by Caris Roane
Mastyr Axton was a nightmare no one had been able to get rid of legally. In public, he denounced The Society, but had a huge following because he wanted to restore the old ways. In other words, he wanted all wraiths and half-breeds dead without ever using those particular words.
Axton was the consummate hypocrite and liar.
Malik, on the other hand, had won her full support from the moment she learned that he’d been the one to make it a crime to hurt wraiths or their relatives.
But as she stood at the edge of the town of Cherry Hollow that night, longing for the man, Malik had suddenly shifted in her direction and met her gaze.
He’d seen through her charm!
No other mastyr in Ashleaf had ever been able to penetrate one of her spells, not even Axton, the second most powerful vampire in the realm.
She’d almost smiled and waved, until she recalled that she wasn’t a normal fae living a normal life in Ashleaf. She was the sole Protector of twenty-thousand souls, who lived in the center of the realm and depended on her for survival.
She’d turned away shortly after and drifted into the forest, her heart downcast, unaware that he’d followed her until he’d called out her name. “Willow. Is that you? Where have you been all these years?”
She’d glanced at him over her shoulder, her heart in her throat. But she couldn’t talk to him because the temptation to want more from him than she could possibly give in return would be too great. So she fled, using the power she’d gained over the years, to half-run, half-fly through the forest at a speed not even Malik could quite equal.
She just hadn’t expected him to give chase.
He’d almost caught her three times before she reached the safety of the vines at the entrance to her land.
Fortunately, his power had limits and he wasn’t able to penetrate the shield the vines created for her.
That night, two years ago, she’d cried herself to sleep, knowing what she was missing and unable to act on her simple desire to talk with him or even to wave at him.
Maybe it was the nature of the chase that had worked each of them up so thoroughly, but if so many people hadn’t depended on her for their sheer existence, she would have long since given herself, body and soul, to the Mastyr of Ashleaf Realm.
Now, as she held the vines and watched him leave, her heart ached all over again. She became aware of a heaviness in her chest that she seemed to carry with her all the time now, yet another indication just how much she desired him.
As he finally disappeared, taking off in flight in order to get home before dawn, Willow came back to herself. She needed to get it together and not let her protection of the wraith colony flag.
But at exactly that moment, she felt one of the most powerful wraiths within the colony calling to her telepathically. A sense of fear came through in a way that left Willow panicky.
Illiandra, what’s wrong?
A near-breach! Willow, have you not been attending? Your protective shield is under attack.
Now frightened that she might have imperiled so many lives, she released the vines and turned all her energy on the shield that protected the colony. That’s when she felt a very specific fae charm burning through the colony’s secret entrance.
She had to get over there right away.
Illiandra, apologies. I’m on it.
Illiandra was one of the oldest and wisest wraith leaders of the colony. Keep me advised.
Willow flew swiftly the three miles to the tall, granite outcropping that had created a natural barrier to the colony. She could see smoke spiraling into the air.
A short tunnel, hidden behind a thick fall of vines, led through the granite wall straight into the wraith colony. A Guard-sized man stood directly opposite the entrance holding a charm in his hand made up of glowing purple crystals. As he aimed the charm toward the secret opening, the vines smoked and burned.
She knew who he was: Mastyr Axton.
Sweet Goddess, no.
But how had he made it past her property’s protective shield? He’d never done so before, which made Willow think that the same fae that had created the purple crystal charm must have helped him move past Willow’s spell.
She held her own disguise tight around her then simply melted into the vines. The moment she made direct contact with the thick stems and released her protection vibration, power surged.
At the same time, she aimed a strong burst at Axton’s charm. She wasn’t a powerful fae for nothing and the singular wave of energy that she released broke the charm’s spell. The glow of crystals fizzled, the burning stopped, and Axton cursed long and loud. He looked around as though astonished, then cursed once more.
Because dawn was so close, she wasn’t surprised that he simply took to the air and sped southwest high above the forest canopy.
She pathed to Illiandra. Mastyr Axton somehow came into possession of a powerful, illegal charm. Some of the vines were destroyed, but as soon as I made contact, I repulsed his attempt. I’m rebuilding the vine-wall now.
Well, done. Illiandra paused, then, You’re unsettled though, aren’t you? Did Malik give chase again?
Yes. She had shared her dilemma with Illiandra, but the wise woman had merely told her to do everything she could to remain strong for the colony.
You must end this, Willow. He’s distracting you from the shield. And if Axton has found the entrance to our lands, he’ll be back. We’re in trouble here, Willow, so please be strong for us. We depend on you.
I know.
The wraith colony was spread out over twenty square miles of land that belonged to Willow on paper. The sheer size of the shield she’d created and supported was one of the reasons she couldn’t get distracted. The population had doubled as well in the last forty years, which had made it increasingly difficult for Willow to keep streaming her protective energies.
Willow had fulfilled her duties for decades without too much difficulty. However, in recent years, she seemed to have reached some kind of personal limit. She’d tried repeatedly to tell Illiandra about her concerns, but the wraith had no other answer than to tell Willow ‘to be strong’.
