"Glad to see you put things right," Malak said, still laughing heartily. He sauntered into the campsite, not thinking anything of the couple lying together. It was only natural for lovers to do so. Besides, being a race that stripped down to the nude at a moment’s notice no matter where they were, being naked was no big affair.
Malak eyed the two crispy rabbits and frowned, wrinkling his nose in disgust of the waste. Ilar just grinned sheepishly. Rhiannon whimpered again, muffling something against his chest that neither lycan could understand. When Ilar tried to pull her face back to study her, she screeched in horror, burrowing deeper beneath the tunic in an effort to hide herself.
Ilar’s grin fell. He glanced at Malak. Malak shrugged, confused, as he looked over the spray of golden curls coming from beneath the draping tunic, spilling forth from Ilar’s chest. With a tilt of his jaw, Ilar beckoned his friend to move away from the campsite.
"Might as well," Malak grumbled, as he turned to go. "It doesn’t look as if you’ll be cooking to break our fast."
Rhiannon didn’t hear him go. All she heard was the growling language of the lycans. She shivered, huddling closer.
Ilar put a hand on her shoulder and gently tried to pry her away. Rhiannon shook her head furiously and reached her arms around his waist to hold on for dear life.
"Are you so upset to be claimed by me?" Ilar asked, hurt.
At the soft whisper next to her temple, Rhiannon relaxed her hold but didn’t free herself from his chest. Oh, but the sound of his voice could easily melt her. Swallowing, she pulled back enough to whisper, "Is he gone?"
"Yes, it’s just us," Ilar said.
Her body instantly relaxed from him. Ilar lowered his chin to study her flushed features. If he had to guess, he would say she was thoroughly embarrassed.
Ilar found her naked hip and rubbed it in slow, absent circles. Rhiannon, mistaking his innocent affection as another invitation at love play, pushed his hand from her hip. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to sit up.
"No, Ilar, we cannot," she said, her eyes darting around.
"You can’t have two lovers, Rhian," Ilar stated, scowling. His nostrils flared in anger. "It doesn’t work like that for the lycan. If you are my lover, you can’t go to Malak. If you wanted him, you shouldn’t have let me claim you as mine. You should’ve stated it was only a body affair."
Rhiannon shivered at his low, sultry words, even if they were bit with rage. Then, comprehending what he said about Malak, she frowned. "Malak? You think I wish for Malak to be my...?"
She couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too hilarious to even comprehend. Rhiannon giggled. Ilar shot up, pulling away from her with a dark scowl. Rhiannon reached for him, tugging on his arm to bring him back.
"Ilar, wait," she said.
"What?" he demanded. "I’ll not be laughed at!"
"I’m not laughing at you," she explained, almost bashful as he made her say the words. "It’s just the idea that you think ... that I could be ... well, you know, like this with ... him."
With anyone else but you, she added silently. Her cheeks only grew pinker.
His eyes narrowed. His senses picked up her heart beat, ready to detect her lie. "Why do you hide as if you are ashamed?"
Her eyes round in shock, she said, "Well, I was...."
Rhiannon swallowed nervously, pulling the draping tunic to her exposed chest, much to Ilar’s disappointment. Her wild tangle of curls spouted out on her head, untamed because they’d dried while he made love to her.
Rhiannon hugged the garment to her, baring more of him. As she saw the contours of his body, she grew warm with the all too familiar pull of his appeal. Forcing her gaze away, she tried to finish, "Well, we weren’t ... suitable to receive guests."
As if a ton of rocks slid down and landed on his head, Ilar finally understood. She wasn’t ashamed because she wanted Malak. She was merely modest at being caught in such ‘unsuitable’ positions. Ilar growled, pulling her into his arms and rolling her on top of him. She winced as her ankle jarred, but the rest had done it good and she didn’t complain as he held her cheek to his chest.
Stroking the soft blonde curls from her face, he said, "You don’t need to be ashamed of being caught in my arms. It’s perfectly acceptable to be with your lover. It isn’t a secret what lovers do, Rhian."
Being pressed intimately above him, Rhiannon began getting some unsuitable ideas of her own. Wiggling, as her legs fell over his sides to straddle his waist, she asked, "Can you use your mind-thing to keep Malak away for awhile longer?"
