by Renee Wildes
“Greetings, wife.” He traced her lower lip with his thumb, his eyes darkening still further when her tongue stole out for a leisurely caress. “Passionate minx,” he murmured. “Thirsty?”
She nodded. “Aye.” She watched him pour golden wine into two crystal goblets on the bedside table and hand her one. She drained her glass and handed it back, settling back against the pillows. “Remember what you said the last time I was here?”
Loren eyed her over his own goblet. “That I do, wife.”
“I’m thinking you got it half right.” Dara rose up on her knees afore him, took his half-finished cup of wine and set it on the table. “My turn.” She tugged his tunic up. He raised his arms and shrugged out of it, and Dara flung it, forgotten, to the floor as his hands reached out to caress her breasts. She pulled him close for a kiss, running her hands over his body and feeling his skin heat beneath her fingers.
Loren’s lips blazed a trail of fire down her throat to her breast. Dara dug her nails into his shoulders at the hot suction, and she gasped as she felt the pricking of her own skin. An achy, restless feeling built. Loren rained kisses down across her belly, and for a moment Dara felt her own silky skin pillowed under her own cheek. It was eerie, but at the same time arousing, to feel how she affected him. Loren took a deep breath, and the hot scent of arousal shot straight into her brain. His entire body went rigid; so did hers.
Swamped with dual sensation and emotion, Dara sank into a world of pure sensuality. She gasped as the silky strands of his long hair brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. When his tongue caressed her swollen folds, her mind shut down and she sank into a haze of pure need. She’d no idea such pleasure existed, and was helpless to stop herself from rubbing against his mouth, driven to relieve the coiling tension.
Loren gently inserted one finger, then another. She was so tight, he didn’t want to hurt her, but if he didn’t have her soon he’d explode. Dara felt the strain of his holding back for her sake, weeks of unfulfilled desire and fantasy-dreams, the burning need to be sheathed within the wet heat of her body, to make her his for all time. She needed that more than she needed her next breath. Her hands hurried him when he would have slowed down, and his eyes were a little wild as he removed the rest of his clothing. She curled her body around his, gasping at the sensation of skin sliding against skin.
Curious, she reached down with one hand to caress the part of him she’d wondered about. He pulsed in her hand, velvet stretched taut over wood. Loren shuddered at her touch. “Mercy, wife,” he gasped. “If you do not stop—”
“Not your wife yet,” she interrupted. “Only you can make me so. Please. I burn, for you.” She gasped as he eased into her, shifting at the unfamiliar fullness.
Loren stopped as he encountered her resistance, eased almost out, then back in again. Desperate, impatient, greedy, Dara wrapped her legs around him, pulling him fully into her body. Her neck arched and she bit back a choke at the stab of pain, quickly gone. His eyes widened as her tight sheath clasped him, and he froze. “Easy, elingrena,” he whispered, kissing her temple as he gave her a moment to adjust. “Ssh, relax. It shall be better in a minute.”
She shifted, and gasped at the twinge of pleasure-pain. She’d heard there was pain the first time a maid laid with a man, but the pain was less than she’d expected, and the pleasure more. “You’re inside me,” she whispered. She pulsed around him—she felt it, along with the stretched fullness within her own body. She’d explode trying to sort the whole him-her feelings out.
“Aye.” Loren shifted, easing almost out, then back in, giving her body time to adjust and relax around him. His lips captured hers in a deep kiss, his hands caressing her breasts, pinching her nipples. He groaned at her wet response, as she gasped and arched into his hands. His control snapped, and he thrust into her, again, and again.
Dara whimpered into his mouth, awash with sensation. She shook with every twinge of pleasure. He was too big, it was almost too much. The sensations built so, she panicked when the precipice opened up beneath her. “Loren?”
“I have you, wife,” he reassured her. “Trust me.”
She would ever associate those words with Loren’s lovemaking. The pleasure crashed over her, over him. Dara cried out, and he shuddered in her arms. It went on and on until the world faded, and refocused on Loren’s flushed, sweaty face. The scent of their passion filled her nostrils, and she shifted as he eased from her body. She flinched at the unfamiliar twinge.
