Heart of the Forest (Arwn's Gift Book 1)

by Christina Quinn

  “So what will the ritual do exactly?”

  “If it works it’ll give back the missing memories. But…”

  “It’ll never be the Aneurin I knew.”

  “Anything is possible with strong enough magic. However, if Caoilfionn can’t do it…”

  “I’ll have to make a pact with Baba Yaga.”

  “No, oh…Gods no. Nothing that extreme. You’d have to wake your gift… Gods. Urgh, don’t even mention that please.” Islwyn visibly trembled.

  “But you’ll help me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Because of ill-placed desire?”

  “Because…” he trailed off and a half chortle caught in his throat. “Yes, I suppose that is the simplest way of putting it.” I eyed Islwyn skeptically for a few moments before I nodded slowly. I didn’t fully believe or trust those words. Something about what he said didn’t fully sit right with me.

  * * * *

  The next day Yorwrath and I sparred in the ruins of the city. Autumn was starting to set in. The air was getting crisper, and the leaves had started to change; the bright green was beginning to shift to a yellow-green hue. With each attack, I was fairly certain that I’d slip and split my head open on either the cobblestones that peeked between the vines, the chunks of stone that littered the ground, or the vines themselves.

  Yorwrath danced between the obstacles with ease as he swung his sword at me. I, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to keep my footing no matter what I did. He had taken to swatting me with the flat of his sword when I missed a block.

  “Stay still so I can hit you!” I snarled as I chased him, practically waving my sword.

  “C’mon, Dy’ne, steel to steel, give me some play. I grow bored,” Yorwrath grumbled, easily dodging my wild swipes at him.

  “Maybe if we weren’t in a thicket of fucking vines!” I roared as I chased him on unsure feet. Wading through the vines felt like learning to walk again. My calves ached, but I eventually caught up with him. I swung my sword, and he blocked the strike. I had never felt so happy to hear the clang of steel on steel. I hissed with delight and…he kicked the sword from my hand and cackled. “Why must you be such a sheepfucker?” I groaned as I walked off to find the sword.

  “Sheepfucker? Sometimes. They do tend to be tighter than most Dy’ne. They also scratch less… Smell better too.” He laughed. I can’t believe I fucked him. I turned and stared at him as he adjusted that red bandanna. “I haven’t all day, Dy’ne.”

  “Aneurin wants to war with Ersland.”

  “About time.”

  “What? I mean honest war as in sieges and battles.”

  “And my Redcaps will deliver the smaller cities… We’ll leave so many bastards in our wake you Dy’ne will never be able to breed us out.” He snorted. I stared at him slack-jawed for a few moments and then started shaking my head. “What?”

  “Nothing. I honestly haven’t the slightest why I expected another answer from you.”

  “Pretty Dy’ne, just because I enjoy that tight, hot, drooling slit between your thighs doesn’t mean I’m suddenly a different elf. I might want you even right now, but the thought of throwing you on the ground and taking you as rough as I please, after putting a town to the torch, while still drenched in the oh so red blood of those Dy’ne who dared stand against me… Well…” He sighed. “Nothing could be sweeter…except maybe if I forced Islwyn to lick my seed from you after.”

  “That’ll never happen,” I said with a laugh, as I turned around and started my search for my sword in the brush.

  “What are you’re going to do if it doesn’t work, Dy’ne?”

  “If what doesn’t work?”

  “The ritual, of course. Keep up, Dy’ne. Or do I need to use slow words for you?”

  “Why are elves so fucking pessimistic?” I growled to myself as I retrieved my sword.

  “Because we’ve learned hope is a lie, Dy’ne.”

  “I know you didn’t always think that.” I turned and sheathed my sword.

  “You’re right. I didn’t.” He sighed and looked around. “But trust me… You shouldn’t get your hopes up. You’ll just end up hurt.”

