Dark Elves 2: Mastered

by Jet Mykles

  The woman he’d claimed had survived, physically, but she was forever after mute. And withdrawn. There was no discernable reason. She was also quite timid and avoided contact with others until and unless her sexual urges became too much. She died within a few cycles of being with Valanth. After a short remorse, Valanth took another. That one stayed with him for many cycles, but she also lost herself somewhere along the way. No one knew what happened -- or if they did, they didn’t speak of it. The woman simply became a walking, breathing body without a mind to speak of. After she died quietly, Valanth took another.

  “What will we do?” asked Hyle.

  The raedjour endured Valanth’s odd, cruel behavior only because there was no heir. Rhae very clearly marked those she deemed worthy, and Her rhaeja she marked profoundly. Nalfien, for all his power, had not emerged from Rhae’s test with the marks of rhaeja. Nor had Radin or Salin. Nalfien had even undergone testing a second time, only to emerge without any additional markings. No other likely candidates were of age to yet be tested.

  Nalfien glanced at Radin, who barely contained his own anger.

  “We do nothing.” Nalfien raised a hand to forestall arguments from three mouths. “Allow me to rephrase. Radin, Hyle, and I will do what we can to discover why the rhaeja wants Suzana. If possible, perhaps we can persuade him differently. You,” he said to Krael, “will return to Suzana. You have eight days left with her. I suggest you make them memorable for her.”

  Krael heard the ominous undertone loud and clear. Make them memorable, because they might be the last pleasant memories she has for quite some time.

  Chapter Nine

  A knock woke Suzana from a deep sleep. She roused, disappointed to find herself alone. Krael had been such a marvelous warmth curled about her when she fell asleep, she had hoped to awaken with him still there.

  The door opened, and a young raedjour stepped halfway through the opening. “Lady,” he greeted, smile wide, “I’m Rhon. I’m to see to your needs during your time with Krael.”

  She smiled. He was very cute. His face was rounder than any of the full-grown males she’d seen, his hair a tumbled mass of short curls that barely touched his shoulders. She wasn’t sure how she knew he was young. He just seemed to have an unfinished look to him. He glanced down. If his face weren’t pitch black, she was sure she’d see him blushing. Not that she could fault him. She was, after all, quite naked, even if she was covered by the blanket she held to her chest.

  “Would you, uh, that is, should I bring food or a bath?”

  She perked. “A bath?”

  He looked up and beamed at her excitement. “Yes, lady. I could order a tub and bring all that you need.”

  “Oh yes, please do. And, Rhon ...” She stopped him as he turned. “A meal would be wonderful, as well. And, um, clothes?”

  His smile took a decidedly wicked turn. “I’ll bring the meal, my lady, but not the clothes. You won’t need them.”

  It was her turn to blush. No, she supposed she wouldn’t.

  She studied the room around her. She hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see it the previous night, as she’d been distracted by Krael. She sighed, the very memory of what they had done causing things low in her belly to melt.

  The room was quite cozy and surprisingly roomy. The stone of the walls was gray, with shots of yellow and green that made the room seem lighter. A fire in a large fireplace warmed the room nicely. The floor was polished stone covered in colorful, scattered rugs, both fur and woven. Aside from the bed, the only other furniture was two sturdy chairs set at an equally sturdy table, and three smaller tables set against the walls. The smaller tables held bottles of various kinds, along with a brush-and-comb set on one. Three beautiful woven tapestries hung on the walls, each depicting a peaceful forest scene.

  She wondered if these were Krael’s personal rooms, then decided not. There were no personal effects. And somehow, the room just didn’t have the feel of him.

  She shivered. Where was he? She didn’t want to waste a moment!

  Rhon returned with a tray of food. Famished, Suzana wrapped a blanket around her torso and joined him at the side table. The youth was nearly a head taller than she, a fact that seemed to surprise him but didn’t faze Suzana at all. The bread was sweet and nutty. Responding to her questions, Rhon told her that the deep-golden spread was butter but that the milk was from a yarak rather than a cow. She asked about the yarak as he emptied the tray of a plate of sweetmeats, another of plain bread, and a last of cold meats.

