“It isn’t necessary to say pretty words and tell me things like I’m exquisite,” she whispered. “I’ve always known I’m not. Being ordinary is fine with me, really it is. Let’s simply enjoy what we have to offer each other for this one night. This is Carnalval. It’s the only chance we’ll ever have.”
Confusion muddled his thoughts. Was it possible this woman really didn’t know how very beautiful she was? Sarco placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her until she faced a tall mirror standing behind her. He took her hands into his, and one at a time, positioned them firmly on the sides of the mirror’s dark-wood frame. He held them there. Sliding a foot between her feet, he pushed with his knee and slightly parted her legs.
His voice was more a growl than a whisper when he dipped his head and nuzzled the skin below her ear. “Watch yourself, Wonderful, and see the woman I see.”
Chapter Two
If ever a man was more sexy, more hot, more tantalizing than the one standing behind her, touching her, caressing her this very moment, Lark couldn’t imagine such a man. Vibrations rolled over and through her as he raised his arms above his head and clapped. Thunder shook the walls, and a chilly breeze filled the room and cooled her heated skin. The whoosh of air snuffed out the candles scattered throughout the small space, plunging them into darkness save for the streaks of moonlight filtering through the windows.
Lark couldn’t take her eyes from the mirror even if she’d wanted to. The man’s hands glowed with light and pulsed with energy. A wizard. He must be a wizard to do such magic.
Gently, he caressed her cheek and ran a finger over her partially open lips. “You, my lady, are the very definition of exquisite. Your skin’s as soft as the first flower buds of spring, Wonderful, and your lips taste of rich, sweet nectar. Your scent entices me. You smell of wild flowers and raw need.”
Lark gasped as his long, lean body came into full contact with her back and ass. His cock was hard against her, throbbing, pulsating, ready.
His glowing fingers slid first to her throat then to her shoulders, and his lips followed their path. “Your body is beyond even exquisite, Wonderful. It was made to hold a man close and surround him with your warmth.”
Lark shivered with excitement as his fingertips caressed and playfully slid up and down her arms.
“Shoulders wide enough to help carry the day-to-day burdens of life, yet hands small enough to reach out and seek comfort when you need it. Arms long enough to wrap around a man’s body, and legs strong enough to hold him close. Oh yes, Wonderful, you are definitely exquisite.”
No one had ever spoken to her this way. Lark shivered and her breath came in quick gasps as his glowing hands wrapped around her waist and tugged her in closer, tighter.
For long moments, they stood just like that. He holding her, and she absorbing feelings she’d long denied. It wasn’t until her breathing calmed that he continued.
His fingers trailed lower, down across her belly, and between her parted legs.
Liquid heat filled her as his fingers delved into her pussy. She burned. Every nerve ending screamed, every heartbeat pounded, and every breath warred with the next to be her last. Lark needed this man as she’d never needed another, and she needed him now.
“Please,” she whispered.
His thumb slid over the sensitive nub of her clit while his fingers played and teased at her opening. “Watch me, Wonderful,” he chuckled. “Watch me pleasure you. See how beautiful you are when you soar.”
Lark hadn’t realized she’d even blinked, but she opened her eyes wide now and marveled as long, glowing fingers slid in and out of her pussy. A throbbing so intense it threatened to buckle her knees overcame her. For a second, she let go of the mirror’s edge and grabbed for his arm to steady herself. He gave a simple twist of his wrist, and in the flash of light that followed, Lark’s feet left the floor until she floated inches above it.
“Put your hands back on the mirror’s frame.” He commanded, but there was no censure in his voice, only passion.
She did as he asked.
His hands circled her hips, lifting and angling her toward him. With a swift, confident plunge, he slid his cock into her awaiting pussy.
Lark sucked in a deep breath as his thick shaft stretched her. He was big and hard, virile and hot. As hot as the sun that would surely rise much too soon in the morning, as hot as the inferno of the fires in the Valley of Torment must be. Lark giggled. Thoughts of sins and where she’d end up when she committed them were not welcome right now. This was Carnalval. This was allowed, encouraged even.
