The Queens of Merab 4 Temair’s Earth

by Violet Summers

  He hissed and his head came up, his eyes glinted, the gold and amber striations glowing enough they could light up the forest.

  Temair’s hand disappeared between them, and she deftly untied the leather laces of his breeches and worked the waistband open. He caught his breath, and she smiled as she reached in and pulled his shaft free.

  Damn, he felt like silk in her hand. Her fingers couldn’t quite reach around his girth, and her pussy wept at the thought of that cock stretching her wide. He began to breathe again, rough, hitching breaths, and she moved her hand, sliding up and down the long sensitive vein starting at his root and ending at his crown.

  “Elan, I want to feel you inside of me.” She watched as his expression melted from passion to panic.

  “I don’t think that would be wise.”

  She stroked his chest, savoring the hard wall of muscle under her palm. “Why ever not?”

  A dark blush crept up his neck. “I’m too big. No woman has ever been able to take more than the tip of me, even after I’ve done my best to prepare her.” He sent Temair a look from under his lashes that was both shy and reproachful. “You haven’t allowed me to do much to prepare you. I’d tear you in two.”

  It was Temair’s turn to be puzzled. Granted he was well endowed, but not to the point where he would be able to really do any harm, at least not under the right circumstances. What was wrong with these Earth women?

  “Well, have no fear.” She squeezed lightly and pulled her hand along the length of his cock. “I will tell you if I experience anything that’s not pleasurable.” He panted under her caresses, so she kept it up as she tried to reassure him. “Trust me, Elan. I know exactly what it is that I want, and right now I want to feel you inside of me.”

  He gave in with a low moan, very carefully setting the head of his cock at the narrow mouth of her opening. If she hadn’t known how worried he was about hurting her, she’d have thought he was teasing as he dipped inside once, twice, three times, driving her mad. His blunt, fat head stretched her in the most delicious way. Unable to control her reactions, she thrust her pelvis upward, urging him to push deeper.

  Sweat broke out along his forehead. It was clear he was trying to hold back his desire to thrust forward.

  “Elan, please. I need you inside of me. Don’t hold back.” She squeezed her thighs tightly around him. “Fill me up, my Earth Lord. Can’t you feel how wet I am for you?”

  “Dear Elements, yes,” he gasped, working his shaft an inch further in, dragging low moans from both of them. “I feel your cream coating my cock. I feel your pussy pulling me in.” His arms were shaking and he moved to rest his weight on his elbows.

  “Show me, Elan. Show me how much you want me.” She licked at his salty collarbone.

  He pushed forward, this time burying about halfway into her. Temair gave a little cry, biting down on his slick, silky skin. She hiked her legs up higher around him, opening herself up even more. Elan pushed forward again, finally fully seating himself in her pussy. He stopped when his balls rested against the warm curve of her rear cheeks, panting, every muscle trembling with restraint as he fought to hold back.

  That wouldn’t do. Temair tightened her inner muscles around him, squeezing his glorious girth. His eyes widened and he moved back almost convulsively before thrusting upward again. She’d never been so full, nor had she been so surrounded by a man before. His involuntary movements were quickly driving her to desperation.

  After long moments he regained enough control to start a gentle, rhythmic thrusting. Each time he filled her, she felt heat and moisture flow to welcome him. A soft breeze, the manifestation of her aire, brushed over him, sending chills prickling over his skin. As much as he was fighting it, his gentle lovemaking soon sped to a maddening pace that left her crying out against his chest, biting and licking as she tried to absorb the pleasure.

  Finally he lost all control. He moved to his knees and grasped each of her ankles using them to open her up wider and as leverage. He thrust hard, disappearing into her in one smooth move.

  Temair screamed as pleasure ripped throughout her body, traveling along every nerve ending as he dug deeper into her grasping body. He draped her legs over his shoulders and pressed forward. The blistering motion of his hips sent her into an orgasm that was almost painful in its intensity.

  She grabbed his wrists, digging her nails into his flesh. Her body tightened convulsively on his cock. Elan threw his head back and let out his own cry as he came deep inside of her, filling her with heat and thick, rich seed.

