Ellora's Cavemen: Tales from the Temple II

by Various

  Rhys shifted to the side and held her against him. She snuggled into the warm, protective curve of his body. She knew the second phase of her transition to Vampir 52

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  had begun. She could feel it within her bloodstream. She felt hot and cold at the same time and, worse, she was beginning to feel weak.

  She fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t afford vulnerability right now.

  Retaining consciousness was paramount.

  “Don’t struggle. You’ll black out soon. There’s no way to prevent it,” Rhys murmured, smoothing her braids away from her perspiration-dampened forehead.

  She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “No. I can’t—”

  “Don’t fight it, cariad. It’s a part of the process. Better you’re unconscious for the next part of the change.”

  Her eyelids drooped and her vision dimmed. It was too strong. The darkness beckoned too seductively for her to resist. “You’ve got to get out here, Rhys,” she whispered. “Get out before they find you. I’m sorry I can’t help.”

  The darkness swallowed her whole.

  * * * * *

  Rhys laid a lingering kiss on Cerian’s lips before standing. To ward off the dampness of the cavern chamber, he dressed her, and then stood looking down at her.

  Her face, for the first time since he’d met her, was peaceful. Her chest rose and fell with the depth of her slumber. Before she’d lost consciousness, he’d given her small mental compulsion for good, healing dreams. She needed them. Shadows graced the woman’s eyes at all times. He found himself curiously and inexplicably driven to chase them away.

  Permanently.

  Rhys had spent centuries roaming Earth and centuries more roaming the universe on behalf of the Council. Sent back and forth at their whim on official missions was his life, his career.

  He was bone weary of it.

  In his long life he’d met a lot of people—a lot of women. None of them had as much grace, dignity and quiet strength as the woman lying on the ground before him. He felt the urge to protect her. She’d probably want to slap that urge right out him, but he had it all the same.

  He gave his head a sharp shake. There was no way he was going anywhere. Not when Cerian was so vulnerable. When she awakened from the Embrace, she’d likely be weak. Who knew what Ta’bat would do when he discovered she, and the crystal, were now off-limits to him? Maybe he’d be so enraged he’d forget all about the Union’s rules.

  She wouldn’t be prepared to fight him, then, as a fledging Vampir.

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  Rhys didn’t bother dressing. Instead, he shifted to his animal form. On large, silent paws, he traveled back through the fissures in the rock, back toward Ta’bat and his men.

  In the concrete empires of late twenty-second century Earth, the animal form of cougar was not very practical. They just didn’t blend in very well. Especially since people tended to scream and run in fear when they saw one. But here, in these caves, this was cougar heaven. He could maneuver here far better in his animal form.

  Rhys made his way silently into the main part of the caverns and then sought high ground. He leaped onto a high, jutting crystal and traveled that way, silently traversing from one crystal to the next.

  Below him, Ta’bat’s men searched chamber by chamber. Besides the occasional look of hatred or fear, the Danaan seemed unharmed. The Sarthes had commanded them to their rooms, it appeared, with only a few chosen as gophers for the Sarthian warriors.

  Rhys watched a Sarthe slap a pretty Danaan on the ass as she passed by with a water pail. She took the abuse calmly, only turning to spear the man with a look of withering scorn.

  Rhys continued on through the myriad and many corridors of the mountain, searching for his one objective—Ta’bat. Take the leader and you demoralized the warriors. You created chaos in the ranks. He could only hope there was no strong second-in-command. With a little luck, there’d be a scramble for power if Ta’bat were killed.

  Finally Rhys heard harsh commands barked in Sarthian. The voice was the same he’d heard call to Cerian earlier. He followed the sounds into a huge chamber he’d never seen before. The man Rhys assumed was Ta’bat stood in the center along with three warriors. He was a middle-aged man, the Sarthian leader, with black hair and a muscular build.

  Rhys studied the chamber. Great gods, it was a ballroom, he realized. The floor was of smooth rose marble veined by silver crystal; tapestries depicting the history of the Tuatha Dé Danaan hung from the shimmering walls. This was a place where the Danaan had once danced and celebrated. By the looks of it, it hadn’t been used in a very long time.

