Lord of Snow and Ice

by Heather Massey

  Stellan’s embrace amplified her growing excitement. It was as if they were one, difficult to know where beast ended and woman began. Perspiration trickled from her brow. When had it grown so hot? Clarysa pushed hair back from her face even as she continued to wiggle and rub against him wherever freedom permitted. All the wanton grinding suddenly caused her gown to slip from her shoulders. A breast spilled forth. Brazenly, the rosy tip transformed into a hard, aching nub. She didn’t bother to cover it up.

  Low, otherworldly rumblings from the beast echoed repeatedly throughout the cave. Clarysa’s vision swam as her desire mixed with confusion. What was about to happen here? Could she really surrender herself in this manner? He has to know you don’t fear him. Otherwise you’ll drive him away. To what extent she could prove her loyalty in this dank, cold hollow, with his unnatural form, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  But Stellan was so close and everything else so far away. The fire roared on, logs crackling and tongues of flame licking and sucking at the air as though in a state of constant thirst. Perspiration beaded Clarysa’s face and chest. Wild fantasies raced through her mind. She wanted the beast…wanted Stellan to lap at her skin until she was drenched. By now, his breath fell across her like waves of desert heat. Occasionally, his muzzle rubbed against her head, revealing the hardness of his fangs. It made her wonder about other things, other parts of him. What they felt like. Looked like. Tasted like. The thoughts made her feel utterly wicked.

  Stellan shifted his weight. He heaved upward and rolled, bringing Clarysa with him. At first, the room seemed to turn in on itself, but then she fell gently onto her hands and knees. Somewhere in the dark behind her was the beast. Heat radiated from his body along with an earthy, masculine scent. It washed over and through her. Coupled with the warmth blasting from the fire, she was positively drunk with rapture. Mercurial shadows danced along the curved, pockmarked walls, an exaggerated relief of their entwined bodies. But the beast’s next move wrested her attention abruptly away.

  He pressed his midsection hard against her bottom. For a long moment, he held himself there. What is he going to do? Was he testing her devotion, or was his mind clouded by bestial instincts? The question danced on her tongue, but she held it. He couldn’t answer her anyway. In fact, the less she knew, the more exciting the situation became.

  He grasped her thighs with his cold, pinching claws. Then he spread her legs wide apart.

  Clarysa gasped. Heat was gathering in her core as if she had bottled the very fire before her. An unstoppable quickening electrified her body. Is this some kind of enchantment he’s working upon me? Was there an unusual ingredient in the tea?

  Something warm and moist touched her bare left shoulder. As the wetness spread, she glanced over. Stellan was laving it, his tongue surprisingly soft, the caress gentle. Arching her back, she responded with a low, yearning purr. The thrill she was experiencing had nothing to do with potions or spells. Clarysa pushed back, sealing her bottom against his rugged, compact pelvis. No, this was animal attraction, pure and simple.

  She froze as a long, impossibly hard shaft of flesh slid between her thighs. Smooth as silk, it pulsed with a vigorous, decadent heat. With a quick, final thrust, the beast wedged it firmly against her sex. It was, Clarysa realized with a sudden start, the great beast’s wide cock.

  Blood thundered in her veins as she sought to master new feelings and exotic sensations. The solid shaft now lay smothered beneath her sex, thighs and belly. The bulbous tip reached all the way to her belly button. A brief silence followed, and then from out of the darkness, the beast released a deep groan of pleasure.

  Her breath came in short, rapid bursts. Her breasts felt heavy, as if swollen with blood. Both nipples brushed lightly against the blanket. She trembled with the intensity of her arousal. But a more urgent matter demanded her attention–the plump, aching skin of her sex. The rampant stimulation had created unbearable engorgement. The only way to assuage the itch was to press down upon the beast’s cock. So, Clarysa did exactly that.

  Oh, sweet heaven! Squeezing with her thighs, tightening her inner walls, rubbing up and down his length, Clarysa writhed against him with abandon. Her mound swelled further, gripped in a web of raw lust. A fresh burst of secretion filled her mouth, echoed by moisture seeping between her legs. With every pass of her sex, she coated his rigid member. Harder. Squeeze harder. It feels so good! Oh, Stellan!

