by Mina Carter
Chapter Five
She was gone. Tamryn was gone.
Bane snarled as he paced around the practice ring, the other warriors whooping and hollering as he faced down his fourth opponent of the morning. Even during a truce, the elven army conducted combat practice. Especially during a truce. Elves were highly competitive, had violent tendencies and little self-control. Without the regular bloodshed of the battlefield, half of them would be dead within a week over petty arguments. There was no way to “command” an elven army as such, the only thing was to point them in the right direction of the enemy and hope they didn’t start fighting each other on the way.
Bane circled, his troll opponent firmly in his sights as fury and pain surged through him, as unquenchable as dragon’s fire. Thanks to that silver-eyed, wily tongued bastard of a king and some words on a scroll, he’d lost the only thing he’d ever wanted. He’d lost Tamryn.
She’d be back behind the faery lines now, laughing and dancing among her own kind in the endless dances and parties the winged freaks seemed to revel in. Would she ever think of him? Would she miss him? Did she have a fucking great gaping hole in the middle of her chest?
His opponent feinted to the right but attacked from the left. Bane’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he blocked, the troll’s blow glancing off his upraised arm. This was so easy it was laughable. Spotting an opening, he moved in, gathering himself for a vicious attack.
If he couldn’t have his little redheaded faery, he planned on beating the hells out of anyone and anything that came his way until the truce broke down. It would happen, it was just a matter of time. These truces never lasted long. He grinned and slid under the troll’s guard to deliver a jaw-shattering blow.
Bone crunched and some spectators around the practice circle winced. A few, knowing they might be up next, took the chance to melt into the undergrowth, obviously deciding that the better part of valor was running the fuck away.
The troll dropped to his knees, swaying like a reed in the wind, then sprawled face-down in the dirt, unconscious. The crowd erupted into roars. That was the thing about elves. Bloodthirsty bastards would cheer for anything, as long as there was enough blood.
Ignoring the unconscious man, Bane stepped from the ring. He didn’t care that the elves in front of him scattered as he made his way through the camp. He didn’t care that he terrified even the hardiest of them, or even that the camp followers avoided him as if he had the plague. He credited them with intelligence on that score. The woman who touched him was either brave or suicidal.
A shudder racked him at the thought. He wanted only one woman touching him, and as soon as this stupid truce broke, he was going to storm the fay lines and get her back. Then make her pay for leaving him.
“Lord Bane. My Lord!”
A pixie, tattooed and pierced, slid to a stop a couple of feet away from him. Sensibly out of reach. One thing was to be said for pixies, they weren’t slow on the uptake. He’d only had to throttle four before they got the message not to get too close to him.
“What?”
His glare said that whatever the pixie had to say had better be important or there would be pain in his future. And Bane could get really inventive when it came to dishing out pain.
“The Claimed are here, my lord. His Majesty insists you attend.”
Bane glowered until the pixie quailed under his gaze. The creature’s body started to shift sideways, as though trying to edge out of Bane’s sight without actually moving. If the it thought he could disappear up his own ass, Bane was sure it would try to do just that.
“His Majesty can go fuck himself—don’t say it!” he snapped as the pixie’s lip twitched. He just knew the little fucker was going to come back with Briac’s own quip about impossibilities. If it did, then the little shit was getting skewered here and now.
“I’ll be there,” he grumbled, even though he had no interest in seeing scantily clad faeries being stripped and summarily fucked. In a move worthy of his “silver-tongued” epithet, Briac had pulled a fast one on the fay, writing into the treaty that Talitha would hand over twenty young women. Bane pitied them. Yeah, the faery queen had insisted on the women being treated right, but right for a faery was hugely different to right for an elf.
