A Bard's Prophecy: Song Of The Bear 4

by Shelby Morgen

  Her breathing quickened, coming hard and fast now, and her eyes widened, the pupils large and dark, but she wasn’t screaming in terror. He kissed her again as he lifted her hands high enough to tie off the ends of the leather strap, securing her tightly to the ring in the ceiling. Her nostrils flared, but she didn’t try to fight him. Which was a damn good thing. He could hold the woman, in whatever form she came to him. The great blue Dragon was another story. If she panicked…

  Tâkuri didn’t try to fight until he stepped back. Then her legs clamped around his waist, seeking to hold him as she suddenly twisted in her bonds. He gently untwined her, pulling away gradually. When he stepped away, she realized her toes barely brushed the floor. She could either support herself, or keep trying to reach for him. She stood staring at him, her eyes wide, as he backed up enough to really look at her.

  She was everything he’d ever wanted. So powerful. So dangerous. Yet she was his, held captive as much by her love for him as by his thin leather bonds. He untied the loincloth, letting it fall from his waist, so that he stood before her naked. “Do you know how hard I get just looking at you?”

  He slid a hand down to cup his balls, rolling them slightly to ease the pressure. She whimpered as he stroked the other hand slowly, deliberately, over the length of his cock. “You do this to me. Just thinking about you does this to me.”

  He stroked himself slowly once again, so hard he could have come just from looking at her. He thought about relieving himself while she watched, knowing he’d recover long before she was ready for him to sink into her, but he could wait. He was making her wait, after all. Instead he squeezed, hard, at the base of his cock until he felt his balls relax just a little.

  One leg lifted to try to wrap back around him as he stepped closer to her again. He captured her leg in the crook of his elbow, helping to support her slightly as he kissed a path back down to the nipple he’d neglected, pausing there to give it the treatment he’d laved on the other one.

  Still she shrieked when he lifted her leg over his shoulders, dropping to his knees in front of her. At the first touch of his hands against her springy curls, parting her lips so that he could see what he was about to taste, her hips curled up toward him, shuddering with need. He spread her wide like a banquet, blowing a soft stream of warm breath over her swollen pink flesh. But he didn’t stop there. She shrieked again as he turned toward her thigh, nipping her gently on the soft inner skin.

  He blew his breath out over the small red mark his teeth had left. “I don’t care about your past lovers. I am the one you’ll remember. Hundreds of years from now, I’ll be the only one you remember.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Only you. So don’t force me to kill you.”

  “Patience, my love. Patience.” He kissed his way slowly down to the faint hollow at the back of her knee, laughing as she curled her toes around behind his head, trying to coax him closer. “You have beautiful skin. So smooth. So soft. It’s almost magical.”

  She grew still at that, her foot no longer tensed against the back of his head. “It is magical. I—I took this form because I thought it would please you.”

  “Which form pleases you, Tâkuri? Is there one you favor more than others? “

  “You might not find the others so attractive.”

  He stopped to admire the shapely sweep of her calf, fascinated by the shift of the muscles beneath the skin as she reacted to his kisses. “Who you are is not merely what you look like. I want to see all your forms. I want to make love to all your forms.”

  “No you don’t. A Sidhe can take any form. I can be any living sentient thing. You would not love the Troll, nor the Orc. And I can’t see you with a bearded Dwarf woman.”

  He grinned at that. “I don’t know. I’ve never made love to a Dwarf woman.”

  Her voice dropped so low he could barely hear her. “I could be Clan Bear for you, Balthain.”

  “Aye, I’m sure you could. That would be fun. Especially if we shifted together. But I don’t want you to be someone you’re not. I love you for who you are.” Still, it would be a bad time for her to shift back to the Dragon, with her small, delicate toes curled against his hand as he kissed the arch of her foot. She shivered, but she did not shift. He smiled to himself. He would face the Dragon. Eventually. ‘Twould not hurt him for once to be the smaller one of the pair.

