Embrace the Power

by Caris Roane

  She set her spoon down for a moment, aware suddenly that she’d never had a normal kind of life, like eating soup and savory French bread in a man’s kitchen.

  She’d had a life built on duty, doing what was required and expected of her. She really wasn’t complaining. She’d long since accepted what she’d needed to do to save the Nine Realms. Despite Stone’s prior disapproval of her, she’d been proud that she’d kept Margetta away from the elf-lord power all these centuries.

  “Stone, I wish I’d been able to sit down with you long before this.”

  He picked up his beer and swigged. She glanced at his long legs, noting that even the counter and bar stools had been built to accommodate his six-seven frame.

  “I’ve misjudged you, Rosamunde. Davido told me you were never supposed to be queen.”

  The reality of how she’d become queen, that Margetta had killed her own sister, hit her all over again. “No, I wasn’t and I was reminded of that fact every time the elf-lord power struck.”

  “I wish I’d understood. I was way too hard on you.”

  She leaned forward slightly. “I won’t disagree, but I never really blamed you.”

  He set his bottle back on the counter, then continued eating, but his cheeks looked drawn and his eyes were narrowed. She could tell he was thinking hard.

  She picked up her spoon as well and let the subject rest. She knew this situation was especially difficult for Stone. He was a straightforward, up front kind of guy. Her deception must have hurt him badly.

  She sipped her beer and took another chunk of bread. She added the local butter and moaned softly as she took a bite, then followed up with another spoonful of soup. “This cook deserves to win awards.”

  “I think she has.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised.”

  Glancing at her empty bottle, he left his bar stool then returned with two more beers. She accepted hers readily and took a sip.

  “I don’t know if you’ll want to talk about this, but how did it happen that Margetta killed your mother? Davido told me a couple of details, while at the same time calling me pig-headed.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “I want to know you better and I think you know a lot more about me than I do about you.”

  Rosamunde nodded. “You’re probably right. After all, I’ve read every blog post ever written about you, but I know there’s not much on the web about me.”

  “Exactly. You’re something of a mystery.”

  Her throat grew tight. She debated whether to share the history with Stone, but it seemed pointless to not let him know the worst shame of her life. She’d long since forgiven herself, but it was still hard to talk about how and why her mother had died at the Ancient Fae’s hands.

  “When I was young, I had several miniature goats that I adored and tended. Though my mother was queen, I had chores around what was then a large though simple home with a thatched roof. I was a typical girl and dressed my small goats up in scraps of woven fabric. My mother insisted the goats wear bells around their necks. She told me it was so that if they got lost, I’d be able to find them. Now I realize her real purpose was to keep track of me.

  “I was adventurous back then. I think my father’s shifter genes were strong in me from the beginning.

  “Anyway, I knew there was a mysterious veil of mist around the kingdom that kept Ferrenden Peace separated from the outside world. And I used to play near the mist barrier every day. I was so curious about how it was made and since I was forbidden to go into the mist, well, I had to go.

  “The first time I passed into the veil, I was alone. But I could hear my goats, so I knew the way back.”

  She leaned her elbow on the counter. She wasn’t looking at Stone, but staring way into the past. “The mist was an incredible experience and had an effect on me. Some of my powers came alive and soon I was manipulating the mist. I could create all kinds of pathways through it.

  “Eventually, I started taking my goats with me and even justified my adventures because the goats loved the grass in the mist.

  “I would take their bells off so that no one would know I was in the veil.

  “After weeks of exploring, I eventually made it all the way through to the other side, to Quinlan’s realm, Grochaire. And that’s when a golden wind arrived and I met my Aunt Margetta for the first time.

  “She was so beautiful to my young eyes. I can recall her words to me. ‘Well aren’t you pretty. Are you Evelyn’s daughter? Rosamunde?’

  “I remember how proud I was to proclaim myself as the daughter of the queen. ‘Do you know who I am?’ she asked. I couldn’t believe this beautiful, angelic woman was talking to me. ‘I’m your Auntie Margetta.’ I can remember very clearly how she looked past me and said, ‘And what a clever girl you are because I can see that you’ve created a little tunnel through the mist’.

  “I was feeling very excited about the encounter and couldn’t wait to return so I could tell my mother that I’d just met my aunt. But the next moment, Mama arrived in a cloud of teal-colored wind.

  “I remember only two things, my mother shouting at me to get back through the mist, then a violent explosion that had me running as fast as my legs could carry me.”

  Her throat was tight again. “My mother died battling her sister, while saving my life and keeping Margetta out of Ferrenden Peace.

  “Afterwards, the Sidhe Council was brought in to figure out what to do. When it was discovered I could sustain the mist and keep Margetta from reaching the elf-lord power, even as a child, I was given the job.” She realized a couple of tears had rolled down her cheeks.

  She remembered how badly it had hurt, that first night when the elf-lord power came to her. She’d only been nine, but her fae instincts had told her what needed to be done, even if it took her years before she understood the whole picture.

  “Even as a child you had to endure the elf-lord power?”

  She nodded.

