The Beast's Beloved (Ballads of Cadarnle Book 2)

by Amber Burns

  Dorlyn’s gaze never once wavered from Vylkur’s as he slowly pushed into his tight hole inch by inch, and it was not until he was fully encased within his dark lover at last that he finally allowed his eyes to flutter closed. It was by sheer willpower alone that Dorlyn kept himself from spilling his seed right then, and as he rested his forehead against Vylkur’s and managed to refrain from thrusting in order to allow Vylkur the time to adjust to his intimate invasion.

  “Gods…” Dorlyn breathed moments before Vylkur wrapped his arms around him and kissed him.

  The kiss quickly became hungry and possessive even as Dorlyn began to gently thrust into his lover. Vylkur’s arms tightened around Dorlyn, and his nails dug into his warm flesh as shivers of ecstasy coursed through his body with every thrust. Dorlyn kept himself supported by his elbows, and he groaned in delight when Vylkur’s smaller hands slid down to rest upon his buttocks and squeeze them in silent encouragement.

  The moment the kiss broke, Vylkur busied himself with kissing, nibbling, and nuzzling every inch of Dorlyn’s flesh that was afforded to him. His lover responded in kind, and their lips would always meet again moments later. It had never been like this with Morkessa. Aside from the obvious difference, there had been no true sense of intimacy between them...no give and take. Vylkur had simply been expected to pleasure her on command. He had not even been allowed to climax during their sessions, for his mistress preferred to not be inconvenienced by pregnancy for even a moment. It had solely been about Morkessa’s pleasure.

  But here and now…

  Vylkur’s comfort and pleasure went hand in hand with Dorlyn’s; and, for the first time since Morkessa had taken his virginity, Vylkur felt like a lover instead of a masturbatory tool. The realization of that made Vylkur want to weep for joy even as his body screamed for more.

  “Dorlyn,” Vylkur gasped wantonly as his manhood became mercilessly subjected to the delicious friction that came from being trapped between their two bodies. “Dorlyn...harder.” He gazed up at the wood elf when he raised his head to look down at him questioningly, and then reached up to cup his cheek. “You won’t break me, I promise,” he assured with a smile before kissing him tenderly.

  Dorlyn nodded when their lips parted, and then he disentangled himself from Vylkur’s embrace before pulling out of him. Not saying a word, he gently turned the dark elf over onto his hands and knees. His hands moved to Vylkur’s hips and massaged them before gripping them firmly as he began pushing into him once more.

  Vylkur moaned and arched his back as Dorlyn began filling him again, and he whimpered while shivering and biting his bottom lip as his lover kissed and nibbled his way up his spine until he was fully encased within him once more. Dorlyn gave two, slow thrusts before gradually taking him faster...harder.

  Words failed Vylkur as Dorlyn mounted him with the same primal vigor of a wolf claiming his mate. His wordless whimpers and cries of growing euphoria were punctuated by Dorlyn’s deep groans and grunts as well as the sound of slapping flesh. Arching his back as his fingers dug harmlessly into the stone floor of the cave, Vylkur threw his head back with a near scream as Dorlyn moved one hand down to grip and stroke his painfully hard length, and tears of utter ecstasy rolled down his cheeks.

  “D...Dorlyn, I...I’m—” The rest of Vylkur’s words were swallowed by a wordless scream as he threw his head back and spilled his hot, sticky seed all over his stomach and Dorlyn’s hand.

  Dorlyn lasted perhaps half a heartbeat longer before throwing his head back with an inarticulate yell as his emptied himself deeply inside of Vylkur. Though his wild, possessive thrusts slowed into a slow, lazy rocking of his hips, Dorlyn did not stop moving until he had been milked dry. Even then, Dorlyn did not pull out right away. Rather, he moved both arms to wrap around Vylkur and hold him close while nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He kissed his lover’s lips when he turned his face towards his, and then slowly pulled out of him at last before carefully easing the two of them down onto the ground.

