Before I could react to what was going on in front of the fire, a hand was closed over my mouth and one thrust between my legs, possessively cupping my sex through the thin leather. My first reaction was to bite the hand, but they kept their palm curved in such a way that I couldn’t sink my teeth into their flesh. I pushed on the hands, but they refused to move. It was like being held in a vice.
“Look at how utterly devout Islwyn is!” a familiar voice rumbled in a whisper. Yorwrath. “Aren’t you glad our dear little catamite king didn’t claim you?” A muted chuckle bitter as poison accompanied the cutting statement and I struggled more. I stopped trying to pry his hands away and instead elbowed him in the stomach. Grunting, he refused to budge, and as I attempted to step on his feet, he moved them expertly away. “I want you to watch.”
With a growl, I turned my attention back to the fire. Islwyn was busying himself unfastening the ties of Aneurin’s trousers. They were speaking to one another, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. I couldn’t see Aneurin’s expression as Islwyn freed the flaccid length and proceeded to suckle the limp phallus all the way to the root. Aneurin’s hand rested on top of Islwyn’s head. He played his fingers in the blond’s curls as Islwyn’s head bobbed between those powerful thighs I had sat astride only days before.
“Poor pretty Dy’ne, you probably thought you were something special.” Yorwrath practically cackled in my ear as I watched Islwyn finish his devotional.
Admittedly I felt a bit heartbroken and more than somewhat stupid as I watched Aneurin’s body shudder with his climax. Islwyn finally rose, his pink tongue licking the last remnants of Aneurin’s seed from the corners of his mouth. Aneurin must have said something, because Islwyn suddenly jumped and his face contorted in anger. Afterward, Islwyn left the fireside, practically running away, leaving Aneurin alone. Before he tucked his glistening length back into his trousers, he reached for a nearby wooden bottle and threw it into the fire. Whatever was in the bottle was strong; the flames flared high as the bottle exploded. Aneurin stood and threw back the flap of the tent behind him and disappeared.
Yorwrath released me and walked into the camp. I stared at the fire for a while. Pwyll ran up to Aneurin’s tent and paused at the door. A moment passed, and Aneurin stepped out from behind the flap. Words that didn’t reach my ears were exchanged, and Aneurin patted Pwyll on the shoulder. Those mismatched irises of his looked hopeful and haunted as he nodded to whatever Pwyll was saying. Pwyll left, but Aneurin lingered by the fire.
It was tempting to leave. I still felt kind of invincible—but escaping from a dungeon and certain death will do that. I certainly didn’t need to be there. The rational part of me wanted me to turn around and start walking away. However, the emotional part of me wanted to see Aneurin. In an odd occurrence, emotion won out, and I walked into the camp. I thought I was walking silently, but the moment my footsteps fell on dry leaves Aneurin turned around. He gasped when he saw me, his face full of surprise and relief. In an instant, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a long, warm embrace. He stank of liquor and fermented flowers, but I hugged him back and pressed my face to his chest all the same.
“How can this be real?” he asked as he leaned over me and stared down at my face. “I heard they burned you. Yorwrath said you burned last night… I saw the pyre.”
“You will all burn long before I do, sheepfuckers,” Yorwrath’s voice cut into our moment, reciting what I wrote on the wall of the temple. Narrowing my eyes, I turned my head to him.
“You said she was dead!” Aneurin yelled.
“I say a lot of things, baby brother.”
“You talked me out of rescuing her!”
“What I want to know, Valentina. Is how you made it so the fire can’t be put out? Are you really a witch?”
“Why?”
“You know the whole town is burning now. A few of the elves have come to join us. Heves will be ash by the time you Dy’ne’s precious Dawn comes. Was it a spell?”
“Yorwrath,” Aneurin cried, “answer me!”
“Oh, I’ll answer you…when you stop acting like a bitch in heat around her. Until then…” He shrugged. “Was it a spell? I’ve always wanted to fuck a Dy’ne witch.”
