Horn of the Unicorn

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “Have I bewitched you?” He laughed roughly with a secret, sexy smile, as if he knew exactly how deeply he enthralled her.

  “I feel…”

  His voice came low and deep and rasping, and his hips did that provocative roll against her again that nearly made her swallow her tongue. “How do you feel, Tess?”

  “I feel as if I have known you forever,” she murmured, frowning as she made that particular confession. Her hands remained flat against the bed linens, but she wanted nothing more than to stroke them down the long line of his back then curve them possessively over the tight muscles of his sexy backside.

  “I’ve watched you forever. Been by your side. Visited you in your sleep and stole like a thief into your dreams, just for the need to be near you, in whatever way I could.”

  “I cannot feel…like this for a stranger,” the sensible, far too practical part of her brain tried to argue. “Have I gone mad?”

  “No more than I’ve gone mad with my need for you. Is it so bad to be mad over someone who would give their life for you? To lose yourself to something so few people find, whether they live in your world or mine?”

  “Your words are always so beautiful,” she muttered. “It makes it awfully difficult to argue with you.”

  “Nae,” he laughed, his eyes shining, “I merely speak the truth. You are the beautiful one, Tess.”

  “Right,” and his eyes narrowed at the slow drawl of sarcasm she used to coat that single word.

  One pale brow arched. “You think I lie?”

  “I think you flatter.”

  His head tilted slightly to the side as he studied her, his long hair falling down around them like a shimmering silver curtain. “And I think you are afraid to believe in what I see and feel and believe.”

  “I told you,” she said tightly, “I am not afraid of you.”

  He took her hand and pressed it to his chest, against the powerful pounding of his heart. “Oh…but you are afraid of what I feel here, little one. I can smell it on you, the terror of all that we share with one another.”

  “It’s impossible,” she whispered, turning her face away. But he was right. A slow, precise fear was uncurling within her.

  “Why?” His fingers on her chin brought her back around to meet his gaze.

  “We’re strangers,” she murmured weakly, and it was evident in the sound of her voice that not even she believed her words. But the fear of what would happen when she was forced to leave this man was nearly choking her.

  “Strangers,” he scoffed, his lip curling arrogantly as he pulled her into the middle of the wide, down-filled mattress and straddled her waist. “A stranger does not have the taste of his woman’s cum in his mouth, little one.”

  Her eyes widened with sudden realization.

  “Aye,” he murmured, reading her expression. “It was no dream. I was truly there with you in that indoor waterfall. I felt your sweet release against my tongue. Tasted your hot honey within my mouth. Savored it as it dripped down my throat.”

  “It’s not possible,” she whispered, even though she knew it had happened. Knew that he had been there, a flesh and blood man, and not some figment of her desperate imagination.

  This time both brows lifted in humor. “And you question the possibilities of this world, after what you’ve seen here?”

  “I question my sanity,” she muttered.

  “You are sane, my beautiful one. Wild and fiery and sweet, but most definitely sane. I know not how to explain it—how I was able to come to you in the flesh as a man and take you beneath my mouth—but it happened. Maybe it was the strength of our longing. Perhaps even a gift from the fates for all that we’ve suffered by being apart. I do not know and I do not give a damn. All that matters is that you’re here now and I’m never letting you go.”

  “Never is a long time,” she said quietly, and his eyes flared at her meaning, then narrowed with smoldering heat.

  “Do you know what you’ve done to me over the years? Do you know the raging hunger I’ve carried for you—for you and no other—until I feel the ache for you within my bones, washing through my veins with the surge of my blood? We’re not strangers, little one. We are the same now.” His voice lowered, gritty and warm and so incredibly seductive. “One.”

  He stared, holding her captive with his gaze, then with great care he leaned down and rubbed the silken texture of his lips against her mouth, his breath warm and sweet as it soughed with her own. There was a tender bliss to be found there in the touch of his mouth against hers, his silver flecked eyes holding her gaze…pleading for her acceptance. Begging for the emotion he longed for—for her heart…her very soul. Things she would have gladly surrendered, had circumstances been different.