  Before he was done, the door opened and two more youths carried in a small copper tub. They set it before the fire, then took buckets from within the tub and disappeared through a door she knew led to the washroom.

  Curious, she followed them to the door to watch. The facility was small but fascinating. Part of one wall was a trickling waterfall that shimmied down the stone into a polished stone basin set at hip-level to the young men. They took turns filling the buckets from this and going back to the main room to fill the tub. Peeking in, Suzana found the room also contained a covered hole on the far wall that could only be the privy. Cleverly, a bit of the waterfall had been diverted to run through it, as well.

  Once the boys were done, she discreetly excused herself and closed the door to use the facilities in private. When she emerged, an older youth had joined them. This one was more of a man, taller, with muscles far more defined and developed. His hair, white with faint honey highlights, fell in soft, loose curls that decorated the back she initially saw. When he turned, her eyes widened. She recognized the second man who had been in charge of the party of raedjour that had captured her. The younger one who had escorted the female slaves from the wagon.

  He smiled. “Greetings, lady.” He held out his hand, and she automatically placed hers within. She watched, wide-eyed, as he bent nearly double to place a warm, dry kiss on her wrist. He straightened, and his eyes lingered over her, causing her blood to heat. “You are beautiful, lady,” he murmured.

  “Thank you,” she breathed.

  “I’m Savous.”

  “You were in the forest the night I was taken.”

  He smiled. “I’m pleased you remember me.”

  She blushed. “I’m Suzana.”

  “Excellent,” chimed in an annoyed voice. Suzana jumped away from Savous, spinning to face Krael, who lounged against the doorway. Her lover, however, only had eyes for the youth. Angry eyes. “Now that official introductions have been made, you can heat the water and go.”

  Savous only grinned. “Are you sure you don’t need ... help?”

  Krael growled low in his throat. Suzana shuddered, sure there wasn’t a sexier sound. Savous glanced at her, a brow raised, then heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Whatever you say, Krael.”

  Krael snorted and continued to glare as the younger man approached the tub. Humming to himself, Savous extended a hand over the water. Back to Krael, he cast a sly, sidelong glance at Suzana. She gasped when she saw steam begin to rise from the water.

  “The red eyes,” she said before she realized. “That means you’re a sorcerer?”

  His grin hiked up a notch. “It does.”

  “He’s an apprentice,” Krael corrected.

  Savous rolled his eyes.

  “Oh!” Recalling herself, she glanced at Krael. He was very carefully not looking at her. She smiled at Savous, manners drilled into her from her cradle coming naturally. “Um. Thank you, my lord.”

  Savous chuckled, walking to stand before her again. “I’m no one’s lord, Suzana. We only have one, and that’s the rhaeja. I --” He recaptured her hand. “-- am simply Savous.”

  “And he’s leaving,” Krael snarled.

  At that, the younger man laughed outright. “And I am leaving.” A kiss to her palm this time. “Farewell, lovely lady.”

  Krael hated Savous at that moment. It was simple. Radin’s apprentice was simply too cocky! Obnoxious. Smart. Powerful. The youngest son of the rhaeja, he had mage blood from both his f
ather as well as the rhaeja’s deceased truemate.

  But that itself didn’t piss off Krael. The fact that he had impressed Suzana did.

  Krael glared at Savous as the younger man passed, receiving only a cheeky grin in return. Suzana, however, was more interested in the steaming water than in the retreating sorcerer. She stood by the tub, bending to put one finger tentatively into the water. The look of sheer delight that glowed on her rounded features punched at his heart. She was so tiny. The blanket she held closed just above her breasts trailed nearly two yards behind her and dipped enticingly low on her back. Her tousled black hair fell to her knees and glowed from the firelight behind her. Those cute, plump little lips were drawn into a delighted “O” and her eyes ... He could drown in those eyes.

  She looked up as he closed the door, shutting out anyone but the two of them. Those eyes speared him, first with attention, then slowly with interest. Ha! She enjoyed the sight of him more than Savous!

  “Drop the blanket,” he said.

