Cupids Enchantment

by Cupid's Enchantment(lit)

  Ilar knew a few portals between the realms remained. But, until now, no human had ever found a way to cross over them. From what he understood, it shouldn’t have been possible. The doors on the mortal side were locked with the strong magic and charms of all immortal races. The only way was for one from the magical realm to go through and bring her back. But to what end? Who would ignore the pact of the covenants that protected them from human greed for the last three hundred years? There was nothing to be gained by it.

  "How did yo-u come to be here?" he asked, unable to stop the question. Her pheromone scent reeled him in, tempting him to step toward her. Ilar had the strangest urge to kiss the muddied she-creature and mate with her like a wild animal. He wondered what she’d do if he ripped the linen from his waist and threw her to the ground. He resisted, disgusted that he could even feel such lust for a human. His breathing became hard, flaring his nostrils as he fought for control.

  "I don’t know where here is," Rhiannon said.

  Ilar’s long hair had dried, blowing over his shoulders to reach for her. His gaze narrowed in on her mouth. Her eyes grew nervous at the attention and she again tried to jerk her arm free. He squeezed her harder, stopping when she cried out in pain.

  "Mm." He began walking once more, taking a furious pace. He heard the restless howls of the lycans in his brain. They drew closer, unhampered by the thought of their leader’s wrath. It was like they were mindless with lust. Sniffing her again, Ilar frowned. He could definitely see why. Her pull was ten times stronger than a cart full of naked lycan females in heat.

  Ilar took the long way around to Lycaon, going to the back entrance of the castle. It wouldn’t do to parade this walking enticement through the front gate. If the men of their kind wanted to mate with her, the women of his kind would surely want to kill her. Competition was fierce for they were a fierce people and, with her strange curse, she’d be in for it from both sexes.

  Maybe, I should just let them kill her and be done with it, he thought. It was a tempting idea. Even as he considered it, he knew he couldn’t. He was the Commander of the Lycan Guard. It was his duty to discover who sent her and why. If she was killed, he wouldn’t get the answers he needed. If the humans had found a way to cross over, they needed to know. It could be disastrous for their realm. And, if someone plotted against the lycan, then he needed to know that as well.

  Rhiannon tripped behind him in silence. Her bare feet rubbed raw at the rough texture of the forest floor. Twigs and seeds stabbed up into her tender flesh until she was bleeding. The breeze hit her wet gown, making her stiff with cold. Seeing the man’s flaring nostrils, she thought better than to complain.

  Suddenly, the forest changed, growing darker as they came upon a gray wall of uneven stone blocks. It was colder in the shade. Vines grew over the crevices, sprouting little blue flower buds over the surface. Ilar stopped, letting her go.

  Rhiannon fell into the wall to hold herself up. Her lids dipped over her eyes. She ripped absently at the vines seeking support. Her feet pulsated and her head felt strange, as if a swelling grew from the back of it. Gingerly, she felt into her muddied locks. There was definitely a bump the size of a robin’s egg. She flinched, as she pressed into it, turning to the strange man in curiosity. "Who are you?"

  Ilar felt along the wall. Fitting his finger into a notch, he murmured an incantation and waited as the wall parted to let him through. Rhiannon gasped as the stone melted apart like liquid. She stumbled away from him, eyeing him and then the wall warily. She wobbled on her feet. Her wide eyes looked at him as if he were going to ravish her.

  "Methought we already established I was the devil." Ilar smirked. If it had been any other situation, he would’ve enjoyed putting a bit of fear into her, as he played along with the little ‘game’ she set before him. The lycan liked to play such games--anything to excite the blood. Detecting the slight tensing of her shoulders, and knowing she was going to run from him before she even took a step, he frowned and shot forward to grasp her arm.

  Oh, she was entertaining all right, but the effect she had on his senses was starting to wear on him. Too bad he didn’t have a current lover. He would’ve liked to slake his unexpected desires, easing the thick pain of his arousal inside a warm sheath. He looked the muddy temptress over, eyeing her slender waist. It would be so easy to take her. She was frail, trembling, small. He bet her body would fit around him nicely, as he pressed her up against the bailey wall. Her fear called out to the hunter in him, but the man in him held back.

