A Sliver of Shadow

by Allison Pang

  “Time runs a bit differently here, but I’d say it’s probably about nine in the evening as you would tell it.”

  “Feels like I’ve been awake forever.” I took another swig from the flask. “And no offense, but I’d rather ride to Faerie naked on your horse than wear those shoes again.”

  He set down his bowl, toeing off his own boots before stretching lazily, humor flicking about his face. “Tempting as it may be to see you try it, have no fears on that account. Becka gave me some of her clothes for you.”

  “Becka? The elf at the clearing?”

  “Mmm,” he grunted. “She’s a soft-heart where I’m concerned. When I told her you were my TouchStone, she insisted that you be dressed as befitting your status.”

  I rolled my eyes, unsure if I should be insulted or not. Heaven forbid they take pity on me simply because I was cold and wet. “Whee, I’m chattel.” I drifted into the center of the spring, dipping my head beneath the water.

  “Don’t judge us too harshly,” he said reproachfully.

  “Well, you have to admit most of you are pretty stuck up.” I fluttered my fingers at him. “All that mysterious ‘can’t tell you for your own good’ crap.” Tresa’s words of revolution and Kitsune’s warning echoed in my mind, but that could wait until I was dry.

  He stared at me, a long, slow smile curving his mouth. “Let me join you and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “You just want an excuse to come ravish me. Or is that going to be your way of making today up to me? Tell you what though, if you are planning on soaking in here with me tonight, you’d better do it fast. I’m starting to prune.”

  He removed his vest, shedding his tunic and the vambraces in a few easy motions, the trews following in short order. He let the Glamour fade away, leaving him naked and vulnerable.

  The witchlight pulsed once and then dimmed, leaving his scarred body softer, the silver strands of tissue seeming that much more terrible for the beautiful flesh that remained. His chest and abdomen were firmly muscled—not with the overindulgent ripples of a bodybuilder, but with the lean hardness that comes from rough living.

  Prince or not, Talivar clearly had not basked in the ease afforded to his station. Wordlessly, he slipped into the water, ripples disturbing the surface. “I used to come here a lot,” he said finally, easing himself deeper until the water was level with his chest. His face became grim, his fingers brushing over the wounded eye. “My father would allow no one to heal what I’d suffered, but neither would he allow me to seek solace elsewhere. Once the damage became permanent, he no longer cared what I did.”

  His gaze met mine, something terribly lonely passing between us. “Here I could at least be alone and lick my wounds, as it were.”

  I cocked a brow at him. “And you never brought a lover here? Because I have to tell you, you’ve managed all the moves pretty damn well.” I gestured carelessly at the blanket. “Food, alcohol, campfire. A convenient lack of clothing. One might almost think you planned it this way.”

  A sheepish smile chased away the hurt of those distant memories. “Yes, well, I used to have quite a few lovers … before.” He shrugged. “Not so much, these days.”

  “Pity,” I murmured, floating toward him.

  He reached out, taking my hand. I let him pull me closer, catching the question in his expression. I barely thought about it. After all, I owed nothing to anyone anymore. I bobbed up against him, pressing a soft kiss on his neck. “I don’t suppose you brought any … uh … protection? I seem to be clear out of pretty much everything, at the moment.”

  He sucked in a breath at the touch of my lips, sighing when I withdrew. “Back pocket,” he muttered hoarsely.

  “You dog,” I teased, “you did plan this.” I glared in mock offense, laughing when he kissed my shoulder apologetically.

  “Not quite the circumstances I was expecting, but Phineas did mention it as something of a necessity,” he admitted, something heavy and hungry flaring to life in his mien. “You’ll have me, then? For tonight, at least?”

  I decided I wasn’t even going to begin to wonder in what world my potential lover exchanging sex advice with Phineas was a good idea. I stroked my finger across his cheek in answer before sliding it into the water to trace wet circles upon his chest. He captured my hand, kissing it hard before sliding the tip of my index finger into his mouth. Pleasure arced from my wrist to my groin, a jolt of pure lust tightening my breasts.

