Llewellyn’s Song

by Samantha Winston

  Her heart beat faster, but she didn’t move. He thought she slept, and she wanted to examine him more. He moved back into her line of sight. Straight black hair tied back with a leather strip. Skin burned brown by the outdoors. A patch covered one eye, the other eye caught the light and glittered like a dark amethyst. He turned and stared straight at her and for a moment she thought he’d seen she was awake, but he turned back to his task.

  His hands moved deftly and the rack soon took shape. Laying it against the wall, he took the fish he’d laid by his side and hung them on the rack. Fascinated despite herself, Tamara watched the first man she’d ever seen up close. The differences fascinated her. His shoulders seemed so broad, and his hands, with their tendons standing out as he worked, looked strong and capable. She shivered, a strange tremor running through her. At that slight movement he looked up, his eye dark with concern.

  “Are you feeling better?” He got up with a fluid movement and was at her side in an instant.

  Her stomach contracted, but she let none of her fear show through. Her clan mother had said often enough, “Never let them see your fear, otherwise the brutish males will ravish you”.

  Tamara studied him, but he only looked concerned, not aggressive. You never knew though. “I feel much better. When will you take me to the trading post?”

  “Your wounds are too grievous, if you receive another shock you won’t survive.”

  She heard the truth in his words. Her chi, drained by the effort of healing herself as fast as she could force it, would not last. Especially if she were jolted. She had to be patient. “You said you wanted to speak to Frostbone. How is it you know the ice demon king?”

  A shadow passed over his face. “I fought in the last war against the Mouse King. Before, I hadn’t realized the ice demons even had a king.”

  She sneered. “You wouldn’t, coming from Hivernia. The fae never bother to learn anything about the world to the north, except when it happens to bother them.”

  “As far as I know, d’ark t’uath are part of the fae kingdom.” He spoke quietly but his one eye flashed.

  The d’ark t’uath part of the fae kingdom? She shuddered. “You know nothing then. We come from the east, whereas you came from the sea, from the south.”

  Her words must have surprised him, for his eyebrow shot upwards. “That’s part of our legends, yes, but we have lost all trace of our ancestors, and have never found them again. Ships sailing south rarely return, and when they do they bear stories of huge sea monsters and tempests, but no land. It’s as if we came out of nowhere. How is it that you know of this?”

  “Our winters are long, and our legends many and oft told. As for the creatures you call ice demons, they are not true demons, being made of flesh and blood, though their flesh may be icy and their blood a poison ichor. But I forgive your ignorance. In Hivernia, ice demons must be rare. How is it you know of Frostbone?”

  “When my brother and I defeated his dragon, we freed the ice demons from the Mouse King’s control. Frostbone came to see me.”

  Surprise rendered her speechless an instant. “Your brother and you defeated the Mouse King’s dragon? Rog? You fought Rog?” At her words the skin on his face tightened but he never blinked. “After Rog, I imagine a behemoth seemed child’s play.” Why did she needle him? He’d saved her, nursed her, and obviously hadn’t come all the way from Hivernia to play healer. She drew a deep breath. “I apologize. It’s none of my business why you’ve come seeking Frostbone. I would hear more of the battle you fought with your brother, for our clan speaks of it but as a legend.”

  For a minute she thought he would not reply, then he bowed his head. “There is little to say. The battlefield was immense, but Rog dominated it, towering over both armies. As my brother and I fought on the west wing, with the archers, we saw the prince’s battalion attack the dragon. Suddenly there came a stroke of luck. In the distance, we saw the Mouse King fall from Rog. In the confusion, my brother and I found ourselves facing the beast.” He stopped and looked toward the fire. “It was either kill or be killed.”

  “Is that how you lost your eye?” She wanted him to look at her again. She found his face…intriguing.

  Instead he stood and moved behind her, and from the sound of it he took his bow and arrows. “I lost my eye and my brother that day. So if you’ll excuse me, you’ll have to content yourself to your clan’s legends. I will speak of it no more.” He passed in front of her on the way out of the cave, but didn’t turn around. His cloak swirled out as he turned the corner, and then he disappeared.

