Elijah and Samuel led the men of their tribe into battle, slaughtering the Romans as quickly and thoroughly as they could. How could Samuel bring one back as his mate? The Daoine Sidhe, as descendants of the legendary Tuatha Dé Danaan, were above that sort of irresponsible behavior. Or so Elijah had thought.
He pulled his feet from the water, swung his body so he lay on his back on the edge, knees bent with his feet drying in the sun. His head rested on his hands as he looked up at the canopy of leaves above him. Soon they would begin to fall in the cooler air of autumn. Traveling would get harder, his body more miserable in the cold nights.
Once again, he thought of his brother Samuel, this time with a tinge of jealousy. His brother would have a woman beside him in his bed. Elijah was not normally competitive when it came to women. He'd always been a loner, walking alone in the woods, speaking with the creatures there. His mother had hinted at druid blood in him but being a Daoine Sidhe was enough for him. She'd wisely given them Christian names in the hopes the invading Romans would stop to think for a moment before slaying her sons. However, she never gave them the impression that one day they would find mates and the hand-fasting ceremonies would be celebrated up and down the hills. It didn't seem to be in the stars for Elijah. He had gifts that went beyond the druidic order. He had no inclination to be the type of leader a druid was expected to be.
If anyone should be a druid it should be Samuel. He was the warrior, the leader. His men bowed to him. He was a natural. Elijah wanted none of that.
The pines whispered to him in the breeze but today, he couldn't make out what they foretold. He sat up when he heard a noise that wasn't the wind. Listening closer, his hand rubbed at the back of his neck. Was that a cat or ... perhaps a woman? Someone was screeching rather loudly. Someone was in trouble.
Elijah ran in the direction of the call. Birds and squirrels squawked at him as he ran by, leaping over fallen trees, pushing his way through the tangled mess of the forest. Keep away, keep away, they called. He ignored their warnings. A hungry animal of the forest was no threat to him.
When he saw the wolf lean back on its haunches, ready to strike a deadly blow to the pale throat of the slight woman lying beneath it, Elijah stopped, pointed a serious finger at the wolf and called, “She-wolf, you do not want a woman to fill your belly. There are rabbits in the upper fields. They will satisfy your hunger much better than the bony hide of this young thing."
The wolf stopped in its tracks, as if suspended in midair, turned to face Elijah and placed its paws back on the pine needle cushioned floor. The woman didn't move.
"Go, she-wolf. Find your dinner elsewhere. I won't let you harm this girl.” His voice was little more than a whisper on the breeze.
The wolf closed its yearning mouth and turned. It gave him a look of desperation, its eyes hollow and tired. She'd obviously been exiled from her pack for a reason known only to her.
With one last look at Elijah who stood less than ten yards away, the wolf loped into the trees, its raggedy tail tucked between its legs in submission.
Elijah took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He never knew whether a creature would heed his demands or not. A hungry wolf was an even greater enigma. He was thankful this one was female, and seemed to take him to be of a higher ranking than she was.
"Are you hurt?” the smooth, low male voice asked, moving closer to her. She lay on her back on the forest floor, eyes closed, afraid to move lest the wolf still watched her, waiting for another chance to strike.
Arista slowly opened her eyes, sensing someone quite close was watching her. When she looked it wasn't a wolf looming over her but a man. She didn't feel fear. Anything was better than a wolf.
He was tall, lean with a strong, rugged jaw line and piercing blue eyes. He looked at her with a concern that surprised her.
She guessed he was bronzed from spending days in the sun. He wore tight trousers accentuating his physique, much different than the togas, tunics and trews she was used to seeing men wear. His hair was cropped short and his face smooth in the manner of all Celtic men.
When she let out a breath, one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. He held his hand out to her. It was strong and warm. She let it pull her to her feet, which was accomplished with no strain on his part. Wobbly from the shock, she clung to his shoulders as he held her waist until she was steady. It wasn't until she was stable and he straightened that she realized he was at least a foot taller than she. She lost hold of his shoulders as he reached his full height.
