by Jet Mykles
Praise for the writing of Jet Mykles
Dark Elves 1: Taken
Taken is an erotic tale that will require something cool to be on hand when reading it. Not only are the illustrations breathtaking but the story of an angry woman who finally finds the love and acceptance that she has been missing is heart touching.
-- Claudia, The Road to Romance
Dark Elves 1: Taken is a delightfully wicked romp through the darker side of sex. Jet Mykles creates for the reader a sinfully sexual world where very little is taboo and few have the desire to say when.
-- Joletta, Fallen Angel Reviews
Ms. Mykles has written a tale of love, lust and magic that I enjoyed very much. I recommend this sizzling and sexy book to anyone who enjoys stories of elves and the paranormal. Dark Elves 1: Taken is a keeper!
-- Susan White, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
Dark Elves 1: Taken is fast-paced and imaginative… Mykles is not afraid to push the envelope in order to create a story that captivates the reader.
-- Rho, A Romance Review
I think Dark Elves 1: Taken would appeal to all readers, vanilla and not so vanilla. The sex was scorching, and I loved it, but it's the romance that will make me read more from Ms. Mykles.
-- Dani Jacquel, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
Dark Elves 1: Taken is now available from Loose Id.
DARK ELVES 2: MASTERED
Jet Mykles
www.loose-id.com
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * * *
This book is rated:
For substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (ménage, BDSM).
DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.
Dark Elves 2: Mastered
Jet Mykles
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
Story and images copyright © June 2005 by Jet Mykles
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 1-59632-138-5
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Raven McKnight
Cover Artist: Jet Mykles
Dedication
This book is dedicated to those who gave me those last pushes to actually submit my story somewhere. Nythande and Suzana for helping me finish. And Angela Knight for shoving me in the right direction.
Chapter One
Sunlight had faded from the cracks within the thick blanket of leaves and branches overhead. Soon it would be night. When the wagons reached a small stream that ran alongside the road, the caravan master called a halt. Quietly, quickly, the dozen guards dismounted and set about their nightly tasks. The horses were watered, fires were built, and the caravan master himself lit the cooking fire and set out the nightly stew. The master’s main assistant, a small man in a homespun tunic and wearing a slave’s collar, filled the water bags and set to watering the slaves within the wagons.
Suzana waited her turn, quite used to the routine after several nights of the same. As the smallest of the five women within the wagon, she was the last to get water, simply because she did not fight to grab the waterskin first. As she waited, she continued to glance out into the surrounding trees. With the onset of night, the gnarled giants took on a more sinister look, branches reaching up and over to intertwine above the wide road and babbling stream.
At first she had wondered why camp was always made on the road. Then one of the women had explained that this was the Dark Forest. At Suzana’s blank look, the woman and some of their companions had embarked on tale after tale of people entering the trees, never to be seen again. Of haughty men, who thought the world of themselves, stepping off the road, only to have their bones found days later and miles away still within their armor. When bodies were found, it was clear that the damage could not have been from an animal attack. Bodies were always those of men, never women or children. Something intelligent guarded the forest, something that would often -- but not always -- allow isolated trade caravans to cross beaten tracks within the periphery of the forest, but rarely allowed individual travelers to be seen again. Suzana was not sure she believed the stories, but if even a quarter were true, it was worth the caution.
She took the waterskin from the last woman and drank her fill. The filling stew was next. Not tasty, but not horrible. At least the wooden bowls were always rinsed in the streams by which they stopped every evening.
This night was eerily quiet. On previous nights, animal sounds abounded in rustling grass, distant snorts, and far-off cries. The animals had learned, it seemed, that the humans were restricted to the road. But tonight, all sounds were muted. Or absent.
The guards huddled about the fires that marked the corners of the camp, all facing the darkness beyond the light. They would sleep in shifts. Those who remained awake would not take their eyes off the sinister trees. The caravan master came to stand by the door of the wagon that held his female slaves. As his assistant took them one by one to the creek’s bank to relieve and rinse themselves, he stood sentry himself. Although he had hired them, the master did not trust his guards with the females. They were precious cargo and would reach his destination unmolested.
Especially Suzana. When it came her turn, he personally escorted her to the creek’s shallow waters. She fought the nightly embarrassment of taking care of private business with an audience. The caravan master knew she was a virgin, because he had seen her among her family before the shipwreck that had killed them all. And he took great pains to keep her pure. She waited, eyes averted, as he unlocked and removed the chastity belt fastened about her waist. He did not so much watch as hover over her, alert for any of his men who might take a chance to gain his prize. She ignored him as best she could, finished her business, then waited for him to secure her again.
