“Little sister,” Red Claw started with a nod.
Her attention snapped to the bronze warrior, and Eristta fought to suppress her churning emotions. “I am not your little sister, terran.” Was that a guilty look on the shaman’s face? Eristta refused to shift her gaze.
“Eristta,” Serosen admonished.
Eristta finally turned her head. She seemed wholly unable to control her emotions where Red Claw was concerned. Would her need for him never cease? Even now she pulsed with desire, her mind tripping with images of the warrior’s mouth fastened on her breasts, his strong hand kneading her smooth mound, his granite-hard shaft warm in her hand…
“Eristta.” The shaman’s deep rumble snapped Eristta out of her mental departure, and her face flamed anew. She looked up to see the warrior standing directly in front of her, the strong angles of his face betraying no emotion. “It is only our concern for you that we advise you as we do.”
Eristta stepped back, her eyes flashing silver. “I know that. But this is no time for coddling.” Her gaze cut to Serosen. “Did you think I did not realize you sent me on the Drow errand to keep me out from underfoot?” She looked back to Red Claw. “And that you encouraged him to do so that I would be less likely to insist that I accompany you to the three kingdomes?”
Fighting to keep a tight rein on her irritation, Eristta turned away and stared into the swirling mists. “The time for games is over. You need me. Both of you.” She spun, her gaze crashing onto the bronze warrior, her blood quickening. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not. You have not been able to locate the Faerie Realm because Ferra’leen has not wanted you to.” Eristta thrust out a hand. A globe of violet shot through with silver materialized, glowing softly. “But I have other means.”
Serosen and Red Claw exchanged looks. “She’s right,” Serosen said.
The bronze warrior moved closer, the muscles of his neck taut. Eristta longed to run her tongue over each ridge and cord. “We will search together.”
She had not expected the shaman to suggest such a thing. The warrior went out of his way to keep his distance from her, which Eristta never understood. She knew he’d entertained elfin lovers since the death of his terran wife over two Earth centuries past, but Red Claw had never given so much as a subtle invitation to her. Darous was convinced the warrior felt himself better than her, separate, but Eristta was not so certain.
She looked up, searching for some clue in his demeanor to explain his decision. Her senses grasped nothing but the calm, neutral aura that Red Claw so perfectly constructed. Gritting her teeth, Eristta turned to her brother. “I travel west. Ferra’leen will have maintained a doorway near the Summer border. Easier to convene with King Ragnock at whim.” Her attention eased back to the shaman. “Meet me there if you can. I will not wait if I find the entrance.”
A ghost of a smile haunted Red Claw’s hawk-sharp features. “You will not have to wait, ohitika waniyetula ishta. I will find you.”
Chapter Three
Flesh melted into thick muscle, bulk and fur. The pads of his feet sank into the warm soil, stirring up rich scents of deer, fox, dirt and a million bits of pollen. Red Claw’s awareness melded with that of the bear’s natural instincts so completely, they became a creature unlike any other. Thoughts churned as he ran, covering distances no normal man or beast could.
The red bear’s thoughts mixed with his own as he ran: It is a perilous choice, meeting her.
Perhaps. But Red Claw knew it was the only choice. He could not let Eristta travel into the Faerie Realm on her own. Not that the elfin princess was incapable of protecting herself. He had every confidence that she was more than able to hold her own against Ferra’leen, but there were other factors. Like her consistent habit of making reckless choices. She could well decide after meeting with the faerie queen, to attempt to travel to Tee’amon on her own.
Visions of the snaking line of golems filled his mind and he growled, the rumble carrying through the lush forest like a bull elk’s call. Forcing black lips over finger-long teeth he swallowed another snarl. Eristta was too important for him to take any chances at this point. Which is why he’d encouraged Serosen to occupy her elsewhere. He should have known it would not last. That she would not allow herself to be misled.
She is headstrong, the bear commented, his thoughts blunt. And unable to resolve her own destiny. You court disaster, brother.
Red Claw mentally sighed, his eyes taking in the rushing countryside with ease as they plunged onward. Perhaps the vision was false, Mato. Perhaps Iktomi twisted it to fit his own dark purpose.
