“Trysta!” a familiar voice called out.
The ginger boy, Selyf had called him. She snickered as he fast approached. Bedwyn’s hair was rather more sandy than ginger, she thought, but the professor’s obvious envy made her feel unique.
“Bedwyn, my caru!” she said, as he raced toward her. She planted a kiss on his lips out of habit. “Did you have a nice walk?”
“Never mind my walk!” he said, his voice pitched with alarm. “What did the professor say? Did he fix you all up?”
“He’s looking into it just at the minute.” What could she say to change the topic? “I bought some food for him, and for us as well. Here, have a pasty. I know they’re your favourite.”
He smiled brightly, kissing her forehead before taking the food from her basket. “I’m keen on you, you know. Physically, and all.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I’m well aware of your keenness, caru.”
“I hope the professor finds a solution to your problem, whatever it is.” As he spoke and chewed simultaneously, little pastry bits flew from his mouth. “And please don’t tell me, because I don’t think I could stomach it. I witnessed a birthing mare when I was small, and nearly passed out at the sight. If your female problem looks anything like that, I wish never to hear of it.”
If only he knew, she reflected. And yet, she’d never tell him.
As they wandered to the ancient stump under which the respected magical lived, Bedwyn said, “I pictured Professor Selyf an old man, but he looks as young as we are.”
“Full fairies have much more control over their appearances than we do,” she reminded him.
Bedwyn gobbling up the end of his pasty. “He’s really quite attractive, don’t you think, with his dark hair and birch-pale skin?”
Her heart beat roughly in her chest. “I suppose so.”
When she rapped at his door, Selyf called for her to enter. His voice sounded so jubilant she was certain he’d found the solution.
He looked up from his stack of volumes as she entered his study, and joy illuminated his cold face. Coming from anyone but a solitary magical, she would have taken his tone for loving.
“Trysta,” he said in a breathy whisper. His face fell when Bedwyn entered the lair. “Oh. I see you’ve brought the ginger boy along. Very well. Since you’re both so curious about my progress, I’ll have you know I’ve made none as yet.”
“Sorry to interrupt your thoughts,” Trysta said with a bow.
His tone softened. “I shall work endlessly at this task until your crisis is resolved.”
Even from across the room, she could sense the warmth of his breath on her skin. Her heart melted for the solitary creature. She knew that, in only a matter of minutes, he’d grown to love her. Magicals were often that way. Surely he did not cherish Trysta herself, but rather the challenge her situation put to his intellect.
She thanked him for his efforts, and set her basket of treats on the chair across from his desk. Selyf appeared truly touched by the gesture. When he thanked her, she looked into his dark eyes and saw sparks of something altogether lovely. There were stars in his gaze—millions of them. All the knowledge of the world existed behind those eyes, and she knew he would find the answer to her query.
He held her gaze so firmly that she grew self-conscious. What would Bedwyn think?
“We’ll leave you to your work,” she said, turning away from the magnetic professor.
The fabric of his blood-red cassock rustled as he rose. “Where will you stay? Night is soon upon us.”
“Oh,” Trysta replied, looking to Bedwyn for answers. In truth, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. The journey to the gwyllion mountain had taken far longer than anticipated. They couldn’t possibly return before nightfall.
“No worries,” Bedwyn replied. “There’s plenty of grass out there. I’ll build us a bit of a lean-to, shall I?”
“I won’t hear of it,” Selyf interrupted. “Trysta, there is a goosefeather cot in the back room. I shan’t have any use for it if I work through the night. It’s yours for the taking, if you wish.”
Casting his eyes over the food basket, Selyf advised they to picnic outdoors before the sun set. When she reminded him she’d purchased the foods for his enjoyment, he reminded her that full fae ate only for pleasure and not of necessity. Even so, she snuck a corner of honeycomb onto a clean dish on his desk before slipping out to sup with Bedwyn.