  Her foot nearly jerked out of his hand. He looked up, watching the quick rise and fall of her chest as she fought for air, her eyes squeezed shut and her head thrown back as far as she could. “What have we here?” He laughed as he ran his thumb over her instep, watching her squirm under his touch.

  Little mews of protest escaped around the lip she had clamped between her teeth. Balthain grinned up at her, her foot cradled in his hands. “Is there something you want, my love?”

  “Yes, damn it! I want to feel your cock buried within me! “

  “But you’re not in charge here, are you?”

  She rocked forward, her mons invitingly near his head as he knelt at her feet. Too close to ignore. He let her foot escape, catching the other one up as she shifted her weight off its straining toes. Tight. She’d been working too hard to keep her weight off her wrists, to give herself more freedom of movement. He stopped to massage the abused foot, watching her eyes slip shut as she groaned at the combined pleasure and torture. He needed to keep her off balance, distracted, focused on him. Should she remember that with one moment of thought she could shift to a form that might easily overpower him…

  Balthain smiled to himself as he kissed his way back up to her mons. He was young. He was strong. He was well trained as a Warrior and as a street fighter. He wouldn’t mind taking on the Dragon in a friendly wrestling match. As long as she didn’t barbecue him.

  He thought she might as he returned his attention to the small patch of fur between her legs. She struggled as he slipped both legs over his shoulders, fighting to pull him closer, faster, trying to press her mons against him. He used both hands to spread her wide, watching the soft pink flesh turn bright red before he even touched her.

  The first long, slow lick had her writhing, her heels clasped hard against his shoulder blades. By the second lick she was shuddering against him, whimpering as she twisted, trying to get closer or pull away, he wasn’t sure which. He rimmed her opening with the tip of his tongue, teasing, before he slipped forward to taste the flood of juices that greeted him.

  His cock hammered at his belly, demanding attention. He could feel the drip of pre-cum trickling slowly down towards his balls, designed, he was sure, to drive him insane. He thrust his tongue into her harder, no longer teasing, but demanding now.

  Her breath came in whimpered pulls as she thrust back against him, lifting herself toward his touch. He flicked his tongue over her once again, then switched his attention back to her clit. It was almost completely hidden now, drawn in deep and tight. He teased the underside of the small hooded shaft with light strokes, then circled the base before he slipped his lips over her to suck gently at the hard little nub.

  She screamed as she came, something incoherent but loud enough to let anyone who might be listening know he was no longer alone.

  Good. Let them wonder.

  Unless of course her screams attracted unwanted visitors. The last thing he needed was Dahlai bursting in the door to find her mother tied to a ring in the ceiling. The girl was nearly an adult, but still, this was her mother…

  He knew damn well he hadn’t locked the door. He’d left it open for Tyrell. He didn’t mind putting on a show, but he damn sure didn’t want Dahlai in the audience!

  Chapter Three

  Balthain stood, Tâkuri’s legs still wrapped around him, reaching backwards awkwardly to throw the bolt. The sense of risk hadn’t dimmed his arousal. If anything he was harder than ever. Urgency pushed at him. What was he waiting for, anyway? He would have her. Now.

  He slipped her legs down until only her heels clung hooked over his shoulders, leaving her fol
ded almost double as he pulled her hips closer. Supporting her with one arm under her ass, he reached up with the other to untie the tether from the ring in the ceiling. Her bound wrists fell over his head, pulling his face toward her kisses. The sense of urgency mounted as her tongue sparred with his. He pushed her back against the wall, guiding his cock into her with a shaking hand.

  There was no such thing as control with this woman. She tore him apart and rebuilt him with every touch. Deeper, deeper he slid into her, moving slowly, carefully, to make sure he didn’t hurt her, but she took all of him, pulling at him with her hands and her heels, demanding all he had to give. It was like sliding a heated rod into the armorer’s forge. Heat into heat, so intense, threatening to scald him with her white-hot flames. More. He needed more. He rocked back, the cool ocean air hitting his cock as he pulled out of her, only to thrust back in. Desperation drove him harder. He needed more of her. He didn’t want this to be over, but he needed…

  “Yes!” she hissed. “Now, Balthain! Now!”