  He hummed softly, the vibration tingling through me. “Let me look at you for a moment,” he whispered as I moved to take the length of him into my hand.

  I stilled, his lips brushing my cheeks before firmly taking control of my mouth. His tongue flicked hard against mine, probing in a silent dance. I wondered at it, this hunger of his. If he’d truly been as shunned as he’d suggested, it had probably been quite a while, indeed. I could only imagine what it would be like, to be nearly immortal, without even the comforting touch of another. Not to mention love.

  His fingers bit into my hips with a sudden desperation, sliding behind and beneath to cup my ass. I whimpered but remained still, giving him the opportunity to explore me at his will.

  This too was a form of healing, perhaps.

  When he bent to suckle my breast, I met him halfway, my body straining in the darkness. I became acutely aware of his breathing, punctuated only by my sudden gasp and the flat, wet sound of his tongue as he lapped at my nipples. He bit them gently, rubbing his face along the soft curves.

  My hands snagged into his hair, finally setting it free from its braided confines. It cascaded through my fingers, silken as rabbit fur. It took on a bluish hue beneath the witchlight, gleaming as it trailed at the surface of the water. One hand snaked around my waist even as he tipped me back, supporting my head with the other.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.” He leaned forward to kiss the largest bruise on my shoulder.

  “The spa treatment makes up for a lot. All I need now is the happy ending.” The vibration of his laughter rumbled deep in his chest, pulling an answering flutter from my heart at the sound. The light reflected from the water and played over his face. I caught a glimpse of the man he’d surely been before—the hint of boyish mischief about his eyes, the slightly impudent nose, the quick-to-smile mouth…

  He lifted my chin so our eyes met, something dark and far more primitive burning within. And then the moment was gone, and his tongue was plunging into my mouth, rocking in time as his cock slid softly against my belly.

  “Not yet,” he growled, my legs sliding up to encircle his waist. I nipped at the delicate arch of his ear. He let out a husky groan and his teeth grazed my neck, his hips nudging insistently. With a grunt, he lifted me from the water, draping me so that I half lay upon the blanket, the bowls scattering into the grass.

  His erection jutted up from a dark nest of curls and I murmured an encouragement, taking his finger into my mouth with a teasing swirl. He sucked in a ragged breath and slid his lips down between my breasts and below, lingering at my belly, pausing to kiss each tiny bruise along the way.

  “So gentle,” I murmured. By the time he reached the juncture of my thighs, I was squirming, raising my hips to find his mouth hot and wet and waiting. Without further request, he slung my ankles so they rested on his shoulders, his tongue delving deep. Cupping my ass, he tilted me up, my hands fisting the blanket as I let out a strangled cry.

  He chuckled. “I’ll make you sing for me yet, Abby.” He swept over my clit even as he spread me wider, one finger trailing over the sensitive flesh.

  My back arched, heat skittering up my belly. Impatient, I began to thrust against him, only to have him hold me still. I tugged on the length of his hair, clenching down on his finger with my inner muscles. He let out a groan in response. I smiled for half a moment and then all thought fled as he renewed his assault.

  By this point I was drumming my heels upon him, my voice nothing more than guttural moans. My waist moved in
rhythm with his tongue, each velvet stroke taking me to the edge, only to have him pull away at the last moment. “Please,” I whispered hoarsely.

  “As my lady commands.” He smiled, suckling hard at my clit, even as he crooked his finger to strike that perfect spot within my core. I bit down hard on the blanket, my focus on the way everything bore down to that single point of pleasure. The orgasm rolled over me, six months of celibacy exploding in a single moment of violent ecstasy.

  By the time I was cognizant of anything other than the blood pounding through my ears, I realized Talivar had moved up to lie beside me, kissing me softly along the jaw. “Thank you,” he murmured, capturing my mouth with his own.

  “Don’t you have that backward?” I nuzzled his chin, my lips curving into a sated smile at the prickle of facial hair. “After all, you did all the hard work. All I had to do was lie here and think of England.”

  His good hand stroked lazily down my rib cage. “It’s good to know I’m not as out of practice as I thought.”

