Obsessed

by Cheyenne McCray

  Vay groaned as he placed his large hands over her breasts. “Yes.”

  He squeezed her small mounds. “Yes, what?”

  With a gasp she replied, “Yes, master!”

  Stefan gave a devilish smile and suckled each of Vay’s nipples, his hands roaming her body, but staying clear of her woman’s curls.

  “Touch me, please,” she begged. “Please, master!”

  His muscles rippled as he picked her up by the waist and set her on a small table in the room. “Fondle your breasts, wench,” he ordered. “Spread your legs.”

  Vay obeyed, pulling and twisting her nipples. Stefan knelt between her knees, leaned forward and ran his tongue along the inside of her thighs.

  Ranelle barely kept from groaning aloud at the sight of Stefan so close to licking Vay’s pleasure center. Almost without thought, Ranelle moved one hand to the apex of her thighs and stroked her clit through the thin gown.

  “Oh, gods,” Vay shrieked. “Taste me, master, please!”

  Stefan gripped Vay’s hips tight and buried his face between her thighs.

  Faster and faster Ranelle’s fingers worked her own clit through the cloth of her gown as she watched Stefan lick Vay. Ranelle’s knees almost gave out as she reached her climax, and she barely restrained a cry. In the next moment Vay screamed with her own orgasm, her hips bucking against Stefan’s face.

  Even though her legs wobbled from the strength of her orgasm, Ranelle started to leave, afraid she would be caught spying. But she paused as Stefan said, “You need more punishment,” and raised himself to stand before the serving girl. Vay looked up at him, her eyes glazed from her climax and her breathing coming fast and shallow.

  Vay licked her lips. “What will you do to me, master?”

  “I’m going to fuck you, wench.” Stefan picked up Vay and she squealed as he turned her so that he had her bent over the table. “So hard that you’re going to feel my cock at the back of your throat.” He pressed his enormous erection against her smooth and firm backside. “You had better scream if you want any mercy.”

  “Yes, master.” Vay pressed back against him. “I want you inside me.”

  Ranelle caught her breath as she ran her hands over her own body.

  Stefan wrapped his fingers around his cock and stroked Vay’s backside with it. “Beg, wench.”

  “Fuck me, master.” Vay rubbed her breasts against the wooden table as she pressed against him. “Fuck me now!”

  Stefan grinned and spread her thighs even wider. Vay screamed as he thrust deep inside her. “Yes. Gods, yes!” she cried.

  Ranelle lifted the hem of her gown to her waist, this time sliding her fingers into her own wet folds. The thought of the man who had been following her came to mind and she imagined what it might feel like to have his hands on her body while he plunged his hard cock inside her and fucked her ’til she cried out with her climax.

  “Who is your master?” Stefan shouted as he powered in and out of Vay’s wet channel.

  “You are.” Vay gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white from holding on while Stefan bored into her. “You’re my master, Stefan.”

  “You’re my fuck.” He gave another savage growl. “Only mine. If another man touches you, I shall be forced to punish you again. Do you understand, wench?”

  Vay moaned.

  “Answer me!” Stefan commanded and slammed into her even harder.

  “Yes, master!” Vay shouted and then cried out as her body shuddered against the table.

  Ranelle bit down on her lip, fighting to control her own cry as she reached her climax. Stefan pulled his cock out of Vay and grabbed it with his hand, milking the white fluid onto the serving girl’s buttocks.

  Still flushed and lightheaded from her orgasm, Ranelle barely had the presence of mind to let her gown drop. She backed away from the small hallway to the front of the store, and then out the door into the moonlit night.

  The new slippers could certainly wait ’til tomorrow.

  * * * * *

  Jalen smiled as he eased from the shadows of the cobbler’s and followed Ranelle through Fiorn’s darkened streets. When she had brushed past him, he’d caught her exotic scent of spice and vanilla, mingling with the smell of her sex, causing a hunger deep within him.

  The bow slung over his shoulder and its quiver of arrows did not so much as rustle as the Elvin warrior moved. His footsteps were not even a breath of sound as he silently trailed his prey. After watching Ranelle pleasure herself, his cock throbbed, but he had no time for release.