  “I’m already hurting, Yorwrath. I have to look at him every fucking day. I have to look at him and remind myself that’s not my Aneurin. I would kill every last one of you just to have his arms around me…to kiss his lips or to see half of that recognition back in his eyes. I would fucking walk barefoot and naked through the sands of Athari. I woul—”

  “I get it. I’ve been there.” He walked toward me and looked around quickly before pulling me into his arms in an embrace. “We’re survivors. I got past it, and you’ll get past this.” He placed a nervous kiss on my cheek that took me by surprise. I blinked up at him in half confusion. “Or I’ll claim you as mine like the soft little Dy’ne bitch you are and make one of m—” I cut him off by punching him in the mouth with a tiny yowl. He chuckled in response, flashing me blood-pinkened teeth as he smirked down at me with sparkling metallic eyes. “Mmph, that’s my girl.” He moved to kiss me, and I bit his lips hard, making him wince, but he never pulled back. Eventually, I released that tender torn flesh and returned his kiss.

  “Call me a bitch again, and I’ll slip you water lily and saltpeter.”

  “Oh?”

  “You won’t be able to enjoy this.” I reached between his legs and grabbed that turgid flesh straining the leather of his trousers.

  “Mm, that would be a pity.” The rough whisper escaped his lips as he sought out my mouth again for a deeper kiss. I ended it almost as quickly as it began.

  “Tonight you’ll have enough of that.”

  “But I’ll have to share.”

  “Yes, with Aneurin and Islwyn.”

  “They’ll probably be too busy plowing away at each other to notice us.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be the case.”

  “It was last night. I could hear their moans through the door.”

  “Islwyn—”

  “Told you some sob story, did he? And you fell for it? Gwaedlyd gwirion Dy’ne.” He snorted.

  “What?” I peered sharply at him as I stepped from his arms.

  “Bloody stupid human cunt.” That’s a sudden change in mood.

  “So you’re going to call me a cunt because I don’t want to fuck you?” My words won rich, deep peals of laughter from Yorwrath.

  “That’s more or less what ‘Dy’ne’ means, Dy’ne. Though it also means human slut, or human whore, or human slave.”

  “Lovely.” I looked up at the sky. “Well, I have to meet Caoilfionn to be anointed; I’m sure you can wait. Besides, I’m only a Dy’ne to all of you after all… What does it matter? I’m sure I’m merely a step above your fucking sacred sheepfucking right hand.” I flipped him off as I walked back toward the temple. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. I could feel that heavy glare follow me all the way to the steps.

  Aneurin was on his way down the stairs as I was on my way back up. He walked past me without so much as a second look. I swallowed and stopped in my tracks. It was amazing how much such a banal gesture could hurt.

  “So much for love,” I breathed as I trailed him with my gaze. He stopped.

  “What?” He turned and tilted his head to the side.

  “Nothing, ignore me. I’m not even here.” I sighed and continued back up the stairs. I heard those familiar, sure, quick footsteps and soon found myself shoulder to shoulder with Aneurin.

  “But you are here, wife.” He beamed at me. I stopped again and stared up at him with a sigh. He towered over me, and I remember the first time my Aneurin called me wife. Pursing my lips, I swallowed and glanced over him.

  “Can you really call me that?”

  “I would think so; you are my wife after all.”

  “Am I? Where did we speak our vows?” I crossed my arms and glared up at him.

  “Just because I don’t remember these things doesn’t make it less true.”

>   “Does it?”

  “I meant what I said the other day.”

  “But you didn’t look at me.”

  “You’re jumping at shadows. I was looking for you and deep in thought.”

  “Battle plans?”

  “No, the ritual.” His gaze danced over me for a moment as we reached the large arching doorway that led to the temple. We could look down to the city from where we stood. Yorwrath was still below, and he stared up at us from his perch on what was probably once a fountain.

  “What about the ritual?” I turned back to Aneurin for a moment as we walked under the arch and into the temple.

  “It’s asking a lot of you.”

  “I thought that was the whole point of claiming a Dy’ne—to share them with your lieutenants.”

  “And yet I can almost say with certainty that is not why I claimed you.” He flashed me that quick boyish smile as I climbed the stairs up the tower.

  “Stop it,” I grumbled as we continued up the spiraling staircase.

  “Stop what?”

  “Making me think you give two shits. I’m just some Dy’ne to you. A pretty one but…that’s all. I’m some human stranger you want to fuck. Not your queen, not your wife, just a nice place to put your cock.”

