Scent Of Magic

by Jeanine Berry

  “You must not look at the meadow,” he growled low for her ear only.

  “You watched! Ryol watched!” She knew it was the truth as she spoke it; knew he had watched more than once, that he had gone into the meadow to join the dance.

  “I did and repented of it long and hard afterward. As for Ryol, he’s a cold one. The first time he saw the dance, he suspected its compelling power and looked away at once. He doesn’t feel the same passions most of us do. I’ll wager he’s one of the few not affected by his damnable perfume. Maybe that’s why he was able to concoct it without going mad with lust in the process.”

  “I want—to go!” she bucked her body upward, trying to push him out of the way. Instead, he lay over her, pinning her to the ground with his weight.

  “The desire you feel is theirs, not ours,” he said, fixing her with a desperate stare. “We both have to fight it or we’ll be lost. Physical expression of the emotions flooding us will help us resist it.”

  Guessing his intention, she brought her hands up to his chest and pushed with all her might, but he was far stronger. He caught her hands in an iron grip and bent lower, his mouth claiming hers. She twisted, trying to escape the kiss, as his lips devoured hers, feeding the fire that already burned through her body.

  As if from an infinite distance, she felt his mouth, warm and human, pressed against her own. The turmoil she’d felt ever since she’d seen the Fa’erie king appear in the meadow receded. Calm returned to her mind. Her body relaxed under his.

  “That’s better.” He released her hands and stroked her hair, entwining his fingers in the lush curls. “Don’t look. Stay focused on me.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “It’s an ancient ceremony, one that brings energy from their world into this world, the energy of creation itself. The Fa’erie king is one of the old gods. He holds the power of creation within. His mate, the queen, arouses that power from its slumber with her beauty and releases it through their shared passion.”

  A rock dug into Ange’s back. She wiggled away and arched upward, seeking a better position. Her leg brushed against Blane’s abdomen as she moved and she became aware that the Fa’erie king wasn’t the only male aroused from his slumber. As she eased back down to the ground, her thigh stayed pressed against his erection.

  She heard his sharp intake of breath at her accidental touch. A shudder ran through his body. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down to kiss her again. This time she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue inside while her own tongue penetrated between his lips in a delightful exploration. Her tongue stroked his, savoring his taste.

  Above her the stars spun. Blane groaned and pulled open her jacket and blouse, then pushed up her bra. The cold night wind blew over her exposed skin, raising little chill bumps and hardening her nipples into stiff peaks.

  “Gods, woman, you’re beautiful.”

  This time she welcomed his praise. His eyes told her that he meant it, that it was more than their scents speaking. Tonight she felt compelled to go to the Fa’erie king in the meadow. What she was feeling here with Blane was real. And she wanted him, wanted him body and soul.

  The heat of his mouth replaced the cold wind. His hot breath warmed her nipples as his tongue flicked over them, stimulating the sensitive tips.

  She pulled his tunic free of his pants and ran her hands up his chest, enjoying the hard curve of his muscles, the rough scratching of his chest hair against her palms. A soft music whispered through the night above the sound of the wind in the trees, the music of the faeries. What was going on in the meadow? Was the king fully aroused at last? Was he taking his queen?

  Unable to resist the temptation, she turned her head. Through the windblown grass, she could see the meadow and its shining light. The king stood in the middle. Seen from her position, he seemed to rise like a tower from the earth, his legs braced. The queen was impaled on his phallus, her legs wrapped around his body as he supported her with his strong arms. Waves of iridescent light beat around them as their wings rose and fell. The king lifted his mate and brought her down again. Her wings stretched wide and beat the air in her ecstasy and her head fell back as she shouted at the sky. Her cry was a hymn of desire that echoed off the mountainside and swept over them all. Her silver hair lashed the ground as her body shook with orgasm.

  “Ange.” Blane’s voice, hoarse with desire, called her back from the edge of an overwhelming arousal. “Stay focused on me.”

  She turned her face to look into his and gripped the top of his tunic with both hands. “I need you—I need you now!”