  Disappointment prickled her, and something else. It was almost as if she didn’t want him to leave her. The thought gave her pause. No, that couldn’t be right. She had better focus on getting well now.

  Alone, Tamara lay on her cot and tried to concentrate on healing her bones. She gathered her chi and linked it with the power of the stones surrounding her, taking comfort and force from the earth. The sooner she healed, the sooner she could leave. But the thought of never seeing the tall, one-eyed elf again sent a pang of sorrow through her. Stunned, she let go of her chi. It ebbed back into her body like water into sand but she hardly noticed. How could she feel anything but scorn for the enemy? Instead, she had the strangest, strongest longing to see him again, to hear his low, deep voice, and to feel his hands as they rested on her body.

  Another, sharper shudder stabbed her. This time it started in her lower belly and her womb contracted. A low moan escaped her lips. How often had she felt this craving, this need to mate? It affected all the females of her tribe, but mating was reserved for a select few. Her clan mother had warned her about this—that close proximity with a man would sometimes bring this on. But she had to resist—familiarity would lead to disaster. Her clan chose the men needed for mates. The rule had been written and must be obeyed. It was vital she escape. She had to get away from the elf man before something happened they both regretted.

  But why? whispered a voice in her head. Why? She cast her mind back and tried to pinpoint the exact moment things had changed.

  Everything had started during a massage. As Llewellyn slowly rubbed feeling back into her muscles, his hands sliding up and down her thighs and belly, her head had begun to spin. She’d wanted to ask him to stop, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she’d closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her. His hands were so deft and so strong. When her clan sisters had massaged her, it hadn’t felt like this—as if each nerve answered his touch with a quiver. Dazed, she’d uttered a soft moan.

  “Are you all right?” He’d stopped and leaned over her, his face inches from hers.

  She didn’t know what came over her. An irresistible urge raised her chin so that her lips touched his, and then…he’d pressed his mouth against hers. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, her hips lifting, an incredible longing in her womb. An ache, as if her whole body was empty and needed filling, had shaken her. Her arms had tightened even more, and he’d responded, his body hardening.

  As he pressed the hard ridge of his cock to her belly, a flood of heat washed over her. Her thighs parted and she lifted her hips…and a stabbing pain in her back had nearly made her pass out.

  He’d pulled back as if stung, and she’d turned her face to the wall, confused and humiliated.

  How could she have done that? He was a man! A brutish man, and her clan mother would kill her if she ever found out. She clutched at her covers, shivers racking her body. Sometimes she and her clan sisters had gone to spy on the traders. They’d hidden and seen them from a distance. Looking at men! The law forbade it, and so it had excited them, but when they’d been found out their punishment had lasted for weeks, and she’d hardly even seen anything but vague silhouettes. This broke all the rules of her clan.

  So each time he left the cave, she’d do her utmost to speed her healing, before her body betrayed her once more. He’d made it easy, keeping his hands to himself, only lifting her to help her turn over.
But each time he touched her, her skin tingled with delight.

  He was a healer, she told herself sternly as he washed her. He’d taken care of her when she lay unconscious and he knew her body. But it didn’t change the fact that she was awake now, and whenever his fingertips brushed against her skin, or she caught his gaze, she forgot all about the law of her clan.

  As she lay there, her mind in turmoil, things began to clarify. Why had she always volunteered for the jobs furthest from her cave? Why did she seem to seek the solitude and uncertainty of scouting, rather than the comfort of the warm caverns and the company of her tribe? Because she was unsatisfied, that’s why. The realization was like a spark of light in the darkness. Finally things she’d been afraid to face crystallized into fact. She was not made to spend her life in the caverns. She wanted to go out into the world. It still frightened her, and the idea that she might never see her clan again made her physically ill. But deep in her heart she knew now what she had to do.

  She only hoped Llewellyn would forgive her.