  “Yet you’re on your way to get anointed to be shared between three elves for me.”

  “I told you why. Stop poking at me like some butterfly held with pins.”

  “And if it fails?”

  Ignoring him, I turned into the little room before the door to the garden. I could smell the scent of that thick smoke from the claiming heavy on the air. The memory of Aneurin taking me on my back in front of everyone and breaking tradition eviscerated me. I turned and found him in the doorway. There was no recognition in his eyes, but still I ran to him and wrapped my arms around him like I wanted to do when I saw him alive and riding on Caoilfionn’s back.

  “Wh—”

  “Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” I breathed against his chest. “Don’t ruin this. Just shut up and hold me,” I growled. He smelled the same, that thick scent of oak trees, apples, and something dark and spicy. Those powerful arms slowly wrapped around me and I practically melted against him. Shaky breaths left my lips as I nuzzled against that familiar jerkin. “Anything for you,” I murmured so softly that I could barely hear myself.

  “Va—”

  “Shh…” I hissed as I pressed my ear against that leather and listened to that achingly familiar muffled heartbeat. It should have been my Aneurin, but it wasn’t. After a few minutes, I stepped away from him. He looked exquisite with that sorrowful expression gracing his lovely features.

  “I wish I could be—”

  “No, you don’t.” I turned from him and slipped through the doorway, not letting him retort.

  Caoilfionn was waiting for me on the other side of the door. The room was illuminated dimly by a single window. There was a stool and a table that had a silver carafe on it and next to it a glass wrapped with silver wire in ornate patterns. Next to the carafe and glass was a small bowl etched with a forest scene. It was filled with some clear liquid that reflected the light oddly. The smoke that filled the room made everything seem surreal. Every breath seemed to strip away my tension and reservations over what the ritual would entail.

  The room was dominated by an enormous silver basin. I knew what it was. Above it was an immense jewel that caught the light of whatever celestial body happened to be out at the time. This was where those famed druid seers had their visions of the future.

  “Fuck that, I’m not getting in there.” I pointed at that recessed gleaming silver pool.

  “I’ll get in with you.” Caoilfionn’s voice was soft and even as he walked over. On the way, he grabbed the glass from the table and presented it to me.

  “It’ll kill me.”

  “You’re Arwn’s blood; you’ll be fine. This Is part of the ritual. Please, drink from the goblet and disrobe.”

  “If I die, I’ll come back and feast on your bones.” I giggled as I sipped the sweet, cool liquor.

  “Fair enough, Mistress.” Caoilfionn bowed his pale head to me, and I drained the glass as fast as I could and passed it back to his hands.

  The room swam as my skin grew warm, and I felt something within me stir. It was like I had something inside me lurking under my skin that was responding to the intoxicating brew. I ran my tongue over my teeth as I tried to recall the taste of the liquor that had passed my lips mere seconds before. There was a floral note that lingered as I dropped my sword, pulled off my boots, and stripped out of my clothes. Caoilfionn’s breath caught as he took in my nude body, and my stare snapped to him. In those delicate pallid hands was another glass of that liquor that he offered to me. I took it and downed it as fast as I had the first. He retrieved a silver censer from by the hearth and walked to my side murmuring words as I walked toward that reflective pool.

  My body knew what to do as I stepped into the icy waters while Caoilfionn chanted from the edge, spreading that thick smoke around me. I blinked, and suddenly Caoilfionn was beside me in the water… I had lost time. He was naked, and with the way his long white hair rested on his chest he almost looked like a flat-chested woman. His torso wasn’t particularly soft, but the definition of his muscles was certainly androgynous. There was a simple line down the center of his stomach, as opposed to the ridges and dips of those four pairs of muscles most elves had. His waist even narrowed like a woman’s. He was chanting in a language I didn’t know as he gathered the waters in his hands and poured them over my head.

  The heat of my skin intensified as that glittering clear liquid dripped down my forehead and over my body. It was like I was being wrapped in a cocoon of warm pleasure that made me want to touch and to be touched. And still…

  “I hate you,” I breathed to him as I gazed up into his ever-changing eyes. His brows furrowed but still he kept muttering those words that illuminated the jewel above us. The light from that white glowing gem hit the water and made the pool seem like some odd sparkling mirror. I felt myself slipping away in that warmth, and I blinked again.

