“But he watches me with those dark, probing eyes, eyes like the sapphires we find in our mines, and I know that I must not fail her, or him,” Alys murmured. “And another…soul. I feel another soul within, almost battling for supremacy, one that watches me all the same, that guards and protects her manically.”
“What of my daughter?”
Alys closed her lavender eyes. Her silvery hair fell down to cover her face as she buried her eyes against his chest. “I have done all I can. The healing of her body has already started. Her soul will be healed by home, and her lover. But the magick…I do not know.”
Tyriel felt so empty inside. The painful, vicious aches from so many beatings was gone, thanks to Alys’ wondrous healing, and the muffled thudding inside her had finally died away as the poison from the iron was leeched from her system.
But it was more than that, beyond that.
The magick…
Its loss left something torn open inside her.
Hot tears seeped out from under her lids as she lay on the silken bed where she had slept for so many years, safe and sound under her father’s roof. If only she had never left here—no. No, she would not unwish her life.
“A brave lass you’ve always been,” Irian whispered as he shimmered into view, kneeling beside her bed. Aryn’s arm tightened around her waist, making her more aware of his presence as he slid closer to wakefulness. She felt the brush of Irian’s hand across her brow as he smoothed her tumbled hair out of her face. “I canna promise that all things will be well, but I can promise that I’ll do all in my power to make it so, sweet little elf, lovely lady of Jiupsu,” he murmured, his raw silk voice rasping over her shredded nerves like a gentle caress, soothing her, stroking her, calming her battered soul. “A warrior to sing and dance…now sleep…”
And oddly enough, she did, sliding into slumber as Aryn slid out, opening his blue eyes and meeting Irian’s over the limp sprawl of her body.
“The Healer tells me her body will recover.” A sour chuckle fell from his lips and his head fell back. His eyes roamed over the domed ceiling and he studied the swirls of paint there, as if searching for an answer. “Her body. What of her heart? Her soul? What of Tyriel, Irian? Will Tyriel recover? Will I ever again look into her eyes and see laughter dancing there?”
The enchanter sighed, a deep echoing sound that rippled through the chamber. “I canna say. She took more torture and abuse than any woman should have to endure. It would break most. She’s not yet broken, but she is close. Aryn, my friend, my brother, hold tight to her.”
A breath of a moment passed, and the enchanter was gone.
When Irian opened his eyes next, he was in the ether plane, studying himself. In all the years he had walked the world, he had amassed great resources of strength. So much power—would it be enough?
He stripped away the walls that separated Tyriel from her own magick. Walls—that was all it was. Eh, it didna matter truly, that she had shoved the power outside her body now, did it? He could bring it to her easily enough. She had not put it out, she had blocked it away, and the fire had nigh burnt out. She was too powerful a creature to completely extinguish it. But she almost had, almost.
Aryn lay sleeping against her back and Irian smiled as he studied the swordsman. A good friend you were, mortal. A good friend. Then he sighed and lowered himself to settle down on the ground, as a soft, familiar hum started to sound in the distance.
Fael…she was waiting.
As he reached for the blade and salt, the music of her voice grew louder, and Irian smiled.
Tyriel felt his hands on her body, felt a hot, itching burning deep inside her. She turned her face and caught his mouth with hers, hungrily, avidly pushing her tongue into his mouth, sobbing as he slid his hands under her shirt and sought out her breasts, plumping up the curves and pinching her nipples until they stood hard and erect, stabbing into his palms.
A rumbling, hoarse groan sounded against her throat as Aryn tore his mouth from hers, kissing his way down her neck, her collarbone, until he could fasten his lips around the peak of one breast, tugging sharply with his teeth before suckling deep, laving it with his tongue as she buried her fingers in his hair and held his head tight against her.
Rainbows blossomed behind her eyes as she rocked her hips upward, caressing the firm heavy girth of his cock beneath the loose silken trousers he had donned before climbing into bed. She whimpered low under her breath and opened her eyes just a little, staring down at the blond head at her breast, his silky hair spilling over her body, the tip of one reddened nipple peeking through the strands as he lifted his head to stare at her with slumberous eyes.