  “Sweet Goddess.” He took his napkin and drew close to dry her tears. It was such a tender gesture that she stared at him in wonder. “Stone, you have this big, masterful voice and you’re as tall as sin. But I think you must be the kindest man I’ve ever known.”

  “Thank you. That’s nice to hear. But I’m sorry you had to go through such a terrible thing, especially so young. Though I can relate to feeling responsible for the death of a parent. I shouldn’t have become a Guardsman when I did, even though my adoptive parents insisted I join up.”

  She saw the glint of pain in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t talked about this for decades. But when I was young and living in Charborne, I’d taken to fighting wraith-pairs, any that came near our farming community. That was a good decade before the then current ruling Mastyr of Tannisford invited me into his Vampire Guard. There were many times I was the sole reason a lot of villagers didn’t get slaughtered. I knew that joining the Guard would put Charborne in some jeopardy, but the mastyr made sure squads went out often to patrol the village and surrounding farms.

  “This was three-hundred-years ago, long before electricity and the resulting resources we have these days. So, basically, I knew I was taking a chance, but no one could have predicted the kind of attack that occurred.”

  Rosamunde knew what happened only too well. She’d seen the devastation in one of Margetta’s heinous visions. Later, she’d read the reports in the newspapers.

  He slid off his stool and took her bowl and plate, stacking them with his own. “The major assault on Charborne, that took the lives of my parents, and so many others, happened six months to the day after I’d become a Guardsman. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over the tragedy. There was so many lives lost that night. If only I’d been there—” He let the words hang.

  “I know. I totally get it. If only I hadn’t gone into the mist.”

  He moved to the sink, taking the dishes with him, then met her gaze. “I thought you’d understand.”

&n
bsp; When he started rinsing the dishes, she asked. “Do you want some help?”

  At that, he smiled. “Do you do dishes, Your Majesty?”

  She put both her hands on her cheeks. “Not once in my life, not even as Aralynn. I only kept beer in the fridge. If I got hungry, I’d head back to the castle. But I’d like to help.”

  His lips curved. “Come here, then.”

  She slid off her stool and picked up the breadboard. There was only one small piece left. She hardly thought it was worth saving, but she had an idea what to do with it.

  She set the board next to the dirty dishes. Stone was leaning his hip against the concrete surface. She held up the piece of bread for him. “Want this last bit?”

  She was surprised when he took her wrist in hand and drew the bread toward his lips. She watched him open his mouth, then guide the piece inside.

  Except, he took more than just the bread.

  His lips surrounded two of her fingers and her thumb. She felt a sucking pressure as he slowly took the bread from her.

  Rosamunde froze where she stood. The cool air hit her now damp fingers. Stone held her gaze, his brows low, his green eyes glittering.

  Deep within her abdomen, a vibration began, one that she recognized as her profound need to bond with him. She could hardly breathe as sudden desire began to spread from the point of that vibration throughout her entire body.

  Her cheeks heated up. “Stone are you really suggesting what I think you are?”

  Was it possible he’d started overcoming his anger? And so soon? She knew Stone had spoken with Davido. Maybe the wise old troll had offered Stone some advice.

  ~ ~ ~

  The last thing Stone had expected was to see the complete vulnerability in Rosamunde’s violet eyes. He couldn’t believe how much he’d misjudged the woman. He’d always thought of her as cold and reserved, stuck in her royal life and indifferent to the plight of the Nine Realms.

  Nor could he deny a need to embrace what his fellow ruling mastyrs had already experienced; a deep, overwhelming call not just on his body, but on his soul. He hadn’t expected the latter, which worked to complicate everything.

  The experience of the elf-lord power had not only ramped up his mating vibration, but also told him quite simply that Queen Rosamunde of Ferrenden Peace was in a similar state.

  Slowly, he extended his hand in her direction. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to make love to Rosamunde?

  His palm touched the bare skin of her arm and an electrical current began to pulse, a very Nine Realms vibration. In response, she drew in a slow, halting breath punctuated with faint gasps. He held her gaze.

  Whatever this was going to be, he wanted her with him all the way.

  “Rosamunde, are you sure you want to do this, because I know once we begin this journey, there’s no turning back.”

  Tears touched her eyes. He could see she was overwhelmed. He was no less so and felt as though if she refused him right now, if she said she couldn’t continue, he’d break apart in a way that could never be restored.

  He didn’t get this. He didn’t get any of it.

  Then she did something he knew he’d never forget for the rest of his life. She lifted her hand and settled her palm on his cheek. She never once averted her gaze. He knew what this was costing her, how much courage she showed in just looking into his eyes. He could hear the quick, erratic beats of her heart.

  “I’m scared half out of my mind right now.” She swallowed hard. “But the elf-lord power tells me this is the right, maybe even the only possible path, not just for me but for you as well. Yet you and I have been enemies for so long. How can we come together like this now?”

  “After all that we’ve been through just tonight, especially beginning with events at the Wild Boar, I want us to be together, as close as we can be, short of a true bond. We’ll get to know each other and maybe the rest will follow.”

  “Then it’s a matter of faith and of trust?” she asked.

