Night Elves 2: Dangerous Obsession

by Nelissa Donovan

  Darous drew in a shaky breath before resuming his hovered pacing. “I’ve not heard the words but I’ve heard of the prophecies.” The firewhit’s amber eyes lifted, and Eristta’s heart tripped at the somber look on his pixie face. “Well before Letichus and Frenalah, lived Dietramon. In the days of first awakening, she existed among the People to give guidance and counsel. Before her passing, she began to prophesize. For three days and three nights she did so, encapsulating each of the prophesies into crystals which she then instructed her priestesses to seed onto the land of each kingdome, to grow and be revealed when the knowledge was needed.”

  Tingling attacked the base of Eristta’s neck and she rubbed at it absently. “I’ve not heard that tale. How can it be I’ve not heard of it?”

  The firewhit gazed at her solemnly. “Many of the…advanced races have been preoccupied cultivating their societies. In the process, ancient teachings have been lost. Forgotten. Some have…” Darous paused, shrugging. “Purposely been buried, as the faerie queen said.”

  “So you’re saying this Dietramon gave that particular prophecy to the Faerie?” Eristta asked, her stomach doing somersaults, a bead of sweat rolling from her temple to the edge of her cheek.

  Darous nodded. “Yes, yes. The question is, what does it mean, and why did Ferra’leen feel it was important to you? To us.” The firewhit fixed Eristta with a firm stare. “Did she say naught else?”

  Perhaps the most important question you should be asking now is how you might achieve your heart’s desire…

  Ferra’leen’s parting words echoed in Eristta’s mind, and she swallowed—hard. “No. Nothing else.”

  Silence filled the tunnel. Eristta glanced at her feet, unable to meet Red Claw and Darous’s stares. My heart’s desire. What my heart desires is my father, brother and friends home—safe.

  A hot hand encircled her arm. Eristta looked up into the shaman’s dark gaze. “Eristta.” His voice was like an electric breath of spirit, shifting across her soul. She closed her eyes, lest he see the truth in them. Her need. “Ohitika waniyetula ishta, tell us what else she said to you.”

  “It is of no consequence,” Eristta whispered, loath to force herself—or Red Claw—away. To cease the intoxicating sensation of his flesh on her arm. His sculpted body so near.

  A sudden yank on her hair ruined the moment. “Ouch!”

  Darous zipped away before she could raise a hand. “We’ve no time for sweet talk, shaman. And you…” He leveled a tiny finger Eristta’s direction. “Behave yourself and tell us what else Ferra’leen said!”

  “It was nonsense. Babble,” Eristta growled. “Something about how achieving my heart’s desire is a more important question to fathom than how to save Tee’amon.”

  The shaman dropped her arm and stepped away, his face pale. Pain stabbed at Eristta. An old pain. A familiar one.

  He brushed long braids back over each broad shoulder and grunted. “You are right, Eristta. They sound like babble. Possibly something to distract you—us.”

  Eristta was still as she studied Red Claw’s unreadable expression. Why must the man always be so stoic? The old habit that Eristta thought she’d long excised crept back. She sidled forward, then leaned in until her breasts nearly touched his arm. The heat from his skin penetrated the supple circles of her areolas, making her nipples bead and her quim ached with need. “A distraction?” Eristta cocked her head to one side, looking at Red Claw from beneath her lashes. “If Ferra’leen wanted to distract us, I think there are better ways than words in the Faerie Realm, don’t you?”

  The shaman’s pulse throbbed beneath the corded muscles of his neck, yet he said not a word. Time seemed frozen as faerie light illuminated the misty swirls at their legs. Eristta’s gaze dropped to the telltale bulge beneath the cloth that covered Red Claw’s loins. Her heart leapt and her body responded by dampening her slit and feathering nearly painful desire through her quim.

  His body betrayed him as well, but Eristta found no amusement in it. Far from it. The time for games between them had long past. Eristta burned to know his true feelings toward her. Had to know. If it was nothing more than desire—so be it. Desire could be a liberating, enjoyable escapade. If he would just give in, Eristta was certain she could put her unreasonable need for the shaman behind her.

