by Danica Avet
Okay, I needed him to move. Not away, but into me. His words caused a hunger inside me I wasn’t sure could be fulfilled. No one had ever said something so erotic or tender to me before.
“Ryvan, please move.”
“I want to savor this a little longer,” was his gruff response. “This might be the only chance we have for a long time, and I want to enjoy it.”
Oh. Right, we were in danger. I had a moment’s clarity. We shouldn’t be doing this at all. Sable was in the next room probably waiting for us to come out and make pla—
All thought of danger fled when his hands slid to the waistband of my skirt and followed it to the front. My stomach wasn’t flat, but I sure as hell sucked it in when I felt him touch me. His fingers fumbled with the button of my skirt, undoing it.
“Pull it over your head,” he ordered, gripping my hips to tug me back with him when he moved.
We were fused together so tightly, he didn’t shift inside me when I wiggled the skirt over my head, the potion bottle clocking me in the face. I threw it across the room, leaving me in nothing but my loose top and bra, but not for long. Quicker than I could process, he tore the shirt from my back and unhooked my bra, tugging the straps over my shoulders and down my arms.
These movements shoved him deeper inside me as he was bent almost in half to disrobe me. His rough, hot hands slid beneath me to cup my breasts. The head of his cock butted up against my cervix. My eyes crossed from the pressure, not sure if I liked it or not. It didn’t hurt, but it was a strange feeling, one I couldn’t—
He moved again, the jerkiness of his movements jostling him inside me. His cock rubbed and I exploded. Deep, near-painful shudders wracked me and I screamed, well, like a banshee.
“Fuck!” he snarled. His hands tightened on my breasts to the point of pain, but there was no stopping my orgasm.
My pussy sucked at his cock, clenching and tugging until he joined the program. He withdrew against the pull of my muscles and slammed into me. On that inward stroke he brushed a part of my channel I’d always thought was a true myth. Pleasure zinged through me and I came again and again with every silken rub of his flesh against that little spot. Again and again he thrust, faster and harder with every plunge until finally he slammed home with a loud groan.
Heat spilled, scalding me from the inside out. My body, which had become foreign to me, shuddered again, accepting everything he had to give. My eyes burned at the strength of my orgasm. Something hot trailed down my cheeks as my womb gave one final, compulsive squeeze.
Ryvan slumped over me, his softening cock slipping from my drenched folds. His breathing fanned over my shoulder, his big, muscled body covering me completely. I was surrounded by him, his scent, his heat, and I’d never been more content.
“This isn’t contentment, Magda, this is a true mating between consorts,” he whispered against my skin.
I froze because I knew damn well I hadn’t spoken about my contentment. I also wasn’t so sure we were consorts. I mean, I barely knew him and…I’d screwed him like a—
“Like a consort,” Ryvan answered my unspoken shame although I hadn’t intended to use the word consort. “We are consorts, Magda.”
Something was definitely off. “Uh, right. Could you get off me now?”
I needed some room to think, to come to grips with the explosive chemistry between us. I highly doubted I was the banshee of prophecy, but he believed I was and thought we were meant to be together. It sounded great, the whole made-for-each-other thing. If I were any younger and less cynical about my reception in Fairworld, I might even buy into it. However, I don’t believe in fairy tales anymore and what Ryvan was talking about was all happily-ever-after and not for me.
“You still doubt you’re meant to unite your people?”
I glared at the comforter. I’d tried ignoring it, thinking it was just coincidence, but there was no denying it now. “You’re reading my mind.”
His big shoulders shrugged causing his chest hair to tickle the skin of my back. “Of course, I’m your consort.” Like that was some kind of answer.
“Get off of me,” I growled, my temper, usually very slow to ignite, starting to burn.
“You require proof of my place in your life, little banshee?”
I squirmed beneath him, trying to ignore the way my skin came to life with every brush of my body against his. “Hell yeah, I want proof, but there is none because prophecies never come true!”