"I thought ... dear God ... I thought I was dead.” Arista fought to calm her breathing but the handsome man before her had stolen the breath from her lungs. Reluctantly, she withdrew her hands from his skin. This man dripped sensuality. He moved gracefully and with purpose, gently dusting grass from Arista's upper arm. She tingled at his touch. Longing to reach out and stroke his bare chest, she clasped her hands behind her back.
"You almost were. She was hungry, but I told her where to find rabbits,” he responded casually.
"You ... you ... told her?” Arista took a step back, suddenly realizing she needed to look beyond the sudden attraction she had for this man. Perhaps he was not in full possession of his faculties.
His hair was dark brown, streaked by the sun with lighter tinges of auburn and amber, but she was once again drawn to his blue eyes. They were almost inhuman and that's when she noticed the Celtic motif tattooed around his upper arm. A small icon she knew represented the pagan goddess Dana was interwoven with rowan branches. Her sister's stories came back to her in a flood of descriptions. A central spiral decorated his bicep with four rays flowing into a tetraskele, the symbol of luck, light, love and life. This symbol was thought to bring forth harmony and balance.
There was no doubt in her mind. She'd managed to find herself in the presence of none other than a Daoine Sidhe warrior.
She sucked in her breath, in awe of what stood before her. “You're a Celt, aren't you? Why haven't you killed me?” The trembling she felt after her encounter with the wolf returned. Perhaps death was closer than she thought.
"I don't kill for sport,” he answered with some disdain. His gaze roamed unabashedly over her from her toes to her hair. Arista felt a flush climbing her chest.
"I see you're a Roman woman. Best you get back to your camp before someone with more vile intentions finds you. You're not safe in these woods."
When he turned to leave, she reached for him, grazing his upper arm. “Wait, I'm looking for my sister.” He stopped, and turned back to face her. “Have you seen her? Are you the one who took her?"
The man turned to face her. “Your sister? If I'm correct, she's with my brother and of her own accord."
Arista lowered her eyes. “I wondered about that. She's always been intrigued by the Celtic culture."
He laughed, low and sultry. “A Roman interested in the Celts? Perhaps she's a spy."
"Of course not!” Arista shot back.
"It's all right. I don't really believe that. It seems your Pandora is besotted with my brother, and he with her. They're together at our camp and intend to remain that way."
"You'll take me to them, won't you?"
"If you insist. It means nothing to me either way.” He breathed in and wiped his brow. “My name is Elijah Dannon."
"Hello, Elijah Dannon,” Arista smiled. “I'm Arista, daughter of Gaius Livicus.” She paused, wondering whether or not to ask the next question. Her curiosity won out.
"You mentioned you talked to that wolf. And that tattoo...” She paused. “Are you really a faerie?"
Elijah took her hand and gently tugged her to the west, in the direction of his camp. “Of a sort. I'm of the Daoine Sidhe. I don't know how I came to have this gift but the animals are able to understand me. It's certainly not considered typical among the Sidhe tribes. The wolf was just hungry."
Arista didn't know how to respond and so followed Elijah quietly through the woods. The animals understood him? He ke
pt hold of her hand, instilling thoughts in Arista that had her imagination overflowing. The picture she created in her mind of what a man like him could do to her in bed was almost more than she could stand. He was bigger than most men she'd encountered ... all over. This was a man, not an inexperienced boy away from home for the first time.
Cavorting with the enemy, her father called it when warning his men against seeking out local women. Arista intended to cavort with this enemy.
To bear a child of his would be something amazing. With her dark ringlets and his eyes, the child would be nothing less than stunning. The thought was momentary. She only had eyes for Elijah Dannon's taut backside as he walked through the woods ahead of her in his form-fitting trousers.
In three more steps, he quickly crouched low, pulling Arista down with him. “Stop,” he whispered. The finger at his lips told her to remain quiet.
