THE CHOOSING

by PhyllisAnn Welsh

  “This is the first time since I’ve been in Cragimore that I can actually see what your quarters look like.” She took one step away from the bed and shrugged her shoulders. “Pretty sad, prince.”

  L’Garn slammed the door closed and stepped forward. But not far enough, she noticed.

  “Put the torches out, Feenix,” he ordered, still blinking and trying to adjust his eyes to the brightness of the room. “Are you trying to blind me?”

  “Actually,” she drawled in a deliberately insulting manner, “I am, elf-man.”

  That should get the required reaction.

  “You agreed not to call me—”

  L’Garn took another two steps into the room, intent upon Feenix. Just as she had planned, the brightness of the torches blinded him to the length of rope she had made from the sleeping coverlet. Feenix had stretched and tied it at knee height across the room. It was an effective trap.

  Prince L’Garn of the House of Meedrion tripped and crashed to the hard stone floor.

  Instantly, Feenix pulled her dagger and advanced on him, intent upon subduing and forcing him to let her leave Cragimore for good. Unfortunately, she didn’t count on the slippery, sneaky tricks a Night Elf seemed to be born with. He rolled onto his back just as she moved to capture his hands behind him.

  L’Garn caught both of her wrists in his own strong hands and held the dagger away from his face and neck. She could see the confusion in his eyes; he thought she was trying to kill him. She pushed the guilt and remorse away. Better he thought she wanted to kill him than he realized she loved him enough to leave him. No, by Mac Lir’s eyes, she couldn’t let him know how she truly felt, or he would never agree to let her go. He would force her to become his mate simply because he felt duty-bound to a pledge he had made in the heat of the moment.

  “Do not ever draw that dagger on me again, unless you intend to use it,” he said through gritted teeth. Feenix was strong and she had the advantage of being over him and being able to use her weight as leverage. But by the god’s beard, L’Garn was stronger, and a part of her thrilled to that knowledge.

  “That’s my plan,” she answered, straining to gain control of the knife, “to use it to skewer you!”

  Without warning, L’Garn rolled to his side, using the momentum to reverse their positions. As he rolled, he slammed her wrist against the stone floor, and her fingers went numb. The knife skittered away, beyond their reach.

  “What do you think you are doing?” he demanded, sitting on her stomach and holding her hands away from his face, where she wanted to plant her fists.

  “Escaping, of course! What do you think I’m doing?”

  Foolish half-elf, she thought. Did she have to explain everything to him?

  With a great burst of strength and speed, he grabbed the front of her linen shirt in both hands, stood and dragged her up with him. Then he slammed her back into the stone wall. Feenix couldn’t prevent the grunt from escaping her lips as the air whooshed from her chest.

  Taking advantage of her momentary loss of concentration, L’Garn seized both of her slim wrists in his large hand and pulled her up so that only her toes touched the floor. With her hands high above her head, stretched to the limit, she could not gain any leverage or balance with her feet. Feenix was effectively subdued.

  For the moment, she silently vowed.

  His other hand slid up the side of her ribs, brushed her breast, then firmly grasped her jaw. Holding her head still so that he could look her full in the face, he spoke.

  “I do not think escape is an option, captain.”

  His blue eyes held her just as securely as his hands. He peered deeply into her eyes, obviously trying to understand her sudden odd behavior.

  If you knew, she said silently, you’d never let me go.

  Feenix’s chest rose and fell as her lungs labored for air. Her heart raced against her rib cage, and it felt like it was trying to break out of that prison. With each breath, the tips of her nipples brushed against L’Garn’s hard chest, and despite her resolve to ignore him, the prince’s aura of sexuality settled around her, igniting a burning desire.

  And he knew it, damn him! She watched his eyes darken, and he leaned his hard body into her soft flesh just enough to let her know he knew. His fingers found their way into her hair, grazing her cheek and temple with a soft caress en route.

  “Let me go,” she yelled, raising her leg in an attempt to stun him with a knee to the groin.