Tyriel raked her nails down his chest, staring at him greedily before meeting his sleep-dazed eyes with her own. He smiled slightly before crushing her beneath him, trailing the tips of his fingers over the silvery mark of the demon-scar that started under her breast and crossed over her torso. “Not ready to wake up yet,” he murmured against her neck.
“Hmm.” No dream…
But if he was happier to think they were dreaming, she would do nothing to change that. Her nipples stabbed hotly into his chest and she arched her hips against his, cradling his sex between her thighs as she spread her legs and whimpered. He started to rock against her, riding her with short, subtle little thrusts that stroked right against the bud of her clit.
“Such a hot, sweet little thing.” The words were murmured against her neck as Aryn started to move his way down her body, pressing kisses first to her neck, then her breastbone, her belly, her navel, and then he was stabbing at her pulsating clit with his tongue as he pumped two fingers into and out of her weeping cleft. She rocked her hips up, taking him as deeply as she could, sobbing against the back of her hand.
A vicious memory, the backlash of brutal angry hands started to invade and the gentle brush of Irian’s mind slid into hers “…not here…they’ve no place here…”and then she was lost again as Aryn spread the lips of her sex open and plunged his tongue inside her, greedily lapping at her swollen, slick flesh, a greedy hungry sound rumbling out of him just as she went screaming into climax.
It was the sound of her scream that woke him. “Oh, please, Aryn, yes!” That glorious, gasping scream, the tang of her cream on his tongue, the feel of her naked mound against his mouth and lips as he pushed up to stare at her, head befuddled with sleep, and his cock aching and raging with the need to crawl up her lithe body and bury himself inside her and hear her scream out his name, only his name…
Her hands fisted in the silken skeins of his hair, and she tugged, pulling him up. “Mevas a ve.” Love me. She pressed her mouth to his, rubbing her hips frantically against his, the slick wet folds of her cleft opening eagerly for him.
Aryn pressed his brow to hers as he gasped for air. “Tyriel, damn it, you’re not ready for this—”
“Aryn, please! I’ve been ready for years,” she pleaded, her eyes gleaming wet with tears.
He growled out her name as he reached between them for the drawstring at his waist, the silken trousers slithered down his hips and his cock sprang free, ruddy, red and swollen, the tip gleaming with moisture as he lowered himself atop her. “Bloody hell, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Me…me.” His breath brushed her face in a soft caress of air as he took his cock in hand and shifted between her thighs, spreading her legs wider, opening her for him.
“Years, years,” he crooned as he pushed the first inch inside the silky tight embrace of her pussy, clenching his teeth and shuddering as she arched up against him, taking another two inches inside with the motion. “I know he’s taken you with my body, and part of me hates him for it. This time is mine.”
And every time hereafter.
Irian’s voice echoed as magick exploded in the room and through their bodies, arching Aryn’s back, thrusting his cock, deep, deep inside her cleft. She screamed out his name and arched her hips up, taking him as deeply inside her as she could. Heat exploded through eve
ry last nerve ending inside her, while the walls fell away and the magick exploded back through her body, behind her eyelids and outside her, falling from her lips in a glorious peal of sound as Aryn pulled out and surged back inside her. The wet snug clasp of her sheath made him grit his teeth as she shrieked and clawed her nails down his arms.
Hot molten little licks of magick caressed her belly, her clit, her nipples as Aryn slid his hands down her back and sides, cupping her ass and lifting her harder against him. Pulling her against him, he moved against the bundled nerves of her clit each time he drove his cock inside her.
The muscles in his chest and belly worked and played, gleaming under a fine coat of sweat. He shifted, tossing his hair over one shoulder so that he could cup her breast in his hand, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger before lowering his head and catching it between his teeth and pulling on it until she was sobbing and gasping for breath. “I love you,” Aryn whispered softly, pressing his mouth to her ear. “Always, forever.”
Running his hand down her ass, he breached the seam there, probing the rosette until it opened the smallest bit and he could enter with the tip of his finger. She climaxed around his rigid cock with a broken scream, bracing her hands against his shoulders and working herself against his cock, her swollen, slick tissues hugging it tightly. The beaded, red buds of her nipples stabbed into his chest and Aryn groaned. Brilliant starbursts of light broke overhead while the slick, satin tissues of her pussy contracted around him, milking him.