The pixie zipped off, all energy and enthusiasm and way too fucking cheerful for Bane’s liking. He didn’t know why it was so happy, it wasn’t as if the creature had a chance at any of the women. Twenty women weren’t going to go far if they weren’t allowed to share, but the Claimed were never shared. So it meant most of the crowd gathered were only going to get a look and had no chance of any real action tonight unless they could persuade one of the camp followers into a little bed sport. Unprincipled barbarians they might be, but they did have some morals. Just not many. Sighing, he gave in and followed. If he didn’t show, then Briac would just send more pixies to irritate him.
“They’re here… Fuck, look at the tits on that one.”
The chattering crowd parted to let him pass, for once ignoring him in favor of the show about to be put on.
“I want a blonde,” one on his left groaned.
“Yeah? Grunt like you? Like you’ve got a chance. Best you stick to Pam and her five little friends.” His friend retorted, both of them sliding out of the way as Bane stomped past.
“Ahh, Bane. Glad you could make it. I have a little surprise for you.”
Briac looked up from his blackened throne as Bane made his way over, clearing a space next to the throne with another black glare at the elves in situ. They scattered like leaves in the wind.
He grunted as he dropped to the hastily vacated furs. He didn’t want any more of Briac’s surprises, unless it was the guys’ head on a plate. He slid a sideways glance at his king. Hurry up and sire a brat, so I can gut you without breaking my promise.
The other elf caught his look and clicked his tongue chidingly.
“Now, is that any way to treat your king? Especially when I’ve gone out of my way to do something nice for you.”
“Fuck off.”
Briac laughed, leaned back on his throne and ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. Unlike Bane, he preferred his hair long, which made him look like a jumped-up faery in the bigger man’s opinion.
“Well, I’m not one for redheads, but if you don’t want her, I guess I could rise to the occasion.”
Bane’s temper rose. He didn’t like cryptic, and Briac was wily tongued at the best of times. “Talk plain elvish.”
Briac’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Open your fucking eyes, Bane, instead of letting that rage blind you.” He nodded toward the group of women assembled the other side of the “court” clearing.
All faeries, slender with delicate limbs, they were dressed in the almost sheer white Claiming shifts. Nervously they watched the elves around them, one gasping as one of the braver spectators sneaked past the guards to grope the rounded globe of her ass. She responded with a heavy right hook that almost made Bane grin. That was so like his Tamryn.
The elf stumbled with the force of the blow, parting the women and guards in front of him and his “victim”. Bane flicked a glance over the woman and froze. Red hair tumbled over her almost bare shoulders, the slender form he’d last seen in leathers and tunic encased in a white shift as she moved to the front of the group. His jaw dropped open.
Tamryn. Here. In a Claiming shift.
Mine, his body and feral instincts roared.
“If you’re no longer interested, there are many who are. After all, she’s been, uhm, introduced to our ways, hasn’t she? Rather thoroughl—”
Bane surged to his feet, anger and need waging a war in his veins. He shot his king a dangerous look, the accompanying growl loud enough to roll around the suddenly quiet clearing.
“She’s mine. Any man who touches her is a dead man.”
He looked around the small clearing, poised and ready for battle. Any man who was foolish enough to challenge him for the
redheaded beauty was getting cut into so many pieces it would take a week to find them all.
No one moved. No one stepped forward. The elf who’d touched Tamryn had gone purple, as though he wasn’t even breathing for fear of incurring Bane’s wrath. He should worry. Bane knew his name and where in camp he bedded down so it was only a matter of time before he decided they needed a friendly little “chat” off in the darkness of the woods. No one thought anything of two buds heading into the woods for some “male bonding”. With so few women, it was expected. Bane didn’t do man-on-man action, but there was going to be a whole lot of knife-across-throat action. No one touched his woman and got away with it.
There were no challengers. Relief and disappointment shimmered through Bane as he switched his attention to Tamryn, standing at the front of the group of faery women. Relief because she wouldn’t have to see him brutally kill men for the right to make her his and disappointment that she hadn’t seen him doing what he did best.
Any sense of relaxation disappeared as his gaze wandered over her. Fuck, she looked fantastic. His body roared to life, cock straining against the leather of his pants and throbbing in complaint at the confinement.