Ilar grinned, but nodded. He was entranced by her beauty, by the feel of her body.
Rhiannon purred as she began exploring the beastly man beneath her. She rose up, letting her body bathe in the warming sunlight of morning. A breeze whipped her hair about her shoulders.
Rhiannon kissed him all over, exploring each dangerously scrumptious curve of him with her fingers. Then, when she trailed her kisses down his stomach, Ilar tensed, waiting, grunting with anticipation, howling in pleasure as her lips moved past his navel.
Her hair tickled his rigid flesh. She licked a muscular, perfect hip. Running her cheek over the sleek fire of his arousal, she kissed him there too, along the unyielding shaft. When he didn’t object, she did it again, growing bolder with each pass of her lips.
"Ah, woman," he said, his hands tangling into her curls. "You will undoubtedly be the death of me."
Rhiannon didn’t understand his words as they rolled out in his bestial language. Pulling back, she asked, almost horrified, "Did you just tell me to stop?"
Ilar reached up, pulling her firmly on top of his lap so she sat astride him. "I’d never tell you to stop, my lady."
He kissed her, deep and hard. Rhiannon whimpered, stunned to breathlessness as her body sung to fiery life.
"I’ll never get enough of you. I like it when your lips are on me. I like the feel of your soft mouth against my body. I like the feel of your skin to mine." Between each declaration, he seared her lips with his wet, hungry kisses.
"You’re just under a spell," she said, sadly.
Instead of answering with words, which Ilar wasn’t sure would be received as the truth, he answered her with his body. Lifting her up, he lowered her onto him.
Rhiannon gasped, melting against him as he rocked her along his hips. Her forehead pressed down to his as she rode him, gaining momentum until their bodies exploded. Their heavy breaths mingled together as their hearts managed to slow by degrees.
"Can I come up yet?" came an irritated growl from below. "I’ve got food."
Rhiannon’s cheeks flamed, but her neglected stomach grumbled loudly in response. Ilar chuckled at her nearly innocent expression of horror, so out of place as he was embedded deeply within her in such a wanton position.
Rhiannon wiggled off his lap. Searching around for clothing, she gulped, looking up by the pond where her dirty gown still lay.
"Malak," Ilar yelled.
"Aye?" came the answering call. Ilar could detect humor in his friend’s gruff voice.
"Toss me half your tunic," Ilar said.
"No, it’s my best one!"
Ilar growled. Suddenly, they heard a rip and half of Malak’s tunic came flying over the edge of the cliff.
Catching it, Ilar wrapped it around his waist, leaving his chest bare. Then, grabbing his draping blue tunic, he made quick work of fashioning a gown for Rhiannon, clasping it with his brooch right above her breast. His eyes shone wickedly as his hand brushed over her nipple, purposefully making her tremble. When she was covered, he called Malak up.
Malak jumped up on the cliff, eyeing Rhiannon and Ilar with a grin of amusement. Without saying a word, he tossed the charred rabbits aside and replaced them with fish.
* * * *
Her new gown smelled of Ilar, making it hard to concentrate. To her relief, she found her ankle didn’t hurt nearly as bad as she’d thought it would, and they again began the journey up to Cupid’s cave. The fl
owers along the pathway became tattered and torn, as if they’d been kicked repeatedly. With each step, her heart fell deeper and deeper into the knotted pit of her stomach.
The troll’s cave home was just that--a cave. There was no door, no welcoming indication that anything lived in the little hole carved inside the mountain. Judging by the smell wafting out of the darkness, Rhiannon wasn’t so sure Cupid was still alive. Sidling up to Malak, she wrinkled her nose and softly said, "Are you sure you didn’t kill him already?"
Ilar and Malak glanced down from their impressive heights to the top of her head. Seeing her gag in disgust, they hid their smirks.
Ilar nodded his head at Malak and then to the cave, indicating for him to go and get the little troll. Malak shook his head furiously, saying through the mind link, I tracked him, you retrieve him!
Rhiannon shivered, repulsed. She frowned, seeing them glare at each other and motion frantically to the cave opening. Rolling her eyes, she stepped forward, peeking inside.
"Oh, Cupid," she called sweetly into the rotten depths. "I have brought you my lycan slaves to play with. Come out and let’s have some fun with them. Methinks your magic fades and I would have the whole Lycan Guard at my command barking like a chorus of singing dogs."