  Darous, Eristta mind-spoke. Be gone. Wait for me outside the realm.

  Surprisingly, she received not a peep of protest. She waited until she felt Darous’s presence recede before refocusing on Red Claw. Forcing her hands to her sides, Eristta took a deep breath. “Red Claw…look at me.”

  There was no hesitation. Eristta was once again lost in the limitless depth of his dark gaze. She saw everything there, and nothing. One thing was certain: his desire was absolute. She could sense it as well as see it within him, but there was also something darker, fiercer.

  Death. Death haunted his hawk-sharp gaze.

  The realization stunned her. As did the understanding that it was somehow bound to the desire he felt for her. It made no sense!

  “I know,” Red Claw growled softly, his jaw clenched. “If I could make sense of it, I’d have worked it out long ago, princess.”

  The deep tenor of his words brought fresh need coursing through her. She raised her chin. “What is the great mystery, shaman? You have enjoyed the pleasure of others since your terran wife passed into the next world, yet you have shunned me. What is it about me that stays your hand?” Eristta’s violet gaze fell full on Red Claw, so near, yet so very far. “The truth, shaman. Why do you see death when your desire for me rages?”

  His silence fueled her and she reached with both hands, laying them lightly on the sculpted muscles of his bronze chest. His body was smooth yet hard beneath her palms, his skin warm. She breathed deep, drawing in his earthy scent of clove and honeyed-spice. “All I see and sense when I touch you is a need so intense it is all I can do to not devour you on the spot.”

  She felt him shudder beneath her touch. Red Claw looked down, his eyes shadowed with pain. “It was not a dream,” he whispered.

  With her hands still resting on his pecs, Eristta placed her lips next to the darker tan flesh of his nipple. “What dream?” she asked softly, blowing her breath across the puckered tip. She heard his growl deep within his chest, and Eristta’s thoughts turned to the mighty bear. She had always been fascinated by the beast within. Since her earliest days, Eristta felt a critical connection between herself and the creatures of the woods, air and stream. Her mother told her that she was the first Night Elf in four generations with the ability to truly communicate with the lower-level fey creatures and animals. To Eristta, it was simply second nature. They each had feelings, thoughts, desires and needs like all other creatures.

  But Red Claw’s spirit bear was different. More than a beast, yet imbued with and embracing all of the qualities of the bear. Combined, they were more than man or bear or magickal being. They were a mysterious trinity of power. And with her hands still in contact with Red Claw’s flesh, and her ear so close to his heart, Eristta sensed the trinity, breathing it in like a drug.

  “Tell me, Red Claw,” Eristta urged again, her mind filled with images of his naked flesh, his long tongue, and thick, rigid cock.

  His strong hands gripped her upper arms, pulling her closer, until her mouth connected with skin of his chest. Eristta smiled against his flesh, then flicked out her tongue, tasting. Salty…with a hint of spice and something else. Earth. Life. Like the polished cavern walls that surrounded them. Mysterious and impenetrable.

  Liquid desire dampened her folds, and Eristta shifted, letting them rub together, longing burning like fire in her belly.

  “Eristta,” Red Claw rumbled. “We cannot do this.”

  Eristta lifted her head, grinning wickedly. “Oh, but we can.” Bringing her hand up, she cupped his testes beneath the deerskin loincloth. They were taut and heavy in her palm, and Eristta licked her lips, imagining the taste of them on her tongue. Before her hand could mig
rate lower, Red Claw gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away.

  Shock and dismay rippled through her, and Eristta jerked back. Their gazes met, hurt and embarrassed fury in hers, flint-hard determination in his. “Eristta,” he started.

  Spinning away, she broke his hold. As she pushed the fall of silken hair behind her ears, Eristta fought to control her fury and mortification. A sense of loss filled her. A pit that yawned so deep she feared it would swallow her whole.

  “Ohitika waniyetula ishta,” Red Claw murmured, moving closer.

  Eristta turned and held out a hand. “No. No more.” She purposely avoided the shaman’s gaze, her body trembling. “If I mean so little that you will not even trust me with the reason you deny yourself—us—then we are friends no more.” It was nearly impossible for Eristta to choke the words out, but she had to say them. No longer could she hold on to a false hope, a silly dream that would never be. She turned and began to walk away, her heart in her throat.