“You will fetch such a price!” He smoothed a hand over the crown of her head, petting her long black hair. She avoided his gaze, hating the look she knew was there. He lusted after her. Not for her body, but for the gold her sale would bring him. It was disgusting!
She preceded him past the nearest guards, headed for the wagon, her eyes directed at the ground before her and not at the cu
rious faces that would dart glances her way. She had made the mistake of looking up during one of the first nights, and she could still feel the palpable lust aimed her way from the guards.
The assistant stood beside the wagon’s open door, a blank look on his face. She frowned up at him, but he didn’t see her. The sound of a heavy fall had her spinning around just in time to see the caravan master slump to a heap on the ground. She stood, shocked, unable to believe what she clearly saw. Not only was the caravan master laid out asleep, but all of his guards seemed to be in a likewise state!
“What’s happened?” asked the frightened voice of one of the female slaves.
Suzana shook her head.
“Mother of the gods!” cried one of the men from the other wagon. Suzana glanced over to see him pointing at the trees.
She looked. And gasped.
Men like none other peeled away from the shadows. At first she saw only floating white, which soon materialized as the hair on a number of heads. The bodies beneath the hair were astounding, skin darker than night, gleaming in the patchy moonlight. Male bodies, muscles chiseled under the dark flesh. Only a few wore anything but trousers and boots, and those few wore open vests that still revealed acres of skin.
Suzana spun to see more of them emerge from the opposite side of the road. They were all around! The slaves, the only ones not passed out in deep slumber, cried and muttered piteously as the black-skinned men approached. Suzana could only stare, dumbfounded. Terrifying, yes. But they were all incredibly beautiful!
They spoke to each other in low, rumbling voices. It wasn’t commonspeak. Even Suzana, who was fluent in two languages and could recognize at least a dozen others, didn’t recognize it. Some stopped just outside the men’s wagon, studying the cowering human contents. The majority of them, though, approached the women’s wagon.
A pair of them in particular caught her eye. From the way one pointed and called out and the others obeyed, it was clear he was the leader. He stood half again as tall as Suzana, his lean torso minimally covered by a dark purple vest. His milky white hair was smoothed back and fell in loose waves to just below his shoulders. He turned his head, and the number of rings that pierced his right ear sparkled. His pointed ear.
Elves? But Suzana had met elves before at court. Never in her life had she seen any with skin so dark or eyes so vividly red as those of the leader, who came to stand an arm’s length before her. His companion, equally dark and exotically beautiful, crossed behind the stunned -- spelled? -- assistant, who still stood at the door of the wagon. The elf’s bleached-honey hair fell forward, obscuring his face, as he leaned over the man and muttered. The assistant’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the ground.
A woman in the wagon screamed, the sound piercing the quiet night. Suzana tried to step back, only to find her back pressed against the side of the wagon.
“Don’t be afraid,” said the leader in clear commonspeak.
“Who are you?” Suzana heard herself say.
His eyes, red as fresh blood and faintly glowing, fixed on her. Obsidian lips pulled back into a half-smile; one snowy brow arched. “We’ve come to save you, lovely lady.”
Her heart skipped.
“Save us?” demanded Kyla, one of the other slaves.
“Quite.” The leader’s eyes never left Suzana. She clutched her arms about her torso, trying to hold closed the loose tunic that was all she wore. Unfortunately, it was so short that as he glanced down, he could see the glint of the chastity belt. “We’ve come to rescue you.”
“What do you plan to do with us?” Suzana asked.
His smile spread across his face. His companion chuckled. “Why, we’ll take you home, of course.”
“Home?” squeaked one of the women. “You’re taking us home?”
The man turned to her. “But, of course. Our home.”
Radin closed the small distance between himself and the tiny woman. “What astounding eyes,” he said to Savous, switching to djinar.
She shied but didn’t bolt. Carefully, he tipped up her chin with his forefinger so he could see her better. Her face was perfectly round, every line within also softly rounded, from plump lips to soft brow. Her heavily lashed eyes looked almost too large for her face, and he had to wonder if she had pixie or fae blood, as the extraordinary violet of those eyes was not any color he had ever witnessed in a human. Entranced, he lifted his free hand to brush aside a heavy lock of pitch-black hair. Even dirty and tangled, it fell in thick waves almost to her knees.