Ilar and Malak shared grimacing looks.
It didn’t take long for a head to peek out the front of the cave entrance. Cupid’s beady black eyes blinked as he looked first at Rhiannon and then at the two lycans behind her. When Ilar and Malak didn’t move, a wide grin spread over his thick lips and he scratched thoughtfully at the inside of his overlarge nose.
"I need more magic, Cupid, please," Rhiannon said. He was still out of reach and she didn’t relish the idea of diving in after him.
Cupid eyed her suspiciously.
"Here, I’ll prove they’re under my spell. Watch." Rhiannon turned to the big men, a smirk lining her very mischievous features, as she said, "Ilar, hop on one foot."
Malak hid his amusement, but Ilar heard his friend’s laughter in his head. Dutifully, he obeyed. Rhiannon’s eyes lit slightly as his clothing bounced up, revealing his thighs. She glanced at Cupid, expectant. He wasn’t convinced.
"Malak," Rhiannon called harmoniously, her voice almost a pout. "Transform to your lycan form and back for me."
Malak grunted, but did as he was told, adjusting his clothes when he was finished. Rhiannon didn’t turn, watching Cupid as he crept closer.
"Have them do something not so simple," Cupid commanded, his eyes lighting with pleasure.
"Ilar, Malak," Rhiannon said, leaning over slightly so Cupid couldn’t see them behind her back. "Kiss."
She could just feel their outrage. Ilar and Malak glanced at each other, grimacing. They didn’t move. They much rather dive into the smelly hole and fish out the troll. Cupid, not wanting to miss such a devious sight, darted forward. Rhiannon grabbed the putrid troll and held on. He knocked her over trying to get free.
"Ilar," Rhiannon screamed, "help me!"
Malak grabbed Cupid from her arms, lifting the troll up.
Ilar stood above her, his hands placed firmly on his hips. Then, reaching down, he helped her up, grumbling, "Kiss?"
"If you insist," she murmured impishly in return, placing a quick kiss on Ilar’s lips. His eyes softened by a small degree. Malak cleared his throat, reminding them of what they were doing.
"What do you wish to do with him, my lady?" Malak asked, holding the troll up and away by the back of his dirty trousers.
"I say we bathe him and cover him in flowers," Rhiannon stated. "Unless he tells me why he did this to me."
Cupid screamed in agony at the very idea. "Ugly, mortal! Evil, wicked, ugly mortal."
Rhiannon stepped forward in warning. She reached down to pick a lovely pink flower. She wielded it at him like a blade. Cupid squirmed. "Don’t make me put this in your nose."
"It’s your own fault, human," Cupid spat. "I inadvertently help out one couple and you all dub me a cherub. Now the whole mortal realm thinks I’m a chubby little babe who shoots arrows of love! And you, Lord Ilar, made the whole court believe that I have no power. Well, now methinks you know the true extent of my magic! Neither world will ever doubt me again!"
"Tell me why the spell isn’t broken, Cupid," Rhiannon demanded. "Or so help me I’ll kiss that horrid little mouth of yours."
She moved her lips as if to pucker. Ilar couldn’t help himself, he chuckled.
Cupid squirmed, screaming in agony and pain at the very idea. "The only way to end it is for Lord Ilar to mate with you."
"I did mate with her," Ilar said. "The enchantment isn’t gone."
Despite herself, Rhiannon felt her cheeks flame at the bold announcement. Did none of them have an ounce of modesty?
"Ah," Cupid said, "not as a lover, but as a life mate. Only when she’s life mated will the enchantment end."
Rhiannon gulped, frightened. "We’d have to wed?"
"Not just human wed," Cupid said, kicking in the air. "Life mates, bound forever. A marriage you can escape. This you cannot."
Her round gaze found Ilar. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t bind herself to Ilar like that. What if once the curse was gone he didn’t want her anymore? If he said yes, it would only be out of his duty to protect his people. Surely, afterwards, he would despise her.
"Is there no other way?" Ilar demanded, harshly. He saw her obvious displeasure in the plan. Her look tore out the remaining pieces of his heart and soul and smashed them into the ground. He felt hollow.
