Trace rummaged through the tents, but found no silver or anything of value. The raid was still a success. They'd gotten what they came for—souls.
In the distance, he spied the approaching glow of lanterns, seemingly afloat in the gloomy dark. Shouts and the fall of footsteps also pierced the night.
"Come! We must go."
Aryl nodded.
The campfire cast shadows across Trace's face. The edges of his mouth stretched wider, but his smile seemed sinister, not joyful. His gray eyes appeared to brighten as he gazed into the throbbing orb.
"Now!"
Trace immediately dashed into the forest. Effortlessly, he ran through the trees, for all living things feared the elves.
For the elves brought death.
* * * *
Tara sat alone in the closed castle room. She stared into her vanity and sighed again. Her eyes were so pale they were nearly opaque. Her thick raven hair had been braided into thin, individual plaits and beaded with tiny pearls. They hung to just below her waist.
If only she could unbolt the lock on the other side of the door and escape to her freedom—perhaps then, and only then, could she be truly free.
Free to play in the latest snowfall. Free to practice her magic as she saw fit, and not to the tune of King Dinji, runt of the elves and taskmaster to the human colonists.
As if thinking about him wasn't enough torment, the door slid open and in walked the cursed elf. He stood eye level with her, but his attitude more than made up for any missing height.
"It's time,” he said, sneering over his bushy moustache. “The soul snatcher has returned."
Tara got to her slippered feet with all the speed of frozen water.
Great. Another feast, another celebration, and another funeral for those humans whose souls were lost to the snatcher.
Still as she stretched out her arms for Dinji's magical bracelets, Tara felt her blood quicken. Another chance to glimpse the soul snatcher made her jumpy. She couldn't deny her somewhat base attraction to the handsome, but cold Trace. Seeing him would divert her attention to the rather mundane existence she led. Her fantasies always included him as their star.
Anyone who could snatch the souls of humans—living, breathing individuals—was someone to be very careful of. And yet, the shroud of danger surrounding him called to her, tugged at her nipples and forced her stomach to tighten.
"Tonight, your magic is required!” Dinji barked, and snatched her roughly and without care to him.
He clamped on her bracelets so hard they bit into her wrists and she winced, drawing back without thinking.
Dinji grew still, his dark eyes on her face, his grip painful.
"Do not make me hurt you, Tara. The bracelets, my pet, are to keep your magic for my purpose—only..."
That one sentence wasn't a threat, but a future promise.
Tara wrestled to control her emotions.
"Yes, Your Highness,” she whispered, bitterness in every word.
"Better,” he growled and patted her head. “Much better."
He opened the door and she swept out in front of him, heading to the grand hall. Already she could hear the music and shouts of drunken elves slipping round corners to greet her.
Tara brushed aside the heavy, green curtain and stepped out onto the raised dais. A sole throne sat there. She immediately plopped to the floor like a common animal, while Dinji took his place as king.
All went still as elves bowed to him in respect, though none felt it for him. As far as Tara could tell, none of the elves truly liked or respected Dinji.
They simply feared him.
And her magic kept them sated.
Tara gazed around and once again noted King Dinji's thirst for entertainment. As he sat on his throne with his face twisted in irritation, he waited for Trace to arrive. Tonight was supposed to be the semi-annual feast of souls. His pointed ears stuck out as if separated from his head by his emerald-crusted crown. Black, like his mood, long, twisty dreadlocks hung down his back.
The castle's floor, splattered with blood from a previous fight to the death, lay as testament to the day's activities. Still, Dinji yawned and called, “Next entertainer!"
"There are no more, sire,” said a castle guard. “All have retired."
"Then wake them up!” Dinji barked. “I am the..."
Dinji's words broke off as Trace and Aryl entered the grand hall.
Tara's breath caught and she reminded herself to breathe.
There he was, dark and mysterious—the soul snatcher—Trace.
Trace bowed at the waist. “Sire."
Tara bit her lip at the hunky elf. His gray stare glided over her and she found her throat dry.