  “Stay!”

  The shaman’s voice rang of power, and Eristta found that she could not deny him. Closing her eyes, she raised her chin and clenched her teeth. She would not turn…she would not turn…

  There was no need. Within a fraction of a second he was in front of her, muscles rippling across broad shoulders, dark eyes blazing. “You are like tatetob, the four winds. Blowing warm, then cold within one breath.” Narrowing his gaze, Red Claw reached out and ran a hand through the thick strands of hair, stopping at the crest of her shoulder. “Wastelakapi, my heart would cease to beat if you were no longer a presence within my life.”

  Opening his palm, he placed it flat against Eristta’s breast. She felt her heart flutter beneath his touch, then race to life. Damn my traitorous body…

  He breathed deep, then raised his hand to cup her chin. “I will tell you. But not here.” His eyes cut to the tunnel walls and Eristta followed his gaze.

  He was right. The walls had ears and eyes. They’d already managed to give Ferra’leen a voyeuristic show. Eristta frowned and looked once more to Red Claw. “Once we leave, I have your word?”

  The shaman leaned down. His lips met hers and rested there for a moment, their breath commingling. Longing washed through Eristta anew, and her lips parted, a sigh escaping.

  “You have more than my word, wastelakapi, it is my heart that you hold within your hands.” Before pulling back, his tongue teased her bottom lip and Eristta shuddered, every nerve in her body firing with want.

  He pulled away reluctantly and dropped his hand.

  Eristta straightened, her pulse thrumming. “Let’s go.”

  Red Claw smiled grimly. “Where you go, I will follow.”

  Chapter Six

  It took less time to leave the tunnels than Red Claw had anticipated. It was almost as if the passageway bent and twisted to lead the couple to the nearest exit. He had thought there would be time as they searched for him to formulate some type of plan to delay what he had promised.

  But there was nothing to it. His words were binding. How could he tell her that if they gave into their feelings for one another, that he would turn into a monster and consume her heart? Was it fair to burden her with the vision as well?

  “There!” Eristta called.

  Before them shimmered a deep blue curtain of light. Eristta rushed forward. At the doorway she stopped and looked behind. Her elfin features glowed, her eyes lit as if from within. “We exit into the unknown, shaman.”

  Her words echoed, and Red Claw nodded. “Truth.” He moved behind her. After meeting each other’s gaze, the pair slipped through the curtain of light and stepped out into the shadowed stillness of Eritome Forest.

  With a giggle, a zephyr raced across their bare skin, chasing the wind as it traveled on. Twenty paces ahead stood the thick tree line of the forest edge, behind them a granite crag, and above them a full moon cast everything in a silver glow.

  Red Claw turned, but the doorway was nowhere to be seen. He reached with his senses and touched the minds and hearts of a thousand forest creatures that dwelled nearby. The Summer Kingdome was rich with life, but there rumbled a note of discord. Rumors had preceded the armies. The creatures suspected the change, but were reluctant to believe it was coming.

  He looked to Eristta. The elfin princess’s eyes were closed as she reached with her danu awen, doing the same. Testing. Searching. As her violet eyes opened, Red Claw’s groin stiffened once more. “They do not want to accept the possibility that Garethan comes.”

  Red Claw nodded, confirming her words. She sighed and pushed hair back from her beautiful face. “We must find a way, Red Claw. We must.”

  The shaman cupped the back of her head. He couldn’t help himself. He had to touch her. Feel her. She was so real. So right. It seemed impossible that such a perfect thing could lead to tragedy.

  But he knew better.

  Taking a deep breath he dropped his hand and looked skyward. “Do you believe in fate, Eristta?” he asked.

  He felt rather than saw her shake her head. Ignoring the gentle brush of Mato’s mind, Red Claw continued. “I believe that our lives are weaved on the great loom, but that the weft and design is as varied as the masters that weave it. While circumstance and selection direct our existence, so do undeniable truths that are immutable—fixed.”