  He fell to his side and pulled her on top of him. “Princess,” he whispered breathlessly, then fell silent, as though he couldn’t find any other words.

  Temair had words enough for both of them. Stretching up, she kissed him. “I wish for you to be my Earth Consort. I am asking if you will consent.”

  “How could I ever say no?” he whispered. Temair came up on her elbows, his massive chest holding her weight as though she was no more than a feather. “Elan, this is your choice,” she told him seriously. “I don’t want you if you think you must do this in order to serve your place in society. I want it to be because you desire not only me, but wish to join my family. You would be an integral part of who we are. You would have a voice in all things.”

  “You don’t understand.” His wide, soft mouth stretched in a slow smile. “I could never say no because I don’t want to. I want to be your Consort. I want it more than I ever knew I could want anything.” He kissed her again, a deep kiss full of promise.

  At last Temair was whole. She now had her family, and with them she could ascend to the throne without fear. Her Consorts would be her council and because of her trust in them she could march into the future without regret.

  Chapter Seven

  The picnic wrapped up shortly after Temair and Elan returned to the group, her hand clasped in his. She looked at their entwined fingers. She loved the contrast between his dark skin and her own paler flesh. She loved the contrasts in her soon-to-be-Consort, period. He was a gentle man, but now a fyre burned hot in the green depths of his eyes.

  He was truly a perfect fit, not only for her but for her Consorts. Miach, the hardest of her loves to please, had taken to Elan as though he were a long lost brother. When she and the Earth Lord had emerged from their private time together, her First Consort had given her that secret smile of his, telling her all she needed to know about her decision to choose Elan as her fourth and final Consort. Elan had clearly won Zevan’s loyalty and Dathan’s affection as well. Their family would be complete as soon as the bonding ceremony had finished.

  She was so lost in her thoughts that the scream from the opposite side of the field caught her totally by surprise. When she looked up, to her horror she saw two Earth lads lying unconscious on the ground, and Nuriel standing frozen in front of a giant, ancient tree. As if the wounded -- please Mother not dead -- boys weren’t enough, the true horror came from the sight of Storm, the Rayne Healer, poised behind the golden haired Princess. The unstable rebel had one hand wrapped around Nuriel’s throat, the other tilted her chin sharply to the side, clearly ready to snap her neck.

  Dathan was halfway across the clearing when the Healer spoke. “If you want your little Princess to live, I suggest you don’t come any closer.” He gave her throat a squeeze, and Nuriel whimpered pitifully. Her blue eyes implored them for help, and Temair felt her magics begin to stir restlessly.

  Her Rayne Lord stopped instantly, hands raised in surrender. “Let her go, Storm,” he urged in a calm, soothing voice. “Your argument isn’t with Princess Nuriel, and I can’t help you if you hurt her.”

  “My argument, Lord Rayne, is with the entire Queendom. It murdered my love and, as far as I can tell, has damaged countless men.” Storm sent a meaningful glance toward Zevan, who’d moved silently to flank him. “How can you stand to let her touch you, Lord Aire? Haven’t you been abused enough?”

  “Temair has never hurt me. To the contrary, her t
ouch has healed wounds I didn’t even know I had.”

  Storm merely sneered at Zevan’s firm answer. “Just wait, little boy. She’ll show her true colors soon enough.” The Healer raised his eyes to meet Temair’s gaze, and she trembled at the insanity she saw there. “The Queendom must be eradicated, and restitution must be made. Until you willingly give up your crown and your life, your Highness, there will never be peace in Emetra. We won’t let there be.”

  Suddenly a whip of fyre licked out toward the rebel. Miach had slipped up on his other side while he was distracted. Unfortunately, Nuriel’s presence kept him from an effective attack. At the last moment, a wall of muddy water shot up between the Healer and Miach’s flame. Dathan and Zevan lunged for the pair, but it was for nothing. When the water collapsed with a splash, Storm and Nuriel were nowhere to be seen.

  Elan and her Consorts immediately set off into the trees, and Temair wasn’t far behind. Miach turned with a stern glance and said, “Stay put, Spark,” as if he really believed she’d let them go off after her foster sister without her.