"The orb?” Dinji asked, his voice betraying his impatience.
Trace bravely met his eyes and removed the ball from his pocket. At once it glowed casting an azure shadow across the hall.
Dinji held out his hand for it and Trace climbed the three stone steps up to the throne. He carefully placed it into Dinji's slightly shaking hands.
"It's so warm,” Dinji said as he gazed into it. “The ceremony is on!"
The hall rejoiced, but Tara noticed Trace merely smiled that same grin that never quite reached his eyes. She'd watched him for years, and he never quite gave into his grins, they were more like pale ghosts floating across his lips.
Something about those eyes drew Tara's attention. She'd never seen him this close before. Always from a far distance was how she'd looked upon him in the past. She noticed his dark, unblemished skin, like hers, but his seemed to shimmer amongst the candlelit hall. Perhaps feasts and dances weren't his thing.
What lay behind his eyes to conjure such pain and apathy?
Could it be all the death he wrought?
Dinji's sharp inflection caught her attention and she tuned back into the conversation between the king and the soul snatcher. Trace had mounted the stairs and stood there, slightly taller than Dinji.
Trace was closer than ever, and Tara swallowed the hard chunk of adrenaline and, well, fear in her throat. She kept her head down and listened, for the boisterous din almost drowned them out.
"Think, Trace, think of it! How long have we snatched human souls? Centuries and still they lie like fat, lazy animals, unsuspecting...” Dinji said. “This is exactly what caused your uncle and your father's demise."
Tara coughed into her hand at the comment, but Dinji wasn't listening. Trace shook his head, his features melding into a frown.
"The human camps to the northern part of the Western Forest were prepared. Last night we tried them, but they had formed some sort of army. Not more than twenty or so, but still, they were ready for us."
Dinji snorted, his eyes bright. “So what if some of them show signs of intelligence?"
"Sire, remember the oracle's prophesy. The time of soul snatching is drawing to an end,” Trace said, his gaze meeting Dinji's.
"That is one interpretation of the prophesy,” Dinji said.
Tara felt his cold, icy gaze brush her and she bit her lip to keep from growling. She peered at him from the corner of her eyes.
What does Dinji want with me now?
Dinji took his gaze away from the glass orb long enough to meet hers.
"Tara, we need some redecorating. We need to feast!"
Her face crumpled into an angry scowl. “Fine!"
"Remove her bracelets,” Dinji commanded a guard. He lifted the key from the chain around his neck and gave it to the guard. The guard unlocked the bracelets, but kept his stare on her, watching her closely.
She lifted her hands and whispered a chanting spell as old as the foundation of the grand hall. At her words, the bloody floor vanished and was immediately replaced by hand-woven carpets, tables and colorful curtains. Magically, more musicians appeared and began to play a lively song of battles won and the ceremony was on.
"Happy?” Tara spat. Heavens, she hated being his chained pet. Her eyes were nothing more than slits of fury
. “Am I dismissed now?"
"Lock up her bracelets,” Dinji said, in a bored tone. Still infatuated with the orb, he waved her off without a second look. “Return her to her room."
Tara's gaze met Trace's briefly as the lanky guard dragged her through the curtain and down the hallway, and out of sight.
* * * *
Although Dinji had waved her off, Trace, however, did not. In fact, he couldn't tear his stare away from the spot where Tara had been. He found her stunning, and he'd never seen such a beauty before. Longing lay within his chest and he temporarily pondered possessing her.
And just as quickly, he felt sickened.
But it was not to be. He was a soul snatcher, and she, well, she belonged to the king. He'd seen her many times before and each engagement left him winded.
"Let's celebrate!” Dinji ordered, dancing around in circles with his orb.
The elves thundered back their hurrahs, and the feast continued.
Trace headed back down the stairs, already longing to be outside the boisterous hall and in the quiet of his cottage. He didn't leave right away, but watched from the main entranceway. It was bad custom to offend an elf by leaving. He'd sneak out after a while, like always.