“I do believe you’re the first woman ever to have laughed when I’ve entered her. If you didn’t look so smugly satisfied with yourself, I think I’d be insulted.”
She gazed at his reflection in the mirror, then looked at herself and even she could see the transformation. No longer was the woman before her plain and ordinary. Her body glowed with life and energy. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure and passion. Her insides throbbed with need and excitement. She was beautiful, vibrant, and oh God Draka, she was sexy.
Lark tucked her feet back behind his knees, locked them in place, and smiled at his gorgeous face in the mirror. “I am quite satisfied with myself. You said you wanted to watch me soar? Well then, magical man, continue with this spell you’ve cast and come fly with me.”
There was little time left for words. Bodies melded into one another as muscles bunched and strained. Breaths came in quick, hurried spurts. Fingers caressed then held tight as he plunged harder and faster, and she answered, stroke for stroke, with a force of her own.
His hands were everywhere at the same time. On her neck, then breasts, her belly, then clit. Over and over with a sure, steady, lover’s touch. His front pressed against her back, and Lark could feel the rippling of his muscles as she gloried in the barely restrained power of this man. His cock slid in and out, with strong, sure thrusts, slick and slippery, faster, then slower.
The cadence of his heartbeat matched hers, and a throbbing of delight formed deep in the pit of Lark’s belly and radiated outward. The pleasure grew, expanding until her toes curled, her throat tickled, her insides contracted, and each individual hair on the top of her head zinged with an electrical charge.
When it happened, Lark wondered at the shout she wasn’t sure came from her lips or his, as they both exploded together with mind-numbing ecstasy. Wave after sweet wave of rolling, effervescent spasms shook their bodies until, at last, with a satisfied sigh, he lifted her off his cock and carried her to his bed.
He gathered her close, spooning them together. “I know there’s not much forbidden during Carnalval, except inquiring your name, and I wouldn’t think of it. But I do ask one more thing. For the remainder of this one night, stay with me, Wonderful. Let’s make love until the sun beckons. For tomorrow, I must return to my responsibilities.”
Lark turned in his arms and placed one of his hands against her heart. “I pray the night wins its battle with day and the sun doesn’t rise. In your arms is the most amazing place I’ve ever been,” she sighed. “But we both know that won’t happen. The sun will come up as it always does, and I too have responsibilities. But yes, for this night, I agree. Let’s make love, again and again.”
He slid his hands over her body. Lark moaned and trembled as his fingers and lips explored once more. He touched her in reverence, and she gloried in it.
The world inside the room became everything, and nothing beyond the walls existed. They were simply a man and a woman enjoying a passion they both knew must fade with the coming of the dawn.
Lark sighed. It would have to be enough.
****
Hours passed as the wind carried the melody of night birds mixed with the fragrance of late-summer flowers along the well-worn paths of the pleasure city of Carnalval. The skies were alight with the twinkling of fireflies, so thick they competed with the stars for attention. The three moons of Albrath, one new, one quarter, and one full, each cast shimme
ring rays of light, illuminating the dark corners of the room and adding to the magic.
Sarco lay on his side with one arm behind his head and the other draped across the luscious breasts of the lady sleeping peacefully beside him. It had been more than a turn of the hourglass since his third time making love with this beautiful woman. His mind craved more even while his body knew it wasn’t possible. Never before, not in any woman’s arms, had making love felt so right. He sighed and closed his eyes. How could fate be so cruel?
One peek. Surely one quick peek under her mask wouldn’t be so horrible an indiscretion? He had to know. Perhaps he had no choice but walk away tomorrow and never again hold her, never again make love to her, but, by God Draka, he could take the memory of her sweet face with him.
Gingerly, so as to not waken her, Sarco lifted the white-feathered mask away and gazed at the sleeping beauty before him. A sprinkling of pale freckles crisscrossed her nose and dotted her cheeks. Her dark, sable lashes lay peacefully against her skin. Her full, slightly puckered lips moved gently in slumber, and Sarco longed to partake of their taste once more. He memorized every feature. The small roundness of her ears, the slope of her forehead, the tilt of her chin. Finally, with a soul deep sigh, he let the mask slip back in place.
