by Jade Lee
Then he caught her face again, and she tensed, wanting to wait until she sorted out her conflicting desires. Did she want to go to bed with him now? Yes! said her body, but her mind wasn't entirely convinced, especially since she liked to carefully weigh pros and cons before committing to a decision. But Daken wasn't to be deterred. He pulled her closer, stroked her lips with his tongue, and his delicate persuasion pushed away her arguments, leaving no room for thinking at all.
Her mouth slipped open on a sigh, but he didn't enter. Instead, his tongue teased her lips, alternately stroking and sucking the tender flesh until she was dizzy from the new sensations. It wasn't until her jaw relaxed in invitation that he finally ventured inside to taste her.
She would do it, she thought dizzily. She would become his lover. It was what she'd dreamed about nightly. It was what she'd dreaded as an awkward complication. It was something, everything, she'd secretly longed for.
He played with her, teasing his tongue along her teeth, brushing the inside of her lips, tickling the roof of her mouth. The myriad sensations flooded her mind until her knees went slack, pressing her whole body against him. She felt his hands run down the length of her back until he cupped her buttocks, pressing her intimately against his hardness.
Her body heated, and her belly began to tense. She lifted her arms, sliding them up his until she twined her hands in his long hair, feeling for the first time the silky dark brown strands as they seemed to melt around her fingers.
It was at that moment that he changed. Where before she had been aware of his gentleness, now she learned the warrior strength of him. Cradling her head in one hand, he bent over her, deepening his kiss until he thrust into her with a battle fire she quickly matched. They dueled, the two of them, dancing in and out of each others' mouths with the precision of accomplished campaigners and the awe of awkward youths. It was impassioned, and it stoked the fire in her blood until she panted for breath, her hands grasping his shoulders for support against the dizzying vortex of desire.
He broke from her mouth, his breathing as ragged as her own, but unlike her, his hands were not still. He ran them up and down the length of her, following every curve, sinking into every valley, and molding every peak. She moaned as both his hands found her breasts, grasping and teasing the soft mounds through the thin Lycrasheen material.
He pressed her backwards, pushing against her until she lowered onto the bed. He came down on top of her and possessed her mouth again. This time his kiss was harsh and brutal, but she reveled in it, eagerly urging him to take more, arching into his weight as he ravished her mouth.
Then suddenly he rolled away, and his absence was as sharp as his presence had been only seconds before.
She lay there, slowly bringing her breathing under control as beside her, he too struggled with harsh gasps. Later, when her body's tingling abated enough for her to think, she levered up on one elbow and looked at him.
He sat next to her, but his face was averted, his shoulders taut and high around his bowed head.
"Daken?" She reached out and touched one muscled shoulder. He flinched as if she'd burned him. She drew back, her heart sinking within her as she realized the source of his disgust. "Women here aren't nearly as aggressive, are they? They're not so," she finally pushed the words out, filling them with her disappointment in herself. "Not so loose?"
He twisted, his dark eyes shadowed by his hair. "Loose?"
"Amoral. Sexually free." She bit her lip. "A slut."
He twisted some more on the bed, his eyes slowly clearing as he reached out to stroke her face. "I don't understand these words, but I don't think you know what... what I have to do."
She dropped her head on her arm, staring into the pillow, seeing only the hard edge of his shoulder in her peripheral vision.
"Daken, I lost my virginity behind the bleachers when I was fourteen. He was a football star, and I was a nerd. He was big and hard, and it hurt like hell. Five years later, I tried again with somebody nicer. He was gentle in a fumbling sort of way." She turned to meet his eyes, knowing she was babbling, but unable to stop herself. "I know what we're doing. I'm not afraid. Or at least I wasn't." She looked away. "I guess I'm sorry I can't be an innocent for you. I mean, given the quality of my sex life, I'd have been just as happy to skip it altogether." She closed her eyes, wishing it didn't matter. "I'm not a virgin."
