With a rough laugh, Vanzir reached around behind her and opened the door. “You already have bewitched me, my brilliant star in the dark of night.” He walked her backwards into the bed chamber.
The huge bed was carved from elder and yew, ancient and dark wood rising up on all four sides—the posters held a canopy draped in black and silver silk curtains. The comforter was also black and silver, shimmering as if a thousand stars had been dusted across it. The room held dressers and wardrobes, a vanity and a private bath, and everything a queen could need including a small desk to one side. But right now, Vanzir’s focus was the bed itself.
Vanzir dropped his shirt on the floor, then reached down and slowly began to unbuckle his jeans. His chest glistened in the dim light. He was wiry but toned, his waist lean. He slid his jeans down to reveal a tight, round ass and muscled thighs. Erect, thick and meaty, his cock was ready for action, with drops of pre-cum glistening on the tip. With a low growl, he grasped his shaft and squeezed as he stared at Aeval, a light flashing in his eyes which whirled with a vortex of indescribable colors.
Aeval caught her breath, and reached up to unhook the top of her gown. It fell open, like a robe. She shrugged it off, standing there in her pale, unearthly beauty. Her breasts were firm and ripe, and her waist curved into soft, voluptuous hips, lush and inviting. Vanzir felt the hunger within him rise, and he fought down the desire to feed on her mind. With Aeval, though, he knew the danger was miniscule. The Fae Queen could fight him off. She could kill him if the dream-chaser demon within him went amok. Vanzir didn’t have to hold himself back with her.
“You know what I need,” she whispered, trailing her fingers over the full, dark nipples that marked her breasts. “You know what I need,” she repeated.
He nodded, and leapt forward, grabbing her wrists and throwing her down to the bed. She laughed, roughly, as he landed on top of her, thrusting her knees apart with his own. Aeval wasn’t a gentle lover and neither was he. When they played, they played hard. As hard as rocks in a river, as hard as the erection that was driving him forward.
Pressing against her, he trailed love bites up and down her chest, nipping lightly—not enough to hurt but enough to make her know he had hold of her. She gasped again, wrapping her legs around his waist and thrusting upward, rubbing against his cock.
“Not yet, not yet…”
“Yes…now. I need you now. I don’t want gentle. We can do gentle later. Fuck me, fuck me hard.” She let out a growl.
And so, he drove into her, spreading her pussy wide as he grunted, thrusting into the darkness of her sex. She moaned, tightening the embrace of her knees around his waist, pulling him deeper into her wet slit.
As he plunged into her, driving himself again and again, Aeval began to whimper, and then she squirmed. He reached down to finger her, laughing low as she let out first one shriek, then another. She was coming hard, coming fast, and in some small part of his brain, Vanzir realized something must have happened to trigger off the need. She usually liked to take her time, to luxuriate in their foreplay and slowly spread it out for hours. But today she was frantic in her hunger, and his own desire rose to match her need.
He speared himself into her again as she climaxed yet again. The passion in her voice, the feeling of her channel clenching him damp and tight drove him over the edge. His back arching, Vanzir dropped his head back and let out a low, long growl as he came, the spasm ricocheting through his body. Collapsing between her legs, he let out a muffled moan. Then, slowly, he reached up to kiss her on the nose, the tousled shock of platinum hair mixing with her own dark locks.
“That was quick, love.” He rolled to one side and took her in his arms, snuggling her close to him. “Are you sure you’re satisfied? Do you want more?”
She sighed, reaching for the comforter and pulling it over them. “I’m good for now.” A pause, then—“There’s a lot on my mind right now. Ever since Morgaine died, I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind of what-if’s. The world has changed so much. And, while I know we have to adapt, I feel rather lost and alone. Titania is coping better than I am—I think it’s because the light has an inherent nature to look to the bright side of things.” She sat up, settling against the pillows that cushioned the headboard. “The world has grown much smaller. I feel hemmed in.”
“Yet, you would never consider moving to Otherworld?” Vanzir wrapped his arm around her. She needed him to listen and so he leaned her against his shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
“I fought against the creation of Otherworld. You cannot begin to understand what horrors the Great Divide brought about. This world was rocked by the fighting. The earthquakes…volcanoes erupting…our magic almost destroyed what civilization there was. Sometimes, I think it would have been best if that had happened, given the way the world is now.”
“But you lost.” Simply said, and plainly meant.
She understood and nodded. “Yes, we lost. The Great Fae Lords won and the rest is history. Perhaps if we had won, if the worlds had remained united, then there would be more respect for nature. Or, perhaps the demons would have demolished everything long ago and made it into a wasteland. Your kind, my love—not you in particular, but demons—aren’t exactly known for your love of the wilderness.”
Vanzir had to agree there. “As much as it pains me to say this, the Great Divide did the world a service far more than an injustice. It was catastrophic, but it sealed off the Sub-Realms.”
“Yet it was a solution with a time limit. The portals can’t hold much longer. We’re seeing them break down as the months go by. The mages are looking for solutions. The elves were close until Telazhar destroyed Elqaneve. Now, all their research is in the dust. We’ve been searching for survivors—for the techno-mages who might have lived. We’ve sent search parties, but so few survived. I fear the Elfin race will take millennia to recover.”