I may as well have tried moving a mountain for all the impact I had on Ryvan’s position over me. I couldn’t really complain about him hurting me or anything because he kept most of his weight off of me without letting me have room to maneuver. Damn elves.
He thrust something in my face. My eyes crossed trying to see what he was showing me. Finally able to focus, I saw something silvery glistening in his palm. I wasn’t sure what it was at first. My mind flipped through possibilities like Breeze breaking something and carrying it into my bed or glass from somewhere, when my instinct knew exactly what it was.
It was a banshee tear. Unlike other species, most banshee tears solidified rather than evaporated. Not all of them did, of course otherwise there’d be a higher supply than demand. Only the most powerful banshees had the ability to cry tears that could be preserved for longer than a few days. And if Ryvan was to be believed, I’d just cried one of the biggest, most distinct tears I’d ever seen in my life.
Nearly the size of a marble, the tear shimmered with iridescent light. I reached out to touch it, confused, baffled, and nearly faint with excitement. It was cool to the touch though it pulsed with power strong enough to send an electrical jolt up my arm. The hair on my neck stood up.
“How?” I whispered in awe.
Ryvan shifted over me, releasing me from the cage of his body. He rested on his side next to me, his bright blue eyes gazing into mine with possessive tenderness. He tilted his hand, letting the tear roll out of his palm into mine. He gently enclosed my fingers around the tear and pressed a soft kiss to the back of my hand.
“You and I together are more powerful than any queen and consort has ever been or ever will be. Together, we’ll keep civil war from coming to Fairworld because we were made to be together.” His eyes shifted color, swirling with deep brown before returning to the dazzling blue I’d grown so used to.
I blinked. “How…” I shook my head trying to organize my thoughts. “You’re not just an elf.”
His mouth tilted up at the corners in a sly, sexy smile. “Water elf and gancanagh,” he rasped in a voice that made my nipples stand at attention again.
My jaw dropped as I looked him over carefully. The gancanagh were nearly extinct, or had been the last time I’d been in Fairworld. They were similar to incubi, except they were literally addictive to human females who, once having a taste of the seductive wiles of the gancanagh, went into withdrawal. History was rife with stories of women who’d died after their gancanagh lovers lost interest in them.
“How?”
“My father seduced my mother and nine months later I was born,” he said with an easy shrug.
“Did she—” I wanted to know if his father had killed his mother, but I didn’t want to bring up a painful subject.
Ryvan shook his head, his dark hair flopping over his forehead. “It isn’t a painful subject, sweetheart. They’re still together. Ma uses her water magic to keep Da on a short leash.” His lips curled into another seductive smile. “Da doesn’t mind at all.”
O–kay. “But why does that make us…you know?” I looked down at the tear in my hand. How did any of this make sense?
“Magic doesn’t make sense, Magda, it just is. I’m the only elf-gancanagh halfling I know of, you’re the only banshee born without the ability to shed tears, maybe those two things together combine to make a power never before seen in Fairworld, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do with it and that we face all obstacles together.”
Together. The word echoed in my min
d as I searched his eyes. I’d never had anyone on my side before. I’d always had to deal with everything alone. The tortures, the tests, even starting a new life had been about me against the world. Ryvan insisted we were meant to be together, to fight together, and to rule together.
My heart ached. This was my greatest desire, staring me right in the face. The need to have someone on my side, a companion, a friend, a champion who would be with me no matter what bubbled through my veins. Ryvan offered everything I’d ever wanted without hesitation.
Gods, I wanted to believe in him, in this strange magic we shared, but centuries of betrayal by my own people held me back. Ryvan’s eyes gazed back at me steadily. I wanted to believe and maybe I would, later.
As though he’d heard me, the light in his eyes dimmed. My heart ached because I knew I was hurting him. He didn’t love me or anything, but he believed in the prophecy and I couldn’t.
“I’m—”
A knock sounded on my bedroom door. “Sorry to break up this love fest or whatever you have going on in there, but I think we’ve been found out,” Sable said through the thin wood.