Her caru talked incessantly, as was his wont, while she watched the orange sun sink into the horizon. They’d spent most of the day walking. Her legs ached. When she yawned, Bedwyn pointed to a hedge and said, “I think I’ll sleep over there for the night. Will you take the professor’s cot?”
Her heart thumped against her ribs. “You wouldn’t be opposed to it?”
“Of course not,” he laughed. “You with your female problem, and the professor being a solitary fay? I know you won’t get up to nothing. Besides, you never did like sleeping rough. If there’s a cot available, you ought to take it.”
She squeezed his hand as tight as she could. “Thank you,” she said with a kiss to his lips.
He offered a cheeky growl in response, and hugged her tight to his chest. “Just imagine when there’s more of that on offer! I’ve heard there’s nothing in life more satisfying than the act.”
With a slight smile, she looked in the direction of Selyf’s lair. “Yes,” she said before rising to seek out her cot. “Sleep well, caru. I shall see you in the morning.”
Chapter Three
He knew she’d return. He sensed it in her look of longing as she left for dinner with that stupid sod of a caru.
“You’re here for my bed, I presume?” Selyf said as she slipped past the door.
Her eyes revealed everything she longed to say, but he understood her restriction.
“Will you sit with me?” he asked, beckoning her into the chair by his desk.
Gazing into the empty seat, she said, “I should not have come.”
Selyf said nothing as she looked on with apprehension.
Slipping her bag from her shoulder, she sat in the chair. “You should know you represent a distinct temptation for me.”
Her bold admission took his breath away. “As do you, for me,” he admitted. “But you needn’t fear me, Fay Trysta. I have spent all my adult life as a solitary magical. I know denial and self-sacrifice only too well. You are safe here in my home.”
With tears in her eyes, she nodded. For a moment, she looked as though she might speak, but then said nothing. As she rose from her chair, she finally blurted, “What if I don’t want to be safe anymore?”
He only stammered, with no response at hand.
“You speak of denial?” she went on. “What do you think my life has consisted of? At my age, I have yet to experience the pleasures of the flesh. In the village, I must pretend to be exactly what I seem, and why? Because only my mother, her midwife, and I can know the truth. You have no idea the trust I’ve put in you, Professor Selyf. You hold my very life in your hands.”
“I hold your life?” Selyf asked, rushing around his desk. “Why may I not hold your body as well?”
Slipping past him, she hurried to the window, mumbling, “Bedwyn.”
Just as Selyf’s heart began to plummet, she continued, “He mustn’t see.”
Ensuring the curtains were fully closed, she walked to him, slowly. Her eyes burned like roaring embers as they explored the lengths of his body. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she ensnared him in a kiss the likes of which he’d never imagined. He felt her veiled passion coursing through his veins as his mouth melded with hers.
Their tongues fought and surged, one against the other. His whole body was so rapt with hers he could hardly breathe. As they kissed, he ran intrepid fingers through her silken hair and down her back. In turn, she held his cheeks and his neck, his back and his sides. When he grasped the firm flesh of her buttocks, Trysta wheezed and broke free.
The look i
n her eyes was indiscernible but for the temptation it aroused. He almost apologized for being so dreadfully forward before realizing it was she who’d kissed him.
Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her into his arms and carried forth the sweet embrace she’d abandoned. After a moment of brave indecision, she gave in to the kiss and melted in Selyf’s arms. His tongue wrangled hers until she broke away once more.
Pressing her soft lips to his ear, she whispered, “I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Neither have I,” he admitted. “You’ve aroused in me the sleeping serpent.”
At that turn of phrase, her body grew limp in his arms.
“Yes,” she said. “I know only too well what you mean.”
He set her free out of pity. When she sank into her chair and set her head against his side, he placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. Her eyelids drooped. Her eyes closed.
“You need your sleep,” he saw. “Let me show you to your cot, and then I shall continue working at your dilemma.”
Lowering her eyes, she nodded and followed along as he led her to the back bedroom.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, rather too formally.