She pushed her way out of bed to pace around the room. Finally, she turned to him. “I’m afraid the old ways are gone. No matter what, change is upon us and…” She paused, raising her hand to her stomach. “Change has come to me.”
“What do you mean?” Vanzir rose, sitting on his knees on the bed. He had the feeling that an arrow was coming right down the center of the room and he was right at the center of its aim.
“Vanzir…I’m pregnant.”
Silence. Her words reverberated through the room, finally making a beeline for Vanzir’s skull, where he suddenly realized what she had said. “How…how can…”
“You know most demons can interbreed with humans. Apparently, it works with Fae too. At least, we’ve established that now. I have had no other lover for so long that…I can’t remember when the last one caught my eye. Before I was frozen in the caves.” She turned to him. “I had no idea this could happen. I’m talking to the healer tomorrow to see if she thinks it dangerous for me to carry the child to term. Or if…it even has a chance. But I felt you should know, regardless of what happens or what I choose to do.”
The world fell very silent. Vanzir dropped back on the bed, staring at her. Pregnant. He had actually gotten someone pregnant, and a Fae Queen at that. In all his years, he had never once had a woman tell him this—demon or otherwise. And the truth was, he wasn’t sure how to respond, or even how he felt.
“I never thought this could happen.”
“Neither did I, but the horses are out and it’s too late to close the barn door.” She caught his gaze, holding it lightly. “I’m not going to ask how you feel. This sort of news goes down best with a drink and some time to think. Nor am I going to tell you what I plan on doing yet…I need more information. But if it is safe for me to have the child and I decide to do so, I’d like her…him…to know that you are the father.”
No wonder she was asking him to move in.
“And if it’s not safe…if things don’t work out?” Vanzir tilted his head to the side. “Do you still want me?” He realized, with a sudden pang in his hear
t, that he very much wanted her to say yes. He also realized that the fact that her answer mattered, scared the hell out of him.
She smiled softly. “If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t ask you to be my consort. I wouldn’t tell you about this child. I’d quietly do what I needed to, and that would be it. No, Vanzir, whatever fortune brought us together, whatever the Hags of Fate have planned, there’s something about you that I…” She paused.
He could hear the word hovering between them. “You don’t have to say it—not yet. Our lives move slowly. I don’t need to hear it right now and I’m not sure if I can say it back to you. Not yet. But I care about you. I want you, Aeval. I want to be with you and hold you in my arms and know that you’re there.”
Aeval padded back across the chill floor of the barrow, her breasts bouncing lightly. “Now, do you see why I needed you so much? I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t imagine what you were going to say. If you walked away, my life would feel very empty again.”
He held out his arms and she slid into them, shivering. Vanzir pulled the covers over them and he laid her down, leaning on his side to stare into her eyes.
“You’re with a demon, you know.”
She nodded, and her cunning smile was back. “Oh, I know. I’m with a demon. You’re with a Fae Queen. Not exactly the star-crossed match meant to be, I would think. And yet, here we are.”
Vanzir laughed. “Here we are, and you’re pregnant.” At that moment, he realized he hoped the baby would be safe and well. The child would never inherit the throne, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that—if all was safe—the baby would be born into a caring family and never, ever face what he had gone through. He would make certain of that.
“Well, we’ll see what happens.” She slid her arms around his chest, pressing against his warm, welcoming skin. “Make love to me. Softly this time…softly—for the first time.”
And so, he pressed his lips to her, and the fire faded into a gentle, steady ember, but the glow was enough. It was deeply rooted, and the flames would flare again. And perhaps, a spark would rise between them, a spark that would take hold and grow strong and as darkly beautiful as the wild night. But for now, Vanzir pushed away thoughts of the future as he took his dark queen again, forgetting about everything that stood outside the barrow walls.
Smoke and Mirrors
There was a time, when Smoky first had to decide how he felt about mortal kind. This is that story. This takes place long before the D’Artigo sisters were even born.
HE SAT ON the mountain top, staring down over the rocky world below. The air was so thin that if he had been human, he would have died. But dragons were able to breathe the air at the top of the world, and Iampaatar was a prince among dragons. At least, that’s what he would have been called in human society. Among his own kind, he was nobility, but he ignored that most of the time. He preferred to wander the rocky crags alone. Much to the dismay of his family, politics held little interest for him, and neither did the intricate relationships that marked the interactions among the Court.
Dragons were hierarchical. The race ran on blood and lineage, and everything about family background mattered. Iampaatar was at the top of the food chain, draconically speaking. His mother was a silver dragon—the topmost rank. She was close enough to have the Emperor’s ear, and because of her blood, Iampaatar was in the highest class. But none of that mattered to him.
He leaned over the outcropping, his massive body shifting against the rocks as he adjusted his tail, wrapping it around a tall pillar of stone to keep himself balanced. His stomach rumbled and he realized that he was hungry—it had been some time since he’d eaten in his natural form. With a lazy sigh, he snorted and smoke rose from his nostrils. Stretching his wings wide, he rose up and prepared for flight. The taut, scaled wings were strong, as were all dragon wings, but he used them more for steering than anything else. They caught the updrafts and currents, but they were not the prime force that kept him aloft.