  His violet eyes glittered in the starlight, full of an old sorrow. “You need to slake the lust you feel. You don’t need me. We’re both awash in what they’re feeling out there.”

  “Not true.” She strained upward and planted a wet kiss on his lips. “If it were only lust, I’d be running out into the middle of that meadow in a heartbeat.”

  He chuckled with male confidence. “Not the way I’ve got you pinned.”

  Her lips twitched. “Think you can hold down a spacer, dirt ball man?” Even as she spoke, she burst into motion. Her hands moved to his shoulders and pushed as she jerked up her knee, shoving his body off hers and rolling to her side and up to her feet in one quick motion. Then she was down on the ground again, on top of him, holding him pinned to the dirt on his back.

  “How do you like it, big boy?” she breathed in his ear. Her hands released his shoulders as she straddled him and groped for the top of his pants. Ripping open the seal, she pulled down his underwear and then wrapped her fingers around his erection as it sprang free.

  His skin was hot under her hand and silky smooth. Crouching low, she bent over the head of his shaft and took it in her mouth, savoring the salt-and-sweet taste of the drop of semen that clung to the tip. Grabbing the base of his organ in both hands, she began to massage the hard flesh. He was iron sheathed in velvet, and she felt him swell as her mouth stretched over the top, sucking and licking.

  “Ah!” His clenched fists beat against the earth and his hips arched upward as he pressed more of him into her mouth. Relaxing her throat, she took him in, her lips and hands busy. His hot flesh filled her mouth. She paused in her sucking to explore the warm vein that throbbed to his heartbeat. Her inquisitive tongue found the ridge that encircled the head and licked around it while her own tender flesh pulsed with mounting desire. His erection was rock hard beneath her hands. She released the shaft and concentrated on sucking on the head while she undid the seal that held her pants together.

  Blane saw what she was doing and sat up. “Let me help.”

  His hands encircled her hips, tugging down her pants. Her clothing fell away, exposing the white columns of her thighs. Even hidden in the shadows, her skin gleamed as if it possessed its own light. He stroked the seductive curve of her hip, enjoying the satiny warmth of her flesh. The night air chilled him after the intimate heat of her mouth.

  Above him, Ange laughed and leapt to her feet to kick off her confining garments. For a second, he froze in fear, afraid she was going to turn and run into the meadow. But her gaze stayed fastened on his erect phallus. Her eyes were wide and full of moonlight and desire. He could feel the emotions of the faeries mating in the meadow. Their lust was like a tidal wave, sweeping everything before it.

  He had to keep her from going into the meadow—had to. He should have known someone as strong-willed and stubborn as this woman would come to investigate Ryol’s claims for herself. Now she was caught in the storm of erotic desire and he had no choice but to ride the wave with her to the end. His body throbbed with a matching need that only she could satisfy. He wanted her, wanted her sweet little body and her sassy smile and even her stubbornness. Most of all, he wanted to hold her close, warm and human, and drive away the memory of the times he’d gone into the meadow, into the passionate night.

  He groaned with relief as she straddled his hips and settled her hot, moist op
ening over his erection. His phallus stirred like a snake seeking the blazing furnace inside her body. Above him, Ange smiled, her eyes glittering with desire as she gripped his shaft and guided it into her. With one swift movement, she impaled herself and began rocking up and down, moaning softly as he filled her.

  Blane collapsed back on the ground and admired the sexy view she offered as she bent over him. Ange Bennett was one hot handful, and he was beginning to think she was worth holding onto. Her full, round breasts swung above his face, two luscious globes perfectly designed for a man to hold in his hands. The white flesh shimmered in the moonlight that fell through the trees. Her nipples jutted down toward his mouth as if begging to be sucked. Her golden curls tumbled over her shoulders and brushed against his shoulders in a silken swirl as she moved up and down on him. Her face took on a dazed look as she fell into a sensual rhythm, her breasts bouncing with each motion. He reached up and cupped the twin globes, squeezing the soft flesh, delighted by her lustful response as he flicked her nipples with his thumbs. He wanted to see her jerk in the throes of orgasm until she collapsed. Maybe then their riotous libidos could simmer down enough to let them flee this dangerous place.