  Opening my eyes, I found myself standing on the stones in the middle of the room as my dark hair dripped that sacred water down my back. Caoilfionn was in front of me holding the small silver bowl, and I held the goblet once again. My lilac gaze danced over that beautiful body of silver and light. He was certainly male. In spite of that narrowed waist, pretty face, delicate bones, and long hair, he had between his legs a rather large and flaccid phallus that was as colorless as the rest of him. As I stared at him, he drew a pattern on the center of my forehead with oil. Then he set the bowl on the small table beside us before dipping both of his thumbs in. First, he spread the oil over my lips. It tasted almost like the nectar of some rare flower…and not unlike the liquor I drank. Then he dipped his fingers back into the bowl.

  With a small trembling breath, he took his thumbs and brushed them over my nipples. That sacred oil tingled on contact with the dusky, sensitive skin. That flesh puckered into hard aching points almost instantly. A breathy moan broke my lips, but he didn’t even look up at me as he continued to play his thumbs over those achy throbbing tips, making certain they were completely coated. I swallowed as I shifted my stance, moving my legs a little wider apart. I knew what was going to come next as he dipped his thumbs in that oil once again.

  This time, he sought out the lips of my sex with his fingers. He traced them carefully, coating them in the oil that seemed to awaken some primal lust within me. He glazed all parts of me with that tingling salve. There wasn’t a single speck of my secret parts that remained unanointed. He was thorough. With those long pale fingers, he worked that oil inside that hungry nether mouth as well as my back passage. He seemed to relish stroking his finger into my ass as I moaned and pressed my bottom against his hand. I was so far gone from the incense that I forgot I hated him and seized his mouth with mine as he fingered me. The kiss was nervous on his part and deep on min
e as I lanced my tongue between his soft lips. My mouth fell open in a wordless gasp as he worked a second finger in beside the first. I trembled against him, feeling that flesh of his harden against my belly.

  Once my body started to glisten from internal heat, he withdrew his fingers from me and, with a swallow, stepped away. My skin felt like it was on fire, one that only the touch of elven flesh could quench. I forgot all about the ritual as Caoilfionn ushered me to the garden, even as he followed me with that censer spewing its intoxicating incense. Its smoke made my eyes glaze over as I walked out among the fragrant flowers. That gloss of half-tears made the whole world glimmer and shine.

  Gathered on the altar, Aneurin, Islwyn, and Yorwrath sat totally in the nude. Aneurin and Islwyn were talking quietly with one another, but Yorwrath sat off to the side with his arms crossed. His body language read nothing short of hostile. I could tell they had been drinking as there was an open cask of something on one of the steps that led to the altar, and it dripped on the stone that seemed impossibly white.

  “All you have to do is let go,” Caoilfionn’s voice seemed to whisper in my ear. I turned around expecting to find him there, but he wasn’t. No, his half-naked form walked a circle around us with salt sprinkling on the ground from the bottom of the censer. He was murmuring something in some strange language as he continued and I could feel my skin come alive with heat again.

  It was Aneurin who left the altar to come to stand before me, Aneurin whose hands cupped my face lovingly, and Aneurin’s lips that claimed my mouth, causing the whole world to shudder as my skin seemed to ignite with the promise of what was to come.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Everything seemed to move slowly; every sensation seemed to linger longer than it should have as Aneurin kissed me. His tongue in my mouth, his lips against my lips, and those thumbs that lovingly traced along my jaw made me shiver with the intensity of the sensuous touch. I forgot completely that it wasn’t my Aneurin I was touching as I pawed at him eagerly.

  His hands fell from my jaw to trace over my sides and down to my hips. Then, unexpectedly, he lifted me, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I pressed my moist, needy sex against his. The angle wasn’t right for penetration, but his throbbing erection situated itself tantalizingly between the dewy folds of my hot and eager cleft. My hips undulated instinctively, and I moaned with the delightful sensation of that veiny, pulsing rod of flesh slipping against my wanton, throbbing clitoris.