  Ta’bat finished delivering his orders to three warriors in front of him. One of them fired an angry retort back at their leader. Ta’bat barked back, louder and angrier.

  Dissension in the ranks?

  The warriors turned and left the chamber. Rhys eyed their swords as they walked under the elegantly arched doorway. He needed a weapon badly if he wanted to take Ta’bat. The only one around seemed to be in Ta’bat’s scabbard.

  Not ideal.

  However, if he wanted to approach Ta’bat while he was alone, this was an opportunity Rhys knew he couldn’t pass up. At least the element of surprise was on his side.

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  Ta’bat turned and paced the room, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor. Rhys leapt down a few crystals, then waited for him to turn and pace back his way.

  Ta’bat saw him and went very still, his black eyes going wide. Rhys supposed they didn’t have cougars on Gaman.

  Rhys growled low, then pounced.

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  Chapter Four

  Cerian roused, becoming aware of the absolute soundlessness. The intensity and breadth of the silence was near deafening. The depths of Gaman were like that, a silence so heavy it could crush you if you listened too long.

  She pushed herself up and blinked several times, her vision clearing. Glancing around the chamber, she saw that Rhys was gone. Wistful happiness filled her.

  Hopefully he’d get out alive. She forced the wistfulness back. After all, she’d known he wasn’t hers to keep.

  She struggled to her feet, testing out her new body. Her head hurt and she felt weak…but…. “Oh,” she breathed, her eyes widening. “Oh, dear goddess Danu.”

  Her magic before had been only a spark compared to what she felt now. She flexed her metaphysical muscles and felt the swell and contraction of the very air surrounding her.

  She held her palm out and created a spark in the center of it. Patiently, she coaxed the spark brighter and bigger until it was heatless fireball in her hand. She bounced it up and down, and laughed. She’d been working to accomplish that illusion for the last fifty years.

  So an Embraced sidhe meant enhanced magic.

  Cerian let the ball float in the air before her, guiding her way. It was time to find Ta’bat and show him her new fangs.

  She traveled back into the main cavern, extinguishing her fireball before breaching the opening of the last fissure. The place was swarming with Sarthes. Calmly she looked on until they recognized her.

  A warrior stalked over to her and grabbed her roughly. He narrowed his eyes, turned his head to the side and spat. “You vibrate like a vampir,” he growled.

  She smiled sweetly. “You’re too late, I guess.”

  He dragged her forward. “Ta’bat will still want to see you. Maybe you’ll meet with an unfortunate accident, one to which the Union can’t take exception.” He laughed.

  “You have a successor, I’m sure.” He jerked her hard. “Maybe she won’t be so difficult.”

  Rage flowed through Cerian. She started to conjure up an illusion of incredible strength for herself and then stopped. She needed to keep her secrets.

  The warrior led her to the ballroom. Then stilled and released her.

  Cerian followed his gaze. A huge cougar
crouched over Ta’bat, his very large mouth around the Sarthian leader’s throat.

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  The only way she knew it was a cougar was because of the Records of the Ancients.

  The Danaan had catalogued many things about the planet they’d traveled from. To the Sarthe, the animal probably looked like a monster.

  To her, it looked like Rhys.

  The warrior drew his sword and stalked toward the cougar. Cerian drew her strength illusion. Mischiefing the warrior’s mind to believe her invincibly strong was beyond simple. She took a running leap at him, tackling him and wrenching the sword from his hand.

  Goddess, it was heavy, made for a muscular Sarthe. She hefted it and brandished it as high as she could. “Stay back,” she warned. “Don’t move. Don’t yell. If you do, the beast will take his throat.”

  The warrior smiled slowly, then yelled at the top of his lungs.

  A heartbeat and a half later had warriors pouring into the chamber, surrounding them.