He should have never looked. There were reasons for the rules. Sarco had always been about the rules. Had always followed them. Why had he gone against them this time? For the rest of his life, he’d be tormented by the memory of this silver-eyed beauty who could never truly be his.
He couldn’t resist her allure, however, and neither could his cock. Once more, he woke her with a kiss.
****
Lark smiled at the man sleeping peacefully beside her. What had it been? Three, no four, possibly five times he’d expertly pleasured her beyond her wildest dreams during the much-too-short night?
Streaks of early morning light filtered through the window and chased away shadows as Lark gazed to her heart’s content at the beautiful male specimen beside her. She should rise and dress, slip quietly from the room without a word, and be on her way. She didn’t move. She couldn’t quite bring herself to let it end.
What would it hurt to lift the edge of his mask and gaze upon his face? She would never see him again. No one would ever know. Tentatively, Lark stretched out her hand, but then quickly drew her fingers back.
No, this was Carnalval. To break this city of pleasure’s cardinal rule of maintaining anonymity and get caught at it would mean being banned from here forever. She weighed her choices—spend the rest of her life wondering or, so unlike her nature, take a chance? Lark smiled.
Her fingers trembled as, ever so slowly to avoid awakening him, she lifted his mask. One glimpse to last a lifetime, that’s all she would take, then she’d slip the mask back in place. Fate couldn’t be so cruel as to expect her to go on year after year, always wondering, never knowing.
A ray of sunlight illuminated the chiseled planes of his features and Lark’s heart stopped. She gasped and skittered away from the sight so quickly her feet tangled in the sheet and, with a thud, she landed in a heap upon the floor.
There was stirring and the definite sound of the man turning over, and Lark held her breath and silently prayed, “Please don’t wake. Lord God Draka, if you care for me in the least, don’t let him wake.” The movement stopped, he settled, and the room once more became quiet except for the deafening roar of her pounding heart.
Oh God Draka, what had she done?
As quickly and silently as she could, Lark rose, gathered her clothing, and dressed. She was almost out the door when she remembered the mask. She had to put it back. There was no way he could be allowed to know she’d seen his face.
Stealthily, she crossed the room and with quivering fingers, put back what she should never have removed.
It was all she could do to keep from caressing his cheek one last time as tears clouded her vision and a lump too big to swallow formed in her throat. Of all the men in Albrath, why did this one have to be who he was? Of all the males in the world, why did he have to be the owner of the one face forever forbidden to her?
She’d been right after all. He was a wizard. Not just any wizard, however, but High-Elf Wizard Sarco-Keltoris Titus Sunwalker himself. A man born and bred to be the next lord and leader of the elfin kingdom of Landis. He was also the newly appointed Master Wizard Instructor at the Academy of Magical Arts. A man known throughout all of Albrath for his single-minded dedication to family, duty, honor, and responsibility.
The man her parents spoke of incessantly, sometimes kindly, sometimes not. And, most heartwrenchingly of all, he was the man her sister, Princess Aryanna Zahanna Clemencia Hammerstrike, intended to marry.
Chapter Three
If ever a man had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Sarco Sunwalker was certainly that man.
Lark closed her eyes, rested her head against the back of the seat as the coach rocked along the country road. Outside, the wind howled and the rain pounded the stones beneath the wheels. The horrid weather matched her mood. What had begun as a sunny morning had quickly developed into a full-blown storm before Lark even left the courtyard of the castle she and Sarco Sunwalker had spent the night in. The dash back to her own castle room had left her not only drenched, but melancholy.
Sarco, why did it have to be you? Lark groaned as lightning flashed and thunder roared so loudly it shook the coach.
“Stop doing that!”
Lark opened her eyes and glared at her sister. “It isn’t me. It’s just a summer storm, Ary.”