"The only way to get it to stop is to choose her as a life mate--binding you forever," Cupid said, gasping. "In doing so, she’ll be immortal. You’ll never be rid of her."
Cupid chuckled despite himself, though he was still afraid of the ugly mortal putting her lips to him. If the other trolls ever discovered such a thing, he’d be ruined!
"Aye, you or another of your kind," Cupid said to Ilar. "It matters not who, only that it is done."
Ilar tensed. He couldn’t stand to give her to someone else. But, if it was just a spell, what happened when the enchantment ended? Would he still feel so strongly? Would she? He’d never stopped to consider the influence the enchantment might be having on her. When she first came to him, her mortal prejudice had been overwhelming. Could he trust her human mind to have changed so quickly? And what of her human heart?
"What will happen if I don’t?" Rhiannon asked softly.
"Then the spell will again grow and you will be sought after by every lycan for miles," Cupid said. He gave up his struggle and hung like dead weight from Malak’s firm grip. "Only when the spell is broken will the lycan see you for what you are--an ugly, horrible mortal woman."
"You’re awful! Hateful!" Rhiannon began, rushing forward to the troll. Tears in her eyes, she tried to hit him.
Ilar caught her fist before it struck, though he too wanted nothing more than to kill the offensive little troll.
"You can always go home, my lady," the troll said, shivering against her anger, but much more welcoming of her fist than her lips. "There the lycan cannot smell you."
Rhiannon jerked away from Ilar. Tears streamed down her face. Softly, she spun on her heels to face him. Staring up into his handsome features, she asked him, "So you did just have to be with me to end the curse. It was all the enchantment’s doing."
Rhiannon gasped at the pain searing through her and ran away from them, limping lightly on her ankle. Tears poured bitterly from her eyes and she sobbed them with great heaving breaths. Part of her had dared to hope Ilar wasn’t just with her for the enchantment, but hearing Cupid’s words only confirmed her worst fears. He only wanted her because of a mindless revenge spell!
She didn’t stop running, not caring where she went. She prayed a giant dragon would swoop down from the sky and swallow her whole. Better dead in the belly of a dragon than back in the mortal world with a hole in her un-beating heart.
Ilar watched Rhiannon run away from them, knowing that she
couldn’t go anywhere he couldn’t track her. His heart ran after her to see her dejection, but his legs stayed firmly planted. Turning to deal with the troll at hand, he said, "You’ve done it this time, Cupid."
"Does she truly think that it’s only the enchantment that binds you to her?" Malak asked, surprised.
Ilar glanced at him, questioning. "How could she not think that? It’s the truth."
"Ilar," Malak said. "I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out. Truly, if me thought you were so dense, I’d have told you sooner."
"What are you talking about, Malak?" Ilar asked, ignoring the squirming troll gripped in Malak’s hand. His eyes churned with golden fire.
"You are immune to this troll’s magic, Ilar," Malak stated. "You are immune to every trolls’ magic. You were never under an enchantment. Every feeling has been your own."
Ilar frowned, doubtful, hopeful, not understanding.
"As have Rhiannon’s," Malak continued. "When I got the immunity draught, I was drunk and poured it on your head while you slept."
"You never said this to me." Ilar looked at his friend in disbelief.
"It wasn’t important at the time. It was during the human battles. The next morning, we were attacked at our fort. I never thought to mention it afore." Malak sighed. "Until smelling her, I had forgotten all about it."
A slow smile crept over Ilar’s face. Without thinking, he darted down the mountainside as fast as his legs would carry him. Seeing Rhiannon limping down a path, her shoulders jerking with sobs, he tackled her, rolling over to take her weight as he carried her to the ground.
Rhiannon screamed in surprise, instantly fighting her assailant. Seeing Ilar’s face beneath her tear-stained one, she fought harder, striking his chest.
"Let me go, Ilar! I’m going home!" she yelled.
"You are home," he said, rolling his body over to subdue her beneath his weight. She blinked, confused. She stopped trying to hit him. Her lips were swollen with just the thought of his kisses.
"This isn’t amusing. I won’t have your life destroyed to end a curse!" Unable to stop her fingers, she lifted them to brush a soft piece of hair from his face, letting the long strands trail through her fingers. She lowered her hand, still holding it. Weakly, she said, "You deserve happiness."
Cupids Enchantment Page 14