He was silent a long time before he moved. And when he did, he lowered himself on the bed so they faced each other, almost but not quite touching, their gazes locked and even.
"You misunderstand me. I don't wish you to be a virgin. I would not take a... an innocent."
She almost smiled at his quaint sense of honor. "You mean it's okay to have sex with me because I'm already damaged goods."
His eyes opened in alarm. "You're hurt?"
"No. No, that's not what I meant."
He settled back down on his arm, his gaze caressingly warm. "You mean you are mature."
"Uh, yes. I guess."
"I don't like taking virgins. They are skittish, frightened, and it is easy to accidentally pain them."
"I'm sure they appreciate your forbearance," she said dryly.
"Why are you angry with me?"
"Because you've just rejected me, and I'm hurt." She almost rolled away to put her back to him, but he stopped her, holding her shoulder still until she relaxed. Slowly, he began to caress her arm, then gently slid his hand up to touch her face.
"I stopped for two reasons. First, I must know if you are a virgin. It was too fast, and I didn't want to hurt you."
"Well, I'm not."
He grinned. "So you've told me."
"And the second reason?"
His hand became slower, more sensual in its movements as he returned to her arm, rubbing closer and closer to the tight peak of her breast.
"I must present myself to the Elven Lord today. Before the evening meal, which means I should leave very soon. When we make love," his hand lowered, pushing her onto her back before capturing her breast. "When we make love," he continued, following her over, the hunger deepening in his eyes as she gasped, arching into his caress. "I want it to be a long, lingering night of passion, not a stolen moment when my thoughts should be on what I must say to the Lord."
It felt so wonderful, his hot words brushing past her ear, his hand, large and possessive, stroking her breast until she moaned his name. He kissed her one last time. She felt his hunger in his weight on her body, the deep, penetrating thrusts of his tongue, and the hot, swollen rod he pressed into her thigh.
"I want you, Jane Deerfield. And I will take you tonight until we scream out our ecstasy," he stroked her breast, "again," he pressed hard into her with his groin, "and again," a deep thrust that he punctuated with a kiss. She shuddered, too filled with lust to speak.
Then he rolled away to the edge of the bed while he watched her with heavy-lidded sensuality, his own desire smoldering in his gaze. All she could do was watch him until eventually she laughed, a short exhale of passion that held as much awe as humor.
"Wow. You're good."
He grinned, his smile pure male satisfaction.
She threw a pillow at him then pulled herself upright.
"Okay, Casanova. You win. Now exactly what should I wear to meet this Elven Lord? Or do I wait here counting the seconds until you return?" Jane glanced at the floor. She wasn't exaggerating with that last bit. If she was left behind, she'd go crazy, probably pacing the room like a caged animal until he returned.
"You come with me."
Her breath came out in a gust of relief. At least now, she'd have something to do while waiting for tonight.
"And don't change your clothes."
She glanced up. "I can't meet an Elven Lord in a comic book costume!"
He turned to her, his head tilted slightly to one side. "What does this," he said the word slowly, "com-ic book mean?"
"Mean? Oh, nothing really. Just, well, they are stories about people who fight f
or truth and justice in their own special, renegade-type way."
"And you wear this to honor them?"
"Uh, yeah, sort of." How could she explain Halloween?
"Then it is honorable attire for the Elven Lord."
She stared at him, wondering how she got cornered into this one. Then she felt him tie her dagger in place, sliding his hands over her hips with a laziness that was slow torture.
Thank God that days of walking and a diet of dried caterpillar had shed the last of her unwanted pounds. For the first time in a long while, she could be really proud of her body.
"You just like the way it shows off my legs," she accused.
He grinned. "Don't change."
She blushed, pleased that he might think her sexy. "I won't. Just don't abandon me to the lascivious gazes of anyone else, okay?"
He growled, a low sound he magnified for her benefit. "You will stay within my reach every moment of the next... the next...," he paused, clearly trying to think of an appropriate time frame. "The next hundred years."