Princess Aryanna rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s you. All manner of foul weather blows when you’re upset about something, and you know it. How long must we suffer before you tell us what really happened last night?”
Tears stung Lark’s eyes. “Nothing happened. Nothing’s wrong. I simply don’t feel well.”
The female gnome sitting across from Lark snorted, “That’s what ya’ve been telling us all morning since ya got back ta our rooms, late, I might add, and it’s still poppycock. I’ve raised ya since the first day ya were put ta yare wet nurse’s tit, and ya can’t fool me, little missy. Ya forgot ta cast yare protection from disease and pregnancy spell like I told ya ta do, didn’t ya? Probably hooked up for the night with some smooth-talking devil of a dark-elf and now ya’re worried about the consequences. Well, serves ya right if ya did. And don’t come crying ta Laycee Titwilder, expecting me ta get ya out of this mess. No ma’am, not gonna happen.”
The gnome governess made a production of adjusting her ill-fitting blond wig while glaring at Lark.
A single tear escaped and slid down Lark’s cheek. She swiped it away and scrunched her eyes tightly closed, determined she’d not let her sister or governess see her cry.
“I wouldn’t have been late if I hadn’t been following your stupid take-no-money-with-you-because-the-men-should-pay rule. I had to walk back to our castle instead of renting a coach. And I didn’t forget my PDUP spell. I even said it twice, just as you asked. I didn’t spend the night with a dark-elf, and I’m not causing this storm. I simply had too much ale last night and don’t feel well. Now, leave me to my misery, please.”
Just like Laycee Titwilder, Aryanna wasn’t having it. “So, where did you spend the night then, and with whom?”
Lark cringed, not wanting to lie but seeing no way around it. “In the lobby of some castle. I passed out. End of story. I wasn’t the one who wanted to come to Carnalval in the first place, remember? I would’ve been perfectly content to go elsewhere, anywhere, even home.”
Aryanna gasped. “So now you’re blaming me. You know perfectly well this trip to Carnalval was to be my last few days of freedom. And how did I spend my final night before I must go and do my duty? Did I have a secret tryst with some handsome elf, barbarian, human, or even troll? No, I didn’t. I got turned down flat and spent the entire night with Laycee and her…her blow-up doll, Tug, worrying about you and waiting for you to get h
ome.”
Lark squirmed in her seat, knowing her sister was just getting started.
“And…and you may not be responsible for every single storm, but I would bet anything you’re the cause of this one. You can’t tell me you aren’t. Even though we don’t speak of it often, we both know what you are.
“I remember being snowed in more weeks than I want to think about because you were upset about something. And you haven’t forgotten the time you got angry with the twins for yanking your hair, have you? Father was so worried it was going to flood and ruin all the crops because it rained so hard that season. Try and deny it all you like, but that doesn’t change the facts, my dear spiritmaster of a sister!”
Aryanna’s voice droned on and on, but Lark turned away and blocked it out. She pressed her face against the small window and watched the landscape roll by. Field after field of wildflowers in every color of the rainbow calmed her spirit.
Gentle hills sloped here and there as the cobblestone roadway meandered northward toward the horizon, toward the ring of portal stones, toward home.
How many times in her life had she heard those same words? You’re different, Lark. You don’t fit in, Lark. People are afraid of you, Lark.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, gulping the warm air of the confined coach as deeply as she could. Ary was right. She must calm herself before the storm washed away the road, leaving them stranded in the middle of nowhere.
Yes, she was different from other people, always had been. If she wasn’t careful, she could see into others’ minds without their being aware of it, and sometimes even change their thoughts to her way of thinking. More often than not, though, it backfired and people became stubbornly adamant in their own opinions, and no amount of reason could change their views. Experience had taught her to be careful when playing around in other people’s heads.
And then there was the weather. The skies almost always matched her mood, and certainly on more occasions than she’d like to take credit for. There were times her father blamed her for the long winter nights and heavy snowfalls, though they lived in the far, far north where huge drifts of the powdery white stuff were perfectly normal.
The Academy Volume One Page 33