by Jaide Fox
“The rich darkness of your nipples begs for a taste,” he groaned, dipping his head to suckle at her tit with his eager mouth. She moaned, threading her hands through his hair, enjoying the silk of his locks, the erotic, hungry pull of his hot mouth on first one and then the other breast.
Replacing his mouth with his hands, he moved and kissed up the valley of her chest, nibbling her collarbone. Sucking her neck hard, he grazed her tender flesh with his teeth, releasing her breasts to rip his kurt away before sliding his hands down to cup her generous buttocks. He grabbed each cheek with a palm, lifted her against the cold rock wall and trapping her with the hard flesh of his body.
Her legs spread at the movement, opening for his hips, laying her wide and vulnerable for the taking. Cold air wafted across her fevered, wet cunt, making her shiver and need his hot possession.
She wanted him to claim her, wanted nothing more than the feel of his shaft deep inside her. He teased her cleft with his nearness, so hot and hard. The thick head of his cock slipped down her wet slit, moving smoothly against her, driving her need to be filled higher.
Swan ran her hands up his muscular, sinewy arms, touching every part she could reach, urgent and greedy for all of him. He groaned against the corner of her jaw, his tongue lathing the line as he pressed the length of his shaft against her slickened cleft.
Swan gasped, arching her neck, clutching his shoulders as he burned a trail down the column of her throat. He rotated his hips, sliding the heat of his erection along her slit in long torturous strokes. His cockhead nudged her swollen clit, breaking a moan from her.
She arched close. The bare lips of her cunt were teased by the jerk of his long, hot thickness rubbing through her juices and soft flesh. He drove her crazy, alternating between slow wooing and rough caresses. She never knew what to expect with him.
“Please, Raphael. Dawn....”
He broke away from her throat, meeting her eyes with a heady look as he pressed her to the cavern wall and she felt the head push against the tender edges of her pussy. Her small hole stretched as he pushed against it, tight and hot and hard. Holding her gaze with his own, his eyes intense and lust-filled, he his engorged length deep inside her with a suddenness that stunned her, left her clenching against the onslaught of his invasion.
Swan bit her lip to keep from crying out as he sank fully to the hilt, bumping her cervix with bruising force. His hairy pubic bone ground against her swollen clit, rubbing her roughly as grinding into her.
Seeing his grimace of pleasure when he settled inside struck her with an intense tension.
“Don’t hold back from me, Swan,” he murmured, burying his face against her neck as he pulled out and plunged deeply once more.
Her legs wrapped around his hips, she could feel the tension in his hands as he supported her, the flex of his buttocks as he moved and pumped inside her, bumping and grinding and driving that ache deep within her slick channel. Her stomach contracted on a hard spasm, the pain of lust driving her to tighten her legs around him. She undulated her body, rolling herself against him, urging him to faster and harder movement until his body pounded against hers and she could hear his sac slap against her anus.
Possessed with the urge to please and be pleased, he moved faster and faster, each rippled vein bumping along her channel spurning quivers to run through her body. Swan hooked her heels under his buttocks, tilting against him, rocking as he thrust again and again. She dug her nails into his back, the tremors climbing with each pounding second.
She could feel it building within her, recognized the sensation intimately. Her body tightened involuntarily. Every muscle and nerve reached for the pleasure as if with grasping fingers. He was killing her, driving her to the cliff’s edge.
Her heart struggled to keep her alive with the demands she placed upon it. She couldn’t seem to remember to breathe ... only sporadically gasping for breath when her chest ached for air.
He bit her neck, piercing the skin with his sharp teeth. In that instant, as the blood gushed into his mouth, ecstasy rolled over her in a heart stopping wave. Swan cried out at the sudden , unexpected bliss. She heard herself scream as pleasure burst inside her like a tidal wave. She bucked, clinging to him with desperation, shaking and shuddering with the ripples carrying through her liquid center and erupting from the erotic draw of his mouth.