  He watched Ranelle meet up with the Tanzinite maid, not far from the tavern. From the stables behind the tavern came a snort and whicker from Aric’s stallion, followed by an answering howl from the wolf Toen, also known as the Overseer.

  Aric, Jalen’s Nordain brother-at-arms, was in raven form atop the tavern’s roof. The King of the Nordain would be concerned that Jalen had not made contact, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  Jalen had his own orders from the Seraphine Council, and although he did not enjoy keeping secrets from Aric, in this regard he answered to a higher power. To Queen Yanea and to the goddess herself. It was important to the future of all the beings of Dair that Aric alone rescue Liana and spirit her away.

  It had fallen upon Jalen to safeguard Ranelle and for now to keep her identity from Aric. If Aric knew that the gishla was his sister who had been missing since she was a toddler, he might forsake the Tanzinite maid in order to save Ranelle.

  And all could be lost.

  The Council had deemed it necessary that Aric’s brother Renn return to Phoenicia, yet they had failed to inform Aric, for reasons not given to Jalen. Ranelle was Renn’s sister, too, and Jalen wondered why the young Nordain male had not been chosen to retrieve her.

  Jalen narrowed his gaze as he silently followed Ranelle and the Tanzinite maid. More was at work here, and more at stake than even he was aware of.

  Reaching out with his mind and his hearing, Jalen listened to their conversation and frowned.

  I—we must all go now, Liana told Ranelle in thought.

  “A vision?” Ranelle asked aloud.

  The Tanzinite maid hesitated. No…more a feeling.

  Jalen could sense Ranelle’s incredulity as she responded, “A feeling?”

  Something is watching us, halia. The Tanzinite maid paused as she glanced to the sky. We best get inside. Now!

  The pair slipped into the noisy din of the tavern and Jalen’s gaze moved to the rooftop where he could see Aric’s raven form outlined in the moonlight, and the slight glitter of the ruby in his dagger. The women could have been aware of Aric’s or Jalen’s presence, but his senses told him otherwise—

  The irani were approaching.

  Just as Yanea had forewarned.

  * * * * *

  Ranelle danced atop the platform in the center of the room, her body swaying and hips undulating in an erotic rhythm. Men pressed close, the malodor of their sweat, mixed with the smell of sour ale, almost unbearable. She could feel heat from their bodies as they shouted and reached for her.

  “Take it all off, wench,” one man called out.

  “I gotta cock fer ya to suck on,” another man yelled. “I’ll wager yer a good fuck.”

  Ranelle let their shouts slide past her ears as always, and instead concentrated on working the magic of her dance that kept her safe. As long as she retained her focus, no man would think to act upon his carnal desires and actually touch her without her consent.

  While she danced, she watched a raven-headed man thread his way through the crowd toward Liana, where she stood as she told fortunes. A vision flashed through Ranelle’s mind of Liana naked with the man between her thighs as he fucked her.

  In that instant, Ranelle’s senses told her that without a doubt Liana would be safe with the dark stranger. He would never allow her to be harmed. A shudder of premonition gripped Ranelle, and she knew with absolute certainty that Liana would need the man’s help.
<
br />   Soon.

  Ranelle frowned as the dark haired man turned and strode back out the tavern door. Why had he left?

  A hand on Ranelle’s ankle startled her from her thoughts and dragged her attention to the man at her feet. She had allowed her concentration to waver and Stefan had seized the moment to break through her defenses. Now dressed in a leather tunic and breeches, he grinned up at her as she tried to continue her dance.

  “Let go, Stefan,” Ranelle said as she threw her mahogany curls over her shoulder.

  “You forgot your slippers at my shop.” Stefan eased his hand from his ankle to her knee, laughter in his blue eyes. “Now why would you do that when you had me keep the shop open for you this eve?”

  Ranelle’s cheeks burned as she recalled the image of Stefan’s cock sliding inside Vay, and the serving girl’s cries as she begged him to fuck her.