  Harder. Faster. In and out. Cold and hot. Hard friction against smooth skin. With each stroke he could feel the coarse hair of her mons tangling with the fur at the base of his cock, could feel his balls slap against her. Harder. Faster. Hotter. She clenched around him, trying to hold him, then rocked, pushing him away, the backs of her thighs pressed against his chest. The sound of their sex reached his ears, wet, sucking noises as he thrust and pulled back, her moans of pleasure and torture, his own little grunts of frenzied desire.

  He wanted, needed to shift. She could be anything. Surely a Bear was no more challenge than a Dragon. The rational part of his brain argued that such a thing was no possible. Not here. Not now. They wouldn’t FIT. The room was too small.

  Her orgasm built, a tightening around him that became more, urged him to push harder, deeper, until the heat between them exploded and she screamed out his name. He kissed her as she screamed, swallowing the sound, holding, quivering within her, while she burned hot as a forge-fire under his hands, then slowly cooled.

  Lifting her free of his cock, he placed her bound hands on the lower bunk’s footboard. He grasped her hips as he rammed himself back into her, grunting with each thrust as he battled the need to shift. The bed shook with the effort of his thrusts, despite its firm anchoring to the wall. He hammered into her, straining, wanting nothing more, now, than to empty his seed into her. The need to shift was as strong as the need to come, but there was barely room between the end of the bunk and the ship’s outer wall for the man. He roared out his frustration, pounding relentlessly, knowing even as he did that it would not be enough.

  “Bears—come in—different—sizes!”

  Balthain had to concentrate to make sense of Tâkuri’s words. Not exactly something he was at his best at right at this moment. Different sizes? Well, some were probably better hung than others, but—Oh! The bears! Not—he laughed as he remembered the brown bears they’d seen near City of Port. Small bears. Almost miniatures of themselves.

  The shift was so smooth, so seamless, that it came almost without thought. One moment he was laughing, pounding into his intended mate with the ferocity of a sex-starved, battle crazed Warrior, and the next he was a smallish brown bear, his cock buried deep in the sheath of an even smaller brown female, with long, glistening fur that was just perfect to sink his teeth into. He opened his jaws wide, grasping her by the back of the neck, his paws pulling at her shoulders as he slid his long, thick shaft into the tight, wet depths of her cunt.

  So tight. So needy. She strained against him, taking in his length and grasping him like a fist, trying to lock him in her channel with each stroke. His balls, already farther back now from the cock that hung tied to his belly, felt so hard and tight he was sure they would explode any minute. Frantic, urgent need made him less careful than he might have been, pulling at her with paws and teeth as he fought to plant himself in her, then fought to pull free again. The tight clench of her walls around him drove him over the edge, his pace that of desperation now, hard and wanting, each plunge coming hard on the heels of the last, a frantic piston working in and out, in and out, reaching for oblivion.

  More. More! His hips bucked against her, driving, demanding. He could feel the change in her, feel her stiffen, her back legs stretched out under him, pushing her hips hard against the ridges of his pelvis. More. More! Her sheath tightened around, milking, demanding. Fierce need gave way to pleasure almost too painful to be borne, wave after wave of shooting stars colliding in his field of vision as he spilled his release into her waiting body.

  When at last their tense muscles began to relax, he kept his paws locked around her, cradling her as he dropped to the floor, his cock still buried within her. From this vantage point, lying on his back with the weight of her cuddled in his arms against his belly and chest, she didn’t look so tiny. She was a bear, sure enough, with all the strength and power that went with his species. Just smaller. Small enough to fit in a—a more confined space. Like a ship’s berth. Or—

  Once the laughter started, he couldn’t stop, even though to an outsider ‘twould have sounded more like insane snuffling.

  “What?” she snuffled back, her own voice tinged with laughter.

  “How?”

  “How?” Her snuffled response sounded puzzled.

  “Small Bears. You? Magic?”