“I get it. You’ve such a small cock no one will willingly lie with you. It’s okay Yorwrath. It’ll be okay.” Stepping away from Aneurin I walked into the tent, rolling my eyes all the while. The instant the flap of the tent stopped moving, a loud argument in their native speech began. I didn’t care. I took my pack off and lay down on the bed covered in furs. The thought that I might have burned down a whole town didn’t seem to bother me in the slightest as I pulled the furs around me. They were going to burn me like they burned the apothecary before me… it only seemed fitting that they would burn instead. Though admittedly my aim was only to burn down the temple.
Chapter Seven
The sounds of the forest woke me. I had never heard birds sing overhead in the morning before; their incessant chirping was maddening. Groaning, I looked around the tent. There was that familiar confusion of waking up in an unfamiliar setting, but that quickly passed when I glimpsed my dagger beside me. Smiling, I stroked the small sheath, dancing my finger down the embossed leather. On the other side of the dagger lay Aneurin. He was still asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling in his slumber. The tips of his ears twitched a little as his brows furrowed and a soft groan broke his lips. The smooth planes of his face creased with the distress of a bad dream. I wondered what fear had him fretting. Attempting to calm him, I traced down his profile and his eyelids opened. In the dark of the tent his green iris was almost black but the brown one was red like coals in a fire. I continued my finger’s descent over the tip of his nose, to his lips. He kissed my fingertip, and a lazy smile turned the corners of his mouth.
“Bore da,” he purred to me. Clueless as to what he said, I grinned at his tone.
“What?”
“Good morning,” he responded before standing.
“Good morning to you too. Or should I say bore da?” At my attempt to speak elvish his smile turned into a grin.
“I…” Trailing off, he snatched a shirt from on top of a nearby chest. He pulled it on and tucked it into his trousers before he finished his thought. “Do you wish to stay?”
“I want to be wherever you are.”
“Then I need to claim you tonight. It’ll be far more public than it would have been before.”
“And I have to be claimed?”
“Yes. Yorwrath’s made it very clear that he has…plans for you.”
“Plans?”
“Mhm, and I think he’ll fracture the clan over them.” He pulled on a heavy green jerkin and strapped a sword belt to his hips. “He hasn’t said as much, but he’s the worst sort of creature when denied something he wants.”
“You’re overreacting. I have no doubt Yorwrath will do something stupid, but I doubt he’d do something that stupid.” I smiled at Aneurin, and he let out the softest of sighs.
“Just…avoid being alone with him…even after I claim you.”
“All right, I promise I’ll avoid being alone with him.” My voice practically dripped displeasure.
“Good.” Walking over to a nearby chest, he pulled out a large package wrapped in linen and bound with twine. “We were able to save a few of your things from the fire—mostly books. I remembered what happened to your last place, so we didn’t have much time. Everyone got out okay.” He set the parcel on the edge of the cot and then paused. “In preparation for tonight, you’ll have to spend the day with the other slaves.”
“So now that you have me here there’s no sugar coating. I’m to be your slave.” The words were sour in my mouth, and I stared down at my dagger for a handful of moments. “What happened to not wanting to think of me as your concubine?” My head twitched to the side.
“To me, you’ll never be my slave, but to everyone else here that’s all they’ll see you as.”
; “I thought you were their king? Can’t you change things?”
“It’s not that easy. Yorwrath, unfortunately, made a few valid points last night. One of which was that if I don’t make it clear that you’re like every other pretty Dy’ne an elf fetches from town, I’d lose my supporters who want to go back to the old ways.”
“You said you didn’t want to be king.” My eyes narrowed as he paced the tent.
“I don’t, but I’m a rather big fan of living. And without supporters, those who are against the very concept of my existence will see an opening and kill me. So this”—he gestured around—“is necessary for my survival. Yorwrath and his Redcaps have protected me since the beginning. Were I more practical I’d give you to him… But I’m not. I meant what I said, Valentina. I love you, and I’m willing to do everything I can to keep you near me and keep you safe. I can’t do that if I’m dead.”
“You don’t have to stay,” Islwyn spoke from the doorway of the tent. I jumped at his voice. Fuck elves and their silent feet.