  Where her bottom met his pelvis, the fur felt sticky and matted. Faster and faster she moved, her breasts bouncing freely. Eventually, the beast caught one in a paw, hoarding it like a rare jewel. No matter how jerky or wild her movement, Stellan accommodated her, letting loose the occasional snort or growl or sharp exhalation of breath. Sometimes he lowered his head to sniff her hair. Occasionally, he stroked her back with long, slow licks of his massive tongue.

  His responses prompted Clarysa to work harder at showing her devotion. She badly wanted to show him his appearance didn’t matter.

  Mounted upon a shaft of adamantine flesh, with nothing but a whisper of a nightgown shoved up around her shoulders, Clarysa rolled and rocked her sweaty hips, stoking the flames of an explosive climax. All senses alight, she was reborn into a slick, twisting mass of pleasure. Shuddering and moaning as she lay in Stellan’s grip, Clarysa experienced a pure, sudden ecstasy as all the fear and anxious thoughts left her mind. Gone were all the recent aches and pains and chills, replaced by a coma of intense relaxation. In that freeing, transcendent state of heightened arousal, she was ready to submit to anything the beast wanted.

  As her surging blood began to ebb, she greedily sought a second climax. This time, Stellan moved. With her, but also against her. His turgid flesh seemed to concentrate with increasing precision on the flooded folds of her sex. A scorching surge of lust was her only choice, and this time she rode out her pleasure with a series of short, high-pitched cries.

  Stellan’s embrace grew tighter, more insistent. The paw clutching her breast now returned to her hips. As he spread her thighs wider, the inner muscles strained to the point of discomfort. Her legs shook as she struggled to maintain her position. Now her belly and breasts lay flat against the blanket, while her bottom reared upward at an impossibly high angle.

  The beast’s ragged moans shattered the confined air of the cave. Clarysa raised her head to speak, wanting to ask if they could change positions. But a formidable paw lowered it back down. Stellan’s grinding movement indicated he wanted something more. A ball of firm, warm flesh kept bumping into her sex. It felt good, and so she closed her eyes and relished in this new touch.

  But then he began to push harder.

  The beast held her fast. She was so wet he kept slipping, but he renewed his efforts with increasing vigor. As the pace increased, the delicious ache transformed into soreness. She grabbed the blanket for leverage, beginning to suspect Stellan had lost all perspective on his own strength. As a beast, he had at least twice the power of an ordinary man.

  The manner in which he thrust his pelvis against her, panting and bucking relentlessly, revealed his desire to possess her. Claim her. But this was not Stellan, her wounded, mysterious prince. This creature was a nightmare of macabre realms and vicious appetites.

  They didn’t fit together quite right; either he was too large, or she was too small. The claws gripping her tender skin somehow felt longer–and sharper. Oh, why couldn’t it stay like before? Lost in her selfish pleasure, she hadn’t anticipated such raw hunger in response. How much of a price was she about to pay? Panicked, Clarysa strained and heaved, trying to escape his grasp. Then she heard the sound of his jaws snapping.

  A howl of triumph–

  Tearing, unbelievable pain–

  Clarysa screamed.

  Not only did she scream, but she pummeled the ground with balled fists. “Stop, Stellan–it’s too much–stop it now!”

  At first, nothing changed. The beast pressed down upon her with incredible force. Clarysa’s abdominal area felt distended and
uncomfortably full. A cold, deadly chill coursed down her spine. Regret chased her fear. The unwanted advances made her question all her silly, girlhood dreams of wild adventures. The poor insight she had exhibited was both terrifying and sobering. Clarysa uttered a final, pleading cry, lost, she feared, in the beast’s wild grunting. But he released her with a roar of anguish as loud as a thunderclap.

  The beast growled as it abruptly withdrew and reinstated a wide pocket of air between their bodies. The cool drafts rushing in around her seemed to clear her mind. Exhaustion and cold must have sapped all of her judgment. Stellan’s mammoth size and bestial strength had evolved into something beyond either of their abilities to control, a temptation best left alone.

  Tears streaming down her face, Clarysa watched miserably as he retreated toward the back of the cave, away from the fire, away from her. No more could they find solace in a warm embrace, or even lay within several feet of each other. The kind of lust they had just experienced promised a great and terrible punishment.