  The moment Dorlyn settled onto his back Vylkur turned onto his side so he was facing him, and then promptly nestled into his body. Dorlyn’s arms automatically wrapped around the dark elf, even as he tried to ignore just how perfectly Vylkur’s smaller body fit against him.

  “I never knew it could be like this,” Vylkur whispered while tracing lazy patterns over Dorlyn’s chest. He was sore, but deliciously so.

  Dorlyn smiled serenely. “I’m pleased that I was able to show you the light,” he murmured before turning his head so he could nuzzle into Vylkur’s hair. “Now, when you finally arrive in Lehnos, you will know the difference between an owner and a lover.” He felt an odd ache in his heart at the prospect of never seeing Vylkur again, and try as he might, he could not quash it.

  Vylkur was silent for several moments. When he finally spoke again, his tone was flat, and there was a slight hitch in his throat. “Yes...I suppose I will,” he said while shrinking into Dorlyn’s body. “Though, I doubt that any lover I might happen to take could ever measure up to you,” he murmured before taking hold of Dorlyn’s hand that was still covered with his seed.

  Dorlyn’s arms tightened around Vylkur. “You flatter me,” he replied softly.

  Moments later, Vylkur shifted and climbed on top of Dorlyn so he was straddling him. “I don’t flatter,” he murmured fervently while cupping Dorlyn’s face in his palms. “I speak the truth.”

  “I know,” Dorlyn replied after several moments in a voice that was barely above a whisper. He turned his head to the left and then the right so he could kiss Vylkur’s palms. “And that is what both worries and excites me.”

  Moments later, they were kissing, and those kisses only served to stoke the flames of their earlier passion. They took turns pinning each other beneath the other while murmuring tender words in one another’s ears as their hands explored and caressed their sweat-slicked bodies. Vylkur licked Dorlyn’s fingers clean of his seed only to have Dorlyn then lick up every drop and stream that had painted Vylkur’s stomach and stood out so starkly against his ebony flesh. It was then with a wordless mewl that Vylkur threw his arms around Dorlyn and clung to him while kissing him hard.

  Though they both knew full well that they should have left things firmly on the note of their passionate lovemaking and resume their earlier dynamic, they simply could not. They could not get enough of one another, after having that first, forbidden taste. Something had shifted dramatically between the two of them, and even though the two of them together made no logical sense at all, neither of them cared.

  This was not the end for them...not by any means.

  This was only the beginning.

  1

  300 Years Later

  Liandrya Silvermoon pulled her hood down lower over her face as rain poured from the sky in torrents. It was not much further to Lehnos, the city in which she made her home. It had been a long journey from the western-most lands of Cadarnle, and Liandrya was exhausted. She was almost half tempted to find a cave a bed down for the night; after all, the half-elven ranger had slept in far worse during her many adventures. It was only the thought of the warm bed and even warmer company waiting for her that kept her moving forward.

  Then, there was also the matter of safety.

  Liandrya placed a hand on the satchel she wore across her body and felt the bulge of the object that had endangered her life so often on her journey. The wrapped wounds on her left leg and right shoulder were reminders of that. Forging onward to the city truly was the only option. Only within the safety of the city walls would Liandrya be able to plan her next move, and she would have to plan.

  A twig snapped behind Liandrya, and she whirled around with her bow raised and an arrow aimed in one fluid motion. Though she saw nothing, Liandrya did not lower her weapon. She remained vigilant and ignored the pain radiating through her entire right arm from her shoulder.

  Rangers did not last long in the wilds by ignoring their instincts.

  When the sound of o
rcish snorting emerged from behind a bush, Liandrya released the arrow. No sooner had the arrow hit home, five more orcs leapt out from behind rocks and bushes, and charged. Liandrya’s arrows sang through the air, and though the ranger refrained from being a stationary target, the aim of the arrows fired remained true as they hit vital points on the bodies of the disgusting creatures.

