Obsessed

by Cheyenne McCray

  For a moment Aric could not process what Liana had said. Ranelle. Her friend.

  The gishla?

  Suddenly everything made sense. His wanting to cover the gishla’s naked body whenever he saw her, and his desire to help her during the fire when he had forced himself to focus only on Liana’s rescue.

  Liana cupped his face, her palms soft against the stubble on his cheeks. Her lips trembled as she forced a smile. “Jalen will bring her back. For both of us.”

  Still crouched between Liana’s thighs, Aric put his hands on the window seat and fought for control. “Zanden,” he growled. “He has her and would not know she is our sister. What if he forces her to—” Aric could not utter the despicable thought aloud.

  Liana closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them to meet Aric’s gaze. “He knows. He is the one who stole her from the castle.”

  “What?” Aric pushed away from Liana and stood, pulling his breeches back up as he moved. Memory after memory of the time before Carilee’s disappearance scrolled through his mind as he tried to make sense of it all.

  “It was he,” Liana said, her voice certain.

  “No. He was as distraught as we were.” He raked both hands through his hair, desiring to yank it out in frustration. “It was months after her disappearance when he turned traitor and became apprentice to Sorcerer Voral. Before he murdered Voral and took his place as Lord of Voral’s realm.”

  The pieces began falling into place in his mind and he buried his face in his hands. “Lord Ir. All along it was our brother, and we never realized the extent of his treachery.”

  “Jalen will find her,” Liana whispered, and then Aric felt her soft body press against his, and she slid her arms around his waist in a fierce hug.

  Aric lowered his hands from his face and embraced her tightly to him, never wanting to let her go. While he held Liana, her moonlight tresses caressed his arms, and he felt stronger from her love. Together they would face anything that came their way.

  For a long time they held each other, and Liana felt warm and loved. Fear also for her friend, but hope at the same time.

  With a deep sigh, Aric lifted Liana, cradling her in his arms. “Thank you, my love,” he murmured. “You are truly a gift of the gods.”

  “As are you.” Liana slid her hands around his neck and moved her mouth to her husband’s cheek. His stubble felt rough against her lips as she rained soft kisses on his chin, his nose and his eyes.

  Almost reverently he carried her to the bed and laid her upon it. While their eyes were focused on one another, Aric eased the straps of her gown from her shoulders, the light touch of his callused fingertips sending shivers of desires through Liana. She knew that she would never get enough of this man. Her man.

  He lowered his head and kissed her soft skin as he removed her gown. His lips moved from her neck to her collarbone, and brushed over each bare nipple. Gently he eased the gown further down over her hips, and trailed his lips through her soft woman’s curls, and then flicked his tongue once over her clit.

  Heat filled Liana, and she whimpered beneath his sensual touch. So slowly he continued removing her gown, kissing the insides of her thighs, and her knees. As he finally slid the gown completely off and tossed it aside. She trembled as he kissed each of her feet and stroked his tongue along each bare toe.

  Never taking his eyes from hers, Aric backed away, toeing off his boots. When he began unlacing his tunic, Liana stopped him. “My turn,” she murmured.

  A rumble emanated from his chest as she eased off the bed and came to him. She pushed his tunic up and pressed her lips against his hard abdomen. Liana started her own slow and sensuous assault, kissing his chest and licking his hardened nipples.

  As Aric pulled his tunic over his head, Liana went for his breeches. Her lips roamed the flat of his stomach and lower, enjoying the taste of his salty skin, his male scent filling her senses. She tugged his breeches over his hips and moved her mouth over the cloud of soft hair surrounding his cock and stroked the sack beneath, enjoying the feel of his bollocks in her palm.

  While pushing his breeches past his knees and to the floor, Liana brushed her lips along his thick cock. He sucked in his breath as she flicked out her tongue and tasted the pearl of his seed at the velvety soft tip.

  In a rush Aric stepped out of his breeches, swept Liana into his arms, and carried her back to the bed. The covers felt like silk against her back as she spread her thighs and her arms, welcoming her man.

  He raised her legs so that her ankles were around his neck, and then he slid into her in one powerful thrust. Liana gasped at the sensation of him filling her so deeply. For a moment he waited, just looking at her.