  “That is no way to treat your mate, my flower,” he grinned down at her after snuggling his entire length against her, pinning her even more securely to the wall. “For that, you shall have to pay a penalty.”

  He captured her lips in a punishing kiss. It only lasted for a heartbeat, but Feenix felt as though her mouth had been bruised and battered. It was not the kiss of a gentle lover. It was the kiss of a conqueror.

  “Very nice.”

  He was laughing at her. She could see it in his eyes and the way his lips wore that smirk she’d love to knock from his mouth.

  “Why do you call me that ridiculous name? I’m not a soft and delicate flower that can be bruised by the touch of an ungentle hand—or by a foolish elf-man.” She knew he hated that name.

  He chuckled deeply. The timbre of his laugh vibrating against her breasts made her nipples pucker; she could feel the traitorous nubs actually move against him.

  “While you are deliciously soft, Teela, you are more like one of those flowers whose provocative scent and haunting beauty lures a victim within reach, then snares the unwary and devours its prey at leisure.”

  Despite herself, she shivered at his analogy.

  “Damn right, prince,” she said, trying to convince herself not to think too long on just how she’d like to devour him. “Beware my bite!”

  “I think not.”

  His voice was low and silky. His long fingers brushed her cheekbone and traced the line of her jaw. He dropped his gaze to her lips, and she knew he was going to kiss her again. She felt her body respond and almost wondered why she was fighting the inevitable.

  Again he placed his lips upon hers, and the jolt of energy from the contact curled her toes. But she was ready for him, and managed to bite down on his full lower lip before he could deepen the kiss.

  “Ouch,” he yelped, pulling away and touching his lip with his finger. A drop of blood coated his fingertip. “Vixen!”

  Feenix laughed at the surprise on his face. She didn’t think she would ever be able to surprise him like that very often. She enjoyed his discomfort.

  “That just earned you another penalty.”

  Before she could react, he grabbed the front of her shirt and ripped it wide open, exposing her body from the neck to her waist. She gave a short screech of surprise and fury as the cool air of the room washed over her hot flesh.

  “Lovely, Feenix. So ripe and golden.” His free hand cupped the underside of her breast and held it gently, testing its weight and texture the way a cook would check a luscious fruit.

  She tried to squirm away from his touch, but his lower body still pinned her to the wall. In her present position, she could not defend herself from his onslaught.

  “Get your hands off me, L’Garn!”

  He smiled lazily and winked at her. “You do not really want me to do that, do you, Feenix? I can feel your heart beating against my hand. Your blood is hot for me.” He bent his head and licked a path from between her breasts up her neck to the back of her ear, while his thumb rubbed exotically against her hard nipple. “Admit it, my flower. You want me.”

  By the god’s eyeballs, yes, she wanted him, but she would die before admitting it to him.

  “I want you to let me go!”

  “When I am ready, my delicious flower.”

  Feenix used the wall as leverage for her back and brought her legs up and around his waist. Locking her ankles, she tried to squeeze as hard as she could. Perhaps she could squeeze the breath from him and she’d be able to get free.
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  Instead of breaking his hold on her, L’Garn wrapped his arms around her tightly, picked her up, stepped to the table, and then dropped her onto the smooth surface. As soon as her back hit the cool wood, he was on her, covering her soft body with his hard, lean one. He again captured her lips with his, swallowing her protest.

  Oh, gods, she thought, he tasted so good. Like pine and mint and a touch of something woodsy. And his smell just about took her over the edge. He was musky and male and all L’Garn.

  He used his mouth and tongue with expertise. Before she could stop herself, she returned his kiss with abandon. Stroke for stroke she explored his mouth, pausing to suckle on his lip before resuming her exploration. He, in turn, lit sparks in her head with the way he captured her tongue and drew it deeply into his mouth, sucking like a thirsty man.

  Her hands caressed his hair, neck and back, trying to pull him closer so she could feel all of him. The fact that he still had his clothes on was a source of great frustration. She growled when she couldn’t pull his shirt from his breeches, allowing access to his bare skin. He chuckled into her mouth, knowing the cause of her agitation.