  When the last orc fell lifelessly to the ground, Liandrya shouldered her bow and continued on her way. It was then that a final orc charged out from behind a tree with a jagged axe raised aloft, and Liandrya dove out of the way moments away before the lethal blow would have hit. Her hands flew to her boots and pulled out her twin daggers as she ignored the sharp pain in her left leg and rose to her feet and turned to face her foe.

  “Bravo, my disgusting friend,” Liandrya said with a pained smirk as she twirled her blades. “But I’m afraid your journey ends here.”

  As the orc charged once more, Liandrya waited until the last possible moments before leaping into the air. Her blades were a blur of silver as she executed a clean flip over the orc’s head, and Liandrya landed in a crouch, mere moments before the creature’s head fell from its body. Sheathing her blades after quickly wiping them, the ranger stood and turned just in time to see the orc’s decapitated body crumple to the ground.

  “Told you so,” Liandrya said simply before pushing her now sopping hair from her face with annoyance. Her hood had fallen from her head during the fight, and she now glared up at the torrential sky as the heavy rain drenched her ginger tresses. “Bugger,” she grumbled before turning back in the direction of Lehnos and quickening her pace. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t catch my death of cold.”

  Exhausted as she was, Liandrya set her jaw in determination. Now, more than ever, she knew it was necessary to reach the city. She managed to glimpse the massive gates of the city in the distance, and she dug deep within herself to grasp the last remains of her stamina before moving at a quick clip. Liandrya knew the gates would remain open until sunset, but even with the sky in its current state, she knew that she was running out of time.

  “Blood, bugger, and spite,” Liandrya growled under her breath before pushing her aching and exhausted body into a full sprint.

  She steeled herself against the pain shooting through her leg and kept her gaze fixed upon the massive gates as she drew nearer with each step. She winced with each footfall, and every time she lost her footing in the mud, she grunted and bit back a scream of pain as she righted herself and continued her mad dash. She was almost there.

  And she could see the gates slowly beginning to close.

  “HOLD THE GATES!” Liandrya cried once she was close enough.

  It was with a wordless cry that Liandrya pushed through the pain and all but dove through the closing gates. She crashed unceremoniously into one of the guards and was forced to cling to him in order to keep from collapsing. Her injured leg quivered from the strain, and Liandrya was hesitant to put too much weight on it right away.

  “Made it just in time, lass,” the gatekeeper said with a chuckle as he finished turning the giant wheel that controlled the heavy doors. “If you’re lucky, Markus will buy you a drink once he’s off his shift,” he teased while another guard turned the crank that set the locks and bolts clicking into place.

  “My apologies,” Liandrya said with a sheepish smile before tentatively putting weight on her injured leg and slowly stepping away from the guard once she was certain her leg would not give out from under her. “Markus?” she asked of the guard who nodded while flashing her a rakish grin despite the fact that the rain continued to pour mercilessly from the sky. “My thanks to you for being in the right place at the right time, but I really must get home and nurse my leg.”

  “You need any help, lass?” Markus asked.

  “Thank you, but no,” Liandrya replied with a shake of her head. “I can manage. My home isn’t far.” She smiled. “Thank you again,” she said before turning and limping off in the direction of her home.

  There was no point in drawing her hood at this point. Both it and Liandrya were completely drenched, so the ranger simply pushed on in the storm through the familiar streets. As much as she loved being in the wilds, Liandrya truly loved returning here, and she smiled widely as she saw her home after turning the corner of the appropriate street. Reaching into the small pouch fastened at her belt, she pulled out the bronze key as she stepped up to the door of the house.

  “Hello?” Liandrya called as she entered the house before closing the door behind her. “Anyone home?”