  "Come," he ordered, exasperated beyond belief and not liking his fantasy one bit. He pulled her back to his chest, intent on keeping her close.

  Rhiannon drew a quick breath, holding it as his touch stung her with its force. She stiffened and a weak moan of surprise left her throat. His warmth soaked along her spine and her chilled skin eagerly drank of his heat. His hair whipped over her, hitting across her neck in silken threads. A dark lock caught between her panting lips. A shockwave of pleasure coursed throughout her at his nearness. She neared a swoon, welcoming the lightheaded feeling.

  "Stay by my side and try not to draw notice." His gruff voice pulled her back to reality. By his tone, Rhiannon got the impression he didn’t think such a thing was possible. He thrust her to his side, looking her over with a sigh of disgust.

  Ilar stepped through the opening in the wall. She tried to pull away from him, apprehensively eyeing the doorway. He grumbled in annoyance, yanking her through it. Gasping, she called out in loud surprise.

  At the sound of her voice, the inhabitants turned to stare at them. Rhiannon gulped, staring back. She was glad her hair fell into her face because it hid her fear from view.

  They stood in a bailey yard before a tall castle. The battlements circled around the bailey, disappearing in the distance. Square turrets were built in intervals along the outer face, standing tall as lookout towers. A stone house encased the gated entrance. The gate was up so people could walk through it freely. The place was grand, like no other she’d ever seen. Whoever ruled here was indeed very powerful. The wall grew shut behind her and she jolted in noisy alarm, letting loose a high-pitched gasp.

  "Yo-u call that not drawing notice?" Ilar grunted in displeasure. He was all too aware of the strange light falling over the men’s eyes as they looked at the mortal. He detected her fear easily and knew the natural hunter inside his fellow lycan would be stirred to greater degrees because of it.

  Thankfully, they were in the outer yard by the side gate where only a few of the guard stood watch. The men inquisitively eyed his almost naked state. Their nostrils flared, catching the woman’s scent, knowing he hadn’t taken her as his lover. Until she was claimed, she was open territory. Their eyes lit in instant battle, ready to fight mindlessly to obtain her.

  Rhiannon was unaware of the effect she had on the men. They all eyed her, the stranger in their midst, with a look akin to hunger. She gazed back, disturbed by them--and not only by their overbold stares. The men were indecently clad in a draping tunic that fell to the top of the knee. The large square pieces were arranged around the shoulders and held in place by a plain brooch. Some didn’t even have a brooch, just a wrapping of thick material. Arms and a shoulder were left bare, making no mistake that these men could part from their clothing at a moment’s notice. Calves were left naked, some cross-strapped with leather bands coming from short boots.

  "Are you Scots?" Rhiannon asked suddenly, having seen the tartans of the highlanders. These men’s tunics were of a plain color--ranging in earthy tones--and not the plaid patterns of the Scottish clans.

  She slowly crept closer to Ilar’s side, almost hugging herself to his arm when another of the men slowly smiled at her. It was a hard, wolf-like grin that grew leisurely over his features. His lips parted as if he would pounce atop her frail body and bite into her flesh.

  Ilar frowned. A burly guard aggressively stepped forward, as if to make a move for her. He lowered his jaw and silently warned him to back
away. The man held rigid, watching the woman closely. Ilar led her past.

  "Stay close to my side if you value your life, human," Ilar ordered darkly. Seeing a mated lycan, he telepathically urged him after his clothes by the stream. The man nodded, unaffected by the enchanted woman, and took off to do as he was bid. Ilar knew there was no point in trying to break through to the others with the woman so close at hand. They were beyond reason and the mind link was blocked because of it.

  He glanced down at his arm where she gripped him. She kneaded her fingers along his muscles, digging in with her short fingernails. He swallowed, feeling her soft breasts press into him from beneath the wet gown. Her nipples were hard and it drove him mad. They called to him. Making a fist, he fought the urge to grab her chest. Her heart raced and his leapt to join the rhythm. She trembled and, all of a sudden, he realized her face was an unnatural pale blue behind the strands of her hair.