Ryvan jackknifed out of the bed, pulling his clothes into place. I rolled off the mattress and hit the floor. Reaching under the bed again, the tips of my fingers grazed the edge of the box. I snagged it, tugging it from beneath the bed.
“Get some clothes on,” Ryvan ordered as he went to the door.
I ignored him. Everything I needed was in the case. When it emerged from its hiding place, the breath whooshed out of my lungs. The rosewood box with platinum trim was the only thing I had left of my life in Fairworld.
I pressed my thumb to the latch feeling a prick in the pad of my finger. Blood flowed freely for a moment, absorbing into the metal holding the box closed. It was a Fairworld form of security. We didn’t deal well with combination locks since most Fairworlders were capable of snapping a lock in half. No, to protect the things we owned, we used blood spells. I’d purchased this spell and lockbox the moment I came through the portal.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the lock sprang. The scent of lavender, smoke, leather, and iron wafted to my nose as I opened the lid of the box. My palace uniform, the only thing I’d worn while in Fairworld looked as good as new. The black leather was devoid of all embellishments. I hadn’t earned any honors while in training so I lacked all the pretties other banshees adorned their uniforms with. I pulled it out of the box.
I crawled across the room to my skirt, glad I’d kept the remainder of the Quick-Clean potion. I didn’t want to attempt to drag leather pants over my soaked thighs. The potion didn’t taste any better this time around, but when I finished it, my body was as clean and fresh as it would have been if I’d had time to shower. Eager, I dragged on my uniform. Other than being a little snug in the hips, it fit perfectly.
I removed the false bottom of the box and my heart thrummed with pleasure. The sword was easily five feet long. Perfectly balanced with a plain hilt and a razor-sharp edge, it was the same as the day I’d placed it in the case. I gave a few practice thrusts and swipes, glad when the techniques I’d learned so long ago came back to me.
Breeze leapt onto the bed with a whirring meow. He stared at me and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was now traumatized by what he’d witnessed between me and Ryvan. Poor kitty.
Unfortunately there was no time to comfort my pet because the bad guys were coming. For me. I still shuddered to think I was caught in the middle of a power struggle in Fairworld. It didn’t seem real.
I clenched my hands into tight fists, a sharp pain reminding me of the splinter Phineas had left in my palm. I plucked it out surprised to see it was over an inch long. Funny how I hadn’t felt more than a twinge of pain during the erotic torture Ryvan had put me through. Now though, the skin throbbed. My blood coated the splinter which was the same shade Phineas’s skin had been.
My heart hurt at the sacrifice he’d made. For me. Not knowing what to do with the splinter, but knowing I wanted to save it, I tucked it into a pocket along with my tear. He would’ve been so happy to know I’d finally overcome my deformity.
Eyes watering at the thought of the wood elf, I started out of the room, Breeze at my heels. “Let’s blow this joint,” I whispered to my companion and opened the door.
* * *
Chapter Nine
As cool as my words sounded, at least in my head, we didn’t get very far. I’d no sooner stepped into the living room where Ryvan and Sable waited when the front door of my apartment blew open. Bodies poured into the tiny space, all snapping and snarling, fangs fully extended.
I caught a flash of pink eyes. Vampires! What the hell…
But I didn’t have time to think about it. Without thinking, I drew my sword and leapt straight into battle. I’d forgotten what it was like to fight, to listen to instinct instead of fears. Adrenaline spiked my blood, lending me the strength to slice through bodies, to slam through bones to separate heads from shoulders.
I caught flashes of bluish-white magic and gleaming silver and knew Ryvan was using a combination of water magic and weaponry to defeat his opponents. Black wings and spraying blood told me Sable was doing just as well with her knife skills and strength. We totally had this.
Of course, cockiness didn’t belong in battle. I’d learned that decades ago, but while I’d remembered how to fight, I forgot one of the most basic lessons every raw recruit was taught—don’t get cocky.
I’d just hacked my way through three vampires and started using flashy, pretty techniques when a hand gripped my throat. Another hand grabbed my sword arm. A finger pressed a nerve in my wrist effectively weakening my grip. The sword slipped from my lax fingers.