  Liandrya crossed over to the roaring fire that crackled in the hearth and then removed her drenched cloak and boots. The cloak, she draped over a large chair. The boots, she propped against the small woodpile before she simply stood before the flames and held her nearly frozen hands up to the welcoming warmth. She glanced down to see a silver-furred feline was curled up on a soft blanket by the hearth, and she smiled when the cat mewed sleepily in greeting before yawning and stretching.

  “Hello to you too, Argos,” Liandrya said while dropping into a crouch to give the feline an affectionate scratch. Her smile grew when she was rewarded with a deep, rumbling purr as the cat drifted back off to sleep. “It’s good to see you again too.” It was then that her ears became attuned to the sound of approaching footsteps, and Liandrya rose to her feet.

  “You’re back.”

  Liandrya turned her head in the direction of the voice and smiled widely at the sight of the dark elf who was positively beaming with a joyful smile of his own. He was dressed in the simple robes he preferred for when he was at home, and the warm orange of the fabric was incredibly striking against the ebony of the elf’s skin.

  “Vylkur,” Liandrya greeted happily. “I’d greet you properly, but…” She motioned to her dripping state.

  “Since when has that ever bothered me?” Vylkur asked with a chuckle as he closed the distance between the two of them and drew Liandrya into his arms. “Welcome home, my love,” he murmured before claiming her lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

  Liandrya moaned softly and clung to the dark elf as his tongue brushed languidly against hers. Vylkur was perhaps only an inch taller than she was, so when his manhood began hardening, Liandrya felt it against her pelvis as their two bodies pressed flush against each other.

  “Oh, my lovely Lia,” Vylkur murmured against Liandrya’s lips when the kiss ended. “I missed you.” He kissed her again. “You were gone for far too long this time.”

  “I missed you too,” Liandrya murmured. “I—" She hissed and winced when Vylkur’s hand brushed over her wounded arm.

  Vylkur drew his hand away immediately. “You’re hurt,” he said before hurriedly undoing the fastenings on Liandrya’s belts, fitted jerkin and shirt only to then push them gently down. His eyes widened upon seeing the blood seeping through the wound’s bandage. “How old is this wound?”

  “I don’t remember,” Liandrya answered dismissively. “Three days?”

  “And yet it isn’t healing?” Vylkur asked while unwrapping the wound with painstaking care.

  “It’s a bit hard to give a wound time to heal when you’re fending off attack after attack,” Liandrya remarked wryly. “I suppose I should count my blessings that I didn’t encounter the infamous Black Knight.”

  “Well, I’m here now to set things right,” Vylkur replied with a smile before holding a hand over the wound after tossing the soiled bandages into the nearby hearth. His hand began glowing softly, and within moments, he channeled healing energy into Liandrya’s arm. He had learned a great deal since studying in the Wizard’s Guild after his arrival in Lehnos all those centuries ago. “Any other injuries I should know about?” he asked as the wound vanished without even a hint of a scar.

  “My left leg,” Liandrya replied with a sigh of relief as healing warmth radiated through her entire arm and chased away the pain. She smiled when Vylkur kissed her shoulder. “Now it feels even better,” she replied with a giggle befor
e the dark elf kissed her lips.

  “Only the best for you, my little nightingale,” Vylkur replied with a smile before sinking to his knees and unfastening Liandrya’s snug trousers and pushing them down her shapely hips. “Who were the beasts that attacked you?” he asked with an underlying growl of anger to his voice as he gently unwound the bandage that, like the one that had been wrapped around Liandrya’s shoulder, was soaked with fresh blood.

  “Orcs,” Liandrya replied with a wince when a crusted portion of the bandage pulled against her skin.

  “Forgive me, my love,” Vylkur murmured before thoroughly healing the seeping wound in the same way he had the other.

  “You’re forgiven,” she murmured with a smile before shivering when Vylkur nuzzled her left hip only to tenderly kiss it.

  “Orcs,” Vylkur grumbled with a disapproving shake of his head. “Filthy, savage creatures. Never did care for them.”