She knew what he expected. Could feel his body's anticipation as her fingers moved toward the tie at his waist. Yet there were other ways to torment a man. She had examples surrounding her. She let her hands slide lower, over the curve of his hips, and she folded herself to her knees. Slowly, deliberately, knowing he was watching every move, she used her teeth to pull the cord that would release her prize from its wrapping. His hands gripped her shoulders. She felt him stiffen beneath her fingers, his jutting cock bobbing against the under side of her chin.
By the gods he was exquisite. Beautiful One indeed. His skin shone with the radiance of a black onyx stone. The head of his cock glistened in front of her as she rocked back, dark and purple and wanting. Its bobbing head held her gaze in fascination. Almost of its own volition, her tongue reached out to touch.
He tasted like a rich wine marinate, his scent deep and heady. He cried out as she nipped ever so gently, jerking against her uncontrollably. A murmur of approval circled the room. In some dim recess of her mind she knew that the room was no longer quiet. The musicians began to play a low, sensuous beat, and the lovers around the room began to pick up their pace, feeling the heat as she did.
She massaged the underside of his cock with her tongue, marveling at the way his hands tightened on her shoulders. She had not realized there would be so much power in playing the seductress.
"I must–Mistress, you can not…"
"I can do whatever I want," she reminded him. "Ye are mine."
"Yours," he whispered. And despite the strength that allowed him to fight unarmed against the First Priestess, his knees gave out as she took him in her mouth again, and he collapsed into her arms.
Which was, after all, right where she wanted him to be.
* * * * *
"Do you mean to remain here, M'Lady?"
Tranorva snuggled deeper into his warmth. "Will I lose you if I stay?"
His arms tightened around her. "No, M'Lady. You lose a fastening off of your shirt. You lose your favorite earring. You cannot lose me."
She turned her head, burying it against the skin of his arm, breathing in the heady perfume that was his scent. No oils of anointing had ever done as much to entice her. "I have a plan," she admitted as she adjusted herself in his arms. He always seemed ready to hold her. This morning just the warmth of his body was enough to content her.
He nuzzled his face into her hair. "Does it involve a stone altar?"
Anticipation filled her as she remembered the dream. "That was not part of my plan, but it could be."
"Would you trust me enough to share your plans with me?"
Tranorva laughed against his chest. "Trust ye? I trust ye with my life."
She felt his heart stutter, then right itself. "Do you?" His lips grazed over her ear. "Am I more than just a sex object to you then?"
Tranorva opened her eyes and forsook his warmth enough to prop herself up on one elbow and gaze down upon him. She saw something there she had not seen before. He looked so serious. "Do ye not know?"
His eyes drifted to some point beyond her shoulder. "I know what you tell me."
Tranorva freed an arm to reach out and stroke his face, turning his head just a little. "I love ye."
He reacted as if she'd struck him. "No. No. Humans, mortals, they do not fall in love with my kind. We live but to serve. We do not become emotionally involved. We –"
"Élandine. Shammall. Whatever name ye go by, tis all the same to me. I love ye. I have for years. It angered me that ye took no notice of me as a woman, when I was no longer a child. Angered me because I wanted ye to notice me. Wanted ye to treat me as something more than by mother's daughter, and thy charge of the moment. Wanted ye to love me."
He turned his head into her hand, closing his eyes as he kissed her palm. "I have loved you for years, M'Lady. Loved you and needed you and feared for my soul because I knew it was wrong."
Tranorva bent her head to kiss his closed eyes. "There is no right and wrong in matters of the heart."
Worried eyes sought her out. "I am Fey. Such things are forbidden in Faerie!"
"Why?"
"I will not age, M'Lady, not as you understand time. My lifetime is measured in centuries, not years. We feel not the call of mortals to mate, lest we lose our hearts and our souls a dozen times in the course of a lifespan."
"Would ye leave this world complete without knowing the feelings we share? If my plan does not work and the Dark Ones take our lives in the morning, are ye less of a man because ye have loved?"
The tension in his eyes shimmered and began to ease. "No, M'Lady. I could never be less for having shared your love."
"And if the fates do not intervene, and thy life should stretch on for centuries, ye will live to love again. But I will always have been thy first."
He kissed her, then, pulling her tightly into his arms once more. "Whatever my fate, I shall be richer for having carried you in my heart. If I die tomorrow, know that I would not have ever lived had I not found you."
"Let tomorrow take care of itself. Let us concentrate on today."
* * * * *
Philosophically, letting tomorrow take care of it self had sounded like a fine plan. Now that tomorrow was here, however, he found the plan somewhat amiss. Especially since the hour of his death appeared to be imminent.
The day had started off well enough. Tranorva had looked quite lovely, decked out in her own polished mail, her sword strapped to her side, as she convened the council. No one had voiced an objection to her plan to place Maelyn as regent during the times she must serve at House Lochinvar. He should have known things were going too well. He'd let down his guard. He'd been too attuned to the brilliance of his lover to notice when Maelyn slipped behind him in the reception, until he felt the edge of her dagger pressed against his throat.
Chattel in a battle between leaders. What an ignominious way to end an enchanted lifetime.