  Candlelight flickered over their bodies, reminding Liana of the first night she had pleasured herself, and Aric had watched her from the window in his nordai form.

  In long, slow thrusts, he began to move his cock in and out of her wet core—his gaze never left hers as he moved within her. The feel of him so deep inside her was intense as Liana clenched her hands on his thighs, her ankles still high and around his neck.

  “More,” Liana begged. “Give me every bit of you.”

  “You have all of me,” Aric murmured. “I am yours, zjenni.”

  He clenched his jaw as he made love to her, his strokes becoming harder and more powerful. “Yes,” she cried, digging her nails into his thighs, every muscle in her body tightening. “I love you, Aric. Come with me!”

  Aric’s body corded at the same moment Liana reached her climax and screamed his name. He shouted as he spilled his seed into her womb, his cry mingling with hers.

  Their thoughts blended together as they spiraled down from the pinnacle, their bodies locked together, still fused as one.

  # # #

  Bewitched

  Prophecy

  Fledgling of Nordain, blood hath stolen

  Hidden with humans, not forgotten

  Dair’s hopes doth fade, should those of blood mate

  Elvin choice, may avoid such a fate

  Chronicles of the Seraphine Elves…XXVIII

  Chapter One

  He had been watching her for days.

  Ranelle had felt his presence, even though she had yet to see him. He was a fleeting shadow, a man who melded with darkness and light.

  There, yet not.

  The cottage was silent, save for a slight rustling noise in Tierra’s bedchamber. In the distance waves crashed against rocks and sand, and the lonely shriek of a nordai echoed through Ranelle’s soul. She had always felt a kindred spirit in the nordai, often wishing she could fly as one with the ravens. But even if she could, she would never abandon her halias, her heart-sisters Tierra and Liana.

  Ranelle slipped on the sparkling gishla gown, and it clung to her generous curves. As she dressed, she again tried to reach out with her senses to learn more of the man who had begun to haunt her daydreams as well as her nights. Silken material caressed her nipples and a shiver of excitement trailed her spine. Perhaps he stood in the shadows of the rowan outside her bedroom window, his gaze lingering on her body that was so easily seen through the sheer material of her gown.

  While she breathed in the scent of the sea and the sweet perfume of jensai blooms, her thoughts traveled back to just days ago when she had first realized she was being followed. Her senses told her that the man was guarding her. Protecting her. And as long as he was nearby, she would be safe.

  A smile curved her lips. Maybe this would be the night she would meet her fantasy man. In her waking dreams she had seen him, felt him, touched him. If her senses were not so highly attuned to the man, if her magic was not so strong, surely she would have thought she had imagined him.

  She grabbed her cloak and left her bedchamber. After telling Liana she had an errand to perform and would meet her at the tavern this eve, Ranelle stopped at Tierra’s room and peeked in, hoping her halia was feeling better. In all the years they had shared with one another, Tierra had never been ill a d
ay ’til now.

  Tierra sprawled on her bed, without even a blanket to cover her naked form. Red tresses shimmered like living flame against the bed sheet. A sheen of perspiration coated her fair skin, and her breasts rose and fell with every breath. Her almond-shaped eyes were closed, her bronze lashes half moons against her cheeks. She stirred and murmured something that sounded like raven.

  For the briefest flash, Ranelle saw a vision of a dark man between Tierra’s pale thighs. A powerful man with a jagged scar across his back and another along one cheek. Ranelle heard Tierra’s sensual cries and saw her fingernails digging into the man’s shoulders as he thrust inside her.

  Ranelle’s heart beat faster at the image—but then she blinked and saw only Tierra lying on the bed. With a slight shake of her head, as though to scatter the remnants of the vision, Ranelle moved to Tierra’s bedside and whispered, “I am leaving now.”

  Tierra slowly lifted her eyelids and turned her emerald gaze to Ranelle. Her eyes were unfocused for a moment, as though she was not fully awake. “Such a strange dream,” she murmured. “Ravens and winged…creatures.”