“Is this your way of trying to drive Valentina from my side?” Aneurin snapped with a bit of a growl.
“No. Bind her to you tonight. Then, while everyone is sleeping off the festivities, leave.”
“Why do I have the feeling that you’ve some nefarious motive behind your suggestion?” I asked, quirking a brow.
“There isn’t one. I’ll be traveling with the both of you. To the northwest at the heart of the abandoned forest is an ancient temple. Aneurin needs to consult the oracle there. I had a vision last night as I slept of moonlight glinting off a violet crystal at your throat, Valentina. The image of you moved as though it were water, but it seemed as clear to me as you do at this moment. There’s only one place with a pool that clear, or rather, rumored to be that clear. The vision pool at Twr o Rhagwelediad.”
“The abandoned forest is cursed, Islwyn,” Aneurin replied flatly. “And I’m fairly certain the druids that tended it are all dead. Hence the whole cursed part.”
“My vision showed us there in safety.”
“Your vision showed Valentina there.”
“With your collar upon her throat! Which means you had to be there. Why else would she be there?”
“Uhh, boys, I’m right here.” I broke their conversation as I got out of bed and stretched. Aneurin gestured to me, and Islwyn smirked.
“Get used to it, Dy’ne. You have one purpose, pleasuring Aneurin. Beyond that, you’re just something nice to look at. The best part of it is that those of us who support our right and gracious king do so for the right to …demand to give you a good plowing as a reward for our faithful service. You see, that’s what the ceremony is all about. Checking to see if that sopping slit between your thighs is fit enough to be worthy of reward. Though part of me hopes you aren’t, because I’d love to feel you wri—”
“Islwyn!” Aneurin barked, narrowing his eyes. His ire was practically tangible as he stared down the blond.
“No, I want to hear what he was going to say,” I demanded, crossing my arms.
“Valentina.” Aneurin sighed. “You really—”
“No, let him finish.”
“What I wanted to say was, I’d love to feel you writhing on my cock. Because if you’re declared unworthy, Yorwrath and I get to have you.” Like hell, you will. My right eyelid twitched visibly, triggering the broadening of Islwyn’s smirk.
“You said you saw her with my collar… It has to be unanimous.”
“I’m not exactly feeling charitable after last night, and we both know ‘addas’ will be far from Yorwrath’s lips.”
“The fuck I’m going to go through with that only to be handed over to Yorwrath,” I snapped, as I picked my pack up and started putting the books Aneurin saved into it.
“Welcome to reality, Dy’ne. It tends to be far harsher than any bard’s tale or troubadour’s song. Though if Yorwrath is your only problem we can come to an arrangement that would be beneficial.”
“You want her too!” Aneurin roared as his face twisting in anger.
“What was it you said about me? Oh yes, I’ll fuck or let myself be fucked by anything that moves?”
Rolling my eyes, I let them talk as I packed my bag. As practical as I was, I had my limits. I wasn’t beyond letting myself be fondled to obtain what I wanted. I wasn’t above having sex with someone for an end. Survival is survival, and sometimes you had to use your body to survive. This was only a sidestep to being practically sold by my family to the lesser lord all those years ago. But I was beyond letting someone who I knew would hurt me if given the chance dip his wick into me. As if on cue, Yorwrath entered as I was pulling my bag over my shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” He grinned as he grabbed my pack from me and dropped it on the floor. The other two grew silent at Yorwrath’s entrance.
“Far far away from you.”
“Have you resolved to judge her ‘anaddas’ as well?” Aneurin glared at his brother.
“I’ll need a closer look to decide. I came to offer my slaves to you for her preparation. She doesn’t know what’s expected, and it would be unseemly for you to touch her before she’s declared.”
“I don’t even trust you.” Islwyn laughed.
“You don’t have a brother, Islwyn. You don’t think about anyone but yourself.”
“Yorwrath, you made it clear last night you were willing to go to drastic lengths to take her from me like she was some…trinket given at Yule.” As Aneurin defended my honor, I snatched my bag from the floor and started inching toward the tent flap.