  “Mmm … no. That was rather masterful, if I do say so.” I nudged him, suddenly aware that he was still pretty damn aroused. “And you’re not done yet, right?”

  He snorted softly, one hand digging through his bunched-up trousers. “No … but I might need a little help. We don’t exactly use these in Faerie.” He tossed me the foil package with a shy grin. “Plus I thought we might move a little closer to the fire.”

  My hips swayed with a languid sort of grace as we retired to the tent he’d set up, a new energy thrumming through my veins with each step I took. In the back of my mind I ran through a number of scenarios about the wisdom of getting involved with an OtherFolk lover.

  Again.

  Given, our circumstances were not the best, but when would they ever be? I was lonely, I realized with a jolt—and had been for quite a while. Talivar burned with a hunger borne of solitude longer than anything I’d probably imagined.

  I stroked his cheek, my thumb sweeping over his eye patch. “When did this happen?”

  He shrugged, one dark brow rising. “Two hundred years ago, give or take a decade. I tend to blur out the more unpleasant memories.”

  “Understandable.” I paused. “You realize the others are going to talk.”

  “Let them.” He traced my lips with his fingers. “I’m tired of being alone, Abby.”

  He allowed me to draw him down, my arms about his shoulders. For the first time, I truly looked upon him as simply a man, as though those last few words had shredded the remnants of the veil he wore. No longer a prince or a Protectorate, a crippled elf or a tired warrior. Only Talivar.

  Only us.

  “Guess we can be alone together, then.” I tore open the foil packet, extracting the condom with as much decorum as I could muster. Now that the hot and heavy moment had passed, I had to admit it was a tad awkward to be showing a nearly immortal elf the basics of birth control.

  He caught my eye as I fumbled with the tip and we laughed, his hand catching mine to help me unroll it over his cock. “I think I get it.” He stared at it bemusedly and then shook his head. “Mortals are such strange creatures,” he said, his tone mournful.

  “Practical,” I reminded him. “We’re practical. And prepared.” Keeping one hand on his cock, I stroked him in an easy rhythm, letting him tumble me to the floor of the tent.

  He stretched out over the length of me, his hips already teasing my thighs apart. “This part I remember.” His words were muffled against my mouth as he kissed me again.

  I had no answer save what my body could give him, my limbs shuddering with pleasure when he thrust his way inside. He lay still for a moment, his forehead resting on mine, and then he began to move in a circular motion. My legs crossed behind him, my hands entwined in his hair.

  Lost in the soft sounds of our breath, the quiet moments between sighs, the half-sobs of pleasure and the tail end of lust, I passed my first night in Faerie, naked beneath a starless night, wrapped in the arms of a Faery prince.

  And I was not alone.

  Nineteen

  Morning broke upon us with a rolling mist, a hushed whisper of things to come. Talivar rewarded me with a sleepy smile. The naked vulnerability of the night before had fled in the early hours. I returned it with a shy smile of my own, suddenly very much aware that I didn’t have any clothes to cram into.

  His mouth pursed at my sudden discomfort, and he curled himself around me to rest his head on my shoulder. I went limp, the heat of his body sliding into mine. Slowly I shifted my hips, wincing when they ground into the hard earth below the tent. “Guess I’m not used to roughing it,” I groaned, rubbing a sore spot on my thigh where a rock had apparently decided to nest.

  He kissed the nape of my neck. “Next time will be in my bed,” he promised, snaking his hand down to give my ass a tiny pinch. “Much more comfortable for these tender bits of yours.”

  I flicked his ear. “I suspect I’ve got a reasonable excuse.”

  “Mmmph. Maybe.” He traced his fingers over my hip in small circular patterns that I suddenly found rather mesmerizing. They stroked teasingly over my rib cage, settling on the curve of my breast. My hand rested on top of his and I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles, coming to rest on a small notch right below the center of the middle finger of his left hand.

  On impulse, I lifted his hand to my lips to kiss it. He shuddered, wrapping me tightly in his arms. I turned to look at him. “Don’t,” he whispered, his voice husky.

  “You okay?”