“It is my pleasure one hundred times over.” With a deep bow, he bid goodnight and left her to sleep.
When he sank into his chair, his eyes glazed as he listened to the creaks in the floorboards. Undoubtedly, she was undressing in the next room.
He imagined running his fingers against her soft skin as he took in the scent of her hair. As a solitary, he’d never had a guest in his home. With a volume wide open in front of him, he stared blankly at the spot they’d stood as they kissed. A serpentine hunger rose through his body, but all he would allow himself to eat was the square of honeycomb she’d left on his desk.
Chapter Four
She awoke to a door thrown open.
For a moment, Trysta had no recollection of how she’d come to be in this dark chamber. As moonlight struck the man’s eager face, she remembered the previous day, and the wish on her lips as she drifted into slumber. It involved this man, Selyf—that he would enter her room in the night to plant kisses on her mouth, down her neck, and all across her chest.
Sitting up in the cot, she allowed the sheets to flutter down her waist. Selyf’s jaw dropped as he stood inside the doorframe, staring at her naked breasts.
“Trysta,” he said, in a barely audible mumble. He looked up and into her eyes. “Fay Trysta, I have excellent news. I’ve found a solution to your dilemma. I can’t be sure it will work, because the mythology is not our own, but I can find no other possibility.”
“That is good news,” she replied, drawing the sheet back up her chest. It would have been better news had he come to ravage her. “Please sit,” she bid, tapping on the cot. “Tell me what you’ve discovered.”
With what seemed almost to be a blush, he placed himself down at the edge of the mattress. When his lean behind landed directly on top of her feet, he bounced up and burbled apologies. Solitary fae weren’t known for their abilities for form social bonds. She took his bumbling disposition as a lovely compliment.
“It’s quite all right,” she assured him. “You can sit on my feet. You might keep them warm.”
With a veiled smile, he set himself down. Although it was only his bottom against her toes, and separated by layers of bedcovers, she felt intensely connected with Selyf.
“I made the mistake at first,” he admitted, “of examining only the fay magical volumes. Finally, I realized they would be of little use in your unique circumstance. Every solution involved simple fay wishes, which, as we have seen, won’t work because of your mixed blood.”
When he looked into her face, she thought for a moment he might crawl up the bed to plant a kiss on her lips. Instead, he shook off his fixation and looked down into his volume.
“Out of pure good chance, I happened to trip over this manuscript of human mythologies. When I flipped open its cover, it came directly to this page here. You see?” He showed her the illumination of Balder, the god of light. “Every year at the time of Solstice, Balder is honoured through sacrifice only to be born again as the sun goddess Sunna.”
“Yes,” she said. “That story sounds vaguely familiar, but what has it to do with me?”
“There are accounts,” he replied, tracing his finger down the page, “of human sacrifices. They began the ritual with fully male bodies. Those sacrifices emerged from the ceremony glowing like the sun goddess, with bodies fully female.”
She could hardly believe her ears. Could the answer be so simple? “Are these true accounts? Human mythology is not like that of the fae. Our stories can be substantiated. The humans tell tales for their own amusement. Would you cause me a mortal wound if this narrative were based on fiction?”
Closing the large volume, Selyf moved closer to her on the cot. Taking her by the hand, he explained, “These sacrifices were not made with the dagger, but with the…”
“Ah.”
He didn’t have to finish his thought for her to understand his meaning.
“And the wound, you already have,” he went on.
With a reticent smile, she acknowledged, “Yes, I’ve heard mention of that type of ritual. I always took those stories for idle gossip.”
“In ancient times, these ceremonies were conducted by druidic priests,” Selyf replied, with a firm hold on her gaze. “But since we haven’t any at our disposal, I suggest we employ a fay magical instead.”
Her fingers felt numb, even as he held her hand. She released the sheets she’d held against her chest, and they tumbled to her waist.
