She let out a small cry, but then a euphoric feeling of relaxation flooded her. Gerall’s mouth pulled at her neck, and a wave of pleasure flowed through her to her core. Pinned against the wall, his excitement pressed against her.

  Eloa lowered her hand between their bodies and rubbed him through his breeches. He growled and pulled from her vein again.

  She swirled her fingers over his chest. “Enough.”

  He ignored her and sucked again, but Eloa pressed her hand into his skin and unleashed a small degree of magick.

  “Enough!” She pushed him away, dropping to her feet. He stared at her with an animalistic desire. He stood a foot from her, her blood dripping from his mouth. Eloa strode forward and lifted the hem of his tunic. Without speaking, he raised his arms, and she pushed it over his head and then used it to wipe his mouth. His eyes searched her face as he laced his fingers in the hair at the base of her skull and drew her to him. He bent to kiss her, but she turned her head away.

  “Close my neck.”

  Gerall leaned in obediently and licked her throat.

  “Now back away,” she said.

  Again, Gerall complied. She stared at him with a thrill of the control she possessed racing through her.

  “Take off your breeches.”

  Gerall untied his breeches and dropped them to the floor. Eloa took in every inch of his long, lean body. The injury on his stomach had become barely more than a thin line, a shade lighter than his new, paler skin. Every inch of his abdomen stacked with bunched and rippling lean muscles. Not bulky like his brothers, but taut and refined.

  “Lay down.”

  Gerall backed up until his knees hit the bed and he scooted up to the headboard and waited.

  Eloa slowly untied her overdress, watching his eyes focus on each lace as she pulled them through their eyelets. After several painstaking minutes, she finally dropped the dress to the floor. She stood there, quietly mustering up the confidence to fully expose herself to him. She untied the top of her chemise and pulled it down over her shoulders. It caught on her breasts, and she tugged it to the floor. Gerall’s fists wound tight in the cover of his bed, and his fangs remained elongated as he groaned. She slid her pantaloons down an
d then stepped out of the pile of clothing and walked to the bed.

  Slowly she crawled up his body onto his lap. His cold hands ran up her legs to her arms and then down over her breasts to her waist.

  She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed her face closer to his. “Kiss me.”

  Gerall leaned in quick, but she turned away.

  “Gently.”

  His fingers pressed into her hips as she brought her lips to his. He swept his tongue into her mouth, and his chest rumbled. She tasted her blood on his lips as she coaxed his tongue with hers. Soon, his hands moved between her thighs, and she moaned at his touch.

  He rubbed at her most sensitive parts, making her body goosebump. She arched forward, and his mouth caught her breast, and he bit it lightly, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through her. He rubbed and sucked her body, making her mind fuzz over. Then he moved her hips, so she poised above him. He pressed against her, but she pushed him back against the headboard and took charge once more.

  Refusing to let him call the shots, she pressed her hand into his chest and let a small amount of magick roll out of her fingertips. He sucked in a breath, but held her gaze, intense and penetrating. She moved his hands once again to her breasts and then repositioned over him. Rotating her core across the top of him, she watched as his gaze grew more intense. His grip tightened on her, and soon he pinched her sensitive nubs, making them pucker and sending her close to an edge she didn’t know she could fall over.

  When she thought she might burst, she lowered herself down onto him. Inch by excruciating inch, until he filled her. Gerall sat up quickly, grabbing onto her and kissing her hard. Every part of her wanted him for herself. Wanted to surrender herself body and soul, but she couldn’t. She’d seen what he’d become. She couldn’t afford for him to run over her the way he’d already started to do to his family. The only way for them to survive was for her to be in charge.

  She pulled her lips from his and looked deep into his eyes. She rocked her hips back and forth, their gazes never losing contact. He tried to push her faster, but she pinned his hands over his head and stopped moving.

  “No,” she said.

  A growl escaped him, and she leaned in and kissed him softly, letting a lingering moment pass before she began to move again. She circled her hips, grinding into his and every time feeling a quake of pleasure that strummed her core. Faster and faster she moved, becoming lost in the feel of her own pleasure until finally, she dropped his hands, and he grabbed onto her hips. He kissed down her throat as her body wound tighter and closer to the edge of the bottomless cavern of pleasure.

  “Look at me,” he said when she closed her eyes.

  He leaned back and pulled her with him, angling her body, so she slid down him completely.

  “Gerall.” She could barely get his name out of her mouth.

  His gaze intensified. “I can’t hold back much longer,” he said.

  “Gerall.”

  “Eloa, my love.”

  “Gerall!” Her body exploded. Every nerve ending lit like fireworks as her muscles pulled tight around him, squeezing him and pulling him deeper inside her.

  “Eloa... I can’t—”

  “Bite me,” she commanded.

  In a flash, his teeth pierced her throat again. Deep and sharp, they plunged into her skin, making her body convulse with another round of climaxes. He drank from her deep, moaning, and guiding her body onto his faster and harder. Pain mixed with pleasure that she wished would never end. Soon his frenzied climax ended, and he pulled his fangs from her neck, licking her wound shut. He fell back against his headboard, and she opened her eyes to look at him once more. Her vision had clouded with darkness in the edges, and his face swam in and out of view.