He rose up on his hands, plundering her deeper, harder, feeling her tighten around him even further, listening as she started to scream and pant yet again. Her hands settled around his waist and Aryn tossed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, staring down into her dark-brown gaze, at her flushed face, seeing the sparkle of life returning there.
“Come…come for me, let me feel it,” he purred, pulling out of her and flipping her onto her hands and knees, his cock wet and ruddy as he pushed into her from behind. He trailed his hands down her back, his eyes glowing faintly in the dimness of the room. They lingered on her gleaming golden skin, her tousled black curls and the tight curve of her ass. Pulling her snug against his pelvis, he pushed back into her, canting her hips down so that he passed low over the bundled bed of nerves buried deep inside her.
She sobbed out his name, quivering as he stroked his hands over her ass, smacking one flank lightly before pulling her back against him. “Come…” He felt the rushing, whirling wind dancing over his skin, blowing his hair back from his face as the magick broke over her, sparkling billowing streams of lights breaking from her body as she rushed closer to climax.
He slid his hand around and pinched her clit. She climaxed around his cock, into his hand with a scream, and Aryn went rigid, setting his teeth into her shoulder and biting down, marking her. Wild magick flooded the room as his cock jerked and he pumped her full of hot, milky seed, filling her with short hard shafts until she had emptied him dry, while she screamed out his name, contracting around him and sobbing.
Tyriel opened her eyes early the next morning. Her body ached from good, hard sex.
But more…when she opened her eyes, she saw colors and shapes and mists that hadn’t been there when she had gone to bed that past night. She closed her eyes, certain she was dreaming, but the afterimages remained there, even with her lids closed, burning brightly, lingering. Slowly, she sat up, the blankets falling to her waist, her nipples tightening in the cool morning air as she looked around the room.
Her eyes fell on Aryn’s long, pale body, muscled and gleaming like it was carved from alabaster. Touching her tongue to her lips nervously, she reached out and touched a trembling hand to his hip, jerking it back suddenly when the hot, rush of magick under his skin threatened to burn her.
“Aye, if that’s no’ a pretty sight so early in the morn,’” a low, husky voice murmured. It slid around her body like a caress as Aryn’s eyes slowly opened. He sat up slowly as Irian’s form shimmered into view.
His form was more transparent than normal, and his eyes were dark with regret, grief, and exhaustion.
How could a ghost look so tired? Tyriel studied his weary face as he moved closer and knelt beside the bed, staring up at her with a look of adoration on his face.
“Ever it was you, lovely lady,” Irian murmured softly, his voice low and distant. “I wanted, badly, ah, so badly, to be with you. I envied the swordsman every breath he took, I envied him. But now, I am tired. I go to my rest. The wrongs are righted.”
“What wrongs?” Tyriel reached out and threaded her hand through Irian’s hair as Aryn moved up behind her, aligning his hard, warm body with hers, cupping her body with the line of his. Tyriel stroked her hand through the enchanter’s dark curls; the sadness, the sheer exhaustion in his eyes, pulling at her heart. “I know you feel you have some great wrong to atone for, but I find it hard to believe a man as noble as you—”
“Noble? I? Not a noble man, was I, lovely lady. Not then. And not now. I took a sweet, lovely virgin to my bed, but refused to wed her because she wasna gifted, and she died thinkin’ I didna love her,” Irian growled, jerking away from her tenderly stroking hand. He shot to his feet and paced the room in long angry strides. “And in my cowardice, did I face the penance I should have at the end of my natural life? No. I prolonged it, in a metal casing, hoping to right the many wrongs a selfish, self-centered, arrogant enchanter did…and caused many more. Forcing my will on others, time after time again.”
“And you.” He turned hot, hungry eyes to the couple on the bed, staring at Tyriel with blind need. “Ahhh, you. Lovely, wild little elf. You. I wanted you like I had wanted none other since Fael. And I used whatever means I had to take you, and you call me a noble man.”