The bear’s thoughts remained quiet, and Red Claw tried to still the faint whisper of hope that had sprung to life within him—until the bear’s next words: No. I would have sensed the trickster’s presence.
Despair…but Red Claw was quick to temper it. He had gone this long repressing his greatest desire; he would simply continue to do so.
How difficult could it be?
Red Claw felt rather than heard the Mato’s cavernous sigh, but he was in no mood to delve into the irresponsibility of his decision. It was done. He would meet the elfin princess and guide her away from her penchant to wildness. Protect her from herself.
And who will protect her from you? came Mato’s knowing rumble.
Like a vinegar-soaked rag, his guide’s words soured whatever optimism might have taken seed, and Red Claw couldn’t help but reconstruct the fateful vision. It was during the time when he’d first stumbled into the land of Fey. Half-starved and mentally and emotionally exhausted in his effort to find his way back home, he had settled into a trance to attempt to convene with the Ancestors.
But what they showed him was not a way home, but rather a disturbing vision of a beautiful, foreign maiden standing beneath a sparkling cascade of clear water. Hair the color of polished obsidian flowed down her body, and her wide violet eyes blazed with passion. Eyes that captured his soul with their intensity and power. Water streamed off her long, sleek neck and ran over her slender hands as they teased ruby-tipped breasts.
As he gaped, the waterfall parted and a warrior stepped through to wrap the exotic beauty in his embrace.
Shock rippled through him. The warrior’s hair was longer and thicker, but it was definitely he. Red Claw watched with fascination as his vision-self and the maiden caressed each other with wild abandon. He could nearly taste the dusky, silken flesh of her neck, detect the crystal bud of her nipples on his tongue and feel the hot, slick juices of her desire on his fingers.
Need roared through him, and it took all his self-control to remain in the vision, to watch as an impartial observer so he might seek the message behind the gift. As the pair continued to consummate their raging desire, Red Claw waited, keeping himself open to possible symbols of wisdom.
What happened next stilled his heart and froze his soul. With wide eyes he watched as his vision-self lifted the maiden and brought her down upon his engorged shaft. The couple shuddered with pleasure, the maiden nearly singing with bliss as she pressed her hands onto his shoulders and lifted herself to slide his cock in and out of her glistening slit.
And then the warrior started to change.
But it was not the wise totem bear that he shifted into. His features and body twisted and rippled with an unnatural change. Blood-red matted hair sprouted from the hulking, misshapen body of a monstrous beast with teeth the size of small trees and massive claws curled nearly into themselves.
Red Claw was forever haunted by the look of horror on the maiden’s face—his beloved. In the next moment, the beast cleaved the maiden from neck to hip. He remembered screaming then. Fighting for permanence, a corporeal form from which to destroy the monster. Reverse the vision.
Instead he watched as the monster thrust his misshapen snout into her open chest and consumed her heart in one gulp.
Red Claw’s attention rushed back to his current situation, his breathing ragged. His tongue lolled and nostrils flared in an attempt to sup
ply oxygen to a body being pushed to its limits.
Why do you torment yourself with it? Mato asked. The bear-man shook his massive head. I will never understand the minds of men.
Slowing the pace, Red Claw gnashed his teeth. Nor will, I, he mind-spoke to his guide, knowing that he had the right of it. It was a foolish thing he was doing. Tempting fate. All this time the warrior had managed to avoid entangling himself with the beautiful elfin princess. Even though she’d provided plenty of invitations, both subtle and straightforward. It was tortuous, knowing that if he were to give in to his greatest desire, it would eventually lead to the horror of his vision.
It made no sense, him mutating into the monstrous brute. Nothing of the sort had ever happened, nor had Red Claw ever shifted into his totem form except by choice. The only explanation was that he was to be the victim of some dark sorcery. But that didn’t make the outcome any less dire, or likely. The only way to ensure that it didn’t come to pass was to avoid creating that bond with the elfin maiden at all costs.
So he’d kept his distance. Feigned polite, brotherly affection and nothing more.