  Leading her through an entry into the inner bailey yard, Ilar moved straight to the front door of the castle. Rhiannon didn’t make a sound. She didn’t have to. The people of Lycaon Castle sensed her immediately. The men’s thoughts shot with a passionate uproar and the unmated women surged with jealous hatred. Seeing that a brawl was about to start, Ilar turned and swiftly lifted the woman into his protective embrace.

  Rhiannon was surprised when the man picked her up, but she didn’t protest as she burrowed resignedly into his chest. She was too tired and too sore to complain. Her flesh eagerly soaked in the warmth from his body, racking with shivers once more as she tried to steal his immense heat.

  His muscles moved against her, almost hypnotic as she curled into him. Her fingers wound into his hair, resting near the beat of his heart. She burrowed into his chest. There was something both safe and dangerous in his hold. He smelled fresh, like the stream, like nature. She closed her eyes.

  Ilar hastened his steps, rushing her inside the protection of the castle. Her breath fanned over him, sending little trails of longing throughout his tightening form. He passed the main hall where more turned to give the woman curious stares.

  Taking the side steps two at a time, he took her to his personal tower. He would rather put her below in the prisons, far away from him, but he couldn’t risk trapping her with an unmated guard and he wouldn’t have the other prisoners uprising to get to her.

  Usually none would dare to cross his threshold without his summons. But, being as there was black magic afoot, he couldn’t afford to take chances. Until he had an opportunity to figure out what was going on, he’d have to keep her safely locked away. Even now, the men in the hall were riled and on the brink of combat for their right to claim the human. If he wasn’t careful, the whole Lycan Guard would kill each other off.

  Her body flopped in his arms, as he took her through the halls covered with tapestries to his own bedchamber. There was no time to prepare a guest chamber for her and there wasn’t one already made up. He rarely received guests in his tower--aside from Malak, his lifelong friend, who never complained about the lack of refined comforts his chambers had to offer. There was a bed and fireplace, which suited Malak just fine.

  Besides, Ilar wanted to keep this woman close. He told himself it was to protect her. But, as he pulled her body into his chest and she didn’t protest his hold, he wasn’t so sure. His body lurched with intentions. His heart raced, pouring passion into his blood, forcing it into every limb, most notably the limb between his thighs.

  Closing the bedchamber door with his foot, Ilar lowered the woman to her feet. She hadn’t spoken through the journey upstairs and, come to think of it, she hadn’t moved. Frowning, he tilted his head to study her face. Her eyes were closed. Listening to her heartbeat, he heard its faint and even rhythm in his ears. Her breath rasped slightly in her chest, shallow and panting.

  Ilar laid her on his bed, scowling as he looked her over. Her features were pale, her lips tinged with blue. She didn’t move.

  "Mor-tal," he demanded her harshly, to see if she would stir.

  A low fire burned in the fireplace and he crossed over to throw more logs on the flames until it roared to life. Without thought, he stripped the linen from his waist. Then, going to her, completely naked, he began peeling and ripping the wet layers of her clothing with a supernatural speed. He tried to ignore the pleasing flesh he revealed. But, his eyes took their own greedy pleasure as his hands dutifully worked. Her small breasts were freed first, the perfect size to fit into his opened mouth. The nipples were hard, just begging to be suckled and licked. Her waist was narrow, spanning the width of his spread hand. A thatch of dark blonde curls guarded her opening from him. His body jerked, wanting to conquer.

  Once he had her naked, he crawled next to her on the large mattress and cradled her pale body in his arms. Pulling her tight, he settled her back to his front, liking the feel of her. She shivered violently against his hold, but didn’t fight him as he warmed her.

  Ilar frowned. He’d forgotten that about mortals. They weren’t built to withstand the weather like the lycans. Whereas he thought nothing of bathing in the freezing stream, human bodies were frail to such things as extreme cold. He wondered absently why she hadn’t complained. If she’d said she was growing ill, he would’ve helped her. At least, he liked to think he would have.