“Are you all right?” Loren rolled onto his side and pulled her into his arms.
His concern mixed with male satisfaction. My wife, in truth now. She smiled. “I’m fine. You’re mine now too.” She enjoyed seeing the surprise on his face.
“The tales are true, then.”
“Apparently so.” Dara burrowed closer. “It was incredible. I had no idea.”
“You know, I have dreamed of this.” He rolled to his back and pulled her across him.
That position brought to mind the memory of their first kiss. “Dreamed of what?”
“Us, like this. Naked. Covered with naught but this hair.”
She trembled at the hoarseness in his voice. “Was it everything you imagined?”
Loren shook his head as he slid his fingers through her hair. “Nay. More. It was so much more. You are just so very beautiful. I did not hurt you too much?”
Dara purred and leaned into his touch. “Trust what you felt.” She pulled him in for a slow, thorough kiss. “I love you, husband,” she whispered against his lips.
“I love you too, wife. Forever.”
“Forever.” That last word took on a whole new wealth of meaning now.
Chapter Eighteen
Dara peeked out from behind the green velvet curtains. On the front dais, for the first time in two hundred years, stood both swan thrones. Her—former peasant, former mortal—sitting on a queen’s throne and wearing a crown made her dizzy. Mayhaps she should have eaten something earlier.
Over her pale silk gown, the same ivy-embossed silvery green of Cymry Hall as Loren’s robes, the blood torque glowed. “Today your life beginsss.”
The formal hall was packed with five hundred noble delegates from all over the realm. She spotted Pahn with the dwarf contingent in a place of honor in the left front row. With Loren as king, Dara planned to ensure continuing good relations with the dwarf nation. They and the elves had let misunderstandings and pride divide them for far too long.
Hengist, Moira, Trystan and the clan leaders of Wolf, Badger, and Bear sat in the second row behind the dwarves. Agata gripped her totemic staff, at ease with all the royalty and nobility around her. Dara thought of the totemic staff they had graced her with—from the ground up, bear, badger, wolf and eagle, for Hengist, topped with the ultimate guardian, dragon. She stared at her father and stepmother. It saddened her to think of how they used to be versus what they had now. After all they’d both suffered, to have such an enduring unease betwixt them…
Loren came up behind her and warm reassurance enveloped her with his arms. “She shall come around. Give it time.”
Time. The one thing she now had plenty of. But at what cost? Cedric’s time was nearly done. How could Loren, Lorelei and Pari stand to look at her, without always remembering what she had taken from them?
“Stop it right there. What he passed on to you was a gift, freely given. Granna loves you, never doubt that.”
Dara was touched that on the day he’d dreaded his whole life, he reassured her. His stomach was in knots, the hands on her shoulders ice-cold. “That’s one thing I can fix for you.” She poured heat from her own hands into his.
He stiffened, then sighed and relaxed. “Thank you, wife.” His eyes twinkled at her. “At least I shall never have to worry about cold feet in bed.”
“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes at him, then went back to her spying. She spotted the ministry and the adept mage circle in the second and third rows on the right. Lord Elio caught her peeking
and winked at her, his face impassive. He alone of all the elves was garbed as a warrior, in black leather with silver piping.
Trystan was similarly dressed, in charcoal grey leather with bronze accents and Moira’s unique wolf-eagle amulet. He wore two of Ealga’s shed primary feathers in his war braids. Scout feathers. She eyed the new torque around his neck. So he’d made war chieftain after their victory. It was more than deserved.
She sense-cast at him, just a little. He’d healed fast from his battle injuries. If she hadn’t seen evidence to the contrary, she’d swear he’d never been hurt. He looked up, feeling the probe. Those uncanny blue eyes stared at her.
“Should I be jealous?” Loren murmured. “You can stop staring at him now.”
“You know you have naught to fear in that regard. I love you with all my heart and soul.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close for a lingering kiss.