In his mind things were very different. He imagined enjoying the luminous-spirited elf’s charms in every way possible. He had even been witness to her partaking in pleasure with other lovers, which was a different kind of torture altogether. The elfin people, like his own, were not bound by stringent rules when it came to indulging in physical enjoyment. Engaging in sex play with another willing, non-attached partner was perfectly acceptable and expected. The Fey were a passionate race, something Red Claw had always admired about them.
Yet watching her mature into the gorgeous, passionate, spirited woman of his vision was pure agony, as was leaving her to think he didn’t want her.
Red Claw chuffed angrily, trying to drive the direction of his thoughts elsewhere. He allowed his senses to curl outward, sensing his surroundings, questing to know the denizens nearby and their less-obvious counterparts. The golems had not passed this way that much he knew, as there were still nymphs protecting the trees and sprites living among the rushes and evergreens that lined the brook. There was even a satyr hiding in the ash grove at the heart of the wood. Curious of the bear’s passing, but not confident enough to broker a meeting.
Which was fine. Red Claw did not want to draw attention. Not this close to Garethan’s forces. Where the army marched, the sorcerer’s twisted spies could not be far behind.
The scent reached him, and Red Claw rumbled to a stop. Sitting up on muscled haunches, the great bear tested the breeze, black nose twitching.
Eristta.
There was no mistaking her scent of lilacs, spring water and moonlight. Mysterious and alluring, it marked her trail clearer than a beacon. Excitement shivered through the bear, and his rust-red coat shimmered over his powerful body.
Putting his head down, he tracked her, his paws pounding over the fragrant moss, filling the air with sparkling spores that clung to his fur. Her scent became stronger, and he raised his head, animal need coursing through him.
Careful…
He spotted her. She stood beside a stunted willow, its feathered branches teasing at her neck and shoulders.
In her hand glowed a globe of deep violet and silver, a magick unique to the Night Elf princess. Red Claw knew that the resonance sphere allowed Eristta to search out delicate fluctuations in the daerie currents of Tir na n-Og. But it was through her intuitiveness, that she was able to interpret the information through the orb to suit her needs.
He watched as magick shined from her in waves, and the delicate vine tattoos that spiraled the left side of her leg, torso and neck pulsed in time with its rhythmic flow. Her high-cut boots were her only attire, as she’d shed her normal traveling tunic and breeches once she’d reached warmer climes.
Red Claw ran a tongue over his suddenly dry lips as he stared. Her jewel-tipped breasts jutted pertly, her firm, flat belly inviting his caress and daring his eyes to travel to the gentle mound of her womanhood. Her long, muscled legs completed the picture, and he questioned all over again, his wisdom in escorting her.
Sitting back on his haunches, he shifted from bear to man and stood. She had yet to see him, involved as she was with the orb. He noticed that the willow was becoming increasingly…friendly. The wispy fronds were dancing across Eristta’s shoulders and moving to her breasts. As they brushed across her nipples, she gasped, and they beaded perceptibly. The willow continued to sweep across her body, back to font.
“Open for me, Araenin,” Eristta murmured, her voice tinkling like chimes dancing on the wind. “Open for me and I will open for you.” Red Claw watched as Eristta shifted her position ever so slightly, allowing her legs to part a fraction. Instantly the willow dipped to taste her inner cream, but she was quick to snap her thighs together.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she admonished, her violet eyes shining craftily. The willow’s tendrils whipped away with annoyance, and Red Claw held his breath as the orb on Eristta’s palm suddenly imploded. At the same moment, the bark of the tree split down the middle to reveal a misty doorway. The willow’s branches waved impatiently, ushering her inside.
Before entering, her gaze swept the small clearing, her expression one of expectancy and then resigned disappointment. Until she spotted him. Her brows raised and her mouth opened, but before she could speak, the willow’s branches snapped down and whipped Eristta inside its gapping maw.
“No!” he bellowed, leaping forward. The tree attempted to seal the doorway, but Red Claw was quicker. He forced a foot then a thigh in through the opening, preventing it from closing. Red Claw held his ground and eyed the willow soberly. “Allow me passage, willow, or I shall call the rootclaw.”