  “Probably the fever disturbing your sleep.” Ranelle tried to pull a cover over Tierra, but her halia pushed it away. “Will you be all right?”

  Offering a wan smile, Tierra said, “I am fine. Or I shall be once these dreams cease.”

  Frowning, Ranelle replied, “You will catch your death. At least cover yourself with a light gown if not a blanket.”

  Tierra shook her head, her fiery hair glimmering on the pillow. “I am much too hot.”

  “Rest then, sister.” Ranelle brushed a stray lock behind Tierra’s shell-like ear, catching her scent of honeysuckle musk. “We shall miss you at Nira’s this eve.”

  With a groan, Tierra rolled her eyes. “Ah, but I shall not miss that old goat.”

  Ranelle laughed. “It is certain you will not.” She kissed Tierra’s warm cheek and then left the cottage into the gathering darkness.

  The moon was full and hung low in the sky. It was a week at most ’til moonchange, when she and her heart-sisters would make their escape from the Sorcerer Zanden’s clutches.

  Their plan would work. It had to, for all their sakes, but especially for Liana.

  Ranelle hurried up the steep path from their seaside home to the cobblestone road that led into the village of Fiorn. To her left was a rolling drop to the shore of the Mairi Sea and its glittering rainbow sands. In the distance, to Ranelle’s right, rose the Phoenician Mountains, far beyond the D’euan Forest. It was there that the Nordain, the Sky People, dwelled in the Nordain Kingdom of Phoenicia.

  Rocks bit at her feet through the worn soles of her slippers, and she hoped Stefan had not closed the cobbler shop yet so that she could retrieve her new shoes. He knew that by the Sorcerer’s orders, Ranelle and her heart-sisters were not allowed to leave their home ’til after dark, and Stefan had promised to keep the shop open.

  No doubt Stefan would attempt once again to corner her in his shop, like he had tried before. He was a handsome man with a devilish grin and eyes as blue as the legendary mist of the Wilding Wood. Often she had considered allowing his advances, curious to experience pleasure with him, but the time had never seemed right—usually because Uba, her former terror of a guardian, had been somewhere nearby.

  And now, with the man who had been shadowing her, she had no real desire to find pleasure with anyone but him. No matter that she had yet to meet the man.

  But she would. Soon.

  Before Uba had died just weeks ago, Ranelle had been kept a virtual prisoner in the seaside cottage, along with her heart-sisters. The three had been raised by Uba and had been kept under a tight rein. Tierra was somewhat of an imp, a playful, teasing and sexual creature whose spirit had never been dampened, despite Uba’s every cruel effort to do so. Gods knew, if Uba hadn’t kept her sharp eyes trained on Tierra most constantly, the redhead would have found some way to enjoy true sexual pleasures.

  For a moment Ranelle wondered again what her life would have been like, had she not grown up as an orphan, and had been raised by a family who loved her. As a child, she had oft imagined herself as a Princess living in a castle in the clouds. But those days of dreams had long since passed.

  And truth be told, she had grown up with the love of her halias. They were her heart-sisters, her family, and she could not imagine life without them.

  As she walked toward the cobbler’s, Ranelle relished the breeze against her cheeks, feeling a sense of freedom now that Uba was gone. Yet the Sorcerer’s imminent claiming of the three young women kept at bay any true feelings of liberty.

  She let her cloak fall open, allowing the light wind to swirl inside, causing her nipples to harden. Her gishla gown sparkled in the moonlight, hugging every curve of her body. She was forced to wear the attire when she danced at Nira’s tavern, but it did not bother Ranelle like it did Liana, who hated her own sheer gown. Ranelle loved how the gown sparkled. She had always been drawn to things that glistened and glittered. And she enjoyed knowing that men found her body pleasing.

  But she was also thankful for the magic in her dance that kept the barbarians from touching or forcing themselves upon her. Unlike Liana’s seer’s powers, Ranelle’s and Tierra’s magical powers were unknown to anyone outside the three of them.

  Glancing into the twilight as she walked, Ranelle wondered if the man from the shadows watched her now. She did not feel his presence, but then he was always so silent and fleet—invisible to all but her unusual senses. She was not surprised that neither Liana nor Tierra had noticed him—somehow Ranelle knew that she was more attuned to him than any other being could be.