“All right, enough of that,” Cianan said behind them. “You can seduce your husband later, vertenya. Now they want to get started. King Cedric is…” his voice hesitated as he searched for the right word, “…tired.”
Loren pulled back and turned to his best friend. “You have no idea.” He took a deep breath. “Too late to turn back?”
“Royal blood, no religious vocation, an oversized sense of responsibility… I would say you are well and truly stuck.” Cianan grinned. “Of course, with your big head I do not know if the crown shall even fit.”
Dara snickered. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“I go to sit with your family in the front row,” Cianan bowed to Dara and Loren, startling them both. “Until later, Your Highnesses.”
They watched him walk away. Aletha and Everett appeared with Cedric. He looked dimmed, thinner. The hand he extended to Loren trembled. “So, the reign of Loren ta Cedric is about to commence. The Lady chose well. Thou shalt be a great king for our people. I hath no regrets.”
He spoke as if already gone. Loren looked deep in his father’s eyes and bowed low. “You honor me with your trust, Father.”
Dara got down on her knees. “I won’t let you down, Sire.”
He smiled and motioned for her to rise. “But love him and our people, daughter.”
“We shouldst begin,” Everett suggested.
Cedric nodded, and the five of them gathered by the side door. Cedric took Everett’s arm as Aletha entered the hall by herself. “Friends and honored guests, tonight is an auspicious evening, when we salute your current king Cedric ta Pari for the final time and pass on the mantle of leadership to his heir, Prince Loren ta Cedric and also to Princess Dara Khan Androcles, daughter of King Hengist of Riverhead and Westmarche.”
Five hundred pairs of eyes stared back at her as the crowd in the room rose to their feet.
“My lords, my ladies, His Majesty King Cedric ta Pari,” she announced.
Everett guided Cedric to his throne, helping the old king settle on his cushion. There were gasps from around the room. Many of the nobles from the outlying provinces had been unaware of the king’s condition—until now.
Tears streamed down Lorelei’s cheeks.
“Their Royal Highnesses, Prince Loren ta Cedric and Princess Dara te Sheena,” Aletha continued.
Dara grabbed Loren’s hand. He took a deep breath and looked at her.
“Together.” He squeezed her hand.
She smiled. “Always.”
They stepped out hand in hand and knelt afore Aletha.
“King Cedric, what hast thou to say afore this gathering?” Aletha asked.
From beneath her lashes, Dara saw Anika motion with her hands. Cedric’s voice was a mere whisper, but when he spoke, the farthest corners of the room heard him.
“I have watched my son grow into a fine man and warrior. He was chosen by the Lady as Her champion and helped save the kingdoms of Riverhead and Westmarche from darkness. He hast grown into a strong leader, with truth, justice and mercy. I leave my kingdom, with the utmost confidence, in his capable and compassionate hands.”
Loren started to shake, and Dara gripped his hand tighter.
Cedric continued. “He brought my daughter to me. I hath known her but a little while, but she hast triumphed over enormous adversity with fortitude and courage. She hast handled truth with true grace. She hast demonstrated compassion and mercy in her healing arts, and fire tempered with justice in her warrior strength and spirit. She shalt stand by my son’s side as a true and equal partner, and shalt make a splendid queen for my people and a wonderful matre to my grandchildren.”
Tears ran down Dara’s cheeks, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.
Aletha turned to Cedric. “Sire, hand me thy sword.”
Everett helped Cedric pull Justice from its sheath and present it to her. The high priestess accepted it, held it out afore her. “Loren ta Cedric, heir to the house of Cymry, thou hast heard thy father’s recommendation. Dost thou accept the mantle of leadership for thy people?”
“I do.”
“Dara Khan Androcles, thou art newly come to our realm, but hath shown thyself to be a true daughter of the Light. Thou hast heard our king’s recommendation. Dost thou accept the mantle of leadership, at thy husband’s side, for thy people?”
“I do.” A whisper was all she managed.