"Someone is coming this way.” He spoke so soft Arista could barely make out what he was saying.
"I don't hear anything,” she whispered.
"No, but that sparrow does.” He pointed to a nearby oak. “He's given us a warning."
Elijah glanced around. Spotting a nearby pine surrounded by bushes, he sprinted for it, pulling Arista clumsily behind him. Behind the tree and sheltered by the bushes, she felt Elijah relax. While they sat in silence on the fallen, brown needles, Arista heard the talking.
"I don't know why we bother. We all know they went on their own. They weren't meant for the life of a soldier. It's plain rebellion.” The voice was seasoned and gruff but the one that followed, Arista recognized. It was young and seemed hollow as a reed, as if spoken with guarded emotion.
"I'm not so sure about that. I doubt Arista thought life in the camp with us was so bad,” It was her young soldier. She felt a blush crawl up her neck as the memories of their last night together came flooding back. She desperately hoped Elijah hadn't noticed.
"Perhaps she was bored with the pickings,” the older soldier elbowed the younger man and laughed heartily.
So, they knew about her nights. No matter, it was in the past. She had forgotten about other men since Elijah rescued her. She was so close to him now that she caught his scent. She breathed him in, sweat and leaves. Strange. He smells of leaves.
Arista forgot the reason they sat behind the bushes and tentatively reached out to touch the dark tattoo twisted around Elijah's left bicep. His head swung around and the look he gave her sent a shiver to her core. Realizing he knew the meaning of her touch, she brazenly ran her small hand down the length of his arm.
"Be careful, woman. You don't know what you're doing,” he warned, the dark centers of his eyes dilating.
"You don't think so?"
They both turned momentarily as the soldiers trundled by, heading south. When they'd passed, Elijah answered, “You're Roman. I would use you, nothing more."
Arista pressed closer. “Of course you would. I am well aware of that.” She paused, looking at him meaningfully. “Use me, Elijah,” she purred.
"Men don't often reject you, do they?” he questioned as he placed his hands softly on her shoulders, pushing her down onto the bed of pine needles and moss.
Her grin was full of mischief. “No, they don't."
Elijah didn't respond, but he did pull her tunic swiftly over her head, exposing her breasts. With one warm palm covering one breast and the other holding his weight, his tongue became a quick and efficient reminder of what she'd gotten herself into.
When he finally released her mouth and traced a searing path down the curve of her neck, she struggled out of her tunic. The cool air of late summer had her already erect nipples straining even harder.
A hiss of breath escaped her lips as Elijah took the tip of her breast into his hot mouth. He nipped and gently tugged until she arched up against him, begging for more. He muffled a groan of satisfaction when she did. Flicking her nipple with the tip of his tongue one last time, he reached down to hike up her skirt. She accommodated him by lifting her bottom, allowing the skirt to settle around her waist.
Elijah's arousal was evident, straining against his tight linen pants. Keeping his blue eyes focused on her breasts, he rubbed his cock against her thigh, eliciting moans from Arista. She dug her fingers into the hard flesh of his shoulders, urging him on.
As he bent down, he wrapped one arm around her neck and the other around her lithe waist and rolled. Arista let out a squeal of surprise that had Elijah slamming a hand over her mouth and hushing her. Her eyes widened in momentary fear, until she realized his intent.
"Woman, there are Romans in these woods. Hush now."
"I know there are. I'm one of them. There is no danger here for me,” she whispered.
"I wasn't speaking of you. I'd be killed on the spot if one of your brethren caught me despoiling you."
"Hardly for that reason.” She giggled, tossing her hair as she sat astride him. “Unless it was my father who caught us. If you were killed, it would simply be for being a Celt."
"That's enough for me.” Elijah shifted, releasing his cock from its confines. Arista took the hint, rose up on her knees, but then caught sight of his cock for the first time.