  “Rosamunde, tell me you trust me, that you believe in me at least that much.” He knew he’d spoken stridently and her sensitive fae features startled then paled quickly.

  She gasped again, but she never broke eye-contact with him. Damn, the woman had courage, more than he’d ever supposed. She was practically splintering in front of him, yet she held her course.

  He felt her answer before she gave it. “I never disagreed with your character, Stone. Only with your attitudes toward me. With all my heart, I trust you. Sweet Goddess, I trust you with my life.”

  He slid his arm all the way around her, pulling her tight against him. He crashed his lips down on hers because he couldn’t do anything else. Her words had lit a fire in his heart, his soul, his body that wouldn’t be denied.

  ~ ~ ~

  Rosamunde felt as though she was falling backward and just kept falling, even though she remained upright. The sensation was sublime. She also couldn’t believe that in the space of a few hours, he’d changed his view of her. Davido must have helped, yet at the same time, she knew the battle for his forgiveness wasn’t over.

  For now, though, she focused only on him. He had his arms tight around her, so she felt safe, absurdly and ridiculously safe.

  Until the past two nights, she hadn’t been with a man in so long that she’d forgotten the thrill of experiencing the sheer physical strength a man possessed, especially Stone.

  Her heart pounded. She’d already begun producing the extra portion for Stone and she was eager to have him feed from her again. But she didn’t want to hurry the process. More was happening here than just sex. She knew that. She might not be able to quantify everything, but this was the beginning of a bonding process that had to take certain steps.

  How odd that these thoughts went through her mind, yet they did.

  His hips met hers in a slow grind. Very male.

  As he kissed her, his tongue played inside her mouth, at times licking and at others, thrusting. She melted against him, which caused his arms to tighten a little more. Her breasts pushed against his chest as though searching for a way to get closer.

  He must have read her mind. “I want your clothes off.”

  “Same here.” He released her. But instead of letting him go, she planted her hands on his shoulders then smoothed her palms down his muscled chest. The leather of his Guardsman coat was soft beneath her fingers.

  Without giving it much thought she began undressing him. If it crossed her mind that maybe he wanted to take her to his bedroom, she really didn’t care. This time belonged to her, no matter what the future held.

  The Guardsman coat was a simple matter. The garment had a heavy hook at the waist which she undid with a quick flip of her fingers. He wasn’t wearing the traditional Guardsman shirt, either, so when she pushed the sleeveless coat over his shoulders, his chest was fully exposed.

  He didn’t try to catch the coat, but let it fall to the wood floor behind him.

  Though he was breathing hard, he made no move to engage her. He must have understood what she needed. She’d been hungry for a man for so long that she had to take her time right now, had to savor, had to feel. She might have been with him as Aralynn and in a wild state after the Wild Boar, but not truly just as Rosamunde.

  She ran her hands down his chest and let her fingers trace each of the unique tattoos. Most were designs without words, a lot of swirls that ended in knife-like points. But among these swirls were his thick, muscled pecs and tight nipples.

  A growl formed in her throat, something more wolf than fae. But she let it roll as she surrounded his left pec with her mouth and sucked.

  She heard him groan and his hands found the front of her vest. “I love that you’re not wearing a bra.”

  “Unh,” came out of her throat as she suckled.

  Despite that she was sticking to her enjoyment of his pecs, he found a way to work free the few buttons of her vest until it fell open.

  He bent over her as she suckled, in or
der to reach her breasts with his hands. The angle must have been awkward, but he made it work and her hips writhed as he fondled her, turning her nipples into firm beads.

  Shivers chased down her neck and shoulders. Her hands kept moving over his corded arms. He had a warrior’s lean physique and every muscle stood out as though a sculptor had personally crafted his body.

  When she shifted to take his other nipple in her mouth and used both her hands to shape his pec, his body rolled beneath hers and heavy groans left his throat. He moved slightly to surround her with his arms.

  As desire flowed more and more heavily, her knees weakened and she found herself sliding her lips down his body. His riverbed scent had her nostrils flaring, trying to take in as much as she could. She kissed along the ripples of his abdomen until she reached the waistband of his leathers. His hands were in her hair and on her shoulders, then back and forth.

  “Sweet Goddess, Rosamunde.”

  She worked his zipper carefully, revealing the manliest part of him. Tugging his pants below his hips, she licked a slow line from the base of his cock all the way up.

  She took the tip of him in her mouth and sucked. His breathing turned ragged as her lips pulled on his crown.

  How her body ached. She needed him inside her yet she loved having him in her mouth. She wanted to keep him there.

  But his movements became erratic so that she had to draw away. She leaned back on her knees, looking up at him.

  With his boots still on, he pulled his pants back up. He lifted her to her feet then made his way to sit on an ottoman in front of the sofa.

  He worked at his boots, but she saw that he was struggling since his gaze was fixed on her breasts. She thought she understood why. As Rosamunde, for whatever reason, her breasts were bigger than Aralynn’s.

  She smiled as she levitated in his direction. She dropped once more to her knees then went to his aid and got both his boots off. She would have taken care of his pants but he stood up and got rid of them like he was running on coals.