She laughed, suddenly feeling very young and very beautiful. "I promise I won't leave your side tonight."
He reached up, stroking her cheek while his eyes darkened again to a smoky haze. "I accept your promise. Remember that there is a penalty if you go back on your word."
She lifted her chin, intrigued by the implied threat even as a shiver of anticipation slid down her spine. "Oooh," she breathed. "A challenge. Hmmmm, what shall I do? The possibilities are endless." Then she lifted up on her toes, dropped a quick kiss on his lips, and danced out of the room.
"Jane!" His roar surprised her, but it didn't stop her. Or at least not until he grabbed her arm and pulled her back against the hard length of his body. "The court is a confusing and sometimes dangerous place. Don't be foolish."
She leaned back, luxuriating in the hard planes of muscle that shifted beneath her weight. "Never threaten a modern woman, Daken. She'll do the exact opposite of what you want just to prove she can." She twisted in his embrace until they once again faced each other. "A modern woman doesn't take orders from anyone."
"You will obey me in this, Jane." He sounded serious, but no more than she.
"I don't take orders, Daken. Even from a lover." And with that she sailed out of his embrace and the room.
Daken stared after her, his head slightly tilted as he mentally reviewed the conversation. By the Father, what kind of woman was this "modern" type? It sounded damned inconvenient to him.
He sighed heavily, settling his sword on his back. Perhaps it was time to rethink marriage to this "modern" woman. The last thing he needed was another problem.
As he readjusted his trousers for the third time, he realized it was too late to change his mind. Inconvenient or not, he wouldn't release her. And modern or not, she would have to bend to his will because she was his fool and he was the King.
And that would never change.
Chapter 5
The palace was nothing like Jane expected.
Over the last week, Jane had learned this world was different in many ways, but the palace grounds were downright weird. It started out a little odd. She pictured the Elven Lord in a castle, a defensible structure as a power base that gradually became a simple show of strength as his influence expanded. However, royalty was often eccentric and their royal structures sometimes reflected their oddities.
When the front entrance to the "palace" looked more like a California beach house than a royal home, she took it all in stride. Maybe the Elven Lord was a beach bum at heart. Not that there were any beaches around that she'd seen, but plenty of verdant gardens, brilliant flower beds, and even a very large park-like area reminiscent of an arboretum. In short, everything was very lush, very green, and very open. Jane grinned. This was her kind of palace.
That's when things started to get weird.
They approached what could have been front doors if there were any doors. It was really a huge open square in a wall through which people came and went as they pleased. Daken took her arm, and as they stepped through, Jane suddenly felt a tingling along her spine.
"Daken?"
"The Lord knows we are here. He will come find us when he has a moment."
"But how?"
Daken glanced down, a soft smile playing about his lips as he explained what, apparently, was supposed to be obvious. "He has spelled the door, Jane. He knows all who enter or leave by it."
Jane nodded. "Sort of a security alarm. Does it detect weapons and bombs and stuff?"
"Of course." Daken nodded congenially at a group of people lounging on couches just to their left. "The spell no doubt tells the Lord everything we carry."
"Everything? Like clothing, hairpins, exact change?"
Daken nodded.
"Is that it? Or does it read minds too?" She was only half joking. Just how much of herself had she exposed by coming here? She glanced nervously around her, wondering if a dozen guards would soon come running down the hallway screaming "Space alien!"
Nothing happened. Just people chatting in loose groups. Some read thin linen-like papers, others seemed absorbed in contemplating the scenery.
Jane relaxed until Daken spoke. "The doorway would not read your mind, although there are spells to do that. It is more likely it can recognize an intent to do evil or the like."
"Oh. Is that all?" she asked weakly.
Daken gave her a quick piercing look, but Jane didn't elaborate. They continued to stroll through the palace which was really two floors of open rooms for people to lounge in.