  Immediately, she let go. His cock kicked the inside of his trousers at the alacrity with which she followed his instructions. She kept her gaze on his face, devouring him whole as he stepped up to her, stopping two paces away.

  “You are beautiful,” he murmured, palms itching to cradle the luscious round breasts that almost seemed too big for her frame.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she responded, clearly pleased by his words.

  “I’m not a lord,” he felt compelled to explain. “As the whelp told you, we’ve only one lord, and that’s the rhaeja. I’ve a number of men that I command, but I’m their captain, not their lord.”

  Her gaze dropped a moment, thinking, then returned to capture his eyes. In all sincerity, she responded, “But you’re my lord.”

  His heart stopped. Of that he was sure. He stared into those violet pools that served for her eyes, and with that one statement he was willing to do anything for her. Anything.

  He forced himself to calm. Forced a small smile rather than the foolish grin his mouth wanted to form. Unable to help himself, he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her ear as he tucked the strands behind it. “Does it please you to call me ‘lord’?”

  She turned her face into his palm, tilting her head to rub it like he’d seen jaguar cubs rub their mother. Pure affection. “It pleases me that you’re my lord.”

  If he could, he’d purr. He trailed his fingers down the soft curve of her jaw to her rounded chin. “Then the taking of your virginity was a pleasant experience?”

  “The most wonderful of my life, my lord.”

  Ah, yes, he had died and was in Rhae’s bed!

  He leaned in, carefully, slowly, and brushed her lips with his. She stayed absolutely still, only her lips pursing in a slight return of his kiss. Her tiny sigh thrilled him.

  Torturing himself, he stepped back.

  “My lord?” she asked, not moving.

  He made no reply. He spun one of the chairs so that the back faced her. He straddled it, folding his arms over the back and leaning his chin on his hands. “Proceed with your bath.”

  Suzana licked her lips, imagining that she could taste him even though she knew it wasn’t true. The kiss hadn’t been enough. But she could smell him, all musky male and something else that was raedjour. And she felt the soft caress of his lips, of the loose hair that had fallen forward to lightly drape her shoulder as he leaned into her. And now he was across the room. Close, but entirely too far away!

  “But, my lord ...”

  He raised a brow.

  She glanced at the tub. It was inviting, but ... “I thought we ...”

  He chuckled, leaning his strong chin on one palm. “Rest assured, Suzana, I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you for a very long time.” He nodded to the tub. “But first, I want to watch you bathe.”

  She colored at his language even as it thrilled her. Watch her? No one had ever watched her bathe except her nurse.

  “Suzana.”

  She returned her gaze to him, and her knees nearly gave way at the intensity in his eyes. “I want to watch you bathe.”

  Slowly, she smiled. She understood. A sensual game. An arousing performance. Oh, yes!

  He pointed to a side table. “The bottles to your right contain soaps and oils. Use the yellow bottle.”

  She took the two steps to the side table. An array of perhaps a dozen glass bottles was laid out. “May I ask why, my lord?” she asked, even as she picked up the bottle of shimmery yellow glass and unstoppered it. The strong scent of honeysuckle assailed her nostrils.

  “It suits you.”

  She warmed. It was one of her favorites. She peeked over her shoulder at him, allowing her hair to partially obscure her view. In the past, she had seen other women use such looks, and they seemed to work on men. “Thank you.” Judging by the way his eyes shuttered halfway, by the way one corner of his mouth quirked up, it seemed to work.

  She picked up the bottle and a similarly scented bar of soap and returned to the tub. “May I ask a question, my lord?”

  “You may.”

  “I was told the raedjour are unable to withstand sunlight,” she said as she stepped into the tub. The water was deliciously hot, just the way she liked the start of a bath. “Where, then, did you get honeysuckle oil?”

  “Caravans.”

  She grimaced, reminded of the slave wagon. “Are there many slave caravans that cross the mountains?”

  “Enough. We get most of our information and goods from them. And they’re not all slave caravans. There are others who brave the mountains.”

  “So some do pass?”

  “Yes. Some.”

