Seduced by the Beast

by Jaide Fox

  Swan nodded, looking into the flames. She slowly told of Morvere’s betrayal, of Raphael’s rescue, of their hard journey to the Lysian pool and the sorcerer’s death.

  “By the gods!” Nila exclaimed, clutching her sister’s hand to her chest. “I had no idea. Were it not for your intervention....” She shuddered. “He collapsed after you disappeared, said you’d been abducted from us. He told me we must join to face the threat on Avonleigh. I could think of nothing but searching for you. The guards have patrolled the borders, searching for any sign, any ransom. But a sennight past, Morvere grew well enough to leave his room, and I haven’t seen him since. I wish I could spit upon his grave for the heartache he’s caused.”

  They hugged again. Nila could always be counted upon for her passions. She should never have doubted her safety. She’d proven herself capable of handling anything, and keeping the people going.

  A servant came in announcing her bath was ready, and she left. After she was bathed and fed, she went to bed, clutching her pillow as if Raphael lay beside her, wishing for the comfort of his embrace. She fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams filled with Raphael’s brooding face and glowing eyes.

  * * * *

  Swan’s heart wasn’t in overseeing the lands, and so Nila continued ruling. She was proud of her sister’s accomplishments, proud of her commitment to their health and prosperity. Her sister had grown into a woman, capable of handling anything. It made Swan proud to see her sister so accomplished.

  Still, nothing could pull her from the dark mood that consumed her every waking hour.

  A week passed, and she recovered. She worried about Raphael going back to Barakus, wondered how he faired against his enemies. Thought of his failure and death never crossed her mind. Were she to dwell on such things, she’d go mad.

  At night, she examined her belly, hoping a babe had been planted. And as the weeks passed and her monthly flow came, she cried again for chances lost. Eventually, the well of sorrow dried, and she could cry no more.

  That was when the dreams began.

  Subtle, at first she could remember nothing but the barest details, but each night her imagination grew. He came to her, tangled in her arms in legs, taking her again and again.

  A month passed, agonizingly. Desire grew with each erotic dream, until her every muscle ached for the release only he could give her. She tried touching herself, her fingers stroking her swollen, saturated lips, her clit begging for the callused fingers of her lover. She imagined his hands and lips upon her skin, pinching her nipples, smoothing her belly and thighs, but it was no use.

  * * * *

  “Swan, I worry over you. Has the spell some kind of lasting harm we do not know of?” Nila asked. They ate together each night in Swan’s solar, since Swan had no desire for the excited chatter of the masses.

  “I’m saddened for friends lost.” She couldn’t tell her sister the reason behind her morose mood. She knew it was past time she got on with her life and stopped feeling sorry for herself. He wasn’t coming back. He’d made his promise and kept it. “You are right. I have been selfish. I promise things will be better from now on.”

  Nila smiled and they chatted about the harvest and her many suitors. She was a prime age for marrying and should choose a husband soon. Swan made no response to Nila’s claim that she, herself, deserved to be married and happy with a husband and children.

  Swan climbed into bed that night, determined to put Raphael completely from her mind. It was time to heal. She didn’t know it would only intensify her dreams....

  * * * *

  A hand stroked her hair, pushed the mass away from her face. Swan turned into it, sighing, drowsy.

  The bed dipped as a heavy weight settled into it. Swan rolled toward it, encountered hard, hot flesh. She snuggled close, breathing deeply of his scent.

  A hand flattened on her belly, smoothed up her ribcage, a finger light under one breast.

  Swan arched, sighing, not daring to open her eyes and dispel the dream. Feathery light, the palm circled her breast, drawing closer and closer to her nipple. The sensitive tip puckered in anticipation, begging for his attention.

  Wet heat latched onto her nipple, sucking hard. Swan gasped, pleasure arcing through her body, settling between her legs. Her eyes flew open. She looked down to see a dark head at her breast.