  She stretched against him. “You thought it.”

  So. He’d done this himself. He laughed again. He’d never tried to be anything but a Grizzly before. “Small Bears fit in small places.”

  “What—Oh!”

  “Yes.” He laughed harder.

  “Love you.”

  “Love you.” He touched the tip of his nose to hers. “My mate.”

  “Mmm.” She turned her cheek against his chest. “Mate. Like that.”

  They drifted off to sleep together, a perfect fit, two shaggy brown bears entwined as lovers. They were perfect together. Powerful enough to bring down prey twice their size, gifted with vision to see in total darkness, armed with claws meant to rend and destroy, small enough to fit in a ship’s berth, or a tunnel carved by the hands of the Earth dwellers, the Dwarves who had first mined the heart of Élahandara.

  * * * * *

  Shaymmadah stumbled down from his perch at the ship’s stern, too exhausted to remember why he’d been angry, too tired to care. Strong arms captured him, stroking, soothing, supporting his useless weight, comforting. Too big. He was too big for even the mighty General Tranorva to deal with. He let his mind focus on the form she liked best, the one that took the least energy to maintain. It was his last coherent thought before she swept him into her arms and he drifted off to a deep, dreamless sleep.

  “The gods must have been crazy. What could they have been thinking? No sentient being can possibly be expected to think with two heads at once.”

  The rant was low, almost under her breath, but not quite out of range of his hearing. He frowned, trying to escape, but ‘twas no use. Apparently she’d been going on like this for some time. There was no way around it. He was definitely awake. Awake and naked and sprawled in a large, lavish bed. The floor seemed to rock gently under a bed that could therefore only have been that of the Captain’s quarters on a ship. Remembrance came crashing down on him.

  “First there was the knife. ‘Twas no’ as if I could no’ have taken on a few Sorcerers on my own. ‘Twas no’ as if falling onto that wee knife made it any easier for me to deal with the witches. Then the gods send me to some lost island no mortal can locate in search of his soul. And what do I find there? An island of bad tempered butterflies. Now he decides he’s going to turn into a Dragon and burn down the ship.”

  Shaymmadah rolled to his back, smiling despite himself as he scrunched farther up on the pillows, watching her pace the length of the small quarters. If she knew he was awake, it didn’t show. Her pacing—and ranting—continued uninterrupted. Her thin leather undertunic molded itself to her agitated body as she paced, showi
ng off hard lines and broad planes of tight muscles.

  “Why? Will we be in less danger adrift on a pile of charred boards out in the sea? Then as if one bad tempered Dragon isn’t enough he has to go and call forth another one. Why don’t we just call them all? They can burn down the halls of Élahandara and then we won’t have to worry about bad tempered males with no common sense who have no’ learned to trust. We can just cook the place and scramble about in the ashes to see if there’s aught left to rescue. What good is it to be the most feared Warrior in all the lands when the fool of a man finds it necessary to do his best to get us all killed at every chance he gets?”

  He would not laugh. No. That would be bad. She was obviously not in the best of moods in the first place. Though truthfully her anger made her that much more appealing. Instead he arranged himself carefully in the bed, taking on the darker form of Élandine, courtesan to the queens, for the contrast his skin tones would make against crisp, clean bed linens. He turned the covers back into an artfully arranged tussled mass, exposing the length of the naked body he knew she admired, his cock rising hard and proud into the cool ocean air.

  “Come to bed, M’Lady.”

  She whirled to face him, her expression all too easy to read, freezing in place as she took in the picture he’d chosen to present. He swallowed a small gloating laugh of triumph as her expression changed, needy hunger flickering across her face. All that power. In this form, she could break him in half with her bare hands. Seven foot of honed muscle and massive bone, eighteen stone of seasoned Warrior, the shaft of her battle axe stained to a dark mahogany with rivers of blood, and the sight of him naked could undo her.

  He smiled, the wolfish smile of a predator about to devour his prey. He made his voice softer this time, barely more than a low growl. “Come back to bed, Tranorva.”