  Cerian knew she had to act quickly. Concentrating inward with all her will, she reached inside herself and touched the place where her magic lay coiled like a powerful snake. She found the waves of matter binding the ballroom. Locating the right waves to pluck and manipulate, she cast an elaborate illusion at the Sarthes. A blinding light filled the room and a piercing screech that deafened only the warriors followed it.

  Metal clattered on marble as all the warriors clapped their hands over their ears and collapsed to their knees, dropping their blades beside them. The light and sound faded and the warriors stared at her in awe.

  Lympia appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide.

  Cerian held her friend’s gaze for a long moment, though all she wanted was to close her eyes. The expenditure of magic had cost her and she was still weak from the Embrace. She felt drained enough to collapse. Instead, she let the Sarthian sword clatter to the floor, drew a deep breath, and kindled the spark in her palm, flaming it up.

  “I’m sick of the killing,” Cerian said loudly. “Get out of my mountain,” she commanded in a low voice. She allowed the fireball to swell and drew her arm back as if to throw it. The warriors stumbled to their feet, turned tail and ran.

  Lympia compressed herself to the wall so as not to be trampled.

  Cerian twisted to face Ta’bat, who still lay pinned on the floor. Rhys backed away and shifted.

  Ta’bat rubbed his bruised and bleeding throat. It looked like she’d arrived just as Rhys had been about to bite and tear. Ta’bat sneered at them both. “Place reeks of Vampir,” he rasped. He stood, brushing off his clothes and glaring at Rhys.

  Cerian extinguished the fireball and sauntered toward him as coolly and confidently as she could manage. “Ta’bat, this is over between us. You will cease to block our trade immediately.”

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  Ta’bat took a menacing step toward her, his hand on his short sword. “I say when it’s over, Cerian.”

  Rhys moved so fast he was a blur. He caught Ta’bat’s throat in one powerful hand and lifted him until Ta’bat’s feet hovered over the floor.

  “Actually, you don’t,” said Rhys. “Cerian is Embraced now and untouchable to you.

  This crystal mine is a small concern in the scope of things, anyway, wouldn’t you say, Ta’bat? It’s clear your position within the ranks of your people doesn’t go unchallenged.

  Some might rejoice if you met an untimely end.”

  Rhys grabbed Ta’bat’s short sword from his belt and dropped him. Unbalanced, the Sarthe stumbled back, catching himself before falling inelegantly to the floor. The truth of Rhys’ statement manifested as fear in Ta’bat’s shiny black eyes.

  “Go take care of your people, Ta’bat,” said Cerian. “And I’ll take care of mine.

  Maybe we can find a way to live alongside each other in peace.”

  Ta’bat said nothing in reply. He eyed the short sword Rhys brandished and then glanced at Cerian sideways before giving her a wide berth as he left.

  Cerian held her breath until Ta’bat left, then huffed it out in a sudden rush. She’d been holding onto her strength by a tensile thread. Now it snapped. She felt herself crumple.

  “Cerian!” Lympia cried from the doorway.

  She heard the clatter of the short sword on the floor and felt Rhys’ arms close around her as consciousness left her once more.

  * * * * *

  She awoke feeling protected, cuddled into a warm blanket and even warmer arms.

  “Mmmm,” she decided and snuggled further into Rhys’ embrace.

  He shifted against her and kissed her lips. Her eyes came open and she kissed back.

  She smiled. “You’re still here.”

  He nodded. “Had to see what an Embraced sidhe looked like.” He cocked an eyebrow. “They’re pretty magical, aren’t they?”

  Her smiled widened. “Yes. ” She stretched and realized her hair was damp. “Did you give me a bath?”

  He parted the blanket that swathed her and she made another realization—she was naked. He kissed her collarbone and then worked his way down, dragging his soft lips against her skin as he went. “Yes.” He looked up, shooting her a sexy grin. “You were covered in crystal dust and moss.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. She wished she’d been conscious for the bathing. “Is everyone all right, Rhys?”

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  He nodded. “Everyone is fine. Lympia was very worried about you, but I assured her I’d take care of you and you’d be fine.”

  Someone to take care of her. What a notion.