  Ilar cradled her to his naked chest, letting her head rest on a bent arm. Absently, he rubbed his hand along her arms, wrapping his thigh over her slender legs. He was all too aware of the feel of her soft skin beneath his. Her butt was flush to his erection, which found itself pressed tight against two cheeks. Growling, he again cursed the fact he had no lover to slake his desires with.

  He’d have to get this spell broken soon if he was to have a moment’s peace. The keep was in a state of unrest by just her brief presence. His men were poised to battle. The women were poised to murder. Even now he heard their discontent knocking at his brain. Not for a second did he believe their attraction to this human female was anything but an enchantment.

  He continued to stroke her arms, running his hands up and down. By small degrees she heated to him. Her shivering stopped to all but a few, small, occasional shudders. Her hips stirred, bumping along his thick arousal--an arousal that had been there since catching her at the stream. His touch turned from medicinal to exploring, as he slipped beneath her arm to her hip. He pulled his hand over her, moving to cup a breast in his palm. His hips jerked, forcing his shaft to rub along her backside. It would be so easy to angle her body, to draw her leg back over his, to sheathe himself inside her wetness. With little movements, he could take her just like this, thrusting in from behind.

  Ilar grew bolder, moving to massage her other breast. A soft moan, so light and feminine, left her lips, encouraging him. Ilar tensed. His eyes flashed with a dark, possessive excitement. She moaned again, this time louder as her naked back wiggled into his hard heat.

  Maybe he’d flip her on her stomach, lifting her hips up so he could really ride her. Yes, he liked that idea better. Ilar licked his lips. In that position, he’d really be able to plunge his shaft deep within her.

  Her head tilted back on her shoulders, moving so he saw her closed eyes and dirty face. He was too aroused to care that she needed a bath. The way she moved, wiggling her butt along his shaft, could only mean she wanted him too. He smelled her longing, her woman’s fragrance. Her lips parted in breath, as if she beckoned him with a kiss.

  The spell over her spread into Ilar’s body, potent and hot as it flamed in his blood. He was all too aware of the feel of her. Her legs moved restlessly beneath his thigh. Ilar swallowed, breathing heavily. She was so small, delicate. It would be so easy to turn her and part her thighs to him. Her soft skin caressed him like silk. She moaned again and he couldn’t deny her parted lips.

  Ilar didn’t think as he lowered his mouth to touch hers. His kiss was soft, testing her, slowly discovering her. He moved her over onto her back, no longer intent on giving warmth as he sought to stir her body to his. He groaned i
n delight. Her flesh was so frail, so malleable against his harder length. He didn’t remember humans being so supple. It had been a long time since he’d felt such softness, or such longing. Most lycan women were as hard as the men, toned from their time spent in wolfen form. But, this woman was soft, like a fairy or elf, and as delicately featured as a wood nymph only twice as beautiful.

  "So warm," Rhiannon mumbled sleepily, her mind dazed to everything but the comfort of the bed beneath her and the hard warmth at her side. She felt as if she could sleep for an eternity. Rhiannon gasped. A wet probing was between her lips, but she didn’t move to wake up. She welcomed the inviting warmth inside her mouth, liking the protection of whoever it was that held her. She ached, her breasts tormenting her with pleasure and need as someone pressed against them. The touch was firm yet gentle, so unyielding yet tender. A moan sounded in her head, but she couldn’t whisper it past her lips. Whoever was there still kissed her, deepening, exploring, cutting off her weak voice.

  Ilar groaned, becoming emboldened. Tempted to investigate their differences further, he glided his hand over her smooth hip, lifting a leg to the side. He drew his mouth away and looked down over her flat stomach to her slit. He smelled the start of her desire, calling his lips down to the apex of her thighs. He detected the glistening invitation of moisture as it gathered in readiness for him along her folds.

  As he reminded himself that this female was a human, he hesitated only slightly. He couldn’t stop. Human or not, she felt too good. It had been too long since he’d satisfied his baser needs and they now called to him in protest of that neglect.