The Shadows

by Cheyenne McCray

  Bless it! Her body’s reaction to the sight of him must have been due to the legendary magic of the Dark Elves that supposedly captivated a woman to the point she never wanted to leave the Drow realm.

  Absurd.

  The more she studied him, the more she realized there was something familiar about this man. His powerful build and the way he held his head at a regal angle.

  Hair rose along her arms.

  The man who watched me at the pond.

  She knew it with every fiber of her being. A combination of lust and fascination tingled along her nerve endings and she bit the inside of her cheek to try to rein in her bizarre reactions.

  The man, whom she could only assume was the king, was even more handsome, more gorgeous, than she had thought him to be when she saw him last night. He looked as if he could be a model for a world-class gym.

  Now she knew the color of his hair, a sinful fall of silvery-blue that rested on his shoulder-plates. Through the strands she saw his pointed ears, and the craziest image of running her tongue over those curves and points rolled through her mind.

  King Garran had the most incredible eyes—beautiful liquid silver. The kind of eyes she imagined would turn to steel-gray when he was angry or aroused.

  Every sensibility within her went on vacation as she moved her gaze from those amazing eyes.

  His features—so strong, so well-defined they appeared even more aristocratic than last night. Just the way he held himself and the air of absolute confidence and cunning intelligence that surrounded him caused desire to stir in her belly.

  He was a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. Those qualities had always been a huge turn-on with Hannah.

  She had no doubt he was a man even stronger and more virile than could be imagined.

  Her gaze moved to the shoulder-plates covering the broad expanse of his shoulders. Gem-encrusted leather straps crisscrossed his smooth, sculpted tattooed chest, and like last night she wondered how it would feel to brush her palms over the skin that stretched over such taut muscles.

  She almost felt dizzy with lust as she looked from his chest to his rippled abs and on down. Good goddess, the man had to be huge.

  Her mouth watered as she imagined touching all of him, every bit of him, including his powerful thighs and no doubt a taut ass to die for. He had probably lived for centuries, maybe millennia, but the Drow king looked no older than his mid-to-late thirties.

  Drow king.

  Hannah snapped her gaze to meet the liquid silver eyes of the king. Eyes that held both the promise of hot, sweaty sex, and also a tinge of amusement.

  Drow magic. He’s using his magic to make me want him so badly I can hardly stand it.

  She swallowed and tried to sort out what was real. It felt so real. Every bit of desire flooding through her.

  It can’t be. It must be Drow magic.

  Hannah straightened her spine as she clenched her jaw and fisted her hands at her sides.

  Got. To. Get. A. Grip.

  It seemed like she’d been staring at King Garran for hours, but it had probably only been a couple of minutes.

  But in those minutes she’d fantasized more than she ever had for any man.

  To Hannah’s relief, the king looked lazily from her to Rhiannon.

  Rhiannon stepped forward. She held her chin up as the king rose and walked down the dais toward his daughter.

  Focus. Concentrate on the reason we’re here.

  “Rhiannon.” He caught his daughter’s hands. “You have come to see me.”

  King Garran’s unusual accent and sensual voice caused a thrill to travel down Hannah’s spine.

  Rhiannon cleared her throat. “Yes, and to ask the same favor of you again.”

  Garran paused, then gave a nod, his expression thoughtful as he released her hands. “Allow me to meet your companions.”

  As Rhiannon turned to introduce the three of them, Hannah met Garran’s gaze.

  Their surroundings seemed to vanish as his liquid silver eyes drew her in. Rhiannon’s voice buzzed in Hannah’s ears, but Garran didn’t look away from her.

  Garran came toward Hannah with the grace of a predator, every muscle in his body flexing with his movements. He rested one of his hands on his sword hilt.

  When Garran reached her, Hannah found it hard to breathe. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but she didn’t care for it. These sensations were touching her with a warmth that felt as if it were wrapping its way around her very soul. On some level, she knew this wasn’t Drow magic at all.