“Even noble men make mistakes, and do the wrong thing. She called you noble, Irian, not a bleeding Saint,” Aryn said gruffly, wrapping his arms around Tyriel, holding her tightly against him. Burning jealousy ate at him. How many times had Irian touched her, using his body? How many?
“How many? Shall I tell him, elf? As he tries to tell me that noble men make mistakes?” Irian glided back over them, smirking angrily at them.
“Two nights, Aryn. Only two, in five long years. Do not let him anger you,” Tyriel said huskily. “He is being terribly evil today for some reason and I know not why. But do not let him anger you.”
“Evil?” Irian’s tired laugh filled the room and his eyes, filled with a bittersweet yearning, and an odd gleam, something that looked to her like hope, landed on Tyriel’s face. “Am I feeling evil, love? No. Just very bitter. I was told that I would see her, and I am hopin’ she didna lie t’ me. I’m makin’ my goodbyes t’ you, pretty elf. And t’ you, brother of my soul. I shouldna be makin’ it such a bitter moment.”
“Your time here is done, isn’t it?” Tyriel asked as Aryn was still absorbing what the enchanter was saying.
With narrowed eyes, Aryn shook his head. “He’s playing some fool trick, Tyriel. I’m not likely to be rid of him that easily.”
“Don’t, Aryn.” She brushed her fingers down his hand before untangling herself from his arms. “He is not playing a fool trick. He is well and truly leaving.” Staring into those black eyes, she reached out, cupping his face in her hands, opening her mind, her heart. The words that fell from her lips came from someplace outside of her—and it shook the enchanter to the core. “She waits for you…but not in the ether planes. Your lives are yet to be lived.”
His hands, transparent, yet solid to the touch, closed around her wrists, as he rasped out, “What say you? Where is Fael?”
An ethereal smile curved Tyriel’s lips. “Waiting…shouldn’t you go and find her?” Then she shook her head and the dazed look left her, leaving behind an aching sadness. “I owe you, so much. I’ve a part of me back, and it’s because of you, I know it.”
Irian rose, pausing to press a tender kiss to her brow. “There was a wall blocking it—I merely tore it down, lovely lady o
f the Jiupsu. Such a warrior, you are. Sing and dance…and remember me.” He straightened and turned burning, intense eyes on Aryn, pinning the swordsman with a brief, flitting smile. “Ever a true friend ye’ve been to me, swordsman. I wish I could say I have been as true a friend t’ you as you were t’ me. But a gift I give t’ ye… What powers I had in life, are yours. And a bloody good enchanter I was. Taught you the best I could—a true teacher you must find, a flesh and blood one. A long, long life you’ve to live with your lovely elf. And a strong blade, enchanted still, just no longer ensouled.”
Wrapping his arm around Tyriel’s narrow, naked waist, he nodded. The many words he needed to voice were trapped in his throat. But he could see that the enchanter understood—it was there in the vast darkness of those black eyes. “Go and find your lady, Irian. You’ve been waiting for thousands of years—don’t wait any longer,” he said gruffly.
A brilliant, blinding flash of a grin lit Irian’s face, and a splash of light filled the room, and his transparent form was swallowed by a gleaming star-washed sky that exploded into brilliant starbursts, so bright it hurt their eyes.
When it faded, he was gone, leaving an emptiness inside Aryn. Tyriel brushed tears away from her dusky cheeks before cuddling against her lover. “He gave it up for me.” Her voice was low and hushed as she nuzzled his chest with her cheek. “I know my powers, the feel and the scent of them. These are mine, well enough, but he didn’t just tear down a wall. He went and found them, brought them back for me.”
Aryn smiled in answer, unable to speak just yet. He felt a little too empty. Like the other half of him was missing.
But as Tyriel shifted and squirmed on his lap, pressing her damp cheek to his, his cock twitched, and the scent of her filled his head. Tumbling her to her back, he stared down at her. “Umm…he was right…a very pretty sight so early in the morn,” he mused, stroking her hair away from her flushed face, staring into her topaz eyes. The blue stone in his ear winked in the morning light as he lowered his mouth to kiss her gently, licking away the tear tracks before resting his brow against hers. “My heart has been yours almost from the first. I was a fool not to let you know, whatever my reasons were.”
Touch of Gypsy Fire Page 16