That's when things changed to bizarre.
They left the front building to enter the back courtyard, and Jane felt her jaw go slack. Surrounding a well-trafficked field were dormitories, two large classroom buildings, and what seemed like a cafeteria. At least that was what it looked like to Jane.
"This looks more like a university than a palace," she said as much to herself as to Daken. Even the people constantly milling around looked more like students and faculty than courtiers.
"A un-i-ver—?"
"University. A center of knowledge. Where people come to learn and to teach."
"Yes. This is Bosuny, the Elven Lord's capitol."
Jane stopped, turning to watch Daken's face as she spoke. "You mean people come here to study and learn? The Elven Lord's home is really a school?"
"Yes. Knowledge is strength. Why does this surprise you? How else would it be?"
How else indeed? The Elven Lord zoomed up several notches in her esteem. "You mean there are no heavy political games, no big gun lobbies, little clerks wrapping everything up in red tape?" Jane stalled out. What exactly had she expected? Her image of the doings in Washington D.C. was fed primarily by glitz and glamour vids of well-meaning but naive innocents fighting power-hungry demons. That, or what the scandal mongers on the news channels said.
So what did they really do on Capitol Hill?
Daken shook his head. "Your words are strange to me. The Elven Lord studies magic. He has brought others here to help him increase his powers."
The light suddenly went on in Jane's mind. "So, this is a pacifist government, meaning no weapon play, no guns and bombs and stuff." She'd already noticed few people here carried even small daggers like hers. "But they study magic. And let me guess, there's probably a few people here who concentrate on aggressive, offensive spells."
Daken raised his eyebrows, and his eyes sparkled with appreciation. "For a fool, you are remarkably intelligent."
They resumed walking toward the oldest, most dilapidated structure while Jane looked around, trying to absorb the feel of the campus. Then Daken held open a door into the crumbling building.
Jane hesitated before entering. "Are you sure it's safe? This thing looks like it's about to come down around our ears."
Daken looked up as if noticing the old mortar and weather-beaten bricks for the first time. "Don't worry. This is the most well-protected building in the Elven Lord's realm."
/> "This one?" She glanced into the dark, gloomy hallway beyond the door. "Why?"
"Because of what is in here. Come. I'll show you."
She suppressed a growing sense of horror, mentally girded herself, and stepped in. As the door sealed behind them, Jane fought panic. She felt entombed in these walls, wrapped in the musty smells of age and disuse. She stepped forward. Her sneakers squished on the concrete floor, and the sound echoed in the darkness.
"This is weird," she said in a hoarse whisper. It was like entering a library long since abandoned. The feeling was sad, almost sick, definitely dead.
"This is the home of one of our oldest legends."
He guided her along a well-worn path down a dark hallway, sparsely lighted by an occasional candle.
"It is said," he continued, "an old soul hidden among the people will one day come here to open the door to vast knowledge. Every one who visits Bosuny comes here to see if they are the one to fulfill the prophesy."
A cold chill skated down Jane's spine, and she pushed herself into a false levity to counteract the oppressive feel of the building. "What, they show up expecting to whammo-presto find a key hidden on their body? Like King Arthur's sword in the stone?"
Daken shrugged. "I don't know. I have never been to this building. And I don't know this King Arthur."
She waved aside his regrettable ignorance of one of her favorite legends. "You've never been here? But I thought you said everyone comes here."
"My brother and parents have been here, but..." his words faded as they rounded a corner and arrived at a heavy metal door.
"But..." she prompted, a little awed by the sudden cloak of calm expectancy that settled around Daken. It was as though he were preparing himself for a great battle.
He glanced down at her, his lips quirking in his wry smile filled with self-mockery that she found so endearing. "The day I was born, my mother had a dream. She said I would fulfill the prophesy, but I wasn't to come here until I was of the age of majority."
"Until you were twenty-one?"
'Twenty-four. Two full cycles of years."