“What’s that about her hips?” Savous asked.
“A belt humans use on women to keep them from having sex.”
His apprentice was shocked. “Why?”
Radin inhaled deeply. “Unless I miss my guess, that delicious scent means this one’s a virgin. I’ve heard they strap them so to keep them ‘pure’ sometimes.” He rolled his eyes. “One of the stupidities of human males.”
Interest piqued, Savous eyed her carefully. “Are you sure she’s of age?”
She knew they were talking about her. Those expressive eyes darted toward Savous and back to him, dying to know what they said.
Radin laughed. “She’s of age. No child could smell so ripe.”
“I still don’t understand the belt.”
“She’s worth more when she’s sold, if she’s a virgin.”
“Ah!”
His nostrils flared. Ah! The scent of aroused woman. With six raedjour standing about the caged wagon, the female cargo was beginning to react in that blessedly familiar way. Glancing up, he could see the fascinated stares the women laid on his men. One leaned against the open door, preening as Savous reached up to stroke her cheek.
Radin smiled, turning back to the little one. She would bear watching, but he had other responsibilities at the moment. In djinar he asked, “Savous, how long will your spell hold?”
Savous kissed his fawning companion gently, then led her down the steps to stand before him. “Not much longer. There were more of them than I thought.”
“Hmm. Trying to stick your cock into too many holes?”
Savous glared, handing off the woman to one of the raedjour, then reaching up to take the hand of the next woman. “You could help.”
Radin grinned. “And why would I do that? This is your test.”
“And a farce,” said another voice from the vicinity of the men’s wagon. The male slaves were off-loaded, as well. “We should just kill them and have done with it.”
“Now, Krael,” Radin chided. “It was Savous’s choice.”
“And he chooses to spare them. And show off.”
Savous growled. “You meat-brained lout! We can’t just keep killing every human that comes across the mountains!”
“Why not?”
Savous rolled his eyes, leaving the women’s wagon to confront his adversary. “If you knew anything, you’d know that the human population is expanding at an astounding rate. We can’t keep them at bay forever. And if we keep killing them, they’ll gather together and attack us!”
Krael yawned in Savous’s face. Although he was nearly a head shorter than Savous and not a mage, Krael did not back down. He never would. He was one of the raedjour’s prime warriors, second only to Commander Salin. “I’ve lived longer than you, pup, and seen more. Humans are good for taking women, and that only. Human males are servants, fuck toys, or walking corpses that need to be put down.”
“You know nothing.”
“I know your virgin is escaping.”
Savous spun, gaping at the space where the violet-eyed woman had stood. Radin was aware of her escape, but chose to do nothing.
“Radin, you let her go?!”
“I did no such thing.” Radin looked to Krael. “I thought Krael might need to chase off some frustration.”
Krael chuckled, tossing the long fall of his loose, silver-white hair behind his shoulder. “I would.”
Radin raised a cautionary finger. “Remember, she’s a virgin. Y
ou can’t have her.”
Krael snorted. “Yet. If she’s worthy.”
“She’s getting away,” Savous pointed out.
Krael glanced disdainfully at him, then returned his gaze calmly to Radin. “Where should I meet you?”
“The old tree entrance.”
With a nod, Krael took off, sprinting after the woman.
Radin cast his gaze about to see that his men had all but disappeared into the trees with their human cargo. The wagons were bare, the caravan master and his men sprawled in heaps on the ground. Some were even snoring. This would make quite a good story to perpetuate the legend of the Dark Forest.
He returned his gaze to Savous, who glared at him. “Yes?”
“What was that about?” The younger man gestured into the trees where Krael had departed.
Radin shrugged, kneeling beside the caravan master. “If she was aware enough to run, then she needed to run, virgin or not.”
“What if he fucks her?”
Radin snorted, digging in the caravan master’s pockets. “You don’t think I’m going to trust him that far, do you? Aha!” He produced a tiny key from a chain within the man’s waist pocket. “Besides, Krael’s not likely to get at her sex without this to unlock that blasted belt.” He stood, dusting off his knees. “Take the others and return home. I’ll fetch Krael and she of the violet eyes and meet you there.”
Savous’s face was skeptical, but he questioned no further. With a last, wicked grin, Radin took off after Krael.
Chapter Two