As he continued to hold her close, using his tongue to plunder her mouth, she moved against him again, feeling the tremors build inside her, even as the fierce need built for something more. Much more.
What this might be, she could not voice.
As Shadow Dancer, many men of the cliffs had vied to become her lover. But she had not wanted to share her body with a man, had never known the sweet ache of desire. Until now.
“You are safe.” The passion in his harsh voice made her shiver.
She tried to answer, but found that she could not. Gazing up at him, the smoldering heat she saw in his dark gaze made her burn.
With a sound – of anger or desire – he captured her mouth again. Gladly she met him, thrilling to the power of it, the mindless, vibrant sensuality that now seemed to ooze from her very pores.
His mouth left hers, suckling her breast through the thin cloth she wore. The rough caress of his tongue brought another kind of desperate madness, making her writhe with mindless need.
As she moved he groaned. She arched her back, seeking to bring the caress of his mouth closer. Still holding her cradled in his arms, he sank to the ground with her, until intertwined they lay on a soft bed of leaves, with only the rising silver moon and the silent animals of the forest to bear witness.
Above them the canopy of branches seemed to part, revealing the inky night sky.
The moon hung full, ripe with power.
She fought it, tried to ignore its siren’s magic, but its song called to her, beguiled her, and claimed her, far stronger even than the raging desire his touch evoked in her.
Stiffening, she pulled away. Inexplicably, she felt her eyes fill with tears.
Breathing harshly, he let her go, saying nothing, merely watching her with a shuttered gaze as she bent low to touch the earth, lifted her head to scent the slight breeze that brought the blessed air, and bowed her head to let the silent fall of her tears bring the water.
Only once did she glance his way. Silhouetted so sharply in the bright moonlight, it struck her that this golden one was the fourth element – fire. She had felt it in the touch of this man who she wanted more than she had ever wanted another.
For an instant, she knew a sharp pang of regret. Then the compelling song of the moon mesmerized her. She turned away and reluctantly began to move, as she had been born to do.
As she moved, so began the magic.
Tingling in her blood, rippling across her skin, the immediate swelling of power surprised her, too strong, too much. It came much more rapidly than ever before, the glittering, dizzying current of magic overwhelming her.
She had not long before she lost all sense of who she was, had been, could be.
“Egann…” what she had meant to be a shout came out
a mere whisper.
His hand shot out, catching her wrist, then releasing her as she slipped away. He sought to hold her with his gaze instead, the startling blue of his eyes echoing in her mind.
Praying that when she returned to her body after the dance, she would awaken cradled in his strong arms, Deirdre managed a smile. Her last conscious thought before she gave over her body to the music, was of gratitude and joy that she had Egann to protect her.
Minutes – or hours – later, she opened her eyes to find that she had gotten her wish. Holding her close, Egann gazed down at her with a mixture of befuddlement and concern.
“I am back,” she murmured drowsily. “How long was I gone this time?”
“Several hours. The moon is well on her journey to the horizon.”
With a sigh of relief, she let herself relax. “Despite the strength of the spell, the dance was not so bad then, for I have not missed an entire night this time.”
“Is it continually like this?” The anger in his voice surprised her. “Do you always leave your body when you are claimed by the dance?”
Again she felt tears gather in her eyes, though this time she held them back and kept them from falling. “I should not be surprised that you understand it so well.”
“I am well acquainted with the ways of magic.”
With a slight nod she acknowledged the truth of his words. “Then you also know that I have no choice. When the full moon rises, I must dance.”
He leaned forward, bringing her close against his chest. With one big hand he smoothed her hair back from her face, the surprising gentleness of the motion causing her throat to ache.
No one had touched her thus – in all of the years that she had lived.
“How does it feel?” His voice was a quiet rumble. “Having no choice, being compelled by such an elemental thing as the full moon?”
Again he surprised her. But then again, perhaps their lives were not so different after all.
“How does it feel?” She gave a sad smile, knowing he could not see it. “Probably the same way it felt to you, when you lived under the heavy mantle of kingship. Stifling, infuriating – yet exhilarating as well. The music, the dance, the magic - it liberates me.”
His silence was more telling than any words.
Curious now, she pressed for an answer. “Did you not have something like this when you lived in Rune? Something that helped you escape, that brought you relief, however temporary, from your duties and the responsibilities of a King?”
He shook his head, the movement rocking her against him. “I had nothing. Even now, when I thought I might find freedom, I still cannot be free. At least until,” his grim tone spoke of his resolve, “I find the amulet and return it to Fiallan.”
And then he would be rid of her as well. Yet he touched her with such tenderness.
“What do you want from me?” She had not meant to ask this question, knew he wanted to keep some sort of distance between them – but the words seemed to be torn from her, even as her body continued to react to his nearness. Holding her breath, she could not keep herself from turning her head and pressing one tiny kiss upon his muscular chest.
To his credit, he did not do any of the things that he might have done. He did not laugh, nor mock; he did not even push her away. Instead he continued to hold her, to watch her, though the hand that had stroked her hair so sweetly went still.