  “No,” she argued, thinking of Emily and what she must do.

  The look on his face showed the indomitable strength of his character—the pure, commanding power of his convictions. “You will see.” With a small, wicked smile, he said, “If I have to keep you in this bed until I can prove it to you, then so be it. To be honest, woman, I’d like nothing better.”

  Feeling suddenly bold and empowered with a burning need to get her fill of him, the fire for his touch and taste and the heavy feel of his body holding her down roared through her like a cresting, mounting wave as she murmured huskily, “And what would you do to me for an entire day, Zarnak the Silver?”

  His nostrils flared, eyes narrowing as his thick lashes lowered over his smoldering gaze. “Not just a day, Tess. It’s what I will be doing to you for a lifetime. And I’m going to start right here. Right in this pink little hole,” he rasped, using his thumb to lower her bottom lip, the edge of his nail scraping against her teeth. “So many pretty little pink holes in you, and I’m going to claim them all. Eat them and fuck them until there’s so much of me in you, other men will be able to recognize my claim from miles away.”

  “Sounds sticky,” she panted, feeling painfully aroused by the harshly seductive words.

  His lips twisted with a carnal smile and he moved back between her thighs, lifting her legs over his knees so that she was spread open before him. “Yes, I’m going to enjoy keeping you swimming in my seed,” he murmured, his burning gaze staring at her sex with such intensity it was almost tactile. “Enjoy leaving it sticky on your thighs, hot on your tongue, pooled deep inside this hungry little quim,” he drawled, palming her sex in a purely possessive hold that made her squirm.

  “You’re…um, very good at painting a mental picture. I’ll give you that.”

  His laugh was low and sinful and wonderfully sexual, one long finger trailing up one side of her pussy, then slowly teasing down the other. “I’m very good at all kinds of things, little one. And I think now is the perfect time to—”

  All at once, a loud crash sounded across the room and the wooden door slammed into the whitewashed wall, the iron handle embedding itself within the hard surface. Tess gasped, reaching for the blankets to cover her nudity, while Zarnak moved with blinding speed to stand beside the bed, putting himself between her and the door.

  She peeked around his incredible ass to see Graedor the Grey standing in the doorway, his large body all but blocking the blinding rays of sunlight burning behind him.

  “You must go,” the golden giant grunted. “Now, Zarn! We have a breach within The Wood. I’ve sent more scouts out to investigate, and I’m on my way to the Cavern Entrance now.”

  “A breach?” The words rang out with stunned disbelief. “How is that fucking possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Graedor muttered, “but you can rest assured that I plan to find out. Reports just came in that two guards were found gagged and tied together, but they remember nothing. There’s no trace of the intruders, but we know they’re here. Wherever they’re hiding, we will find them…and whoever brought them over.”

  “Fuck,” he cursed savagely, “this is insane! Is it Fergus and his pixies?”

  The lycan shook his head. “They may play half-and-half
, but they’re not traitors. They enjoy drunken debauchery too much to plan political intrigue,” he answered dryly.

  “Then who?” Zarnak snarled, moving across the room in a long, purposeful stride until he stood before a tall, beautifully carved armoire and threw open its doors. While he dressed in a loose cambric shirt and soft leather doeskins, he continued throwing questions over his broad shoulder at the fierce looking werewolf. “The dragons? The goyles? The cats? Who would dare to do such a thing?”

  “I told you, I’ll find out,” Graedor grunted, tossing a small satchel onto the foot of the bed, and smiling a brief, hard flash of white teeth at Tess. “There are clothes in there for you, madam.”

  Tess smiled weakly at him, determined to wait for some privacy before she climbed from beneath the safety of the blankets. And the fact he called her madam now, instead of maiden, didn’t escape her notice.