  She hadn’t gone more than two steps into the woods, however, before she collided with a hard, male body.

  “Well, well, look what’s landed in my arms!” It took her a moment to place the voice because he looked so different from the last time she’d seen him. His flame-red hair was a muddy brown tangle and his silks and velvets had been replaced with rough cotton. It was the superior, smug tone that gave him away. “When you chose my beloved brother, I thought you were lost to me for good. But now you’re back in my arms where you belong.”

  “Vashti, you won’t get away with this,” she began furiously. “Any one of my Consorts could snap you like a twig, and they’ll be happy to do so.”

  A soft but strong hand clamped over her mouth. “Shut up, Temair. I’ll soon hold more power than you could ever imagine.”

  Temair opened her mouth and bit down hard on his hand. She didn’t let go until she tasted blood, and he was screaming. He wrenched his hand away from her and shrieked, “You stupid bitch.”

  She almost struggled free as he shook his wounded hand, trying to ease the pain, but he wrapped his hand around her throat and pulled her relentlessly against his chest.

  “Miach,” she cried out. Her first Consort appeared through the trees; clearly he’d felt her distress. Tiny flames licked over his skin and his eyes flashed pure, dark red.

  “Vashti, what the hell are you doing?” Miach’s voice was choked with fury.

  Miach’s brother wrapped a length of her hair around his fist and used it to yank her closer against him, her head dragged uncomfortably back on his shoulder.

  “I suggest, brother, you stop where you are or I will incinerate your wife.” The venom with which he spoke made Temair truly afraid. This wasn’t the vain, flighty Vashti she’d met in the Fyre Lands.

  Miach froze. “Put the dagger down.” There was pure, flaming hell in his eyes, but his voice was deadly calm.

  Vashti laughed manically, putting his mouth next to Temair’s ear. “Ah, you recognize the dagger.”

  “Of course I do. The question is, how did you get it?”

  “Quite easily, I assure you. Since you’ve been gone the warriors have become quite lazy. Without you to insist on constant training, the Sacred Flame was finally left alone. No one to protect the treasure inside. I took it, just like that. Plucked it out of the Fyre easy as could be.” The dagger started to burn the side of her neck and a small sound of pain escaped her lips before she bit it back. She didn’t want to give Vashti the satisfaction of knowing she was terrified and in pain.

  Vashti had already heard her, though, and pressed his cheek against hers in a sick parody of affection. “That’s right, my dear. This little knife holds all the power of the Sacred Flame. Legend has it that it’s too potent for any one man to wield, but we can see that’s not true.” He traced the blade lightly down her neck. “Now I suggest you stay still. One scratch from the blade and you will incinerate from the inside out.”

  She suppressed a shudder as she saw the truth of Vashti’s words in Miach’s eyes.

  “Now, dear big brother, you will back the fuck off, and your wife and I will take a romantic little walk in the woods.” He pressed a wet kiss to her neck, and Temair wanted to retch.

  Miach stood stock still as Vashti started walking backward. Temair’s fyre began to warm her body as her anger flourished under Vashti’s threat. The vain bastard was an enemy of the Queendom, had enabled Storm to hurt Nuriel, and she personally wanted to see him suffer for his actions.

  She kept her gaze locked on Miach’s, even as she forced herself to think calmly. Vashti’s evil stirred her fyre, but fyre wouldn’t necessarily conquer him. Instead, Temair called to her Rayne.

  A cool skin of water covered her, insulating her momentarily from the treacherous dagger. Vashti’s grip slipped on the moisture, and loosened still more in shock at her use of magic.

  Temair took advantage of his surprise, kicking back against his shin with her heel and flailing behind her to slam her fist into his nose. Vashti howled, losing his grip on her hair, and she was running before her feet even hit the ground.

  “This isn’t over,” he mumbled, his voice choked and full of blood from his injury. Before she could answer, he was gone, disappearing into the forest with surprising skill.