  Her inner muscles tightened around him, released, tightened again. He felt sheathed in hot velvet. His hands moved over her body, learning every lovely line. He imagined returning to his studio on Tau Delta and creating her out of stone, smoothing the rough marble into these flawless curves. She was a dream in silver and gold light, and he had to save her from the faeries.

  He grunted and gripped the round firmness of her butt cheeks, forcing her down on him, grinding deeper into her. She was close, had to be, but he was, too. He fought to keep his mind clear of the overriding lust that rode the night winds, to keep focused on his purpose of getting her out of here. If she ever went into that meadow…no, he bit down on his lip, driving the memories back to the dark place deep in his mind where he kept them hidden. There was so much he had forgotten until this night when the double moons called him back to the meadow again.

  Curse Ryol and his Scent of Magic! The two of them were here because of his brother. He’d handle Ryol as soon as he got Ange away from danger.

  A sheen of sweat broke out on her skin as she moved above him. Her eyes were half-closed, her thigh muscles tensing as she rocked on his hard length. Blane’s stifled moans rose up into the night air as she increased her frantic pace. He steadied her body with both hands and shoved hard so that he plunged high up into her, as she writhed in rapture. Her juices flowed down his shaft, soaking both of them. With a stifled cry, she exploded into an orgasm. Her head went back as she convulsed around him, her muscles tightening and releasing in an unending spasm that drove him over the edge. He jerked upward and bit his lip to keep from crying out as he shot his sperm deep into her body.

  She collapsed over him, breathing hard, her arms wrapped around his neck, her hot cheek pressed to his. Their two bodies relaxed from the throes of passion and seemed to melt into each other.

  As her breathing stilled, Ange began to hear the music again, a mounting symphony of passion that flowed like a terrible tide out of the meadow.

  She squeezed her muscles around Blane’s length. He was still embedded in her. She shivered as waves of exquisite pleasure pulsed through her womb. She heard Blane’s breathing deepen as the aftereffects of their violent sex took him down into the depths of exhaustion. Smiling, she turned her head and looked at the meadow. The king and queen were dancing again, their nude bodies wrapped in the living light of their wings.

  An inner voice warned Ange not to watch the dance, but she could not look away. The complex patterns, the spinning lights, wove their own compelling enchantment. Against her will, she rose to her feet, her face flushed, her heart swelling with the need to join in the magical movement.

  “Ange! What the—” Blane snapped out of the half-doze he’d fallen into and struggled up into a sitting position as Ange kicked away her pants, which had pooled around her feet. Her face flushed with desire, she took a step forward toward the moonlight.

  In the meadow the Fa’erie king turned in her direction as the patterns of the dance brought him toward the corner where she stood. His proud face was set in determined lines as if the pattern he wove with his feet would seal the fate of worlds. Radiant lines of energy now hung in the air above the ground, weavings of power, a tapestry with a hidden meaning that called to Ange.

  Striding to the very edge of the meadow on bare feet, she watched his approach. Behind her, she heard Blane stagger to his feet. “No!” he shouted.

  At the sound of his shout, the king’s head came up. His dark eyes blazed with an inner radiance as he searched the forest.

  There was no time to consider. In another moment, Blane would grab her and pull her back into the shadows. She would leave Kyffin and never again see the Fa’erie dance. But would she ever forget? Or would she spend the rest of her life wondering what would have happened if she’d walked out into that meadow and joined them in their magical rite?

  The king took a step in her direction as if he sensed where she stood. He released the hand of his queen and stretched out his fingers in a beckoning gesture. A wild, forlorn note in the music called to her. His eyes narrowed as he searched the shadows. In another second he would see her. She had to decide.

  A footstep crashed through the brush behind her. Blane! It was now or never. She stepped into the light, feeling the whisper of air at her back as she moved out of reach just as Blane grabbed for her. The king reached out both hands for her, drawing her against her will. The Fa’erie light shone full on her naked body as she stepped closer, and the king’s eyes widened.