  Chapter Four

  Forces of Night

  The moment she’d been waiting for struck just as Tamara finished healing her back. Llewellyn didn’t realize that she’d spurred on the healing process. She’d poured all her energy into it, draining her chi until she felt it fray like a thread about to snap. A couple times she’d nearly broken that thread, feeling her life slipping away and holding on to it by the sheer power of her will. But it had been worth it. Today, while Llewellyn was out hunting, she’d stood up and managed to take a few shaking steps.

  She’d stood, bracing herself against the wall, and made her way to the cave entrance. The sun had set, and a hard frost lay on the ground. Wind whipped the tree branches, and she saw dark clouds piling up on the horizon. Winter came on soft feet. Soft, silent and deadly. A chill breeze stirred her hair and she shivered. The fire needed tending and Llewellyn would be back soon. She’d shuffled back to her bed, exhaustion making it hard to breathe. Sweat covered her body and she’d shivered suddenly as cold air struck her. But she’d walked on her own. Fierce determination had always been her biggest asset, her clan mother said. She certainly needed it now.

  Lying in her bed, she wrapped the blanket around her and tried to get warm. The fire died but she didn’t have the strength to get up and put more wood on it. Cold seeped into her bones, leaching her life energy away. She knew that to sleep was to die, and she struggled against the lethargy that enveloped her but it was a losing fight. Her plan had failed. She had misjudged her strength. In her world that was fatal. She tried once more to stand, to go put some wood on the fire, but it was too late. Her limbs shook uncontrollably and darkness settled over her mind.

  * * * * *

  Llewellyn pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The freezing wind whipped it, but he didn’t feel the cold. He did feel hunger though. In order to heal, Tamara needed lots of food, and he’d given up his portions so that she could eat. Now his stomach felt as if it melted into his backbone and he clenched his teeth against his hunger pangs. Game was getting scarce though. Winter arrived, and the deer had already left the mountainside, heading for sheltered valleys. They should do the same, as soon as Tamara could move.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw a rabbit in his snare. Dinner would be rabbit stew. He hurried back to the cave, not wanting to worry Tamara. He stepped into the cave and glanced at her out of habit. She lay still, her eyes open and unblinking. His heart gave a painful leap. The rabbit fell from his hands as he knelt at her bedside.

  “Tamara!” He felt for a pulse, and found it faint. Her body was like ice. Her blanket was damp and freezing.

  Cursing, he threw more wood on the fire. Flames licked the dry wood and it crackled as the fire caught, but the air in the cave remained icy. Llewellyn hesitated, then shucked off his clothes and slid onto the bed next to her, pulling his cloak over their bodies. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close, curling around her back. As his body warmed her, her heart started to beat strongly and she sighed, cuddling against him.

  He tried not to notice her breasts but his hand kept brushing against them. It’s just to keep her warm, he told himself, and he cupped her breast in his hand, stroking her nipple with his thumb. Her nipple stiffened, and Tamara shifted in the bed, cuddling even closer to him with a little sigh.

  As she moved, her buttocks came in close contact with his cock and all the longing he’d tried so hard to repress flamed up. His shaft pulsed, lengthened, and pressed even harder against her buttocks, nestling right between her thighs. Holding himself absolutely still, he tried to think of ice demons, of ice cubes, of icy cold rushing streams.

  It did no good. His cock got even harder, and he trembled with the effort of not thrusting into the hollow formed by her inner thighs. He should get out of the bed, pull away, but then her arm slid over his belly as she turned over.

  A surge of blood stiffened his cock until it hurt, and he groaned. Seeing her, touching her, being with her day by day was making it impossible for him. He had needs, and one of those needs lay pressed next to him, her satiny skin growing warm under his touch, her soft hair tickling his cheek.

  He opened his eye. She looked back at him, a flush on her cheeks. “Thank you for warming me up.” It was the first time she’d ever thanked him.

  “You’re welcome.” He shifted, trying to move his cock away. It slid across her belly and touched her pubic hair. Immediately a surge of desire shot through him. He tried to say something and failed, his voice catching in his throat.