  When she arrived at the cobbler’s, Ranelle let herself into the quiet shop through the open door. Lanterns were lit throughout, casting buttery pools of light across the room. The shop’s familiar smells of leather, tanning oils and burning tallow washed over her.

  “Stefan?” she called out, wondering where the young man was who normally tended the business. Stefan was big and brawny, and Ranelle had always thought him more suited to be a soldier or a farmer than a cobbler.

  She heard a rustle and a thump and then feminine laughter.

  Intrigued, Ranelle moved silently through the shop to the small hallway that led to the backroom, and then froze in the shadows.

  Stefan stood completely naked in the candlelit room, with Vay, one of the serving wenches from the tavern, on her knees before him.

  * * * * *

  Jalen slipped into the cobbler’s, moving into the shadows as he sought his prey.

  Like all Elvin males, he was muscular, tall and lithe. He moved with supple grace and easily blended in with his surroundings. If he were to run across an ordinary human, with a mere thought Jalen could erase the encounter from the person’s mind.

  If Jalen were so careless, which he never was.

  The corner of his mouth curved into a smile as he joined with the darkness behind Ranelle. She stood immobile in the hallway, just outside the backroom, her fascinated gaze locked on the couple within.

  Jalen couldn’t help but find Ranelle lovely, what with her generous smile and quick wit. Her silver eyes usually sparkled with laughter and her mahogany tresses framed her oval features. And her body—large breasts with dark nipples, a slender waist and rounded curves he would enjoy exploring.

  Aye, Ranelle was a beautiful, sensual creature, and would easily meld with the world she belonged in…once she learned of it.

  For that matter she would fit perfectly into his own, the world of the Seraphine Elves. If they were mated, he would enjoy shaving the enrli symbol in the soft hair between her thighs, and painting a matching symbol on her forehead with the sacred dyes. And when he sank his cock into her, he would touch his forehead to hers, their enrli joining and enhancing their sexual pleasure.

  But it was not to be. Destiny had other plans for them both.

  He allowed a sigh to escape as he watched Ranelle’s breathing deepe
n, her arousal growing as she spied on the man and woman enjoying one another’s sexual pleasures.

  * * * * *

  Ranelle had a perfect side view of Stefan’s muscular body. Her mouth watered at the sight of his huge cock. It rose high and thick, and she wondered what it might feel like in her hand. Or in her mouth.

  “You are so big, master,” Vay’s soft voice purred. She knelt before Stefan, her parchment skin pale next to his golden thighs. Vay’s blonde locks tumbled to her tiny waist, her small breasts rising high and her nipples pointed.

  “Suck my cock, wench,” Stefan growled and raked his hand through his long brown hair. “And suck it the way I like it or I will determine a suitable punishment.”

  “Yes, master.” Vay grinned and wrapped her hand around Stefan’s thick staff. He caught his breath as she licked the head of his cock and then slid her moist lips down his length.

  Ranelle’s nipples tightened as she stared transfixed while the serving girl worked Stefan’s staff. Vay made small greedy sounds, begging without words for him to come.

  “Harder, wench.” Stefan buried his fingers in her blonde hair and watched his cock move in and out of her mouth. “Suck harder!”

  Vay looked up at him as he thrust into her. His body jerked and he shouted, and Ranelle knew that he was spilling his seed into Vay’s mouth.

  Ranelle kept back in the shadows and moved her hands to her breasts, rubbing her palms over her taut nipples. She had grown damp between her thighs, and a fierce ache blossomed in her core. She knew she should leave, but she was too mesmerized and excited by what she was watching.

  “You made me come too fast,” Stefan said in a menacing voice. “Stand and take your punishment, wench.”

  “Yes, master.” Vay licked his seed from her lips as she stood.

  Stefan grabbed her by the waist and bent down. Vay cried out as he took her nipple between his teeth and lightly bit it. She started to grab his muscular arms, but Stefan raised his head and said, “Do not touch me. You must remain motionless and serve your penance.” He leaned closer and lapped one of her nipples. “Do you understand, wench?”