“She’s Dy’ne. She doesn’t get our respect or consideration. Comely Dy’ne are only fit to be tied to a bed for a few days and rotated out when we grow bored. Admittedly her spark makes her more interesting than the average innkeeper’s daughter or whore who goes pliable after a few slaps. I bet she’d put up a merry little fight and even leave me a bit bruised for it. But she’s still Dy’ne, and Dy’ne are slaves, not lovers—no matter how many men they’ve killed.” Yorwrath smirked, and his gaze fell on me as I inched my way out of the tent. He knew what I was doing, but he wasn’t stopping me this time. Our gazes locked as I continued backing out of the room…right into a wall of muscle. Unfortunately, Grwn was walking forward, so as our bodies connected I was knocked off my feet and thrown forward. I actually rolled over a few times on the floor before coming to a stop with a grunt. Yorwrath cackled with glee as I winced on the ground and slowly rose to standing with Aneurin’s help.
In Grwn’s arms was a crying girl with a ruddy, human complexion and ears that were barely pointed. She was a half-elf, her dirty blonde hair hanging to her waist in messy, half-matted tendrils. She wailed in their language as Grwn set her down and shoved her toward Yorwrath.
“Pwyll’s payment,” Grwn grunted. He seemed torn, and as big as he was, he seemed a bit afraid of Yorwrath. It was odd to me since Grwn looked like if he wanted to, he could snap the lithe elf like a twig.
“Isn’t that—” Aneurin started, but Yorwrath interrupted him, ripping open the girl’s shift right down the middle. The tatters of linen that remained fell forward on her arms, covering the crude rope that bound her hands.
“Yes, this is Pwyll’s little half-elf bastard, but she’s flowered. Haven’t you, Catrin?” The girl at Yorwrath’s feet only whimpered in response. She looked to be maybe a handful of years younger than myself. “I won her last night at cards, and now she needs to be claimed.” He reached down and started unfastening his trousers. Aneurin said nothing but crossed his arms as a look of disapproval settled onto his handsome features. Islwyn looked away. “Oh, don’t get like that. Her mother was one of Pwyll’s slaves, and you know Pwyll. Yes, her ears point, but she’s still Dy’ne.” He’s saying it in common for me.
He shoved her facedown in the dirt. She sobbed but didn’t fight him. Instead, she arched her back, presenting her sex to him. Those tears that streaked her cheeks weren’t from dreading what he would do, but rather because she was nervous
. She kept glancing back at him, but those eyes of hers didn’t read fear but longing. After freeing his thick, hard length from his trousers, he stroked himself openly as he looked down at her. His rigid phallus was roughly the size of his brother’s though not as thick, which put it right on this side of punishingly large to a human’s eyes.
Those sobs of hers gave way to the softest of moans as he caressed down her back and across the curve of her bottom, to slip a finger between her dewy folds.
Yorwrath sucked his teeth. “Someone’s not an innocent. Grwn, go tell Pwyll we’re not settled.” He barked the order, withdrawing his finger from the girl. Grwn, looking not a little relieved, nodded to his leader before leaving the tent. Yorwrath knelt behind her inspecting her sex. He traced his fingers along that delicate pink slit, teasing that hot wet opening with shallow strokes of his fingertips as he continued to stroke himself. The scene was bizarre. It was like watching some kind of twisted horse trader as he continued fingering her, watching her body respond. The girl’s soft moans filled the room as Islwyn and Aneurin looked on almost passively, but I could make out the line of their erections in those leather pants.
Even with all the prepping, she still screamed as Yorwrath lanced into her, his smile spreading as he looked up at me. There was a promise in his eyes as he pounded into the girl, and the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room. ‘This will be you,’ that gaze of his vowed with every thrust as he watched me. The heat in his gaze made my body react as I wondered for a moment what it would feel like to have him behind me. When Grwn returned, holding Pwyll by the arm, I was thankful for the distraction. Yorwrath cackled through a groan as he finished in the girl. Immediately after, he shoved her away from him, but that red-hot gaze stayed focused on me.
Heart of the Forest (Arwn's Gift Book 1) Page 9