  What in Anu’s name is going on?

  She gathered her usual cool reserve and gave him what she hoped was a “back off” stare.

  He took her hand and a jolt of something shot through her as he raised her fingers to his mouth and brushed his lips across her skin. The warmth inside her both tightened and expanded at the same time, nearly overwhelming her.

  When the Drow king raised his head, his expression was so sensual that she felt as though she could dissolve on the spot. Yeah, she could melt into a pool like the liquid silver of his eyes.

  She swallowed and bit the inside of her cheek. Hard.

  He didn’t release her hand. “The woman of mystery,” he said softly, so that she was certain only she heard.

  His sensuous Elvin accent sent a thrill through her belly. The accent wasn’t Irish like the D’Danann. More old-world, as those who lived in the days of King Arthur might have spoken.

  “What is your name?” he asked in a louder tone of voice.

  Words almost wouldn’t come to her. “Hannah Wentworth.” She snatched her hand away then struggled not to clench it at her side. “Of the gray magic D’Anu witches.”

  Why she didn’t say anything about last night at the pond, she wasn’t sure. And why he didn’t seem inclined to talk about it added to her confusion.

  “It is most certainly my pleasure.” Garran held her gaze for a moment then turned to Keir and they clasped each other in that centuries-old hand-to-elbow handshake. “Keir, D’Danann.”

  He released Keir and offered his hand to Eavan, who hesitated before accepting it and returned the same hand-to-elbow grip.

  “King Garran,” Eavan said with a slight nod as they released each other. Hannah detected a note of hostility in his tone and wondered if it had anything to do with the king flirting with her.

  Garran met Eavan’s gaze. “And you are Eavan of the D’Danann, as my daughter said.”

  Had Rhiannon introduced Eavan? Hannah’s ears had been buzzing so loudly she hadn’t heard a word Rhiannon said.

  Garran turned to his daughter and smiled. “Please, join me. We were just about to feast.”

  Keir put his arm around Rhiannon’s shoulders. Before she realized what he was doing, Garran touched Hannah’s elbow and directed her out of the chamber and into the hall.

  Her stomach twisted into a knot just from that small touch as he guided her across the great circular hall and into another chamber that was obviously a banquet room. The table was large, rectangular, and could probably seat fifty people.

  After releasing Hannah’s arm, Garran drew back a chair that stood beside the largest chair at the head of the table, and Hannah sat on it. Amazingly, the padded leather was as soft and smooth as a velvet night sky, and so comfortable Hannah couldn’t help but relax.

  Garran then seated Rhiannon directly across from Hannah, on the other side of the table, and Keir pulled out the seat beside her. Eavan eased next to Hannah as Garran took the chair at the head of the table.

  For the first time in her life, Hannah was nervous around a man. Beneath the table she dug her fingernails into her pack that she held in her lap, trying to get her feelings under control.

  The long table quickly filled with Dark Elves, all male. Where were the women?

  While Hannah did her best not to look at Garran, his deep voice reminded her of summer nights and star-filled skies. It flooded her senses as he spoke to some of those gathere
d around the table.

  Before she knew it, servers had placed trenchers before each person and the table was laden with platters of chicken, beef, and pork. The scents were enough to cause Hannah’s mouth to water.

  Bowls of potatoes, sugar snap peas, and yellow squash were arranged around the meat dishes, along with fresh fruit and large hunks of cheese and bread. The bread smelled warm and freshly baked.

  The entire time, Hannah was far too aware of Garran. She felt odd—jittery—in his presence and flushed with heat.

  No man had ever made her feel that kind of electricity sizzling under her skin just from being close to him. How could she feel this way when he was one of the Dark Elves, a being who couldn’t be trusted? A traitor.

  From the other side of her, she sensed Eavan’s tension and decided to ignore him, too.

  As Garran spoke with Rhiannon, she couldn’t help but listen to his rich voice. Hannah tried to stay completely aloof, but it was difficult as she noticed his soft smile and gentle manner as he talked with his daughter.