  Halfling child, come home.

  His thoughts sang in her mind. His strong essence brushed against her spirit. Her fears fell away as visions of the Otherworld raced through her mind. The beings who stood before her were immortal, known to humankind from eons past. The male who called her was the great king, Oberon, the ruler of the Otherworld.

  My lord. She dropped into a curtsey no one had ever taught her how to make. Instinct possessed her, overriding everything else.

  “Damn you!” A voice shouted at her across a wide gulf, a voice from a now distant world but one she recognized somehow. “Turn around! Turn around this instant and walk back to me. It’s your only chance.”

  Halfling child, come closer.

  The king moved toward her, his body floating above the ground, his wings of light folding and unfolding in graceful waves. His queen came at his side, her beautiful face peaceful and full of love.

  For a moment the memory of human love plucked at Ange’s heart. She half turned toward the darkness at the edge of the meadow, but the blazing radiance was everywhere, pulsing with demand. Endless light surrounded her, and all the darkness seemed to vanish.

  “Ange!” Agony sounded in the cry.

  The king’s great dark eyes narrowed and a shadow passed over his shining face. He half turned his head toward the sound that seemed to Ange to come from a great distance. When he looked at her again, he smiled and the light of that smile drove all thought of the human man from her mind.

  Without a word, Oberon came to her side, his hand still outstretched. Beyond thought now, lost in the dance and the intoxicating music, she laid her hand in his and walked with him into the light.

  Chapter Eleven

  Trumpets sounded a high note of victory. Light was everywhere, pure light so bright it filled her mind, hurt her eyes. She shut them and stumbled forward, blinded and stunned into silence in the midst of the shining radiance.

  Diaphanous wings brushed over her naked flesh. Feather light, they caressed her shoulders, her breasts. Her body trembled, bathed in liquid fire. She could barely stand as the gossamer touch slipped between her legs.

  Voices sang around her, high and bright, a melodious tongue that flowed over her shivering flesh. The strong hand that held hers moved to grip her arm and turn her. She squeezed her eyes tighte
r as the light mounted to incandescent brightness, piercing even her closed eyelids. The light became a burning heat on her flesh, scalding her with unbearable desire. She quivered with need as the hand slid up her arm, exploring her.

  A cocoon of power enfolded her, the presence of the Fa’erie king. Light pulsed over her skin in living, radiant waves. Someone’s hot breath burned against her throat where her pulse raced. A questing finger touched the very tip of her nipple, causing her to flinch and cry out with desire.

  “Shahaba tremeysen!”

  A male voice sounded like thunder in her ears. Startled, she opened her eyes and saw the light that enveloped her had started to swirl. A rainbow of colors melted into a whirlpool in front of her, a whirlpool that became a gateway to another world…far away on the other side she saw golden light, a green sward, towering mountains, and a city of shining crystal.

  “Damn you, Ryol! Out of there!”

  “Blane! You idiot!”

  Voices cursed somewhere in the far distance. A flurry of human sound. With a loud whoosh, the gateway vanished. A sudden musical babble rose around her as the Fa’erie women cried out in surprise and alarm.

  Ange looked toward the darkness at the edge of the meadow under the tall trees and saw Blane fighting with Ryol. The brothers faced each other, chests heaving, eyes blazing, fists flying.

  “Blane!” Shouting his name, Ange started toward him.

  No, halfling child. The Fa’erie king grabbed her arm. She half turned, twisting to break free, and found herself staring into eyes as black as the eternal midnight that reigned between the stars. Two moons of light glowed in those compelling depths, drawing her downward. With a gasp, she fell into the night…

  * * *

  A raindrop splattered dead center on Ange’s forehead, waking her. A shiver racked her whole body and she sat up, suddenly aware that she was naked. Wild fear coursed through her as she stared all around. She was on the edge of the clearing, under the tree where she had first taken shelter the night before. Her clothes lay under her—it looked as if they’d provided rough bedding while she slept. Gray clouds filled the sky and raindrops made wet, popping sounds as they hit the tree’s leaves on their way down.