“I do not know.” Bewilderment colored his deep voice. “This tie between us is strange indeed.”
So he too had felt the tug, the connection. More than physical, the strength of it frightened her, as well as arousing her suspicions as to the origin of the tie.
“Think you that magic is the cause of it?” she asked.
He cocked his shaggy head while he pondered. Shifting against him, Deirdre wondered why she could not seem to summon the strength to move out of his arms, even as he tightened them around her. Held thus, with his body pressed against her, she felt his hard and swollen manhood - proof of his continued arousal.
“If it is magic, “ his breath ticked her ear, “then tis powerful magic indeed.”
The touch of his mouth on her neck made her shiver. She felt like an empty vessel, waiting to be filled.
As if she had spoken the words out loud, he reacted, cupping her chin with his hand and turning her face up towards him. His kiss was savage, punishing – but only at first. As she met his fervor with her own passion, showing him her own heat, the kiss gentled, slowed.
He touched her, no simple stroking of hair this, but the sensual touch of a man who wants a woman. Gasping against his mouth, stunned by the force of her desire, she let herself touch him back, reveling in the hard, muscular form of him. He captivated her, enchanted her, and all at once she knew that he would be the one with whom she would share her body.
She only prayed she could keep from giving him her soul.
He moved his hands lower, still stroking, and she opened to him. Now nothing came between them, for beneath her skirt she wore naught.
On her knees now, she turned to face him, daring to lower her eyes to see the proof of his arousal jutting from the top of his braes.
Such a sight – fri
ghtening and erotic both – thrilled her. Without hesitation she touched him, her small hand closing around his hardness.
At her touch he groaned, moving his mouth to nip at her ear, her neck. She lifted her breasts to him, her nipples pebbled and aching.
He lifted her then, his big hands at her waist, moved her easily until her womanly core, throbbing and wet, moved against him. She rocked, making wordless sounds to express her delight. Such pleasure as she had never known, shards of it, as different from the moon-dance as ice was from fire.
Liquid heat pooled between her thighs as she felt the turgid tip of him seek entrance to her. Gladly, hungry and burning, she held herself still and motionless, letting the unfamiliar sensation rock her even as his mouth fastened on one aching breast, then the other.
Now she knew what she had been missing, even in her dreams. She welcomed it, yearned for it, even as she sought – with her hands, her mouth, her body – indeed, with her very soul, to bring him closer. Though she knew not how or why, she realized that this was more than the mere joining of bodies – this was a melding of sorts, like the way she bonded with the moon when she danced. Though this felt much more powerful than that, for each caress seemed to bring forth a peculiar sort of shivery magic that grew until she could sense the palpitations in the air, the force of their joining making waves both within and outside of the limited reality she had always known.
Then Egann moved, and she forgot to think.
With a cry he pushed deeper inside of her. She felt herself tear, a sharp splinter of momentary pain, and he froze.
"You are not--"
Instead of answering she covered his mouth with hers, using her tongue in the way that he had, nibbling and teasing his lips until he opened his mouth in a gasp and she claimed him. She thought to shift against him, sheathing him fully. The movement brought her such silvery sensations of pleasure that she rocked again and again over him, up and down, reaching, reaching... until his hands recaptured her waist and held her still once more with him buried deep inside her.
“Nay!” she cried out a protest, moving her head savagely against his mouth, squirming in complaint. Still he held her captive, his breathing harsh against her mouth. Deep inside her she felt the tremors build, moon shivers of ecstasy such as she'd never danced. Like a mad woman she fought him, taking him deeper and moving and clenching and shuddering until she could bear no more. Finally, with a cry, she held him tight inside her and shattered.
Through hooded eyes he watched her, his jaw tight, his corded muscles bearing witness to the strength of his will. So beautiful, she thought wildly, with the moonlight turning the gold of his hair to silver and his eyes so dark she could not read them. She leaned up, touched her mouth to his again, and felt him tense as he fought to keep the passion from claiming him the powerful way it had taken her.
"Don't... move." He ground out, his head falling back and away from her as he sought to regain control. But his body, that rigid flesh that she clenched deep inside of her, had a will of its own. She felt him surge again, felt her own body thrum in answer with a rain of hot honey, and watched Egann finally relinquish his tenuous grip on control.
With his body he drove inside her, filling her, thrusting in a tempo too erratic for her to ever attempt to dance, finally joining her in release with a warrior's cry. She felt his essence fill her as he shuddered inside her; she welcomed and embraced it, in full reluctant knowledge of the fruit such a thing might someday bear. Regrets? Later she would examine these, if she had them at all.
For now, she would take this moment, in all its stark, earthy beauty, and revel in it.
Because she knew that Egann, man of Faerie and unwilling King, would not stay long with one such as she.
Yet so tenderly did he hold her, still wrapped within his arms.
They lay together in silence, while their heartbeats slowed. Finally, when she had caught her breath, she thought she might have enough self-control to speak, to hide the wonder and the joy and the sense of fulfillment that their lovemaking had given her.