Willow wouldn’t give up — never that — but she truly feared that something unexpected might happen and she would no longer be able to sustain the protective colony shield.
Illiandra, do you think it’s possible that Mastyr Axton knows about the colony?
Impossible, Illiandra responded firmly. My guess is that he’s found a fae willing to help him build charms in order to find wraith-sign. He no doubt stumbled upon the entrance by accident.
Willow wasn’t convinced, but she was tired from the chase and from repulsing Axton’s charm. And dawn was on her heels.
She bid Illiandra good-night and headed to her treehouse complex as swiftly as she could.
As she finally fell into bed, her last thought was simple: She had to talk to Malik and end their chasing ritual.
But Sweet Goddess, she didn’t want to. Not even a little.
~ ~ ~
“Mastyr, you’re hurting me.”
Malik heard the woman’s voice and somewhere within his mind he knew he needed to ease back on her wrist. Though a full day had passed since he’d last seen Willow, hungry images clouded his head as he once again mentally chased her through the forest. His mind got lost in the erotic images of the smooth, pale skin of her firm buttocks shifting back and forth along the trail, which had him fully aroused.
“Mastyr, you must stop. I’ll be bruised to my elbow.”
As he continued to suck on the rich vein, his donor’s words were a dull noise at the edge of the seductive memories, of needing to catch Willow, of wanting her beneath him, of hungering to pierce her neck and take down her life-force.
“Mastyr, please!” A hand shoved at his head until he finally awoke to his crime.
With a terrible jolt of remorse, he released the wrist of one of his sweetest doneuses from whom he’d been feeding. The lovely fae woman, with tears in her bro
wn eyes, held her arm as if in pain.
He’d hurt her.
Sweet Goddess! Not again.
“Miriam, I’m so sorry.” Still on his knees, he shifted away from the side of the chair in which she sat. His ass hit the stone tiles of his living room and he held his head in his hands. He was in a painfully aroused state and dammit, he’d become an animal.
He’d promised Miriam he’d keep himself under tight control.
What the hell was wrong with him?
“I’m so sorry, Mastyr Malik, but I can’t serve you anymore. My husband was adamant that if this happened again, he wouldn’t allow me to come back. I have to resign.”
He glanced at her arm, horrified all over again. She’d be black and blue for days unless he did something for her. “Let me call you a healer.”
Miriam drew in a deep breath. “That would be best.”
Not ready to stand up yet, he shifted to dip his hand into the pocket of his jeans. Pulling out his realm cellphone, he called Alexandra the Bad, who had ruled the Guild in his realm for longer than he’d taken his first breath.
She growled over the phone, somehow knowing exactly what had happened, then stated harshly that she was on her way. Malik knew that when she arrived, she’d deliver a weighty lecture, and one he damn-well deserved.
He then summoned his housekeeper, requesting dewberry tea for Miriam.
His doneuse wiped at her eyes.
He was so fucking ashamed. “I’m sorry. Dear sweet Goddess, a thousand apologies.”
Miriam huffed a ragged sigh. “Mastyr, if there was any other way.”
He lifted a hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I was out of control and this is all my fault.” He wanted to explain, but what could he say? That he had the hots for a woman who swam naked and disappeared into vines?
But Miriam shook her head. “Please listen to me. I may not be as powerful as the fae in the Ashleaf Guild, but I know that you’re suffering in a way you didn’t even two years ago. You seem incredibly sad, Mastyr, yet I have this sense that something very realm is upon you, and that whatever possessed your mind just now has a realm source. You shouldn’t ignore it.”
Malik stared at Miriam for a long moment. Was she right? Was it possible that his obsession with Willow had meaning beyond the deep lust that he experienced? “I’ll think on what you’ve said. I promise.”
A few minutes later, Alexandra the Bad assaulted his house.
She was a stout fae with an additional two hundred years on Malik’s three centuries. She took one look at Miriam’s arm and cast him her deepest scowl, the kind that brought her bushy, porcupine brows into a single, disapproving line. “What the hell have you done, vampire? This is an abomination. Have I not warned you sufficiently?”
“You have, and I have no excuse.”
She pinched her lips together. “We will have words, but after.”
“Of course.”
She turned and focused all her attention on his doneuse.
When Alexandra had made all the bruising disappear, she sent Miriam away, then turned the full force of her displeasure on Malik. Compressing her lips, she glared at him. “This is the third time in three weeks. You need to get hold of yourself and don’t even think about pulling your ‘I’m-the-Mastyr-of-Ashleaf’ gremlin shit with me. I dandled you on my knee, Malik, and don’t be forgetting that! Stop hurting your doneuses or the next time I will report you to the Sidhe Council for abuse. You can count on that.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“You said that last time.”
“I vow to you it will not happen again. I know what I need to do.” He’d been avoiding it from the time he first gave Willow chase; he needed to confront the woman who had captured his mind and end this thing between them. It was possible that she’d created some kind of chemistry between them, a charm perhaps. She was, after all, extremely powerful.