  She landed hard against Miach’s chest, and her whole body slumped in relief as his strong arms wrapped around her. “I will kill him,” he stated flatly, lowering his head to feather his lips over the thin burn on her throat.

  “No, you won’t,” she argued. “We need him alive for now. He knows about the rebellion and we need to find him and get as much information as possible.” She met his eyes and knew the fyre there was reflected in her own gaze. “Then I will kill him.”

  Miach leaned back and caressed her face, with a dangerous smile. “You will indeed make a wonderful Queen.”

  * * *

  Nuriel struggled in Storm’s arms, but he merely bound her hands in front of her with a flick of his wrists and an inflexible band of rayne. With her tied, he felt safe to release his grip on her neck and instead grabbed her arm, forcing her deeper into the woods.

  She fell and he grabbed her hair, dragging her for several feet before using it to yank her back to her feet, and she screamed in pain. Her dress was torn, and she was bleeding from a number of scratches and scrapes from her contact with the ground.

  “Please let me go,” she begged, nearly babbling with fear. It was as if all her nightmares since the Aerie were coming true all at once. “I’m slowing you down. If you let me go, you can escape.”

  Storm sneered down at her. “We don’t have much further to go together, Princess.” The dead look in his eyes terrified her more than anything else.

  It seemed like they’d been running for hours when he stopped and shoved her to the ground by a pile of moldering leaves. “This is where we part ways, my dear,” he muttered as he bent to clear the mess away.

  Underneath was a simple lid made of thin strips of wood woven together. He peeled off the lid, exposing a deep, narrow pit. “Here’s your new home, Princess.” He smiled, the kind of smile that sent ice water down Nuriel’s spine.

  “When they find us, they will kill you.” She tried to sound brave, like Sorcha would, or even Temair now that she’d found her Consorts, but her voice broke on the last words.

  “They might find me,” Storm agreed. “And it won’t matter. I have no reason left to live. My Losha is dead, and they’ll never find you. So soon you’ll be dead, too.”

  Using brute strength, he wrestled her to the edge of the narrow pit in the ground. As he shoved her into the hole, he added, “The time of the Ladies and Queens is done, Princess. My death won’t stop the rebellion. On the contrary, I’ll be a martyr, and our cause will simply grow stronger.”

  He pushed the lid down over the hole and the world went dark.

  * * *

  Miach followed
Elan through the forest without argument. He might be used to leading, but he was no fool. The giant of a male knew his way through his land much better than Miach did. And, the Earth Lord had somehow managed to convince Temair to stay with Mother and the rest of the family while they searched for Vashti and Dathan and Zevan searched for Storm and Nuriel.

  The sun was setting and it was almost impossible to see, but Elan forged on without even pausing. Determined to keep up, Miach called to his Fyre. The comforting heat slid up his arms before pooling in his palm to form a glowing ball to light their way.

  Elan sent him a brief smile, and continued through the forest.

  The big man stopped after only a few moments and turned to him, his finger over his mouth. He gestured to the left, and Miach followed his motion.

  A furtive movement in the underbrush caught his eye and Miach took off at a run, jumping over fallen trees. He didn’t wait for Elan to join him; his only thought was getting to Vashti and wringing the bastard’s neck.

  He broke through a thicket and Vashti seemed to realize running wasn’t doing him any good. He turned, clutching the sacred dagger and throwing it at Miach. It missed him entirely, and stuck in the ground near Miach’s feet.

  He quickly snatched it up. “You always had shitty aim,” he taunted, holding the dagger aloft. “I, however, never miss. I suggest you stop now, or I will be sending your ashes back to our mother.”

  Elan came silently up behind Vashti, clamping his arm around his throat. The criminal Fyre Lord squeaked with shock and fear.

  “Where is the Princess Nuriel?”

  Vashti could barely get a whisper past the constriction on his throat. “I don’t know,” he whimpered.

  Miach stalked up to his younger brother, whom Elan was holding easily with one hand. The younger Fyre Lord looked like a toy against the Earth Lord’s broad body. Miach laid the sacred dagger against his brother’s throat. “I swear by all that is holy I will cut you into small, smoldering pieces until you tell us what you’ve done with her.”