“You would perform the ritual with me?” she asked, wanting him to witness her true beauty before responding.
“Would you have me?” he asked, gazing from her face to her naked breasts.
In answer to his question, she took his hands in hers and brought them to her pale orbs. She gasped as he touched her skin with the tips of his fingers. Leaning into her chest, he set his hot tongue against her nipple and traced its perimeter, making her gasp. He left one, wet and straining, as he brought the other into his mouth. Her whole body felt warm as he suckled and squeezed.
Pressing her breasts together, he licked the cleave as she grasped his dark hair. There was so much she’d desired and denied. To finally succumb to a talented tongue left her panting with need.
When he kissed her lips, her body smiled in anticipation. “Can we do it now?” she begged. “The ritual. The ceremony. Please, Professor.”
“Selyf,” he said with a chuckle. Sitting up in the cot, he brushed the wrinkles from his cassock. “You really must call me Selyf now.”
It was her turn to blush. “Of course.”
“The ritual must take place in twenty-two hours.”
She nodded. “Why then and not now?”
Taking his precious volume up and off the floor, he explained, “The time and place seem vital to the success of the ritual. We are very fortunate to have the site of sacrifice close by. If we set out on foot at daybreak, we should arrive in good time, but we must go on the morrow or else wait a full year.”
“All right,” she agreed. She’d come here with purpose. Trysta would do anything to see her body changed. Still, she was curious, “Why must it be tomorrow?”
Rising from the bed, Selyf said, “At midnight on the Summer Solstice, the god and goddess of light intersect. If we enter the ritual at that particular hour, you, as human sacrifice, may emerge embodied as the goddess Sunna.”
Though she didn’t want to raise as dissenting voice, she had to ask, “I may or I will?”
With a deep, somewhat defeated, breath, he replied, “The manuscript claims many successes, but, as you say, there is limited overlap between human mythologies and actualities. I could continue searching for another answer, but I must admit I’ve reached my endgame. If the sacrifice is unsuccessful, I won’t know how to proceed.”
After all the research he’d done
on her behalf, it saddened her to see the magical so down on himself.
“But if it is successful, we will celebrate,” she encouraged him. “I have every confidence in you, Selyf. As I said, I’ve told you more about myself than I’ve entrusted to anyone else, including my caru.”
That word seemed to strike him like a dagger, and she immediately wished she could take it back. As he bid her goodnight once again and fled the room, Trysta gazed up into the scintillating moonlight.
Caru.
Yes, she loved that “ginger boy.” She loved him dearly, and they shared a lifelong bond, but their partnership never did demand exclusivity. Despite the human blood in their veins, they’d never even spoken of a handfasting. It didn’t seem necessary. Their rapport was perfectly happy without bringing the law into it. That’s all marriage seemed, to Trysta—a contract, rights to ownership, a man ruling over his woman. As cara and caru, they were partners. Once Selyf had sacrificed her on the solstice, she would even have a body to fortify their bond.
Chapter Five
Morning broke soon enough, and before even bidding her good morrow, Selyf asked, “What shall we do about the ginger boy?”
“What do you mean?” she asked as she rubbed her eyes. When she sat up and the sheet fell to her waist, Selyf seemed to take no notice of her nudity. “What of him?”
“He cannot come with us,” he declared, still dressed in his alluring cassock.
Trysta had always been drawn to intellect, and there was no more appealing an intellectual than a fay magical. The one thing she’d forgotten about the solitary fae was that, when they did form bonds, they quite often grew jealous and possessive. Most fae, whether pure blood or mixed, never saw the appeal of the solitary intellect squirreled away in his lair, reading and writing manuscripts. When those few women did manage to break into a magical’s heart, it didn’t end well. She’d heard cases of Corrigans locked in cages to keep the eyes of the world from their faces and the hands of the world from their flesh.
Monsters and Shifters and Men, Oh My! Paranormal Menage and Multiple Partner Romance Stories Page 20