He pushed into her harder as his own release neared, her orgasm building upon itself, liquefying muscle and bone to only heat and need. He groaned as he climaxed, breathing raggedly against her neck as the warm seed spewed into her belly and hot pulsing relief spasmed through her cunt. She gripped him with her body, milking every drop from him greedily.
Tears streaked her face. She hadn’t realized that she was crying. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze with an unfathomable expression on his face, licking his lips.
He lifted her away from the wall then, remaining inside her as he settled them near the fire. Rolling to his back, he held her cradled atop him. He smoothed his hands down her back, through the hair that had fallen from her braid.
Swan reveled in the feel of his heart racing against her cheek, the gentle comfort of his arms. It couldn’t last. Swan lifted up, regarding him with the sorrow she felt in her spirit. “It is the last time. You feel it as I do.”
“Yes,” he whispered, cupping a hand behind her head as he brought her down to meet his hungry, sorrowful kiss. Emotion hovered under the surface, elusive to her, out of reach.
Swan pulled away, moved from atop him. She draped a leg over his, cuddled against his chest. She feared the change as never before, knowing when next she awoke, their fates would finally be decided.
CHAPTER TEN
Raphael lay with Swan until she fell into a deep sleep as she always did before the change. At the sound of her even breathing, he slipped from under the drape of her arms and legs. He tied his kurt around his hips, standing over her, caressing her sleeping form with his gaze, drawn to her soft curves, warm brown skin, and the cloud of her honey brown hair spread beneath her.
Her thick black lashes curled against her cheeks, making her seem at peace.
Looking on her, he could forget their differences, what had drawn them together, yet pushed them apart. He hated Morvere for what he’d done, but had he not, Raphael would never have known her. A fierce ache blossomed with the knowledge, undeniable.
He knelt and touched her cheek, brushing a strand of hair from her lips. They parted on a sigh, drawing him unerringly forward to taste her again. He leaned to kiss her once more. Their breath mingled as one. He pulled away, pained, and left her, unable to be near when she shifted into the graceful bird.
He walked quietly through the cavern to the outside, leaned against the lip’s edge as he watched fingers of dawn creep across the darkened sky. He rubbed his eyes, lack of sleep and their insane pace wearying him. An hour of rest would set him to rights, for then he could heal torn muscle ravaged by near constant running.
“She changes?” Syrian asked, drawing his attention. He was crouched on a crop of rock, looking out toward Shadowmere as the light slowly pulled back the blanket of dark.
“Yes,” he said, his voice soft. Raphael stepped from the edge, moved until bare rock stood at his back.
Syrian stretched and faced him. He’d been silent most of the journey, withdrawing into his mind to prepare facing Morvere and disabling the Lysian pool. “She accepted punishment?”
Raphael laughed, a harsh bark of sound. There’d been no punishment except his own. Touching her was pure torture ... when he knew he could never be with her, not forever as he longed. He leaned against the sheer rock, gratified to feel its rough hardness dig into his back. Pain kept him alert, alive. He’d do well to remember that fact.
“She needs you, Raphael. You more than anyone know the ways of women.”
Truth, he couldn’t deny. But Swan blinded him. He couldn’t think straight when she was near, and her persistent denial infuriated him like nothing else.
“I take her to Avonleigh when this is through. A wolf cannot love a swan.”
“She will not always be so.”
“She will always be human. Her heart is against the beast. No mark can change her will--and I cannot force her to see what she will not.”
Syrian looked thoughtful a moment. “Love coaxes. Force can only destroy.”
Raphael grunted. “You do not know Swan. I can see with my own eyes.”
“You are as blinded by pride as she is.” Syrian rose, stretching muscles tired from holding his position so long. “I’ll see to Swan. The bird likes not the scent of a predator.”
He nodded, watched Syrian go inside. That was wholly the problem--he was a threat to Swan, a threat to her way of life. He turned back to the sky, disturbed to have his faults laid out before him, faults that couldn’t be changed.
They rested briefly before pushing onward. Raphael could take no chance with Swan’s life. Vachel led them through labyrinthine paths, moving steadily down, darkness swallowing their descent. Needing no torches to see, they passed through the range quickly, moving with a speed borne of urgency.