  He massaged her other breast, teasing her nipple as his teeth grazed her distended flesh, breaking a moan from her throat. She ran her fingers through his hair, not daring to close her eyes for fear he’d disappear again. He looked up at the contact, his eyes flashing with gold.

  “Are you real?” she asked, breathless as he covered her with his body, eased between her parted thighs. His hard shaft lay heavy on her hip. He braced his arms on either side of her head, his eyes intensely boring into hers.

  “I never should have left,” he said, his voice gravelly with disuse. He descended for a kiss, crushing his lips to hers.

  The moment his breath mingled with hers, she felt lost again. Her heart thrilled at the contact, her spirit soaring.

  Swan clung to him, kissed him back, their tongues dueling, fueling desire urgent and desperate. She’d missed him more than life itself, that he was here in the flesh…Her mind could scarcely grasp that.

  He moved a hand between her legs, past the thatch of hair covering her sex, to that nub that needed his touch so badly. He probed her, circling and swirling her moisture, and she moaned into his mouth, sucking his tongue, silently begging for more. Needing more than just the touch of his fingers and the suckle of his mouth.

  He hooked a hand under one knee, rocked his hips against her, letting her feel his hard length. His cockhead slipped along her folds, teasing her clit, the opening of her womanhood. She broke away from his mouth, whimpering at his torment, digging her heel into his buttocks to spur him on.

  “Please,” she begged, arching, unable to hold still.

  He lifted her other leg, tilting her hips up and off the bed as he plunged deep inside her tight hole, his shaft stretching her to the limits. She felt as tight as she’d been when untouched, achy and needful. Swan cried out as he roughly nudged the blissful spot inside her, her heart hammering against her chest.

  It felt right to have him inside her. She clung to him, desperate for more.

  His arms tensed with the effort to control himself, to plunder her slowly, thoroughly.

  “Don’t hold back from me,” she whispered, meeting his gaze, echoing words he’d once whispered to her.

  He held her gaze as he thrust inside, harder, his control slipping. His eyes glowed amber as she tightened around him, dug her nails into his back. She gasped for more, until each deep thrust lifted her hips, faster, harder, his pubic bone grinding her clit.

  She shook her head, her eyes squeezed tightly, determined to ride with him until the end. Energy coursed through her veins, speeding, drawing her nerves tighter and tighter. Her inner muscles clenched and unclenched, reaching for that ultimate tension to draw pleasure from deep within her.

  She opened her mouth to scream as the climax claimed her, but Raphael smothered her cries with his mouth, his body jerking with the force of his own release. He kissed her all over her face, brushed her tears away.

  His heart thundered against her breast. She gloried in the feel of him, alive, holding her.

  As their blood calmed, he rolled off her, cradling her in his arms. She craned her head up, watching him in the dark. She feared to break the spell, feared not asking him the question that seared her mind. But she had no choice, if she was to remain sane. Her heart could take no more. “Have you come only to leave me again?”

  He was silent a long moment, stroking her hair. He breathed a deep sigh, shuddering. “I’ve come to take you with me.”

  She stiffened, unable to believe his words. “Truly?

  “I need you, Swan. More than water or air, I need your heart, for I lost mine to you long ago.” His voice broke and he went still, as if afraid to say
more, but needing to. “I love you.”

  “Raphael, Raphael, my love.” She hugged him tightly, kissing his chest, his face. “I died the day you left me. I’ve been heartbroken ever since.”

  “Forgive me.” He shuddered again, crushed her to him. “I thought I did what was best. I found I could not live without you. I died that day, as well.”

  She laid a finger against his lips, soothing their hurt. “Shh. There is nothing to forgive. You resurrected my heart with your kiss. I love you, Raphael, with every beat of my heart, with every breath I take.”