  Leaning closer, Stefan moved his hand up Ranelle’s leg to the inside of her thigh. His palm was hot against her flesh, and so close to the apex of her thighs that she could scarcely think much less concentrates on her magic.

  “Next time,” he said as he stroked her thigh, “you should join us.” He gave her a sinful grin. “I’d like nothing more than to fuck you and Vay at the same time.”

  Ranelle went rigid with mortification. He knew. The whole time he had planned for her to walk in on him and Vay, and he had enjoyed knowing Ranelle was watching them.

  “I’ll even let you call me master.” He brushed his fingertips against the curls along her folds.

  Fury rose up in Ranelle and warmth spiraled inside her, shooting through her limbs as she clenched her fists. “You—you bastard!”

  Stefan yanked his hand away from her as though he had been burned, a strange expression coming over his face. Just as Ranelle brought her bare foot back, intent on kicking the man’s teeth in, a scream shattered the noise of the tavern.

  Liana.

  The room went silent as all attention was riveted on her. Ranelle held her breath while she watched the raven-headed man rush back into the tavern, trying to force his way through the crowd toward Liana.

  “The Sorcerer’s devils!” shouted a woman. “They be coming for us!”

  Everything seemed to slow down to Ranelle, even as chaos erupted in the tavern and irani shrieks filled the air. Her first instinct was to go to Liana, but Ranelle’s senses told her that her halia was safe with the dark stranger, and that Liana would escape.

  An even stronger emotion seared Ranelle as flames spread through the room and irani landed on the rooftop—

  The Sorcerer had come early for her and her halias.

  Ranelle knees threatened to give out and she coughed as her lungs filled with smoke. Before she had the chance to scramble down from the platform, strong arms grabbed her legs and flung her over a massive shoulder.

  Chapter Two

  Ranelle fought her rising panic as she hung over the muscled shoulder of the man who had grabbed her from the dancing platform. As her rescuer worked his way through the tavern’s screaming mob, she coughed from the smoke, struggling to breathe. Her hair covered her face, her eyes burned and watered, and she could scarcely think in all the commotion.

  The heat of the fire grew more intense, but the man slipped through unseen gaps in the crowd, as silent and swift as a spirit in the mist. Ranelle’s nose was pressed against his tunic, and even through the acrid stench of smoke she caught his masculine smell along with the scent of pine and forest breezes. His body felt warm and solid against her own softness, and despite the terror of the fire she felt safe—that she could trust this man.

  Without a doubt, Ranelle knew this was the man who had been watching her.

  Thumps on the tavern rooftop jarred Ranelle, sending new bursts of fear through her. The Sorcerer’s beasts were so close they might pluck her through holes they now tore in the ceiling and carry her away. Irani shrieks split the night as Ranelle and the man neared the door of the tavern. His hold around her hips grew tighter yet, as though he had heard her frightened thoughts.

  The man plunged out of the tavern and into the chaotic night. Ranelle breathed in the clear air and with one hand shoved her hair from her eyes, trying to see what was happening. Flames from the burning tavern illuminated the village—and lit upl a winged beast heading straight at them.

  “Watch out!” Ranelle screamed.

  Before the words were even out of her mouth, the man had crouched in a fluid motion, dodging the flying creature. In a flash he set her on the ground several feet from the tavern. “Stay,” he commanded, his sapphire eyes seizing her, his voice deep and captivating.

  For a moment Ranelle remained motionless, mesmerized by the masculine beauty of the man as he slid his bow from his shoulder, nocked a feathered arrow into it, and pointed it toward the oncoming irani. His cheekbones were high, his jaw strong and his lips firm. Golden hair flowed down his back, and his sleeveless tunic displayed powerful biceps that rippled as he drew the bow in a movement so smooth that it appeared effortless.

  His aim was true and the beast shrieked and tumbled to the ground. He nocked another arrow to his bow as more winged creatures circled the tavern and flew toward them, as though aware of Ranelle’s presence.

  The realization snapped Ranelle from her fascination with her rescuer. She was putting him in danger by being there.

  She had to sneak away without the beasts seeing her. Had to get to the cottage to warn Tierra.