Hours passed and still they ran. The climate changed in the tunnel, growing warmer as they approached the outside. Vachel hung back as they neared the entrance, waiting in the dark. Raphael and Syrian continued on until they reached an edge much the same as that where they had entered. Outside, the sun dwindled in the sky. In the valley spread a small village, near enough to be a danger should they be seen. Beyond its borders lay the Skarlothian mountains, black and shining like glass.
One single, hidden path led to the Lysian pool. Only a mage could reveal it, and while the sun shone, they could not chance discovery by the villagers. They rested while the sun dipped, waiting for cover of darkness before proceeding, hoping they were not too late.
* * * *
Swan awoke to Syrian’s golden face, his sapphire eyes full of concern. “You were asleep longer than expected. I believe he nears. You’ve only just now changed and the sun set an hour past.”
She sat up, stiff, her left hand tingling. It was the first time it had ached since Raphael had healed her. She flexed her hand, looking around. “Where is Raphael?”
“He awaits you outside. We must hurry if we are to succeed.”
She dressed quickly and joined them outside. They watched the sky as gray clouds uncovered the lonely silver moon. “The red has gone,” she whispered. “Have we come too late?”
Syrian looked at her. Raphael remained silent. “We’ve no choice but to try.”
Vachel carried them down the mountain, one by one. Distant fires lit the town. Raphael took no chance on being spotted as a beastman, and so remained in human form just as Vachel ran alongside them instead of taking to the air. By the time they reached the steep hills leading to the range, Swan was winded and tired. A cramp stabbed her left side with each step. She said nothing, just gritted her teeth against the pain and continued on.
She’d vowed not to slow them down or be a hindrance. She would not start now, not so close to their goal.
Syrian stopped suddenly and pushed back his hood. They’d reached the path, though she could see nothing with her untrained eyes. He turned his face skyward, his eyes closed and palms clasped open against his chest. The wind stirred as he murmured strange words that tickled the mind, gaining strength as he pushed his hands forward. His hair flew around him with the force, his robes whipping in the wind, cracking like sails.
A golden glow spread down his arms, energy traveling toward his fingers, curling through the air.
The hairs rose on the back of her neck as she watched him, and she stood under Raphael’s arm, seeking shelter.
Syrian stopped as abruptly as he began, opened his eyes and pointed toward the mountain. A small path she hadn’t seen twisted up the mountain, disappearing beyond a crevice, invisible to the naked eye.
“So lays the path,” he said, moving forward.
They walked up the steep incline, the stone smooth and unlittered with even the smallest pebble, the slightest crack. A crevice broke the mountain, dark and tight. They continued climbing until they reached a wide platform. From there they walked into the jagged rip that split the mountain. Light flared at their approach.
Swan jerked back, shielded her eyes until her vision adjusted. Slowly she withdrew her hands, blinking. Her mouth gaped as she beheld the sight before them. Above the silver moon hung in the center of a huge opening, shining down on a pool of glittering water, illuminating the cavernous room. The water rippled at their approach, sensing the presence of magic. It moved toward Syrian as he walked around, silver ripples undulating like reaching fingers.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, walking nearer.
Raphael stopped her, held her arm. “And deadly to all but those with the gift.”
“Indeed,” Syrian said. “I sense no disturbance, but he cannot be far. I must work quickly if we are to leave before he comes. Stand away from the entrance.”
“What is he going to do?” She’d never once thought to question how they would disable the pool. She had foolishly thought perhaps they could break it apart, but remembered it was protected with powerful magic.
“Drain it. I can create but a small opening in the pool’s base, but it requires much of my power. The runes protecting it meld cracks in the rock. I can hold it open for a time, but do no lasting damage. To destroy it would take a coven with a century’s experience.”
They moved aside as he instructed, standing flat against the wall. To touch the liquid was poison without the knowledge to channel its energy. Even beastmen were susceptible.