He could feel the fury vibrating through the First Priestess's body. "I have seen the way you look at this one, Tranorva. You will not sacrifice his life to maintain your power. Hand over the sacred keys."
Tranorva removed the chain from about her neck, holding it just out of Maelyn's reach. The First Priestess shifted her hold, reaching for the symbol she could not quite grasp. It was all he needed. Élandine twisted as he threw himself into her blade, tossing the Priestess over his hip. The world shimmered in a haze of pain as he went down, but he had time to see his beloved disappear, and to know that the blood was not all his own as the enraged grizzly shredded the priestess before him until her broken body was no more than a lifeless toy.
He chanted softly through bloodied lips as the fog rolled into the room, too tired to stem the flow of blood, unable to lift a hand to the wound. Charms and spells left his mind as the cold muzzle sniffed anxiously at his throat. Tears stained the huge brown eyes. "Forgive me," he managed as he drifted away. "I love you."
Epilogue
The enraged scream of a giant grizzly bear disturbed their peaceful slumber. Mother Earth held up her hand for silence as Sister Wind and Brother Rain led the dash for the pool. Soon they were gathered together, nine in all, around the smooth, dull surface of the water. Mother waved her hand over the surface.
The cry came again, the keening wail of a woman this time. The picture in the water wavered and focused, until they could see the vast reaches of the frozen tundra, stretching empty and barren for leagues on end.
A Northland Warrior screamed each of their names in turn as she stumbled and fell, alone in the snow, the wind whipping her hair over her face. She might have kept her balance, but she refused to drop her burden. They looked closer, then pulled back a little, stunned looks on their faces. The burden she carried was a broken body, clasped in her arms, as the tears froze on her face.
"No," whispered Wind. "It was not to be thus."
"His time is not yet," agreed Rain.
"It is the way of things that not all fulfill their destiny," argued Cat.<
br />
Bear turned away, ripping up great chunks of earth to unsettle the air. "I will not see my child so destroyed."
Destruction curled his lip in a sneer. "He made his choice. Let her live with it."
The keening rose again, and the air in the room shimmered, the dust from Bear's paws catching the flickering light.
"Ye gave me thy word!"
Lightning shimmered around the room in angry waves.
"We have not broken our word." Mother's voice carried a warning the Human would not heed.
"No harm. No harm was to come to my children."
"He is not one of yours."
"Can ye not see the life is gone out of my child? Can ye not hear her heart break? Enough! I have sacrificed enough! My daughter must not pay for my sins!"
"We did not make this choice. We can not undo what he has done by his own hand."
Wolf shook his shaggy head sadly. "This has not to do with you, Evalayna. Some things neither thee no we can control."
"No!" The wail of her grief combined with the keening from the water to shatter the ears of those listening.
"Cease!" Falcon's voice rose above all. "There may be a way. If ye can find the courage within thyself."
"Anything." The woman pulled herself together, regaining some of her characteristic composure. "I will do anything. I would trade my life for theirs."
Chaos turned on her now. "Would you face your past?"
Mother raised her hand and the room once again fell silent. "Take his body to the source of his life, with all those you hold dear about you, and make your pledge to his king. He may grant you the gift you desire."
"I do not understand!" Evalayna spun to face them, reaching for something she could hold and touch, but the plain shimmered around her, and heat faded to cold. She gasped as the wind took the breath from her lungs. Her vision blurred then cleared again, until the scene before her came into focus.
Tranorva marched out of the snow, her head down, her stride firm and determined, the body of the Mage clutched to her chest. He looked small and frail in death. He would not have liked that.
Tranorva swayed as she held out the pale, lifeless thing.
Alone out here exposed to the elements they would both die as well. "We will need help," Evalayna answered the wordless plea. "First we must get in out of the storm." Tranorva turned her gaze blankly on the landscape, as if unsure where they were.
Evalayna pressed her fingers to her temples and issued the summons. Take his body to the source of his life, with all those you hold dear about you, and make your pledge to his king. Those she held dear would find them.
But how could they travel to Faerie? And would the King of the Fey grant such a request? Could he?
She would deal with this all tomorrow. For tonight she must keep her daughter alive. She raised her hands and cast a dome about them to shut out the wind. But it could not seal out the chill in her heart.
"Would you face your past?"
The mournful roar of a giant grizzly echoed across the plains, its direction lost in the wind.
A Warrior's Pride
Way of The Wolf Book IV
Prologue
They were gathered together, nine in all, around the smooth, dull surface of the water. Mother Earth waved her hand over the surface. The picture in the water wavered and focused until they could see the vast reaches of the frozen tundra, stretching empty and barren for leagues on end.
The keening rose again and the air in the room shimmered in the flickering light. "Ye gave me thy word! I have sacrificed enough! My daughter must not pay for my sins!"
"We did not make this choice. We cannot undo what he has done by his own hand."
The wail of her grief combined with the keening from the water to shatter the ears of those listening. Mother raised her hand and the room once again fell silent. "Take his body to the source of his life, with all those you hold dear about you, and make your pledge to his king. He may grant you the gift you desire."