  By Mac Lir’s ears, what was she doing? She was supposed to be escaping from L’Garn, not trying to become a part of him! She had to get away from him.

  On the pretense of settling more comfortably under him, she turned and then pushed with her hands and legs, rolling to the side of the table. L’Garn lost his balance and spilled over the side. However, one of his arms had been firmly around her waist, and the other snaked out to grab her shoulder when he felt himself falling. With typical elfin dexterity, he pulled her over with him. The only bright spot in her new predicament was that her dagger now lay within easy reach of her hand.

  In a flash she scooped up the knife and held the blade under his chin, softly pushing on his neck in warning. L’Garn relaxed and stilled under her.

  “You will not kill me, Teela. I am your mate for life.”

  “I told you not to call me by that revolting slave name.”

  Feenix gasped for breath, whether from the struggle or desire she didn’t dare to ponder. She was acutely aware of the fact that she was straddling his lean hips and sat snugly on his groin. And he was highly aroused.

  “Do you know what teela means in the ancient silvan tongue?”

  How could his voice be so silky smooth and without fear while she held a dagger to his throat? The man had the nerves of a rock.

  “How would I know that, half-elf?” She couldn’t think about the way his warm voice made her feel, like warm honey poured down her spine.

  “It means beautiful flower.”

  The knife wavered for a moment.

  “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? Well, you’ve outsmarted yourself, prince. You’ve walked away from a throne and riches and power, and what do you have to show for it?”

  “You.”

  She felt his answer throughout her whole being. The one word spoken softly into the room caressed her ears with its deep timbre. The hand she had on his chest felt the sound of the one syllable resonate through his upper body. Her bottom felt his arousal punctuate the word with a teasing thrust.

  By Mac Lir’s ears, she wanted to believe him. She ached to believe him.

  “I can’t let you give up your birthright, L’Garn. This is your life, to lead your people to peace. It is your destiny, and I can’t share it with you.”

  “You are my destiny, Feenix. You are my life.”

  “No.” The word barely escaped her lips. “You need a beautiful silvan woman to rule at your side. Someone your people will admire and trust.” She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the depths of his gaze. She had never felt so weak and vulnerable, and yet she held the dagger to his neck. She was the victor; she should be feeling exultant.

  “The only life I want, my flower, is one with you.” He paused, seeming to wait for her response to his words, but Feenix could only hold her breath and wait for his next words. She didn’t dare to move for fear she would miss something vitally important.

  “Feenix, I have never belonged here, cooped up in the caverns of Cragimore. My heart has always been divided as I yearned to learn of the world outside these stone walls. Until I met you, I never had the courage or drive to learn about my human heritage; my other birthright. But with you at my side, my heart has become whole and complete for the first time in my life. For good or for ill, I choose you.”

  L’Garn stretched his arms out from his side, like a man submitting to whatever life sent his way.

  “L’Garn, you sorry half-elf fool, do you know what you’re giving up? Riches! Power! You can have whatever you desire as the king of the Night Elves!” She had to talk some sense into him before he threw away everything on a whim.

  “My heart’s desire is you, Feenix.” The look in his eyes melted her resolve. “You. Say you will be my mate.”

  His summer blue eyes burned with desire and determination. How could she deny her love or the need she had for him?

  “By Mac Lir’s blue bells,” she muttered, “where did you learn to beg so prettily?”

  The dagger no longer pressed against his neck, but she still held it ready.

  “If you are going to kill me, do it now, Teela. You hold my life in your hands. I am ready to be devoured by you.”

  The dagger sliced through his leather vest as if it were cutting butter. In moments, the garment had been disposed of, as well as the soft shirt beneath it. L’Garn never moved, nor did he take his eyes from her face. Feenix was secretly pleased that he trusted her so completely.

  “Waste of good clothing,” she muttered as she bared his chest completely. The sight of his strong muscles sprinkled with dark swirls of hair caused her to falter. He was beautiful.