I clawed at the hand gripping my throat because the bastard squeezed. Dots danced in front of my eyes. Fuck, I was going to pass out. I stared into the face of the vampire holding me and felt a spark of recognition. It was Gideon, the vampire from the support group meeting who was afraid of blood.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he whispered, fangs flashing. “Finding you at that meeting was a stroke of luck. Your queen will be pleased.”
My blood froze. This was one of the assassins Ryvan had warned me about. I didn’t get why Melosia would send them after me as well as the Host, but I could only guess she wanted to cover all her bases. What a bitch.
He glanced over my shoulder, his pink eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “I could allow him to take you back, but I want the glory all to myself.”
Who wanted to take me back? Another vampire? The questions begged to be asked, but his grip on my throat made it nearly impossible to breathe, much less speak.
The sound of battle increased around me. I could hear Ryvan roaring my name, but I knew he’d never reach me in time. Gideon had ensured the others would be distracted by coming at us with a force of at least two score vampires. Sable’s curses rang in my ears. Yeah, it was just me and Gideon.
I opened my mouth. I don’t know why. In the back of my mind, I had this great speech planned about freedom and bravery in the face of tyranny. It was all Braveheart-esque. My heart stirred at the words I wanted to spew in this bastard’s face.
In reality though, the blood rushed through my ears and the black dots in front of my eyes grew to the size of beach balls. My thoughts slowed as the pressure increased against my jugular. I was passing out. My fingers and toes tingled, my body felt heavy, and my eyelids felt even heavier.
Then a snarling, furry bundle of fury leapt on Gideon’s head. His hand fell away from my throat and arm as he went to detach the fat cat trying to remove his face with dainty little claws. I sagged to my knees, breath whistling in my throat. The tissue felt swollen, damaged. All I wanted to do was lay down and sleep, but Breeze had come to my rescue. Stupid cat.
Gideon screamed, clutching the yowling, twenty-five-pound cat by the scruff of the neck. I saw red. He was going to throw my cat away from him? While I wasn’t all that strong, I could take a lot more abuse than Br
eeze could and this bastard planned to hurt him.
Fury and bloodlust filled me. My right hand unerringly landed on the hilt of my sword. Just as Gideon managed to lift Breeze a few inches off his face, revealing skin ravaged by claws and teeth, I thrust my sword straight through his groin.
If I thought he’d screamed before, it was nothing to the sound he made then. He forgot about Breeze who immediately latched on again, seemingly determined to gnaw Gideon’s face off. The vampire’s hands went to his groin and the sword now adorning it. Hot blood splattered across my face, coating my hands where I gripped the hilt.
I pulled the sword free and Gideon fell to his knees in front of me. He still wore Breeze like a furry mask and his screams had died. I don’t know if it was Breeze’s weight, or the lack of strength in Gideon’s body, but he fell to his side, twitching.
“Breeze,” I called soft, not sure if I wanted to touch my attack cat just yet. I really didn’t want to be the next one to wear a Breeze mask.
My hand actually shook when I reached out to touch him. When I felt his sturdy body quivering, I knew he was frightened. That helped me relax enough to care for him.
A presence beside me made me look up, my free hand still clutching my sword. Ryvan stood next to me, his hands at the ready with a spell. His eyes flickered from blue to brown to blue again as he looked me over.
“Your throat,” he rasped.
“I’m fine.” I was more worried about Breeze. I stroked his back, feeling the tension in his little body as he continued digging into Gideon’s face, his back feet kicking and scratching.
I eased my hand beneath his belly ignoring the vampire’s shredded face. Breeze clung to Gideon until I pulled him completely away. He let out a threatening yowl, making Ryvan tense at my side. No doubt he would make sure Breeze didn’t attack me as well, but I wasn’t worried about that happening.
Breeze’s green eyes were completely dilated, leaving only a thin ring of color behind. Blood covered his muzzle making the fur stiff. His claws dug into the leather of my uniform, but bit by bit, I felt him relax.