Somewhere from within the ragged tree came a moan. Eyes the color of a fouled pond slithered to the surface of gray bark. “You would not be so cruel, shaman.”
Red Claw raised one of the many claws from around his neck to his lips and made to blow.
“Cease!” cried the willow, muddy lips twisting. “Harpy’s breath, she said you were passive. I should have known she spoke from both sides of her beautiful mouth.”
“Who is she?” Red Claw asked as the willow rolled back the flesh of its bark to reveal the misty doorway once more.
A snort. “The queen of Faerie, of course. Well, her daughter, that is. Now technically queen.”
“Of course,” Red Claw murmured as he slipped inside. As the doorway shuddered closed, the clingy yellow mist enveloped him. He reached with his senses, testing, searching for Eristta. The shaman knew not to rely on his eyes or his perceptions of what he thought was real. Faerie were masters of mimicry. Of stretching and bending the boundaries of reality and fantasy into one.
“Where is the princess?” Red Claw asked as he walked forward.
“Far away by now,” the willow growled. “Another she-devil who offers false promises.”
The shaman breathed deep. A breeze. Sweet with the scent of honeysuckle and evening primrose, he knew it led to the one person Eristta would seek out. “Was it Ferra’leen who turned you?” he asked, curious despite himself, and knowing that any bit of information could mean the difference between life and death.
“Of course not,” the willow snapped. “It was her sweet and vicious grandmother who thought it a grand idea to punish my…inequities, by spelling me into this damnable deer ass-scratcher.” The tree grunted, and Red Claw knew if he were on the outside, leaves would be raining from the willow’s sagging crown. “I guess I should look on the bright side. I have only two more generations of faerie women to grovel to before the curse is lifted.”
“It could have been a worse fate,” Red Claw said. Of all the Fey races, the faerie were known to be the most ferocious when provoked. While they were easily distracted with physical pleasures, their grudges could last for a millennia.
Before the elf-tree could answer, Red Claw jogged away down the misty corridor, following the mingled scents of the elfin princess and the faeri
e queen.
Chapter Four
“Hmmmm…” Eristta hummed with pleasure. “It tastes like minosha nut cream with yarllberries.” She licked her lips and opened her eyes. The male faerie hovered only a foot away, his chartreuse slanted eyes brimming with interest as he held another delicacy toward her lips.
“Try this one, princess.”
Eristta stared at the blush-pink slice of rare fruit and shook her head. “I could not eat another bite, Reisell.” She looked up. The faerie had changed to his full size and landed on the warm, moss-covered plain. She was not surprised to see his generous, curved cock erect.
“Perhaps you’d prefer that I snack on you, kaolin?”
Eristta raised a finely arched brow. “Sweet one?” She smiled wickedly. “Do you really believe me sweet, Reisell?” Eristta ran a hand languidly from her neck, across the swell of her breasts, following the luscious curve of the globe to its ruby tip. His hungry eyes trailed her as she pinched the nipple lightly, eliciting a small twitch in Reisell’s full lips.
While Eristta had no real desire to engage in sex-play with the beautiful faerie, she knew he had been sent to intercept her. To delay and distract her. And she was prepared. “There is something I want more than anything else, Reisell.” Eristta looked up coyly and drew her tongue across pink lips. “And I know you are the only one who can make my fantasy a reality.”
The sleek yet muscular faerie matched Eristta’s stare, curiosity burning. “Oh?” He floated closer, the rich musk from his wings washing over her. “I’ve been told that I am very good at satisfying fantasies, fair one. Tell me, what is it?”
With her shield holding to dampen the stimulating faerie perfume, Eristta smiled and reached up to run her fingers along Reisell’s angular chin. “I want her, silly boy. And I want you to watch.”
She knew the idea would sit well with the young faerie. It was all about the drama, the anticipation more than it was the actual act. And the idea of watching her and his queen together brought a defined glow to his golden skin. “Yes…you, with your dark hair and moonbeam skin against Ferra’leen’s silver locks and golden glow…”
Night Elves 2: Dangerous Obsession Page 3