  Blocking her thoughts and mind with her tightest control, Ranelle eased to her feet and slipped into a darkened alleyway. Worn cobblestones were rough beneath her bare feet as she headed down the road, a cool breeze chilling her through her thin gown. She took great gulps of fresh air, her heart pounding as she hurried and tried to stay out of the moonlight and cling to the shadows as long as she could.

  When she could no longer remain in the protection of the darkened village streets, she began to run, knowing that she could now be clearly seen in the moonlit night. In no time she reached the path to their seaside cottage where sharp rocks bit into her tender soles. Mindless of the pain, Ranelle ran faster, her breasts bouncing and her feet flying.

  Screams and shouts still came from the village, but they were distant now, almost drowned out by the sound of waves crashing against the shore below the path. She hoped she had been right about the dark stranger she had seen near Liana, and prayed the man had rescued her halia and would ensure her safety.

  Ranelle wiped the back of her hand against her soot-covered cheek and tried to quell the fear surging through her soul.

  Almost to the cottage. Almost to Tierra.

  An irani shriek came from behind Ranelle, so close it chilled her very marrow.

  Terror flooded her in icy wave after icy wave. She paused to look over her shoulder—

  Only to see one of the winged beasts behind her.

  Oh gods. What had she been thinking? She’d led the irani straight toward Tierra.

  Ranelle screamed and dodged the creature.

  Ground gave from beneath her feet.

  Another scream tore from her throat as she tumbled down the steep hillside toward the shore below. Dirt and sand filled her mouth as she fought to grab onto anything to slow her descent.

  Everything slid by in a blur. Clothing ripped. Her skin burned.

  For an instant she was airborne—almost as though she was flying—and then she slammed onto the sand, flat on her back. She couldn’t breathe—the very air knocked from her lungs.

  Stunned, she lay on the sand, her body aching and burning. But as she saw the irani circling above, a burst of fear gave her the strength to move. As she spat sand and dirt from her mouth, Ranelle scrambled to her feet. She had to get out of the open—but to where?

  The irani shrieked again, spurring Ranelle forward. Her feet sank into sand as she ran, the shore’s rainbow hues glittering in the moonlight. Wind lifted her hair and rushed through the tears in her clothing. Even in her panic, she realized her gown had
been shredded in the fall.

  Skin on her back began to crawl and she chanced a glance over her shoulder.

  The beast was mere feet from her, its talons outstretched.

  Ranelle screamed and stumbled over a chunk of driftwood.

  Claws clamped around her shoulders and lifted her into the air.

  * * * * *

  Jalen dispatched the last of the irani bastards, slung his bow over his shoulder and turned to find Ranelle—gone.

  Shock rendered him near speechless. Had she ignored his command? The power in his voice had never failed him before.

  “Goddess bless,” he muttered at he searched the throng of villagers with his senses. How had she vanished without his knowledge? Even if someone had plucked her from the street, he should have known instantly.

  The shriek of an irani advancing on its prey echoed from outside Fiorn, followed by a feminine scream. Jalen’s blood heated.

  Ranelle.

  He dodged through the crowded village streets on feet as swift and silent as the wind.

  Jalen wasted no time chastising himself for his failure, instead concentrating on reaching Ranelle before the irani did. In a matter of moments he arrived at the path to the women’s cottage.

  His heart nearly ceased to beat.

  The irani had already snatched Ranelle from the shore. It held her tight in its claws and was bearing her toward the Sorcerer’s fortress. The loathsome beast was too high in the air for Jalen to risk shooting down without the chance that the maiden would fall to her death.

  Pain wrenched his chest—a pain unlike any he had felt before. By the goddess’s gifts, why did this defeat tear at him so? Had Ranelle somehow bewitched him?

  A light sweat broke out on his golden skin, despite the night’s chill. Jalen clenched and unclenched his fists, sucking in the sea’s briny air and trying to clear his thoughts as he watched Ranelle’s and the irani’s forms grow further away. The confusion that clouded Jalen’s senses was alien to him, and he sought to comprehend its meaning with every fiber of his being.