A space had been cleared and many danced in the candlelit hall to the musicians’ tales of myth and legend. Trace didn't dance, for dancing was for those of the court, noble high-ranking elves and the like.
Sure, his father had been king, but that had been years ago.
A lifetime ago.
Trace studied Dinji as he danced with three pretty cocoa-skinned elves. Their long raven hair spun around their waists in a blur as they twirled. Their gray eyes sparkled with joy and perhaps a magic spell as well.
"Do you not dance?” asked a silky voice from behind him. A hint of amusement rose from it.
Trace jumped and whirled around, his hand on the dagger strapped to his thigh. When he saw it was Tara, he relaxed, but his stomach fluttered.
"No, I do not dance."
She smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a frown. “You do not partake of the food and the ale. It is a celebration. You successfully returned with souls, again."
"No.” His gaze drank in her lovely complexion. Her lips, full and thick as his, were the color of dried blood. Her ears ... were not pointed!
As if sensing his alarm, she said, “Oh, ho. Surprised?"
Trace's hand went back to his thigh and gripped the handle of his dagger tightly.
"What are you doing here? In his court? You're human."
She tossed back her braids and said, “It is not by choice that I am here. I'm a prisoner. Dinji stole me from my colony some ten years ago."
At that, she pulled back the heavy sleeves of her turquoise robe and showed him the thick silver bracelets on her wrists he had seen earlier.
"So?"
"So, these prevent me from leaving the castle grounds,” Tara added, her breath soft against the lyrical music. Her sad gaze looked up into his face and met his in earnest. “I am his and he uses my powers to his benefit."
Trace felt his heart slowly move up to his throat.
Yes, a human amongst elves. What did Dinji think he was playing with? Humans were dangerous, somewhat lethal animals. They were not pets, whether magical or otherwise.
And yet, Dinji was doing exactly that with her.
With a sweeping growl, Trace tore his gaze away from hers and hurriedly left the hall, continued out through the main entranceway, and into the soothing arms of the night. He had to be far away from her in order to cool his rather hot desire to touch her.
Humans couldn't be trusted. Tara could not be trusted.
Outside the castle, the bitterly cold air rushed into his face, freezing the sweat on his brow. He grimaced as he moved through the town's square toward his two-room cottage.
A human. A human! Damn Dinji's arrogance!
The walled elven city of Tellen resided on top of a large plateau. Dinji's guards patrolled the wall at all times with crossbows, spears, and arrows, ready to pick off any humans who might threaten its population or attempt a retaliation for Trace's soul snatching.
For now, he'd done his bit, his duty for his country.
And so the cycle had been for centuries. His father was king, but his uncle was a soul snatcher. All soul snatchers served the king to provide souls to replenish the oracle's energy. It citizens depended on the oracle's predictions for guidance. During his uncle's tenure as soul snatcher, the oracle had prophesied snatching's demise.
A fearful and strange declaration, the prophesy was hotly contested. So unpopular was his uncle's interpretation, that Trace's father and uncle were killed. The throne fell into Dinji's royal line.
Trace had been eager to follow his uncle's path to soul snatching, or else he would've been killed too. Still attacking humans had left Trace empty.
As Trace thought about humans, his mind drifted to Tara.
Tara, a human amongst elves. Long since had all of his secret desires been of her, but he'd assumed she was elfin.
But now?
His cock answered the question with a resounding push against his breeches. She still made him hard and hungry. She stirred his desire as if it had been poured out of him and into a big, round cauldron. Tara's beauty resurrected long-dead desires and passions squashed under the duties of soul snatching.
He'd been without a lover and affection for so long, but he dealt in death—love wilted beside him—inside him.
Finally at home, he pushed through the doors of his cottage. Feeling the pressure of his very full, throbbing cock bounce as he walked, Trace stood in the center of his home and stripped off his clothing piece by piece until none remained. He had to stay his lust, or he'd be distracted when he went to the oracle tomorrow.