With a flickering thought that he’d rather sit and muse than go hunting, he leaned forward and swept off the crag, spiraling to the fields below.
Iampaatar circled over the forest. He usually didn’t encroach into the Northlands but pickings were slim at this time of year. Winter was harsh, and farmers kept their cattle indoors rather than allow them to wander and graze.
Of course, Iampaatar could always raze a farm or house and steal whatever they had—there were few who could defend against him—but he prided himself that he wasn’t like his father. He wasn’t like a lot of the dragons he knew, actually.
Iampaatar would never admit it, but the truth was, he had a conscience and that was one of the major reasons he kept himself away from his mother’s dreyerie as much as he did. Hyto, his father, was a monster, and they had come to blows more than once, with Iampaatar bearing the brunt of the white dragon’s anger.
Hyto made him sick to his stomach with his rampaging nature. They had come to blows several times before his mother interrupted, forcing both of them to back down. This last time, she had threatened them both with expulsion, and since she was dominant rank, she could shove whoever she wanted out of the dreyerie. But Iampaatar didn’t trust his father not to sneak back in and try to hurt his mother. In fact, he suspected Hyto was behind the death of several of his brothers and sisters. The white dragon was vicious and jealous, and his avaricious nature exceeded any grasp of family love or tenderness. So Iampaatar tried to restrain himself, so he could keep an eye on things.
As he silently glided over the snowscape, he realized there was a figure below, struggling through the snow. Squinting, he swept lower to see what it was. Maybe a cow or horse or some other bite that would make a crunchy meal? But as he homed in on the figure, he realized it was a human. A girl.
Hmm…what was she doing so far out from the nearest village? And what was she doing traveling alone in this weather? Another storm was coming in, and it would be upon the land before nightfall. He wondered if she knew the weather was changing. What could be so compelling to expose her to the dangers of the forest and weather without any protection or guardians?
At first, he tried to talk himself into flying away. She was none of his concern. But then, he realized it had been weeks since he had talked to another soul. Curiosity won out. He flew away before she could see him, landing in a nearby grove where he shifted into his human form. His scales and hide took the appearance of a milk-white long white robe. His hair, calf-length, shimmered like spun silver, and his eyes were pale blue with pools of frost in them. All in all, Iampaatar was a gorgeous hunk of manflesh, and he knew it.
KATJA LEANED AGAINST a tree. She was tired, so tired. The hunger in her belly burned, and her head was foggy from the lack of food. She stared up at the sky, where the clouds were gathering together again for yet another round of snow. Katja was near the top of the world and she knew it. The Northlands were harsh and rough, kissing the edge of the Dragon Reaches. There, the snow grew harsher, from difficult going to impossible to navigate. Few humans managed to breach the entrance into the Dragon Reaches, and she wasn’t interested in trying.
The girl, who was barely a woman, adjusted her cloak, tightening it around her shoulders. She shivered, freezing even though beneath the heavy woolen garment she was wearing yet another robe, and then a pair of spidersilk trousers and tunic.
Winter was rough this year and the snows wouldn’t stop. The food had run out, and she couldn’t feed her family, so it was hunt or die by starvation. If her mother and father were alive, they’d manage—they had been excellent hunters. But her parents had been taken by wolves during the early spring, and Katja was left to fend for her brothers and sisters.
Just past her sixteenth year, by all rights she should be married with children of her own, but she couldn’t just let her siblings starve. She loved them too much, and most men didn’t want a ready-made family of hungry mouths. So she had done her best. She had tilled the gar
den, learned how to protect and heal with the magic the local midwife had taught her, hunted during the autumn migration, and done her best to fill the larders before winter caught up with them.
But now the cupboards were empty and the children were hungry, and there wasn’t enough game near the house to restock. The root cellar had contained supplies she had put up during the summer—hard won and even harder kept. But a roving band of vagrants threatened to steal away her younger sisters unless Katja let them take the food. She had caved, turning over the food, and the bandits had left, thankfully, honoring their word. But they hadn’t left so much as a crumb behind.
So she had no choice. Katja had to go hunting. She left Pieter, her oldest brother who was twelve now, in charge with strict instructions to bar the door against anyone they didn’t know. Packing the last of the apples she could find into her pockets, Katja had set out, bow and arrows slung over one shoulder and skinning knife in her belt. She hated taking the last of the food, but she knew she would need her strength for the hunt.
That had been two days ago. Katja had managed to catch one rabbit, but that wouldn’t be enough for eight hungry bellies, so she buried it in a spot she would remember, deep in the snow where the cold would preserve it, and continued on. It occurred to her that, should she find a moose or reindeer or elk, she would have no way of dragging it home, but she decided to cross that bridge when she came to it. If nothing else, she could hack as much as she could drag off of it and bury the rest, marking where it was so she could come back for it.
Meanwhile, her focus was on staying alive through the coming storm long enough to find quarry, and then staying alive long enough to kill her prey.
Otherworld Tales Volume 1 Page 11