  He reached up and touched her face. “Your eyes are black.”

  “It happens when I use dark magick.”

  He kissed her again. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No. Did I hurt you?”

  “A bit.” He smiled. “But I rather enjoyed it.”

  She kissed him hard and then looked at him again. “So did I.”

  Gerall couldn’t believe the immeasurable pleasure that he’d experienced with Eloa. The pain and the ecstasy merging with the blood had all brought him to heights he hadn’t known were possible. The way she’d commanded him, ordered him, owned him, made him believe that they could handle what he’d become. And they’d only just begun to scratch the surface of the depths of pleasure they could bring to one another. Everything he’d learned about female anatomy had been wiped away, and like discovering a new creature, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to spend the next year in bed with her, figuring out everything that made them both tick.

  But as they walked downstairs to meet with his family, he knew those things would have to wait. In the great hall, his siblings, their spouses, and Cinder awaited them. When Gerall and Eloa walked through the door, they all turned.

  Tentatively, the group eyed Gerall. It pained him that they looked at him so warily. But Sage had been right. Drinking had helped him to focus.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Snow.

  “Better, thank you.”

  “Gerall, we need to talk,” said Erik.

  “Please,” Gerall replied. “Let me go first.” He looked down at Eloa, who nodded to him. Not in an eager, expectant way, as she would have two days prior, but more permitting him to say what they had discussed.

  “Eloa and I have talked, and though we love being with you here in Westfall, we think it would be best if only for a short while, we retire to Tanah Darah to stay with Snow and Sage.”

  The group looked at each other in surprise. Sage stood from the table and walked to Gerall, laying his hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder.

  “You would both be most welcome in Tanah Darah.”

  Gerall smiled and nodded.

  “A wise decision,” said Erik. “One that, though we are saddened by, we all agree is for the best. With everything we will now have to contend with here in Westfall, I no longer believe it will be a safe place for you and Eloa.”

  “I believe that to be true. Father Ohana will do whatever is necessary to gain control over Westfall. You must be prepared.”

  “So, you think Father Ohana is behind this?” asked Flint.

  “Without a doubt. I saw his face when the townspeople turned against us. He was happy about it. We cannot prove it of course, and with these new miracles he has been performing, the number of believers has increased twenty-fold. For whatever reason, he is determined to take hold of Westfall.”

  “Then we will be even more vigilant,” said Flint. “Westfall belongs to the Gwyns. It will not fall into the hands of a man spewing lies and falsehoods.”

  “That is a fight for another day,” said Jamen. “When shall you leave?”

  “Within the hour, I should think,” replied Gerall. “I just need to pack a few things, and then we have one last piece of business to attend to before we depart.”

  “And what is that?” asked Snow.

  “We need for Erik to marry us,” said Eloa.

  The group smiled, and all gathered around for a huge hug.

  “Welcome to the family,” said Erik.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind,” said Ian.

  “I’ll marry you if you don’t want a neckbiter for a husband,” said Hass.

  Eloa smiled. “Not on your life.”

  Jak the Giant Healer

  "You what?" Jak shouted.

  "It's for your own good." Her father swayed on the spot.

  "How is me being sold off in a game of cards for my own good? More likely it was for your own good." Jak slammed her fists on the rickety kitchen table making it shake.

  Her father straightened his drunken shoulders. "Jakleen don't you take a tone with me-"

  She stepped closer to her father, making him back up. For all of his bluster she knew the truth, she terrified her father.

  "I'll take any to
ne I want. I am a person, not a horse, not a pig, not a chair. You cannot use me as a prize in a game of cards." She clenched her fists tight, her magic waking in her veins and begging to be used. "I will not marry that overbearing, brainless dolt, Rupert."

  "You will! Because I am your father and I say you will."

  She narrowed her gaze. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

  Her father's gaze flicked to the side and he licked his lips before smiling. "Rupert is popular in the village and in the last few years he has become wealthier than anyone else. He will make you a decent husband and me a respectable son in law." He clumsily reached into his pocket and pulled something out. "And he gave me this for you." Her father held out a beautiful purple and pink-jeweled butterfly hairpin.

  Jak took the pin and turned it over in her hand before throwing it at her father. "Where did he suddenly get all of this wealth? Did you even bother to ask? Stealing most likely."

  "You don't know that." Her father burped and steadied himself on a wobbly chair.

  "And what did he promise you if you let him marry me?"

  Her father straightened and pushed back his shoulders. "He promised to be a suitable husband and provider and-"

  Rage flowed through Jak. She grabbed a butter knife off the table and brandished it at her father.

  "All right. He... he promised to pay all my debts in town and give me a small monthly allowance."

  There it was. Just as she'd said. Her father had sold her for ale and card money. Jak threw the knife across the small house where it stuck in the wall of her father's bedroom.

  Her father screeched and ducked. "It was either that or sell your beloved cow, Annabelle."

  "I or the cow and you chose the cow. Typical."

  She couldn't believe it. Her father had always been a wrung above pig snot but this... this was worse. Anger flared within her. How in the world could her mother have thought she'd be better off being raised by this man than with her in the forest?

  Jak grabbed her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pushed passed her father and out into the early spring morning.