But whatever this was, Willow was the cause. And this time, if he had to hunt her down all through the night until she fell exhausted at his feet, he’d force her to explain herself.
“And are you making a vow to the Goddess?” Alexandra asked.
He nodded. “I am.”
“Then I suppose I must be satisfied.” She narrowed her gaze. “But I can feel your determination, so for the present I will rest in that. I’m counting on you.”
“I won’t let you down.”
After several more glares and at least two ‘harrumphs’, Alexandra left.
Malik remained by the door for a long moment, a hand pressed to his stomach. Miriam’s blood, as fine as any by realm standards, had done little to ease his chronic blood starvation. His stomach cramped but there was nothing to be done about that.
However, the straying of his thoughts all over his most recent experience with Willow had left him with an ache he had to get rid of, and he headed to his bathroom.
He set the jets of his shower on cold, undressed, then stepped in. His skin was so heated that it took the icy feel of the water to bring him down to normal.
But he still needed a release.
Soaping up and leaning a forearm against the tile, he let his thoughts run wild.
Willow.
Sweet Goddess, Willow.
Once more, he saw her auburn hair and milky skin, eyes the color of stormy skies, breasts that made his groin ache. He saw her rising naked from the pool then turning to run.
She moved liked the wind.
He gave chase mentally, while his hand went to work on his cock, pumping fast, his breathing growing rougher by the second.
He knew exactly when he wanted to come. Just a few more seconds as he watched her racing, her narrow waist, full hips, her bottom an invitation like nothing else.
Then there it was. She glanced at him over her shoulder and met his gaze, connecting with him in a way that he felt shot full of fire. He came hard, remembering that look. His balls fired off, sending his seed rocketing, delivering up a rolling series of exquisite pulses.
“Willow,” he whispered against the tile and flowing water.
After a moment, when his heart returned to normal, when he heard the wild chattering of the birds in his nearby aviary, he slowly rinsed off and finally left the shower.
He should have felt tremendous relief. Instead, his craving for Willow seemed even more intense. He wanted to touch her, to bury himself between her legs, and to feed from her vein.
By all the elf lords, he was in deep shit.
From a distance, he heard his housekeeper, Francesca, call to him.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he responded, “What is it?” But his heart sank because his housekeeper only disturbed him in his private quarters when something bad had happened.
“The Society struck again. A murder in Birchingwood. And Mastyr, there were children this time.” He heard her voice catch, and his own throat tightened.
Dear Goddess, not children. How would he ever bear it?
~ ~ ~
Well past full-dark, Willow sat cross-legged in her meditation space, one of several isolated rooms in her expansive treehouse complex. Her heart labored, which had been happening a lot lately, especially after Malik gave chase.
She forced her eyes to close as she pressed her thumbs to her middle-fingers and began a soft fae calming chant. Her responsible nature settled deep into her bones once more.
She had to let Malik go. She had to forget about him and her ever-present desire for him, and focus on what was infinitely more important – keeping the wraith-colony from being discovered.
If Mastyr Axton ever found a way in, he’d slaughter everyone: Man, woman, and child. And they were good realm-folk to the last baby wraith.
She ran through one of her favorite centering meditations, Goddess of all that is love, who created the world of the Nine Realms, the expansive universe above and the blessed earth below, please strengthen me to serve Ashleaf and the colony. And help me to stay focused on the protective shield.
&
nbsp; The simple prayer calmed her mind and solidified her focus. If she continued in this way, she would have no problem supporting the protective shield through the night. She would soon be reaching out to Mastyr Malik as well to arrange for a meeting. Once she ended things between them, she would be able to fully turn her attention to keeping the colony safe.
The wraith community had been part of Ashleaf Realm for more millennia than the current ruling wraiths even knew.
And beneath their cottage-like homes, established in the largest meadowland in Ashleaf, beat the heart of the Nine Realms like a living force that Willow felt even now.
She gained her strength from that beating heart and allowed the vibrations from within the earth to rise and cover her.
She could breathe more easily now.
Suddenly and without warning, however, the image of Malik once more intruded within her mind, but not in the sense of needing or wanting him. Instead, the beating heart of the realm connected her to Malik so that right now she could feel that some kind of terrible despair had overtaken him. Because Malik carried the weight of his realm with him at all times, she knew the sorrow he also bore that half-breeds died so often in Ashleaf.
And she knew without having to be told that more of her kind had died and his sadness became hers.
Her heart reached for him and because she could feel the earth’s vibrations, a present-moment vision came to her that brought tears to her eyes. She watched Malik fall to his knees over the bodies of a family of four elves murdered viciously with an axe, the way The Society killed half-breeds. She knew the family because she knew every realm-person in Ashleaf known to have a full-blooded wraith for either a grandparent or a great-grandparent.
Her heart felt bludgeoned as she held the vision within her mind.
Tears now flowed down her face just as they flowed down Malik’s.