Perhaps he had given her a child.
And what, she wondered, could she give to him? He had his own magic, ten times more powerful than any she could bring with her dance. All he wanted was freedom – that and to find the Amulet of Gwymyrr. Could she truly assist him in that?
She thought of her dream and of how it had foreshadowed the beauty of their bodies joining. Perhaps she had also dreamt true, when she’d dreamt of the amulet. Little as it may be, she would share this with him, whether it be truth or lie.
“This amulet you seek, is it the shape of a star?”
He went suddenly still. “Aye,” he growled, “it is.”
She smiled, glad that this time she had dreamt true. “And do gems of bright colors decorate each point?”
Instead of answering, he pushed her away, rising.
"What game is this you seek to play?" Towering over her, his voice sounded like the ice that coated the cliffs in the winter.
Suddenly cold, she reached for her skirt, pulling it around her as she willed her heartbeat to return to normal.
“I play no game. I have dreamt of it.” She told him simply, wondering if he, who had just made it clear that he did not trust her, would understand. “Before you found me, on this very day while I slept. I have seen your amulet in my dreams. It hangs around the neck of a powerful man.”
“Who?” He faced her with clenched fists and the threatening stance of a warrior about to enter battle.
His harsh expression should not hurt her with such sharp and vicious pain, but it did. “I could not see his face. Twas but a dream, after all.”
“You know more than you tell.” His tone was flat.
Aching, she forced herself to hold his gaze. “All I know is what I have dreamt.”
"Dreams." He shook his head, his eyes cold and wary. "They are nothing. I too have dreamt, and you have plagued my sleep as well. But you beguiled me the night my amulet was taken from me, and I think now you use your wiles again to distract me from my purpose."
“Use my—“ How dare he! “If anyone has been beguiled this night, it has been me.” Shaking with the force of her anger, she moved away. A distraction. Was that what he thought this had been? Did he not sense the disturbance their lovemaking had created in the very fabric of their world?
She had been waiting for this all of her life. This man, this bright warrior, her true mate. Despite the fact that she could not have him for very long, she had lacked the strength of will to deny herself the aching beauty of their joining.
Her anger faded as Deirdre realized the enormity of what she had done. She had made love with an immortal Faerie of Rune, one who personified everything she would forever be denied. If she had conceived a child with one such as he - she retreated within herself and tried to think. Great Goddess, what had she done?
CHAPTER SIX
Never before had he exhibited such a shameful lack of restraint.
Cursing his traitorous body, Egan covertly watched the bewitching mortal woman. Though he had been tortured by sensuous dreams of her for months before the amulet had been stolen, he had not planned to give in to his base desires. He needed no such complications in his life – especially when he had such an important task to complete.
Thus far he had managed to protect Deirdre from the damaging rays of the sun, but it now appeared he would have to protect her from himself as well. If he had managed to impregnate her, the child would be born half-faerie, half mortal. Such halflings do not live an easy life. Never would he wish such hardship on a child of his seed.
He had to find the amulet as quickly as possible. Otherwise he would never be free, for even though it was missing, the thing hung like a heavy stone around his neck.
The amulet. Did she know who had taken it? She had dreamt about it – or so she said. She’d told him just enough information to tantalize him, yet not enough to help him in his search.
It mattered not to his body
– already he burned to touch her again.
Magic! He should have scented it on the wind. It had to be, for surely nothing else could distract him so thoroughly and so well.
Perhaps the one who had stolen the amulet sought to enchant him to distract him from his purpose.
Was it Deirdre – or another who remained hidden, seeking to move the strings on some shadowy web of manipulation? Was it the one who had stolen the amulet – and now used its great power in this trivial manner?
No matter. He must resist. He could ill afford to let himself be swayed. He must remain determined, focused on a quest that by all rights should be much simpler than it was.
The Shadow Dancer was a distraction he did not need.
In the silver moonlight she looked more like a creature of enchantment than any Fae woman. Beautiful, ripe, tousled and sensual. Though once again fully clothed, the material over her full breasts still bore the damp imprint of his mouth, her swollen lips the mark of his.
Even the sight of her made his body surge. He cursed silently, even as he felt himself harden.
Turning away from her so that she would not see how she affected him, he hurriedly pulled on his braes and glanced over his shoulder at her, squinting through the darkness.
Reluctantly, he cast a small spell to light his torch, knowing the flickering light would only make her startling beauty more alluring, knowing as well that he had little control over her effect on him.
No woman, mortal or Fae, had ever made him so randy, so hard.
Deirdre of the Cliffs. A woman cursed. What mysterious tie bound him to her, and she to him? Each time he looked at her, he found her even more beguiling. The urge to take her again made him fight for control. Surely one more time would sate him – a simple pleasuring, a final release as he plunged his swollen staff deep into her moist honey over and over again.
Such erotic thoughts helped matters not at all. If anything, the bulge in the front of his braes grew even larger.
"Tell me now - are you witch or some kind of magi? Have you cast some sort of powerful spell, that makes me desire you so badly?"
Shadow Magic Page 7