Syrian stood before the opening, his legs braced. He pushed his sleeves up and focused on the base of the pool. Sweat beaded his brow as his skin began to glow. The light slithered up and down his arms, coating his skin, climbing beyond the cloth, covering every inch of skin.
The air rippled with energy, heating the atmosphere, scorching their lungs. The stone walls sweat with the heat, gasped as a crack formed in the pool’s base. Silver water burst through the opening, rushing along the floor the way they’d come.
Swan watched, mesmerized, unable to tear her gaze away from the silver stream. It moved like a live thing, a serpent slithering along the ground, suddenly freed. Syrian breathed harshly, his arms shaking from holding the crack wide as though his fingers pried the rock apart. His skin shown brilliantly as the Lysian water drained away, down the mountainside. White streaks formed in his hair, and still he continued chanting, drawing out the last drop.
He dropped to his knees as the flow stopped, breathing raggedly. Swan and Raphael rushed to his side, helped him to his feet.
“It ... took more than ... I thought it would,” he said heavily, a wry grin on his face.
Swan touched his snowy hair, overcome. She hugged him tightly, and he patted her back soothingly. Pulling back, she held his hand to her heart. “Thank you, Syrian. Had I but known, I never would have allowed you to take such a risk.”
“You are most welcome, my lady.” He nodded at Raphael, who gripped his biceps in a gesture of thanks. “Now if I may say so, we must hasten our return to Shadowmere. Morvere will go there now that the pool is empty.”
“I agree. Vachel, come. We go,” Raphael said.
They needed no prodding to leave the haunted cavern. The presence of ancient magic had disturbed them all. As they moved through the crevice, the stone shifted, groaning. Swan glanced over her shoulder to see the opening close, melding together as though never cracked asunder.
She shivered and hurried behind Raphael, Vachel close behind her.
As Syrian stepped outside, on the cavern’s ledge, a bolt of light shot from the sky and struck him full in the chest. Smoke billowed as he fell to the ground.
Swan gasped, too shocked to scream. Raphael ran, reached the edge first, his eyes straying right, away from Syrian. Vachel rushed past her, brushing her aside as he joined his brother. Desperate to reach them, she
followed quickly, not knowing what had happened or what to do.
A roaring growl ripped from Raphael’s throat just as she crossed the darkened threshold into the light. She knelt beside Syrian, checking his pulse, turning only after she made sure he still lived to see what had captured Raphael and Vachel’s attention.
A black fog spread up the mountain path, slithering up the sides like snakes, tendrils groping for their feet. It emanated cold like the grave, chilling the marrow, drawing the heat from their bodies.
Vachel leapt from the ground, summoning the wind to clear the black obscurity. It parted before them, revealing a man shrouded in robes of blackest velvet, steel gray hair streaming from his head, the ends crackling with chained energy.
“Morvere,” Swan hissed, then fell to her knees as a force wrenched her insides. She gasped in pain, clutching her stomach, unable to tear her gaze from the horror playing out before her.
“You are supposed to be weakened,” Raphael gritted out. They’d all thought so. It had been their only chance for success.
“I have enough strength to kill you all,” he snarled.
“You cannot kill me with such foulness,” Vachel growled, diving for him. Raphael moved in, racing toward Morvere as Vachel caught the sorcerer’s attention.
Morvere raised his hand and another bolt lit up the sky, flying toward Vachel. He dodged it--too late. The bolt ripped through his side, smashing into the mountain. Rock shattered, raining down on them like broken glass, littering the ledge with deadly slick debris. Vachel yelled in agony, diving still for Morvere, his hands curled like talons. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air with nauseating thickness.
Morvere waved him away with a glancing blow of power, and Vachel whirled in a somersault. He fell behind the sorcerer, plowed into the stone path and went still.
It was enough distraction. Swan struggled to her feet just as Raphael struck Morvere in the chest, his fingers grown into black claws. Blood, black in the darkness sprayed from a slash in Morvere’s throat. Morvere laid hands on Raphael’s biceps, smoke rising as he scorched Raphael’s flesh.