“Come here.”
The order was rough, and growled in a low voice. Feet spread, a glower on his face and his leathers still splattered with troll blood, he cut a fearsome figure. One who three of the faery women were eyeing with panic as they huddled at the back of the group, obviously terrified he was talking to them.
He ignored them, his attention all for the woman whose touch had haunted him for the past week. The feel of her body against his, the soft breathy sighs of pleasure, the way her cunt hugged his cock…all there as soon as he closed his eyes at night. He’d about worn the skin off his palm fucking his own hand.
She didn’t move, just watched him with her chin up, as aloof and poised as if she were a grand lady and he a mere serf who’d had the audacity to speak to her.
“I said, come here.” He shoved his thumbs into his sword belt, his stance imposing. “Don’t make me come and fetch you.”
Gods, he wanted to. Wanted to chase her down, tumble her to the ground and show her why he was the only man she’d ever need. Admiration ran through him as she appeared to consider her choices. Defying him, challenging his authority. Anticipation welled, whipping the lust swirling through him into a frenzy. He’d make her pay for the defiance, in ways they’d both enjoy immensely.
She flicked her hair over her shoulders and arched her back so the sheer shift moved over her luscious figure. Her dusky nipples pressed against the fabric, drawing a groan from the crowd. He ignored them as she walked slowly across the clearing, picking her way with care.
With each step, the shift parted to reveal the length of her legs, from delicate and tiny bare feet all the way up to thighs that made a man want to get down on his knees and thank the gods he was male. Thighs Bane planned to part, then wrap around his waist as he plunged into her heat.
His heart thundered behind his ribs as she approached, the heavy thud driving adrenaline around his body. Forcing himself not to move, he watched her with an implacable gaze. His cock jerked again, begging for release. Just a few more steps and he could touch her. Draw her into his arms and claim her forever.
She stopped just out of reach and tilted her head to give him a challenging look. Silence fell in the clearing as those assembled watched the drama unfolding. They’d come to watch a claiming, but this was turning into something far more explosive.
“Don’t play games with me, little faery. You won’t like the reaction.”
He lowered his voice warningly, aware of everything around them. The clearing, the interested spectators just waiting for him to grab her, force her onto her hands and knees and fuck her. He wanted to, his cock as desperate as he was to claim her utterly in the eyes of his people.
She bit her lip, her expression slipping and allowing him to see the nerves within. Realization hit him hard. Eyes narrowing, he looked past the erotic image she presented, the one his very male instincts wanted to focus on, and saw what was actually there.
Under the bravado, she trembled, the thin fabric of her shift giving her away as she took a breath in, the pulse at her throat pounding as thickly as his. As he watched, she gathered her composure and lifted her chin to give him a look that all but seared the flesh from his bones.
“Perhaps I want to play.”
That did it. Bane’s control snapped and he surged forward. She was quicker. With a squeal, she dodged under his outstretched arm and darted past him. Lust warred with delight at the game she was playing. He roared and raced after her.
She didn’t get far. He caught up with her two steps past the furs he’d been sitting on. His hand caught her shoulder, spinning her around and throwing her off balance at the same time. She collided with his outstretched arm and gasped as he hauled her up against his muscled body.
She didn’t struggle, her eyes wide in her delicate heart-shaped face and searching his. Behind him, the crowd roared approval that he’d caught his prize and a chant started up.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!”
He ignored it, holding her against him with one arm and snagging his free hand in the mass of red hair at her nape. He’d take her when he was good and ready.
“Never run from me.”
His voice rasped with the control he was exerting over himself. Every primal instinct he had demanded he topple to the ground, part her creamy thighs and bury himself balls-deep. He should take her. He wanted to, the crowd expected it, but the trembling that racked her slender frame held him off.
“Why are you here?”
He pulled her head back, reveling in the small gasp that escaped her lips. He hadn’t missed the darkness in her eyes, overshadowing the nerves. Nerves, not fear. Nor had he missed the fact that she’d gotten turned-on by a little rough loving up against the tree the day she’d been taken from him.