  Turning to Zarnak, Graedor said, “I’ll deal with this crisis, Zarn. You just get your woman out of here and go kill that bloody bitch once and for all.”

  Zarnak nodded, though Tess could tell he didn’t look happy about leaving the matter in another man’s hands. The two men shared a long look, and then Graedor bowed his head in her direction and turned to leave as quickly as he’d come.

  “Dress quickly, Tess,” Zarnak said softly, moving to the bed and opening the satchel.

  “Are we leaving now?” she asked lamely, knowing it was a stupid question. Obviously they were getting the hell out of there!

  “Yes, little one.” His mouth curved slightly when he looked at her, but she could see the worry and fury seething beneath his skin, though he tried to hide it from her. Pulling the clothing from the satchel, he said, “We will make our way to the Dark Caves and wait for nightfall. Then we’ll follow the path to the Lower Realms.”

  She nodded, but in her mind, Tess knew differently. She would let him take her to these Dark Caves, but when the time came, she was going to the Lower Realms alone.

  Chapter Seven

  Battles and Blind Leaps of Faith

  “Whatever our souls are made of,

  his and mine are the same.”

  Wuthering Heights

  Emily Bronte

  Forcing aside the worry concerning the breach of The Wood, and knowing that Graedor deserved his complete trust, Zarnak focused instead on the confident stride of the woman he loved as she walked before him, a small grin curving his mouth at the delectable vision she made. Chuckling softly under his breath, he made a mental note to thank Grae for his excellent choice in clothing.

  Much to Tess’ disgruntlement, the lycan had brought her a long, flowing skirt of sheer emerald green, layered chiffon with a small vest made of matching emerald velvet…and no underpants. The vibrant color looked beautiful against her creamy skin and dark, lustrous hair. She had claimed it was scandalous, but he could naught but love the way it clung to her feminine curves, leaving little to his imagination.

  It still amazed him that this fascinating little mortal was his. Utterly and irrevocably. It was brutish, yes, but his warrior’s pride burned with feral satisfaction at the memory of her spilled innocence. He knew that in today’s day and age that made him a bastard, but he did not care. There would always be too much of the savage warrior in him—he would never be capable of doing aught but relishing the fact that they belonged so singularly to one another.

  So many years had passed as he’d waited for her, and though she was emotionally scarred and cautious, unwilling to give in, feeling as if everything were moving far too fast, he would not—could not—slow down. Never. She was finally with him, here in the flesh, and the gods help him, but he wanted it all. He’d had more than enough time. Hours upon days that had turned into sharp-edged years, slicing him to pieces until he felt bled dry. And then one day the dream of her had come.

  He still remembered the first time he’d seen her, the fresh innocence of her face so touching through the thick veil of sleep, the edges of her expression blurred. The images had grown firmer, clearer over the years, until the beauty of the woman she’d become burned within him, whether he slept or ran the grassy hills and forest paths of The Wicket Wood, never able to outrun his demons, no matter how fiercely his mighty hooves pounded upon the enchanted earth.

  And it wasn’t an impulse reaction to the fact that she was beautiful and courageous and unlike any other woman he had ever known—that she had sacrificed a part of herself so that he could once again walk upon his own two legs. For so long he had been tormented by his need for her, and now that dark angry place was filled with an awesome joy that made him laugh softly under his breath, for no other reason than that he was happy. Happy that she belonged to him. That he belonged to her. That she was his and he could do everything he’d dreamed of for so long. And he knew exactly what he wanted first.

  “What are you thinking of?” she called back over her shoulder. “I can all but hear your mind working in the silence.”

  He laughed somewhat louder, wanting to take her to the soft ground and roll her in the yielding green grass that very instant, but knowing they hadn’t the time. “Naught but how divine you taste when my head is buried between those beautiful thighs. I can’t wait to get back there, little one. The sooner the better, actually.”