  She leaned back in the tub, tilting her head back and ducking quickly under the water to wet her hair. She emerged to find an enraptured expression on his face and wondered if he knew his lips were parted.

  She asked a few more questions. Small, meaningless matters. She didn’t want to touch on anything serious. She rather enjoyed the light chit-chat. It enabled her to concentrate on her performance.

  And perform she did. She sat up straight in the tub because that kept her breasts visible. She made sure that her movements were languid, lathering the soap in her palms, then raising her arms to scrub it into her hair. Perhaps she pushed some of the foam off her head so that it trailed down her neck and dribbled over her breast. And, yes, it took a while to scrub her hair, and perhaps she lingered a bit overlong, but who could blame her when Krael so obviously enjoyed the sight? She rinsed her hair by again dipping back. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see his reaction to that, but she hoped it was good.

  “My turn to ask,” he told her as she settled against the curved back of the tub to soap her skin.

  She glanced up and smiled. “Ask me anything, my lord.”

  “Last night you mentioned a magical ability. You can affect others with your voice?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “How is it you’re not a mage?”

  She shrugged. “It’s actually a fairly common trait among my people. I’ve a higher ability than most others. But it’s not a matter of spells. It’s a matter of feeling.”

  “Do you have more ability because you’re of noble birth?”

  “Perhaps. One of my brothers also had the ability.”

  Do not think of them!

  She stood, happy to distract him for a moment as she soaped and washed her hips and thighs. She sighed when she ran her soapy hand between her legs, risking a glance to see his eyes riveted on her hand.

  She sat back down before he continued their conversation. “Do you play an instrument?”

  “Yes. I had a lovely harp that was handed down from my grandmother. It’s ... gone.”

  “I know of someone who would love to fashion one for you. He doesn’t get much call for instruments.”

  “No?”

  “There are precious few raedjour with any talent for music. Or any desire to make it.”
<
br />   She frowned as she lay back. Her bathing was finished. The water was still nicely warm, and the fire at her back supplied more heat. She was lazily content. “How many raedjour are there?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps a thousand of us.”

  “So few?” Even the three other elven races she knew of had numbers in the thousands.

  “You know our problem with procreation.”

  “Well, yes, but you do have women.”

  “Yes. And once you’re truemated and turned, you’ll only be fertile once every five or six cycles.”

  “Really?”

  “Pregnancy itself lasts for two.”

  Two cycles pregnant?!

  Krael stood, distracting her. Suddenly, she was no longer content. She wanted to lick him all over! He stopped at the foot of the tub. Took a moment to rake his gaze over her naked body, mostly hidden by the murky water. He extended his hands and she took them, allowing him to raise her to her feet. He stepped to the side and indicated, by his actions, that she should step from the tub. She did, onto a thick woven rug. He motioned for her to stay and retrieved one of two thick, long cloths Rhon had left. Unfolding it, he lifted it and laid it atop her head, gently rubbing. Oh! He was drying her! She bit her lip.

  “Are you all right, Suzana?”

  “Please call me Suza, my lord.”

  “Suza.”

  She trembled. “Yes. I’m wonderful, my lord.”

  The cloth drifted to her back, and warm lips pressed to her forehead. “Yes, you are.”

  He used the cloth on her from head to toe, kneeling for the latter. He retrieved the bottle of oil. Kneeling before her again, he poured it into his big palm and, starting at her toes, rubbed the oil into her skin. She moaned, unable to help herself. He smiled, but didn’t stop the wonderful massage. His hands traveled up one leg, then the other, skirting her drenched sex. Meeting her gaze, he slid his hands around her hips to her buttocks. Deliberately, he squeezed. She gasped, reaching forward to brace her hands on his shoulders. Still smiling, he kneaded her buttocks, a cheek in each of his big hands. Once the globes of her butt were oiled, he dipped his fingers between. Her jaw fell open in surprise as he delved the depths, rubbing oil in thoroughly. Eyes still glued to hers, he used one finger to tease her opening, dipping in marginally. An embarrassing squeak piped from her lips, but she forced herself to relax. His smile of approval and a brief kiss to her belly were her reward.