  THE END

  Coming in January, a never before released romance novel: Heart of Darkness by Jaide Fox, a paranormal/fantasy romance:

  Chapter One

  Bolting into an upright position, Isabeau Hart's ears perked up as she listened to the sounds of the night around her. The fingers of her left hand automatically wrapped around the onyx, gold encircled ring, which bound the index finger of her right hand. She clung to the golden circle with a fierce need, seeking unconscious comfort from one of the last remaining items that had once belonged to her mother.

  She licked her lips as she analyzed the different sounds in an attempt to discover what had awoken her, but could discern nothing in the silence outside of the ale house in which she was staying. Her ears were literally pricked up as she attempted to sift through the noises of the other inhabitants, but she could hear nothing.

  Something must have caused her to awaken though....

  Realizing that she hadn't taken in a breath of air for the last few moments, she gulped and attempted to once more, calm her breathing. Slowly, she inhaled and exhaled then sank back down on to the cot beneath her. She thought of the feather bed that had once sucked her into its comfort and the pleasant sleeping chamber that had been hers since birth and longed for it with an ache that had tears stinging against the sensitive flesh of her eyelids.

  Perhaps it wasn't the superficial comforts of home she missed, but the security of her parents' love and care, which had forever cushioned her from the harsher aspects of life.

  Isabeau sighed as she realized that perhaps that cushion had caused the last four years alone to be even more difficult, but still, she could not and would never regret the secure upbringing she'd been fortunate to have.

  Wriggling against the cot that was a makeshift bed for the night, she grimaced as the wooden spine seemed to scrape each nodule of bone that sat along the slender expanse of her back. In comparison to the down mattress she had once slept upon, it was akin to torture, but after four solid nights of sleeping on the loamy ground of varying woods throughout the realm, it was a welcome change. It was no wonder she was so fatigued, when night after night amongst the scurrying insects and rodents kept her from the deep slumber she needed after covering so much distance throughout the day!

  Although Isabeau was once more lying against the cot, she hadn't relaxed. Her senses were such that very little disturbed her, so when something did, when it actually woke her up from a deep slumber, she knew to trust her instincts. Over the last years alone, they had been her sole defense and she had come to rely upon them. Whilst at this moment in time, she could hear no particular reason to be agitated, her senses and instincts rarely lied.

  Something was out there.

  Waiting silently for her.

  Isabeau lifted a tired arm and scrubbed her fiery red hair back from her forehead. Using her thumb and index finger, she rubbed her eyes and tried to evaluate what her next move should be.

  Was it safer to remain here until daylight?

  Or sneak out now and attempt to dissolve into the woods and forests that surrounded this quiet village?

  Biting her lip, she realized that she was tempted to stay here and hide away for a few hours longer, but as the skin at the back of her nape persistently tingled, Isabeau knew that she had to move. A part of her longed for the blessed relief of sleep, but that tenacious tingling had her on edge and as far from the arms of Morpheus as was physically possible.

  Suffering from a severe lack of sleep as she was, Isabeau's movements were slow and dulled and her reactions were not exactly swift as she climbed from the cot and stood beside it. Her shining violet eyes were dazed with somnolence.

  Rising to her feet, she stifled a groan as her bones settled and she swept her hands along the length of her skirt to free it from the dust and lint that it had collected during her slumber. Isabeau gathered her few possessions, a square swatch of material which acted as a carrying bag when gathered together and currently contained a stale hunk of bread and a block of cheese.

  She had soon learned that any possessions she wished to keep had to stay on her person. The six guineas she had were sewn into the skirts of her petticoats. A miniature painting of her beloved mama and papa were tucked down the bodice of her chemise and the ring they'd bestowed upon her, never left her finger. In company, she often hid her right hand in her skirts so as not to attract attention to it. For even though she could change her appearance at will, for some reason, the ring stayed no matter what form she took.

  Having gathered all her things together, Isabeau quietly crept out of the ale house in which she had paid over the odds to sleep in a single chamber. It seemed a shame to depart so early in the night and a waste of good money to boot, but she had little choice. Her instincts were screaming at her and to ignore them could mean...