  Her answering laughter was low and endearingly shy. Then she shocked him by saying, “I’d like to know yours as well.” And when she turned to look at him over her shoulder, she smiled and swiped the lush swell of her lower lip with her pink tongue.

  “In good time, little one,” he all but croaked, finding it far from comfortable to walk while his doeskins were choking the painful ache of his cock. “But such an undertaking will take practice,” he cautioned, wondering how he’d survive when she finally wrapped that sweet mouth around his hungry shaft.

  She sighed and looked forward again, stepping gingerly onto a swaying bridge made of ropes and wooden planks. It crossed a wide, rushing brook with crystal clear water, its bottom shimmering with smooth, pale stones beneath the yellow gold of the sun. “Why do I get the feeling you’re warning me of something?”

  “I know not why I try,” he muttered, following her over the bridge, his sword upon his back, thrown over his shoulder, while a gleaming dagger lay hidden in the top of his left boot. “We both know you will shove me past my control soon enough, and then I will end up behaving more savagely with you than I should, since I know you must still be sore. You are the only woman who has ever held such power over me.”

  “You don’t sound as if you’re too happy about that,” she murmured, lifting a heavy fall of ivy to the side so they could walk deeper into the shadowed mist of the trees, her soft leather slippers moving silently across the forest floor.

  He took a slow, deep breath, scenting her unique, delectable perfume on the air, and fisted his hands at his sides before he grabbed her to him, knowing that now wasn’t the time. “I do not like thinking what I might do to you,” he answered in a low rumble, “but I love the way you affect me. I would not have it be any other than you, Tess. It could not be, because only you hold my soul. For now and forever. It will never be any different. There will never be another for me again.”

  She stopped suddenly, but did not turn, the gentle shape of her shoulders shaking with emotion. “No, don’t say that.”

  He paused behind her, frowning at her husky words. “Why not?”

  She stayed that way for several moments, staring down into the tall grass swaying around their ankles, and then began moving forward again. “Because I would hate to think of you being alone were something to happen to me,” she said in a suddenly brisk tone that matched her quick steps.

  Zarnak grasped her elbow and spun her around, glaring down into her eyes as he caught a glimpse of what she planned. He wanted to rage and shout at her, but knew that now was not the time for that either. No, with this fiery little woman who carried a warrior’s soul, he was going to have to tread very carefully. Struggling to sound calm, he said
, “Nothing will ever happen to you, Tess. Nothing.”

  She stared up at him, her eyes wide and luminous, but made no reply. Finally he smiled at her, lowered his mouth to brush a soft kiss upon the damp heat of her lips, and then gently nudged her to the left, toward a break in the line of trees where a small cobbled path broke from the grassy one they had followed all morning. “We go west now, little one.”

  “Um…all right.”

  They walked on and a heavy silence fell between them, both lost to their own private thoughts, until they could see up ahead a blinding, bright shaft of sunlight pouring through the thick line of trees.

  “We are almost there,” he said softly, moving to walk at her side. She looked ahead, squinting against the sunlight, and he could not help but wonder what she would make of the magnificent Cliffs.

  As they stepped into the bright, sea-crisp light of day, leaving the misted forest behind, Tess found herself standing at the edge of a magnificently terrifying cliff, the raging ocean thundering against the jagged rocks far, far below in a churning, raucous cacophony of sound.

  “I know this place,” she gasped. “I’ve seen it before, on a travel show. These are the Cliffs of Moher.” A small ridge formed between her brows. “But I don’t remember a forest leading up to their edge.”

  “That is because you have seen naught but one side of them,” he said with a warm smile at her amazement. “There are so many layers which mortals fail to understand. Trust me, you’ve never seen the Cliffs like this.”

  He took her trembling hand and tugged her to the very edge, until her toes were all but hanging over the side, and she could feel the panic crawling up the back of her throat, thick and choking as she tried to swallow against it. “Oh god, what are you doing?” she cried, instinctively trying to pull her hand from his firm grasp.