  Clarysa collapsed upon the blanket, clutching her cramped, aching middle. Stellan seemed to be feeling infinitely worse, judging by the low keening emanating from the murky corner in which he crouched. The sound broke her heart. Despondent and guilt ridden, a tear slipped down her cheek. What have I done?

  For now, her exhausted limbs and drowsy mind insisted on rest. Tomorrow they would have to find a counter-enchantment. Clarysa drew the blankets up to her chin, staring morosely into the fire. Even the flames seemed subdued now. I love you, dearest, whatever happens. She closed her eyes and sleep overtook her for the remainder of the night.

  Chapter 31

  Clarysa awoke with a start. The old blanket wrapped tightly about her offered its morning greeting by way of a noxious, musty scent. Pushing it aside, she stared absently into the crackling fire before her. Murkiness surrounded her, and it took her a moment to orient herself. Where was she? Then she registered deep muscle aches throbbing in her legs. Her back felt as if were splitting in two…and memory came rushing back in an instant.

  Stellan! She whirled around to reach for her beloved–but no one was there. There was only an indentation in the makeshift bed, nothing more.

  “He’s gone,” said a woman. Gretchen approached from the darkness, a worried look on her face. “Are you all right?” She held a hand to Clarysa’s forehead.

  She was back at Vandeborg, in the kitchen. She sat up slowly, trying to shake off the cobwebs and ignore the pain. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly six.”

  Gretchen placed a bowl of watery gruel in her lap. Clarysa lifted it to her mouth and slurped it down. The liquid scalded her throat, but the frugal meal returned some much-needed energy. After she finished, she looked at Gretchen with a vengeful expression. “Did you see what that witch did to Stellan? I’m going to kill her!”

  Gretchen perched on a short stool with her back to the fire, casting a dark silhouette. “You may have to wait in line,” she said with a grim chuckle. “Besides, you’ll never get past your own Aldebaran soldiers. A band of ’em have been roving the grounds for hours. But I…well, let’s just say I refuse to let any of those scoundrels in here.”

  Clarysa frowned. Edward! I refuse to believe you’re my own brother. She grabbed the gypsy’s knee. “Where is he?”

  “Where’s who?”

  “Stellan!”

  Gretchen cleared her throat. “I don’t know. He showed up with you a few hours ago. Gave me a nasty fright! Poor Ghyslain, he went mad with fury trying to fight him, thinking you needed rescuing. But then we solved the puzzle.” She sighed, and then let loose a sob. “Oh, my poor son!”

  Clarysa bit her lip. She didn’t know what to do or where to begin; she only knew she had to do something and quickly! “But where did he go? You must have some idea where he went. He wouldn’t just leave us like this!” Her heart beat with a steady panic.

  Boots suddenly scraped the floor behind them. “But he did leave you, Princess.” The last word was spat out, full of venom. “Perhaps you should get used to it.”

  Gretchen and Clarysa turned as Patrulha entered the kitchen, dressed in full battle gear. She assembled some food and stuffed it into a number of sacks.

  Clarysa stood, the blanket hanging askew from her shoulders. “Where is she… Patrulha, where are you going? I want to find Stellan. Will you help me?”

  Patrulha ignored her.

  “Leave her alone, child!”

  “But where is she going?” Clarysa stared at Gretchen expectantly.

  “Eh, for a patrol, I think.”

  “What do you mean, ‘I think’?”

  Gretchen turned and busied herself with a pot over the fire. Ignored on both fronts, Clarysa marched up to the Captain. “You’re going to look for Stellan, aren’t you?” She laid a firm hand on Patrulha’s arm. “You know where he’s headed, don’t you?”

  Patrulha turned, her one good eye firmly set on Clayrsa’s hand. The warrior woman slowly picked Clarsya’s fingers off one by one. She turned abruptly and strode from the kitchen.

  “I’m not stupid, you know!” Clarysa cried after her. She spun around and headed for the clotheslines. “Tell Ghyslain I’m borrowing some of his clothes,” she told Gretchen. Clarysa snatched pants, a shirt and a furred cloak. She began to change where she stood.