  She pursed her lips together and closed her eyes to deny what she knew to be fact. That whoever had murdered her parents, whoever had set their house alight and allowed them to burn to their deaths, was now on her tail and had been for the last four years.

  Exhaling roughly, Isabeau grimly exited the ale house as silently as she possibly could. The less attention she garnered the better. For even though it was the early hours of the night, her senses told her that of the twenty inhabitants, at least five of them were in a state of wakefulness. Any abrupt and strange noises could bring about an investigation on their parts and that would never do. For the last few years, discretion had been her watchword and she was certain, that that was the reason for her continued safety.

  How she knew there were twenty people staying in the inn and how she knew that five of them were awake, was simply one of those things that she had soon learned to accept. It was added to the fact that if she was injured, she could heal herself. And if she wanted to, then she could change her appearance.

  Her abilities were a mystery to her but with the life she led, they were her only security. Without them, she would more than likely have died days after her parents' death. Sixteen, she had been. Old enough to be wed in the eyes of the law, but she had been raised differently than other girls. She had been a young sixteen and the aftermath of losing her parents had been the most difficult time of her life.

  To this day, she was unsure as to how she'd coped. How she had survived. She could believe that she was, just that, a survivor. Someone, who despite the odds, despite the fact that everything was against her, wanted to live and would do anything physically and magically possible to do so.

  The ring ...was something she kept close at all times as it was her mother's. A part of her was unsure of its power, yet another part was certain that something inside her soul triggered its magic. Once, a few terrible months after the death of her mama and papa, a beggar had attempted to rip it from her hand. As soon as the gold and onyx had touched the man's flesh, terrible screams had escaped his throat and he had grabbed his hand back and nursed it against his chest, like a mother would a suckling babe. He had soon run off and left her to herself.

  That experience made her believe that while the ring reacted in unnerving and miraculous ways whilst sat upon her hand, it couldn't on another's.

  What that made her, she didn't know.

  A part of her wondered if that was why she was constantly running from place to place. Attempting to outrun the knowledge of what she actually was.

  Perhaps she was wrong, perchance her constant flight from danger was
for some other reason, but the simple villagers of her home town had never treated witches with any kindness. There were documented papers, which explored the dunking of countless, simple women and the burning of supposedly evil sorceresses, who were in league with the devil.

  Mayhap, the villagers had been behind her parents' deaths and she simply had to count herself blessed that she had not been in the house that day. Had been sent out on an errand for a ribbon for one of her mother's new hats.

  Or conceivably, it was something more sinister and something that was completely beyond her cognizance.

  Again, and not for the first time, she wished that her mother had explained these...talents to her. Isabeau wished that she wasn't so in the dark as to what she was able to do. But it was simply a waste of time to wish for things that were impossible and Isabeau had no other choice but to wait to learn all that she could do.

  Patience was not, however, one of her virtues.

  Closing the door to the ale house as gently as she could, Isabeau sighed out in relief as she finally entered the yard. A horse neighed and she froze at the sound, but relaxed moments later as she realized that it came from the inn's own stables.

  Not from men seeking her.

  The heels of her worn boots clipped and clattered against the cobbled, stone floor and the slight sound rang out loudly in the courtyard. It wasn't enough to cause any alarm to the inhabitants of the inn, but it instantly betrayed her position and opened her to danger from those who were hunting her.

  If anyone was hunting her, that was.

  It was feasible that lack of sleep had her so highly strung that she saw ghouls and goblins, here where there were none to see.

  Resolutely, she continued on her way and when she finally exited the yard and walked down the country lane, she praised the Goddess for the moon. While it lit her path, it was not so bright as to highlight her whereabouts.

  Beside her, in the tight thoroughfare, were hedgerows which were taller than even her. They also blanketed her position and for the moment, she knew she was safe.