  He paused to pay attention to both her breasts, enveloping each hardened peak in his mouth, sucking on each one until an ache began between her thighs and she moaned.

  With a groan of his own, he glided down her body. “I have to taste you,” he murmured against her solar plexus.

  She sighed in anticipation. She wanted to taste him, too. How good his hard length would be to take into her mouth. Images flashed through her mind. She’d explore his cock’s smooth plum-shaped head and the heavy veins roping its steel-velvet length with her tongue. His muscular body would tense as she brought him down her throat, suckling him until he climaxed and she swallowed his come.

  He groaned low as he reached her belly button and gently bit her. “You’re broadcasting your thoughts again.”

  She smiled and relaxed into the mattress as he kissed through the hair of her mound. “The Sarthes are gone,” she breathed in sudden overwhelming wonderment.

  She’d driven them away with her own magic. “Ta’bat is defeated.”

  He growled softly. “No more thinking about other men.” He parted her thighs and laid a kiss at the point where her upper thigh met her sex. He nipped her skin lightly.

  She shuddered in pleasure. What other men?

  The first touch of his tongue against her pussy erased all thought completely. He licked along her folds, darting his tongue into her. Cerian moaned and arched her back, stabbing her nipples into the air.

  When he settled his hot mouth and tongue over her clit to pull and suck, she almost went through the roof. Rhys slipped a finger into her and thrust, driving her closer and closer to climax, and finally pushed her over the edge.

  A wave of pleasure rolled over her and she cried out. He lengthened her orgasm with his skillful fingers and tongue until she clawed at the blankets and keened.

  Rhys shifted and came down over her. He kissed her throat as he positioned himself between her thighs. “Even an Embraced magical sidhe must feed,” he rasped.

  She started to ask what he meant, but he chose that moment to drive into her with one powerful thrust. The pleasure of his cock filling her stole her words.

  He began to shaft her slowly. The feel of his nude body moving against hers was exquisite. The brush of his fangs against her throat had her arching her neck in welcome.

  “I feed, you feed,” Rhys said. He lowered his mouth
to her skin and bit.

  Pleasure suffused her body, pushing her close to a second climax. The scent of her blood filled the air and she gasped as an unfamiliar hunger tightened low in her stomach. She recognized it as sacyr—the force that drove the Embraced to feed.

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  Her fangs lengthened and she touched them with her tongue carefully. The need to bite him suddenly overwhelming, she kissed his throat, set her fangs to his skin and sank in.

  She’d never known what bliss was until this moment. Joined at sex and vein, they were one being.

  Cerian felt the pleasure Rhys experienced as he drove into her wet heat. How her muscles tightened around his length like a perfectly fitted silk glove. How much he reveled in the soft brush of her breasts against his hard chest and the satin slide of her skin against his. She knew he could also feel her sensations.

  Cerian felt his climax coming as sure as she felt her own. Intense and overwhelming, it crashed over them at the same time. She relinquished her hold on his throat and panted, unable to make any other noise as her pussy pulsed around his cock.

  It seemed to go on and on, racking their bodies with waves of pleasure.

  When it was over, she lay, breathing heavily in the warm aftermath. Rhys shifted to the side and she mourned the loss of him from her body.

  “Oh, gods,” he groaned.

  She laughed.

  He pulled her to him and kissed her temple. “I want to do it again,” he murmured into her ear. “And again and again,” he finished with a little growl.

  She turned and pushed him back into the pillows. “I still haven’t gotten a good look at your body.” And I might never have another chance, she finished silently.

  She straddled him, her braids kissing over his skin as she shifted. He relaxed, sliding his hands behind his head. His biceps showed nicely in that position, and something low within her flared to life again. Danu, he made her insatiable.

  She drew her hand over his muscled chest, noting several scars. She traced one and glanced up, asking the question with her eyes.

  “From before I was Embraced,” he answered.

  Cerian wanted to know the story behind each one, but likely she never would. She shifted on him, following the length of one down his hip, and inadvertently rubbing her bare pussy over his cock. She felt it harden against her.