  The brush of his lashes fluttered like a trapped butterfly against my neck and I wondered at it until I felt the damp warmth of tears. “This was … unexpected,” he said with a rueful laugh. “I received that scar nearly two hundred years ago, and yet you bring forth those memories with such a simple gesture.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I wasn’t sure how wise it was to probe, but I knew perfectly well what it was like to have one’s emotions fester.

  “It’s a complicated story. One better left to later, I think.” He propped himself up on his elbow, turning me so that we were face to face. “Or at least on the road.”

  “You know, I hear that kissing is the way to cure sadness in Faerie,” I said archly. “Are you sad, Prince?”

  “I just might be,” he murmured, letting me pull him down, his mouth brushing against mine for a long moment. “And we had better stop, lest you tempt me to waste the rest of the morning.”

  I reached around him to find his shirt. “Let’s start with clothes first.” I yawned, draping it over my shoulders. He stretched out with the easy grace of one who is used to casual nudity. His gaze roamed over me, apparently pleased at my state of undress. With a regretful sigh, he rose and exited the tent.

  The campfire had burned out during the night and I wandered over to poke at the embers with a stick. “No warm breakfast this morning, I guess.”

  “There’s a bit of bread and cheese left in my pack,” he said absently, bending to check the stallion’s hobble. I took the opportunity to check out his ass, flushing at the score marks on the left cheek.

  “Guess I got a little enthusiastic.”

  He looked up at me with a sly grin. “These are not the sort of scars a man minds bearing, Abby. I’ll wear them with honor.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No one else will see them.”

  “Maybe not, but they’ll see that.” He gestured at my neck.

  I craned my head down, unsure of what he meant until I caught the barest hint of purple just below my collarbone. Hickeys. The dude had given me hickeys. “How old are you?” I scowled, drawing the cloak tighter.

  “It’s the sign of a good night,” he told me, the grin growing wider.

  Shaking my head, I stalked over to his pile of belongings. “Where are those clothes you were going on about? I’ve got things to do.”

  Laughing softly, he procured the promised dress, a lavender confection with a fitted bodice and an ebony skirt. I wriggled into it, gazing hopel
essly at the extra ribbons. Coughing his amusement into his hand, the elf swiftly tied the stays. “It suits you,” he mused. “Perhaps it needs a bit extra for the hair, but either way, it’s a vast improvement over muddy jeans.”

  “Something tells me the fashion police aren’t going to be bothered with a poor little mortal like me.”

  He eyed my necklace carefully, his mouth tightening. “They’ll bother with the Key, for sure. We’ll need to make certain that’s out of the way. Even with the Glamour.”

  He thrust on his trousers, belting them up so they slung low over his hips. He finger-combed the tangled mess of his hair, grimacing when he hit a few knots.

  “It’s going to take forever to braid those. Maybe I shouldn’t have undone them.” Chagrin blossomed in my cheeks. “Do you have a comb?”

  He dug through another saddlebag, pulled out a silver-tined comb and handed it to me with an amused look, sitting cross-legged at my feet. Hesitantly, I ran it through the upper half, trying not to catch the snarls too hard. “I can see why you keep it bound as much as you do.”

  A chuckle escaped him and then he paused. Retrieving a dagger from his belt, he held it out to me, hilt forward. “Cut it off,” he said.

  I blinked at him. “Cut it …”

  “My hair. I want it shorter.”

  “I didn’t think the Fae did the haircut thing much.”

  “We don’t. Royalty in particular,” he added. “But maybe I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not.”

  I looked at him doubtfully. “Rebel, rebel, your face is a mess.” I gestured at him to turn around. “How short do you want it?”

  He shrugged. “It will grow back. Whatever looks good to you.”

  “Oookay.” I grabbed a hank, slicing through it carefully. It was a hack job, to be sure, but by the time I was finished, it reached to just above his shoulders, part of it hanging at a slant to frame his chin. “There. It should be a bit more manageable now, I guess.” I rubbed my finger over his jawline, the rough hair prickling my skin. There was a reddish hue to it that didn’t quite match the rest of him. “You know, I didn’t think elves grew beards.”