"I do not understand!"
The mournful roar of a giant grizzly echoed across the plains, its direction lost in the wind.
* * * * *
The ancient grizzly raised his head to taste the message on the wind as the breeze shifted. A once familiar scent caught his attention, bringing him to his feet with a mighty roar.
Mate.
He spun to face the wind and sniffed again.
No.
Human.
Human female.
Familiar.
He let out his grief with another cry that threatened to shake loose the snow along the ridge and bring an avalanche tumbling down the mountainside.
There it was again.
Human. Female. Mate.
He drew in gasping mouthfuls of cold arctic air, searing his lungs as he breathed deeply of her scent.
Human female.
Familiar.
He shook his head, pawing the air in angry denial.
Yet there had been a time, long ago...
Pain. So much pain.
He would not remember. He would not.
Yet the scent came to him again. The scent of her would not allow him to forget. Mate. His mate was here. He raised his voice to the night air and repeated his mournful cry.
No. No, it was not possible.
The memories came flooding back. He had been...He was...He had been gone too long this time. He was losing his mind. Losing his last vestiges of humanity. Of course he remembered. How could he forget? He forced himself to take on Human thought processes though his body shook with the effort.
The scent came again, but with a great effort of will he forced himself to think past it. She was dead. She had died with the birth of their child.
Yet the scent could not lie. There it was again. Human female. Alive.
The Mage had brought him the news, the Mage...
Rend. Destroy. Rip limb from limb.
No. Think like a man. Must think like a man. Must...
Kill. Kill the lying tongued one. Take. Take what is mine. Reclaim...
"Mine!" he shrieked in a voice that was neither quite Human nor all grizzly.
Reclaim what is mine. An end to the loneliness. An end to the vast wanderings and the long winter nights.
Mine!
Standing on his hind legs he pawed the sky, shaking his shaggy head as he roared his challenge to the air, unsure no longer. He dropped to the ground, forty stone of enraged bear shaking the earth as his screams split the night, charging toward the smell, toward the promise, toward the lies.
Chapter One
"'Tis a fool's errand."
"Aye, M'Lady."
"And if I forbid thee to go?"
Tyrell stopped packing long enough to turn and raise one long, slim, arched eyebrow at the old woman. "Forbid, M'Lady?"
Ayailla thumped her heavy staff down hard upon the ancient stone floor. "Forbid. Yes, forbid. Do ye think I will no'? Ye are my apprentice. Ye are bound to me, goddamn it. Ye cannot just go traipsing off wherever ye wish just because my fool of a daughter Summons ye!"
Tyrell laid the crisp linen tunic neatly on the side table before he turned to face the old woman. Slowly he drew himself up to his full six-foot-eleven inch height, stepping just close enough to her that she had to tilt her head to look up at him. Her eyes twitched with anger, although she did not step back.
He spoke distinctly, controlling his anger the way she had taught him. "I am apprenticed to thee, dear Grandmother, because I requested it be so, and because ye accepted me into thy training. I did this, in part, although ye are a crotchety old woman, because ye are the equal to my temper and stubbornness. Remember that I came to thee voluntarily. I now formally request leave that I might be allowed to attend my Lady Mother, who has need of me."
He held up a hand before Ayailla could speak. "Take heed of thy own advice and think before ye speak, Grandmother. I love ye, and I would no' have ye say something in anger and fear that ye will later regret. No matter
what thy decision, I will go. I must answer my mother's Summoning. Ye of all people should understand that. I ask no' for thy permission to attend my Lady Mother. I ask instead for permission to return to thy household once my mother's need has been met."
Ayailla bit her lip, and if he hadn't known her better he might have thought she was fighting off tears. "Of course you can come back, you idiot."
She opened up her arms and he moved into her embrace, bending his head to lay his cheek atop her jumble of thick silver curls. "Thy accent is slipping, Grandmother. Do no' let the servants hear ye. The will think it most odd to hear you speak like a peasant."
"So what?" she sniffled. "I pay them well enough. Better wages than they'll bring home anywhere else, for less hours."
Tyrell rolled his eyes, sensing the danger of their tempers clashing had passed. "I will miss ye, Grandmother."
She sniffed heavily. "No you won't."
Warning bells went off in his head at the sudden change in her voice and temperament. "What possesses ye to say that, Grandmother?"
Tyrell watched Ayailla pull her ruffled dignity back around herself like a cloak. "Very simple, my child. I am going with thee."
He could have reminded her of her age. Just yesterday she had complained that at near one hundred she should not have to do things as strenuous as climbing the stairs to her third floor bedroom. He did not. He did not voice any of the opinions that came to mind at all. Instead Tyrell threw back his head and laughed. "Good."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Thou art no' going to argue with me?"
Tyrell shrugged. "Ye are Ayailla. Ye are as tough and strong as ye were when I first came to know ye. If ye wish to trek across the tundra with me, by the gods, ye will. If Mother is truly in need of assistance, she'd find no better Shaman to fight at her side than thee. If this is but some wild power play on Mother's part, she'd find no more capable adversary."
Way of The WOlf: The Northlanders Book I Page 24