A soft knock at his door interrupted his thoughts.
With his forehead pinched, he snatched up his cloak and answered the door, opening it only to a crack.
"What?” he barked through the sliver in the doorway.
"Soul snatcher, I've come to see you,” Tara said throatily, her eyes mere slits in her hooded cloak. “Be quick."
What is she doing here?
Trace stepped back and allowed her entry, though he didn't know why. What would Dinji's pet want with me? And at this time of night?
He clutched his cloak tight about his body.
"What may I assist you with?"
She swept back her hood and again he felt as if he'd been punched. With knees buckling, he held her intense gaze.
"I-I wanted to talk to you,” she stammered.
Now inside his cottage, the cool, collected Tara had vanished. Unsure and quiet, she shoved her hands into the slits in her cloak and dropped her gaze.
"About what?” he asked, standing still. If he moved, his cloak may flap open and she might see...
His cock bobbed at that thought. It wanted to be seen, to be held, to be kissed and stroked...
"About many things,” she said, cryptic at best and again with the distracted voice of someone who wasn't sure. She walked around his small bed right onto his pants.
"Oh, I caught you at a bad time."
"No,” Trace said before he could even stop himself. “Yes, I mean, yes, I was getting ready for bed."
Grinning she turned back to him, and opened her cloak.
"You sleep in the nude, soul snatcher?” she asked, tossing her cloak over the end of his bed as if it was hers. “So, may I see what's under that finely tailored garment?"
Trace swallowed and shook his head no. That's what she wanted to talk about?
Focused on what she wanted, the commanding Tara was back.
"Shy?” she whispered, unlacing the top of her corset as she drew closer. “A strong elf like you, afraid of me?"
"No,” he managed to cough out, but she was on him in minutes. “Tara, I don't think this is a good idea. You're Dinji's human woman..."
She froze.
"I'm not his woman, but his .
.. his pet,” she said. “I explained it earlier."
Angered at her tone, Trace tore himself out of her grasp. “But his, all the same."
She chuckled, the way young elfin girls do. “I want to be yours, soul snatcher."
He heard the amusement in her voice. “What?"
She didn't really mean that?
A human. An elf. In a room alone.
"You said Dinji wouldn't let you leave the castle, so how did you get here?"
He stopped her as she continued to step closer. “Explain yourself or get out."
"Fine. Dinji's family stole the throne from you. I have read the royal tapestry that hangs in Dinji's bedroom. You are the last. I think you should be king."
Trace slipped his blade—still in his discarded thigh holster—with such fluidity and speed that he held it to her neck before she could swallow.
"Speak not of my family!"
She tensed under his blade and her gaze moved to his. “Do what you must, but the fate of us all depends on you."
The blade bit into her neck, producing a single drop of blood. The ruby droplet slid down and pooled in her collarbone. “Will you lick my blood, like your brethren sip our souls?"
He shoved her backward and replaced his dagger. “No."
His body wanted to do other things with her, and yes, it involved licking. His gaze roamed over her ample breasts, pressing impatiently against the slick leather of her corset.
"You've come to seduce me,” he accused, his desire turning his voice thick.
Tara placed her hand on his knee sending shock waves and passionate impulses to his cock.
Oh, yes, I long to possess her.
"Yes, but not because of Dinji,” she said. “I have a hunger all my own and it wants to be fed."
At this, Trace met her gaze and found it filled with heat. She couldn't be serious? He was an elf, and she, she...
...was naked!
With a wave of her hand, her clothes fell to the floor and all manner of intelligent thought zipped out of Trace's mind.
"Come, soul snatcher, and steal my soul,” she whispered.
He stared into her eyes, and found himself getting lost in them, falling into their gray swirling pools. They reminded him of the sky with an incoming storm. She smelled like flowers and soap, and magic. He wondered if her beauty was some sort of enchantment, like the celebration feast. He felt the tug of lust rise hard and fast in his heart.
Summer Solstice Scorchers Page 6