  Tamara uttered a little sigh and before he knew it, put her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Now her soft breasts crushed against him and his cock pushed between her legs. She didn’t pull away. Instead, with a breathless laugh, she said, “I want to see what all the fuss is about.” With that, she reached down and took his cock in her hand.

  The shock of her cool fingertips on his burning cock made his balls contract and he drew his breath in. Didn’t she know she played with fire? She pulled back, her wide eyes staring up at him. “It’s so hard,” she whispered. Her voice trembled.

  Her fingers tightened on his cock, but he managed to gasp, “Let go, I’ve got to skin the rabbit.”

  Instead, she turned around again and pressed her buttocks against his cock. “No, I want you.” She caught his shaft between her thighs and squeezed tightly, pulling his hand to her breast. His hand didn’t protest. He cupped her breast, his fingers curling in delight over her taut nipple.

  Tamara thought her whole body would burn to a crisp. Her sex ached with a longing she’d never thought possible. In the clan, she and her sisters had eased their needs with deft caresses. She knew what an orgasm was, and she knew what a man and a woman did together—but according to her clan mother, it would be a brutish, violent experience. Obviously, her clan mother had never been with a wood elf.

  Her clan mother had warned her about the mating lust…but the warnings had faded into a red mist in the back of her mind, because all she could think of now was screaming, “No, don’t stop, whatever you do, don’t stop!” She wanted to scream, but only a sigh escaped her lips.

  As Llewellyn pinched her nipples, rolling them between his fingers, her head spun. Dizzy, she tried to speak, to tell him how good it felt, and then he reached between her legs and gently slid his finger into her slit.

  “Oh yes, please!” There, she’d said it. Or at least, she thought she spoke. Little whimpers seemed to be all she could manage. Oh, by the mother earth! He touched her clit. Touched it, rubbed it, teased it with the tip of his finger.

  Wetness surged out of her cunt, and a spasm of sudden need shook her from head to toes. Now the whimper turned into a cry, and she tightened her legs around his cock, thrusting her hips backwards. Her cunt was so wet that his fingers slipped and slid into her tender flesh, dragging sensations of tingling and delight.

  “Oh Llewellyn!” She teetered on the edge of release. The tingling grew into a
burning, and then he pushed a finger into her sheath. One finger, then two…and he wiggled them gently back and forth. His thumb still thrummed her clit, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

  Her muscles tensed, her nipples stung, and he eased his fingers deeper. He pushed his thumb against her clit, his calloused skin rough against her hypersensitive nub. As her sheath clenched around his fingers everything went black. Her head spun right off her shoulders and the whole cave bucked and tilted. An orgasm like nothing she’d ever experienced ripped through her and her cunt contracted violently around his searching fingers. She grabbed his hand and pulled it closer, feeling his fingers sliding even deeper, and a scream tore out of her throat as the throbbing in her womb intensified.

  He bucked against her, his hand tightening on her breasts, and suddenly his cock began to quiver. He groaned, the sound low and rumbling, growing like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

  Nervous shudders racked her body. Was this where he turned brutish and raped her? Had her clan mother been right after all? Still dizzy from her orgasm, weak, she couldn’t hope to get away. She tensed, waiting for him to go berserk.

  Instead he put his hands flat on her belly and held her to him while his hips thrust against her. His cock, caught between her thighs, slid back and forth, and then wetness spurt from it as he groaned louder and arched his back, his skin shivering like a wild horse’s.

  Tamara cried out as he did, caught up in his passion. She tightened her thighs and reached down, seeking his cock. Her hand touched wetness, and the tip of his cock, and her thighs, sticky now with his seed. As her fingers brushed against the tip of his cock, he groaned once more and thrust against her hand. She felt his seed spurting against her palm and her body responded with a sharp mini-climax. It was too much. Dizzy, spent, exhausted, she let sleep drop over her like a blanket made of stones.

  Llewellyn drew a deep, shuddering breath. In his arms, Tamara slept deeply, her breathing light and even, her body warm. Warmth stole around him, wrapping him in its embrace, luring him toward sleep.