With a reverence she'd never felt for a man's sex, she lifted it from his abdomen, her fingers unable to meet around its girth. She held it straight as she slowly slid down, filling herself with more man than she'd ever experienced. As she stretched and swelled around him, bolts of lightening shot through her core and out to her very limbs.
Her mouth opened and stayed that way until she was impaled to the core. She felt him touch the entrance to her womb and flinched. Taking a full breath, she relaxed and allowed it to caress her deep inside, keeping her bordering on the line between pleasure and pain—her favorite place to be.
She rocked against him, delighting in the ecstasy clearly displayed on his rugged face. His hands held her hips, allowing her most of the control, but not all.
Now, finally, she could place her palms on his beautiful, muscled chest. The soft, springy hairs curled around her fingers.
Elijah's face was closed to her now, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his lips pulled back in a grimace only she understood.
He began to thrust harder, in rhythm with her, bending his knees so that her behind came in breathtaking contact with his thighs.
Keeping one palm on the center of his chest, Arista reached around behind her to cup his warm balls in her hand. Swollen and tight against him, she tugged on them gently, eliciting a growl from somewhere deep within him.
He responded by releasing her hips, pushing his fingers between her legs to caress her exquisitely sensitive nub.
Unable to concentrate on massaging his testicles, she fell forward onto his chest. Her body strained until her muscles felt as if they would pull from their tendons. Elijah pounded into her, spilling his seed deep inside. As they lay breathless and limp, his semen leaked out from around his cock. She looked up at Elijah's face when she felt the warm sensation.
He smiled at her, one that was genuine, and not full of the mocking image he'd presented earlier. “What am I to do with you now?” he quipped.
Arista smiled in return, turning his chin to face her when he looked to the side, listening for something she hadn't heard, nor was likely to. “Take me with you,” she said in a low voice lest Roman search parties were close by. In their passion, they'd been oblivious to the goings on around them.
"We weren't spotted,” he said, ignoring her comment.
She looked up into the trees. “I don't see any sparrows. How do you know?"
He looked at her seriously now. “I can't explain everything about what I sense or hear. You'll have to trust me."
He rolled her off him, and slowly stood. He fumbled with his pants. The way he hurried, it almost seemed to Arista that he was suddenly aware of his nudity.
Arista remained on the ground, stretched out and completely naked. The cool air breezed across her skin giving it a pink glow. Elijah wasn't
able to keep his eyes off her as he dressed. Arista was used to that from men. She knew she was attractive, beautiful even, but when Elijah looked at her that way she almost choked on her breath.
From the ground looking up, Elijah was spectacular. The sheen of sweat on his skin had her salivating. She took his hand and pulled herself up. Holding him to steady her numb legs, she let him catch her as she leaned in and slowly licked his chest in a sweet path over the soft hair in the center to his nipple. It rose to attention when she took it into her mouth.
"Ah, woman,” he hissed. “Are all Roman women as highly sexual as you? All right,” he said in a low, smooth voice. “Come with me."
Arista knew the offer was made in lust, but she didn't care. She wanted him to ache for her. If her sister could leave with a Celt, so could she. Sick and tired of life in her camp, Arista was ready for an adventure. Her heart skipped in her chest as she hurried into her clothing while Elijah, waiting patiently, kept a lookout.
"Come, woman,” he commanded as he held out his hand to her. She slid on her shoe, stood and took his hand. Immediately, they set off into the forest.
"My brother will be moving the tribe by now. I intended to catch up with them, but we'll have to move quickly now that the Romans are on the move as well."
"Yes, my father was headed north,” she blurted between gasps for air as she struggled to keep her footing.
"Not only that, but they are searching for you and your sister. They won't be traveling in a cohesive group. That will be a little more unpredictable. We must warn Samuel."
"Samuel is your brother?” she asked.
"He is."
As they slowed to cross through a particularly dense area of bush, Arista asked a question that had been on her mind for quite some time. “Why were you alone in the forest? Are you a spy?"
Celtic Love Knots Volume 5 Page 4