Suddenly it was important that she hadn’t been forced into this. That she hadn’t been forced to become one of the Claimed to fulfill the promise her queen had made to Briac. As he looked down, Bane had to admit what was in his heart. He wanted her to have chosen to come back. He wanted her to have chosen to come back to him.
She was compliant in his hold, her nearly naked body pressed against his mail and leather. All he had to do was tear his breeches open, sweep the flimsy fabric aside and he could be inside her in a heartbeat.
“For gods’ sake, Bane. Claim her if you’re going to or stand aside and let someone else have her.”
Briac’s voice brought him crashing to reality. It didn’t matter what she wanted now. She’d come to them in the white shift of a Claimed woman, which meant she wasn’t getting away. She would be owned, body and soul, by an elven warrior before nightfall. Shame filled him. That warrior would be him, whether she wanted it or not.
“Please, don’t let them.” Her voice trembled as she whispered. “I came back for you, just you.”
She wanted him.
She’d come back as a Claimed…for him. Elation exploded through him as he dropped his head and claimed her lips. Not soft or gentle, he took her lips like the conqueror he was, parting them with a rough sweep of his tongue and delving between them for the honeyed sweetness he knew lay beyond.
Legs tangled in hers, he pulled her footing from under her and rode her to the ground, careful to ensure her safety in the cradle of his arms. He kissed her as if she were the last woman in existence, smothering her gasp under his lips. For him, she was the last woman. She was all he wanted, all he’d ever wanted. He just hadn’t realized that until now.
“I’m sorry, little one,” he said between kisses as he lifted up and freed himself. As if sensing her so close, his cock sprang from its confinement, ready and eager. “I have to do this. I’ve got to claim you. Here. Now. So they all know you’re my woman. You’ll never be safe otherwise.”
He parted from her luscious lips long enough to look in h
er eyes. The look of trust and something else, something deeper, was something he’d never thought to see in a woman’s eyes and it nearly unmanned him. She nodded, her teeth white as she bit into her lower lip.
“Hold on to me.”
He kissed her again, shoving the claiming shift to the side and wrapping her pale-skinned legs around his hips. The crowd behind them cheered as he dipped his hips and drove forward. His cock found her entrance easily, her feminine channel yielding as he slid into her cunt, a long, slick ride of sheer sensation until his balls slapped against her.
They both groaned, chest to chest, gazes locked. He’d sworn to himself to make it quick, get her out of there as soon as possible and away from lascivious gazes only interested in using their coupling to fuel their own solo efforts. But he couldn’t. As soon as her tight sheath closed around him, he froze in place, the feeling of coming home absolute.
“Oh fuck this. I don’t want to watch his ass flashing away and not see any of the good stuff. Get on with the rest.”
Briac’s complaints behind them were ignored as they stared into each other’s eyes. The attention of the crowd drifted away, a roar of approval telling him that another of the Claimed had stepped forward to be chosen.
Bane didn’t care. All that mattered was he had Tamryn back in his arms, her delectable body wrapped around his while his cock found its home in her tight sheath. A home he’d return to time and time again, until her belly swelled with his seed and bound her tighter to him than any voyeuristic claiming ceremony.
He knew that she’d be a good mother, fiercely protective and loyal of her young. He’d never had that. His own mother had tried to throttle him as soon as he was born, only the flare of his magic stopping the black-hearted bitch before she could accomplish her goal. She’d run, leaving him to his father and a warrior’s upbringing of hard lessons and harder blows for the smallest infraction. He’d never had a mother’s love, but he wanted it for his offspring…wanted a family.
Her nostrils flared slightly, eyes darkening at his slight movement deep in her pussy. She used her nails to rake lightly along his arms, bared by the short sleeves of his chain and mail. “I thought this was a claiming, my Lord… or do I have to go parade myself half naked again to get a good fucking?”