  Rhiannon seemed to have set their differences and her anger aside for the moment as her father told her stories of the mother she never knew, and of his love for them both.

  A sigh came out of nowhere and Hannah tried to hold it in as her thoughts brushed her own childhood.

  The dull roar of conversation rolled over Hannah as she tore tiny pieces off a chunk of bread and let them fall onto her trencher. In some ways she was like Rhiannon. Hannah had never known a true home, and what a real family was like.

  Instead, she had spent her childhood being dragged around by her mother who went from husband to husband to husband.

  Selena Wentworth was born of “old money,” and had spent it lavishly. Her husbands each demanded alimony once Selena divorced them and moved on to the next man.

  She paid the alimony without batting an eyelash or putting a dent in her checking account.

  Hannah tore off bigger pieces of bread until there was nothing left in her hands. She fought back the childish feelings that tightened her stomach as she thought about her mother—a mother who would rather attend parties, luncheons, and social gatherings than spend time with her own daughter.

  Hannah sucked in her breath. What in Anu’s name was she doing? Thinking? She was no longer that little girl who craved attention and never received it.

  “Why did I not see you at my daughter and Keir’s joining, Hannah?” Garran asked, drawing her away and giving her a reprieve from the unwanted thoughts. His rich voice flowed over her like honey.

  She frowned as she worked to regain her composure and force better forgotten memories away. “I was at the wedding.”

  “You must have left the room.” Garran leaned closer to her. “I would have seen you.” He lowered his voice another octave. “Sensed you, like last night.”

  Something inside her told her she would have felt him, too. The innate power of his presence made her dizzy, and that was enough to make her grind her teeth. Was he using Drow magic on her?

  “Why were you watching me last night?” she asked, keeping her expression neutral and her voice just as low as his.

  “It is not often one comes across such beauty—and magic.” Garran gave her a lazy look as his gaze slid from her face to her breasts, and then his eyes met hers again.

  His slow perusal caused her nipples to tighten and ache against her will. The corner of his mouth curved into a sinful smile. “I wager you have many surprises.”

  Garran’s lips twitched and he tried not to grin as he studied the beautiful woman who looked at him with such disdain.

  Hannah Wentworth might not wish to be attracted to him, but in every fiber of his being he held certainty that she was.

  Hannah’s dark brown gaze moved from his eyes, down his chest, to his abs. Fortunately she could not see beneath the table, unless that was one of her D’Anu talents. He had to refrain from shifting in his chair as her gaze traveled over his body. Instead, he leaned back, propped his elbows on the chair’s arms, and steepled his fingers.

  She brought her eyes back to his. “My talents would be wasted here,” she said, then turned to speak to the D’Danann warrior on the other side of her.

  Garran did smile then. This woman was not easily rattled or embarrassed, something he found more than intriguing. Her mere presence heightened his senses. The soft scent of her skin—woman and something light, clean, and fresh. Need vibrated through his body, deep and carnal.

  The intriguing woman was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. A woman meant to be savored as a man would enjoy a fine Faerie-made honeyed mead.

  He would start with brushing his lips over the line of her delicate brow while sifting his fingers through the blond lock that was so distinctive against her dark hair. His teeth would find her earlobe and she would give a soft cry as he nipped it then slipped his tongue inside.

  When his mouth finally met her soft lips, he would taste her like a hummingbird might relish nectar from a bloom. His tongue would move with hers and their lips would meet and meet again.

  The din at the meal table faded as he focused intently on Hannah until he was certain he could hear Hannah’s every breath with each rise and fall of her chest.

  His gaze settled on her breasts and he lowered his lids as he smiled his sexual promise when she glanced at him. Her cheeks had the slightest tinge of pink as her nipples grew obviously harder, pushing even more against the cloth covering them.

  Cloth he wanted to peel away so that he could suckle, lick and bite those nipples.