  Before she could give in to her urge to touch him, L’Garn again moved with the speed and grace of a large cat, and reversed their positions, plucking the dagger from her hand. Somehow he had managed to flip her onto the thick fur rug, and the silky softness against the bare skin of her back was sensual.

  “I think we can do without these,” he said with a sexy smile. Suddenly, L’Garn sliced her leather leggings expertly and she lay under his hot gaze, completely nude except for the boots on her feet. “By the Jewels, Feenix. You are exquisite.”

  Exquisite. No one had ever called her that, and it thrilled her to know that her half-elf found her body attractive.

  “Too many scars,” she muttered and tried to cover her right breast that was decorated with a particularly ugly and bright red mark.

  “Not for a warrior. These are your trophies,” he said, placing a kiss along the puckered line of the old wound. “I find they add to your beauty...and to my attraction.” He captured her nipple in his mouth and suckled like a child. Feenix could not suppress the moan that tore through her being. A fire began to build somewhere in the region of her hips.

  When she would have brought him to her in an embrace, he sat back and quickly removed her boots. Before releasing each foot, he massaged it with his long fingers, inspecting each toe and the instep as if he were discovering a hidden treasure. The fire in her blood grew. She could feel her body respond to every tiny touch and every hot gaze he gave her.

  “This isn’t fair, you know.” She didn’t recognize her voice. When had it become so husky? There was no disguising the want in her, it seemed. “Take your breeches off, L’Garn.”

  The smile that slid across his full lips was sinfully erotic.

  “At your command, my flower.”

  He stood and, using the toe of each foot, worked his boots off of his feet. In the clear light of the torches, she could see he had remarkably handsome feet. She had never noticed a man’s feet before. It was a surprisingly intimate and arousing sight.

  Then he straddled her stomach, standing above her prone body, looking as proud and defiant as a wild bull. With deliberate timing, he slowly loosened the ties at the waist of his breeches. Feenix blushed as he watched her int
ently. The black leather peeled from his lean hips and muscled thighs, like a tight glove striped from a hand. For a heartbeat, the material caught on his hard arousal, but with an expert twist, the breeches came free and slid down the length of his legs to pool on her belly.

  Feenix now didn’t know whether to curse or cheer the torches lighting the scene before her amazed eyes.

  “Fair enough?” he asked.

  What could she say? To remain mute was probably the safest course, she decided. But she couldn’t remain passive.

  Feenix sat up and reached for his legs. She trailed the fingers of one hand slowly up the back of his calf and thigh, while helping him step from the leather breeches and supporting him with her other hand. His muscles bunched and moved as her fingers explored his hot flesh. When the sensitive pads of her fingers reached his firm buttocks, L’Garn groaned and dropped to his knees, still straddling her lithe body.

  In a flash, he had flipped the warrior woman onto her stomach and his hands roamed her back, pushing her long plait of hair to the side. He sat back on his haunches, but he continued to straddle her thighs. Her entire body, from her bottom up, was bared for his inspection and she felt the heat of his gaze as if he were a bonfire.

  “What are you doing?” Strangely, she felt more vulnerable with her back to him than she had ever felt before.

  “Shhh. I am checking your wounds.”

  Lightly, like a feather in the wind, his fingers played over her back, touching and tracing each Healed wound with the tenderness of a mother.

  Only the sparks shooting through her body from the touch of his hands didn’t feel very motherly. They felt rather dangerous and very sensual.

  Soon his entire palm soothed and smoothed her skin. He ran his hands leisurely down her sides, over her buttocks and back up to her neck. The sensation was a combination of comfort and arousal. How could he do that?

  He shifted down her legs and she felt his hands cup and kneed the swell of her bottom. She hid her face in her arms, folded about her head. Thank Mac Lir the half-elf couldn’t see the flush on her face. He would take an inordinate amount of pride from her embarrassment. When his fingers explored the valley separating her buttocks and at the same time, his other hand slipped around her hip and dipped into the hollow of her pelvis, Feenix gasped with surprise. The mere touch of his fingers sent liquid fire rushing through her veins.