  Eristta raised finely arched brows. “But there is fluidity, shaman, in life. The only fixed element is birth and death.”

  Red Claw smiled. He loved how Eristta’s logic went straight to the heart of things. There was no gray in her world. “But even that fluidity is guided, channeled. There are forces that watch over us, direct us.”

  A giggle popped out, followed by an indulgent look. “I do not deny that those forces exist. But they are not all powerful, all knowledgeable.” Her sensuous mouth quirked. “They are fallible, just as we are, shaman. With desires, and fears, and foibles. I would not entrust my fate or destiny to them. Not that they don’t influence it. But…” She pointed to her bare chest. “I command it. I shape it. We are the masters of our fate, for good or ill.”

  Red Claw paused, staring at the woman of his heart. She stood bare, unashamed in her beauty, confident of her body and mind. Her gaze met his, expectant yet cautious. If only he could believe her words. But he had experienced too many things that spoke to the contrary. Too many times his visions of an event had come to pass, even though he might work to avert it. While he acknowledged that there were a hundred paths to each fate, people were still predisposed to follow certain threads.

  “We do not think so differently, Eristta, but it is my experience that some things are immutable—unless we work to change them.”

  “Like your dream.”

  The knot within his chest tightened. “Yes.” Spotting a narrow trail winding away from the sheer rock wall, Red Claw took Eristta’s hand and started to follow it. She fell into step beside him, her hand cool in his, her expression thoughtful. “Still worried about eavesdroppers?”

  Red Claw chuckled. “You can never fully escape them, but we can make it more difficult.”

  Eristta glanced at him appraisingly. “Find an evergreen stand. The titter and chatter of the greenies will drown out any chance of us being overheard. And they are too busy nattering amongst themselves to care about what we might be discussing.”

  “Excellent idea,” Red Claw murmured. He had always been impressed with Eristta’s intimate knowledge of the woodland and fey creatures. The elfin princess possessed a rare talent among the fey: the ability to communicate with creatures other than her own species.

  They entered the shadowed forest, the silver glow of the moon slicing through the canopy in filtered beams. “This way,” Eristta said, pulling lightly on his hand. They left the trail and weaved through thick ferns and poplar. Thirty paces in, the pair began to hear the high, lilting voices of the greenies.

  Eristta grinned. “I have always been able to sense them a mile away.” She released Red Claw’s hand and walked toward the circul
ar stand of leafy evergreens. Reaching up, she plucked a shining strand of her own hair and approached a lower branch thick with blue-green needles. Leaning down, the elf held out the midnight strand. “Take thee, Greenie, and allow us to shelter here unmolested and protected among your boughs.”

  Silence filled the small glade, then a tinkling of laughter. Popping out from the needles, sprung a minute, pointed green head, followed by an equally tiny hand. It looked more like a leafy stick then a person, but there was no mistaking the twinkle of aqua eyes. The petite fingers snatched the strand of Eristta’s hair, before disappearing back into the evergreen.

  Turning, Eristta smiled triumphantly. Red Claw returned her grin and strode forward until he stood beside her beneath the wide canopy. The sharp tang of resin filled the air. Above him he could hear the high twitter of the greenies, but their cadence bothered him not. There were more important things to focus on.

  Like the stunning maiden before him.

  Her head was tipped to take in all of him, her slanted eyes wide and shining. Red Claw could not keep his gaze from traveling to her pert breasts, then on to the flat plane of her belly. He stopped there. Knowing if he allowed his gaze to drop further, thought of any kind would be impossible.

  “You are beautiful, wastelakapi. From within and without.”

  Eristta leaned in and wiped a bead of dew off of Red Claw’s biceps with her thumb. “You never taught me your language, shaman, even though I begged. What does wastelakapi mean?”

  Her touch. So warm. Electric. Red Claw forced his gaze off of her willowy hand and up to her beautiful face. He could not lie. “My beloved,” Red Claw rumbled, his nostrils flaring, his body tense with longing.

  At his words, Eristta gaped, looking decidedly uncomfortable with his proclamation. “And the others?”

  Meeting her gaze, Red Claw’s eyes crinkled. “Brave winter woman.”