  He noticed the catch in her breath as she looked away. She reached one hand up and slid her fingers over her gold armband in what appeared to be a nervous movement. He shifted in his seat as he imagined her fingers stroking himself in the same way.

  Garran let his gaze drift from her breasts to her small waist and pictured her naked body. He would stroke her flat belly, the curve of her waist to her hips and then he would spread her thighs wide. He could almost feel his hands sliding beneath her ass as he buried his face against her folds.

  He imagined how sweet her flavor would be, smooth and rich on his tongue.

  Gods, he wanted her. Wanted to taste her sweetness. Wanted to feel her slim body beneath his as she cried his name.

  When he came to his senses, the noise in the room gradually returned to his hearing. The bellows of laughter he had pushed out of his consciousness now rang in his ears, hiding the sound of her breathing and the rapid beat of her heart.

  His gaze moved from her to her companion and he narrowed his eyes. The man sitting beside Hannah clearly desired her.

  A moment’s anger at the D’Danann warrior traveled through Garran, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy. But the feeling quickly diminished as he saw that Hannah was dismissing the man, just as she had dismissed Garran.

  But unlike her reaction to him, Garran felt no currents of attraction between her and the D’Danann—at least not on Hannah’s part.

  Instead, the sexual awareness remained between Garran and Hannah. Tangible, strong threads that could easily be woven into a tight rope.

  Garran couldn’t stop watching Hannah. She turned her attention to her trencher and frowned at the pieces of bread she had shredded on it.

  More raucous laughter broke out from the opposite end, but the D’Danann and D’Anu did not join in. They appeared far too serious.

  Hannah glanced at the trays of food and took a few grapes and a bit of cheese, but merely picked at her meal as he watched.

  Garran’s gaze settled on his daughter who sat on the other side of him. She looked so much like her mother that every time he saw her, his chest seized and he felt that lonely ache that sometimes took residence in his heart.

  Since the time Rhiannon’s mother had passed on to Summerland, no woman had attracted him like his daughter’s companion did now.

  No one, until this fresh, exciting D’Anu witch.

  Oh, he had enjoyed att
empting to seduce Copper Ashcroft when she had been trapped in Otherworld. But the fascination had been nothing like what he felt at this moment. With Copper it had been mere flirtation.

  It had been nothing like what stirred inside him now—such intense feelings of desire along with the need to possess. He had never experienced such an incredible attraction as he felt at this moment.

  Garran, who normally had no difficulty in focusing on whatever task was at hand, had to struggle to take his focus off Hannah to where it belonged.

  He could ill afford such a distraction as Hannah, especially with so many weighty matters at hand.

  Garran smiled as he studied his daughter. They had spoken of her mother and earlier he had shared some of the joyful memories with Rhiannon. But he had not yet touched on her life now.

  He laid his hand over Rhiannon’s where it rested on the table. “Are you happy with your mate?”

  Rhiannon had been focused on the D’Danann, Keir, and she cut her gaze to Garran. She cleared her throat and nodded. “I am very happy.”

  He offered her a smile and squeezed her fingers. “Then I am pleased for you.”

  “Thank you.” She looked uncomfortable with his hand on hers and he released it before selecting a hunk of white cheese and setting it in his trencher beside his healthy serving of pork.

  “We will eat.” He tore off a piece of bread from a loaf that sat before him and brought the piece close to his mouth. “Then we will talk about why you have truly come to see me.”

  After dinner, only Hannah and her companions remained seated at the table with Garran.

  The king had introduced them to each member of his “Directorate.” It was something like a high council, and they met the leaders of the order, Sepan and Hark, along with Garran’s First and Second in Command, Vidar and Carden. The men had made it clear they expected to stay for the discussion with the witches and the D’Danann, but Garran had dismissed all of them.

  Now just two guards were positioned to either side of the door inside the room, and two on each side of the door in the great hall.

  The dishes had been swept away and all that was left behind on the smooth, clean table were tankards of mead that had been placed in front of each person.