  Gretchen stared at her, seemingly at a loss. “Gods of fortune, missy, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Finding Stellan. Patrulha knows where he is, and I’m going with her.” Clarysa shoved her feet into a pair of boots and paused to glare at the gypsy. “Why are you trying to keep him from me?”

  Gretchen stomped a foot. “Because we don’t know where he went! Sure, my daughter has an idea, but she isn’t certain.” The gypsy woman turned her attention back to her pot. “We’ve sent word for more of our men, so stay put. They’ll find Stellan one way or another.”

  Clarysa pursed her lips. “So Patrulha’s heading a search party? Then that’s where I belong too!” She grabbed the cloak and threw it over herself. The material nearly swallowed her whole, for it was at least two sizes too large for her petite frame.

  Gretchen grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen, Clarysa! He brought you back because he wants you to be safe.”

  Clarysa gritted her teeth, feeling rage swell as her gaze bored into the other woman. “But he needs me.”

  “He needs you to be safe! Now think for a moment. What if he returns and you’re not here? Or worse yet, this folly of yours leads to your death? Do his wishes mean nothing to you?” Gretchen scowled, and her voice dropped to a grumble. “Begging my lady’s pardon, but you’re being selfish. Very selfish indeed.”

  Wrenching out of her grasp, Clarysa covered her ears and stormed out the door.

  * * * *

  She strode purposefully through the castle halls on her way to the stable. Why couldn’t others see past her royal person? Did they think of her as some helpless girl, unable to fight or help in the search? Hadn’t she braved the dangerous journey to this castle twice by herself? Clarysa shook her head and increased her pace.

  Approaching the west wing, she heard whistling emanating from the stables. There, she found Ghyslain brushing down a stout Palomino. The boy ceased his tune and looked at her with concern. “My Lady! You should be resting. What are you doing here?”

  “I need your assistance. I should be out trying to find Stellan.”

  Ghyslain frowned. “But it’s not safe for you out there.”

  She stepped forward and laid her hand on his. “Ghyslain, please! I can’t stay here and pace in circles like your mother wants me to do.”

  “Mum will have my head if I let you go.”

  Clarysa suppressed a sigh of frustration and went to stand by the opening. Dawn had broken, but here in the Snowflake Kingdom it merely meant the overcast sky became a lighter shade of gray.

  “Ghyslain, Stellan is my life. I’ll go on foot if I have to. At least on horseback I’ll have a fight
ing chance.” She looked back over her shoulder. “I love him. Please help me.”

  Ghyslain expelled a breath. He pushed a hand through his hair and paced the stable. At a wooden hutch he paused, and then withdrew a bulging sack of feed. Returning to the middle of the stable, he proceeded to saddle the Palomino. “I’m only doing this because you’ve helped us in so many ways,” he said. Sighing, he muttered, “Gods of fortune have mercy on me when Mum finds out.”

  “Patrulha’s party, when did they leave?” Clarysa asked, mounting in a rush.

  “A short while ago, heading north.” The young man placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I won’t.” Clarysa turned the horse toward the gate and called over her shoulder. “We’ll bring him back, I promise. And thank you!” With a final wave, she rode away, leaving a maelstrom of snow in her wake.

  Chapter 32

  Stellan’s massive jaw tore at the young hare’s raw flesh. Blood spilled over the sides of his mouth and dripped down onto the snow-white ground beneath him. The meal took the edge off of his ravenous appetite, but he needed more.

  As he sniffed the air, he struggled to remember his mission. What was it? Another rabbit, perhaps?

  No! He had to find the man who could reverse his deadly condition.

  He leaned against a tree to get his bearings. How long had he been running? He couldn’t remember. In fact, with every passing hour, it seemed more and more difficult to think. He cupped his head with two massive paws and tried to concentrate, to remember the task at hand.

  Clarysa! Memories of her flooded into his mind. Sweet memories, but also painful ones. The way she had kicked, cursed and battered at him went far beyond the physical discomfort. Of course, she couldn’t have known it was him, but still… She had nearly killed him.

  He slid to the ground. The arrow wounds still hadn’t fully healed. The pain cut into him like a mace gouging out his spine. Perhaps he should have handled her with more gentleness, but he had only wanted to get her to safety and away from Sada. She who had once been his beloved sister. The person who had made him a monster.