Aletha touched Justice to each of Loren’s shoulders, then to Dara’s. “I bind thee to thy realm.” Everett handed Justice’s sheath to Loren, who strapped it on. Aletha handed the sword to Loren for the final time. “Wield this always in Her name, and remember always its name. Justice, not vengeance. The Lady first. Thy people always.”
“Justice, not vengeance. The Lady first. My people always.” Loren sheathed the sword.
Everett picked up an ornate box and opened it. On a green velvet cushion rested a twin to the crown of Cymry. Aletha turned to the audience and swept a hand toward the crown. “Long hath it been since we a queen to rule aside our king. Long hath the swan throne sat alone, its mate empty. But no more. Today we crown a new queen, blessed of the Goddess and beloved of her husband.”
She stepped over to Cedric, placed her hands on his head, lifted the crown of Cymry from his brow for the last time. “From Light to Light, father to son, king to king. Cedric ta Pari, thou hast ruled us well these past five hundred years. We thank thee.”
“We thank thee,” the entire hall repeated.
“In the name of the Lady of Light, I release thee from thy responsibility and vow. Rest, and be at peace.” She turned to Loren. “Thou art our heir no longer.”
Loren removed the heir’s crown from his bowed head and held it out with both hands. Everett stepped forward to take it.
Aletha held the crown of Cymry over Loren’s head. He took a breath and held it. “Prince Loren ta Cedric,” the high priestess began, “dost thou accept here and now, afore the Goddess and this gathering, this symbol of thy sacred responsibility? Dost thou swear, afore the Goddess and this gathering, to always remember thy vows of truth, justice and mercy, and to rule wisely and fairly in Her name until thy time be done?”
“I do.” Loren froze as she lowered the crown onto his head. Dara felt the grip on his soul, the three vows locked into place for all eternity. He shuddered.
Aletha removed the queen’s crown and held it over Dara’s head. “Princess Dara Kahn Androcles, dost thou swear afore the Goddess and this gathering thy three vows?”
“Truth above all, justice not vengeance, and mercy for all,” Dara pledged. “The Lady first. My people always.”
“Dost thou accept here and now, afore the Goddess and this gathering, this symbol of thy sacred responsibility?” Aletha continued. “Dost thou swear, afore the Goddess and this gathering, to always remember thy vows of truth, justice and mercy, and to rule wisely and fairly in Her name at thy husband’s side until thy time be done?”
“I do.” Cold metal encircled her head, and the Goddess’ bonds took hold of her soul. Feeling them second-hand from Loren did not b
egin to prepare her for the first-hand reality. The crown settled into her soul with a feeling of forever. Sharp truth. Bright justice. Warm mercy. She took a deep breath.
“Rise,” Aletha instructed.
Dara did not know if she could. Loren rose first, then pulled her to her feet. She stood on shaking legs.
Everett helped Cedric to his feet as well. Loren and Dara turned to face the congregation with Aletha. “My lords, my ladies,” the high priestess said, “I give thee thy new king and queen. Hail His Majesty, High King Loren ta Cedric, and Her Majesty, our new High Queen Dara te Sheena.”
“Well done, younglings,” the priestess said. “Thou shalt do well.”
Loren squeezed her hand. “Together.”
“Always,” she whispered back.
About the Author
To learn more about Renee Wildes, please visit www.reneewildes.com Send an email to Renee Wildes at [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Renee Wildes! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/reneewildesromancefantastique
Look for these titles by Renee Wildes
Coming Soon:
Hedda’s Sword
A love transcending race and culture…a secret that could cost everything
The Wolf’s Sister
© 2008 R. F. Long
Elite Fey’na warrior Shan is driven only by hatred for Gilliad, the Lord of River Holt, the human responsible for the brutal slaying of his innocent sister. Vengeance will be his as soon as he can find a way to confront his enemy. His mind is set; his path chosen. Then he meets Jeren…
Jeren of River Holt flees for her life, desperate to escape the clutches of her brother, Gilliad, before his misuse of magic consumes what remains of his sanity. She finds safety and protection with Shan…but only so long as she hides her kinship with the Lord of River Holt. As they are pursued across the northern snow pains, their deepening trust turns to love.
