Evenstars of Aeweniel

by Willow Sova

  The elf clasped below each ankle as they lay astride his neck, serving kisses on one, then the other, as he swayed into her. Windsongs of Dragonfire spiraled above them, an ethereal chorus humming high into the heavens as he swelled inside her. Mesmerized, he took in the flickering rainbow of lights on her porcelain skin.

  My Angel. My Evenstar.

  And once more, he was lost in Sparrow—in the softness of her moans, telling of her pleasure, and in the halo of dark hair splayed over her pillow. And how she gazed upon him, imploringly, with his every plunge into her.

  She desires me. But does she love me? She has yet to speak those words.

  “Oh, Thalion! Oh God! I’m…” Panting, she gripped his thighs as their hips kissed then peeled away, over and again, slow at first, then faster and faster.

  “Aye, Sparrow! I can feel you! I can feel you!” Ah, her euphoria is edging closer. If only moments as this were more abiding. Her pleasure waves verged, nursing his rod more voraciously. The elf leaned forward and scooped her breasts and kneaded them, circling each nipple with his thumbs, tantalizing those rosy buttons into tighter peaks. His spirits soared in synchrony with her arousal. As he thrust harder and harder, the Isilmë Stone glowed like a miniature blue moon against the blush across her chest. Ah, there it is, he delighted, as she bathed him with one warm euphoric wave after another.

  “Oh, Thalion!” She shuddered beneath him, the rhythm of her hips more listless now, her moans merging into whimpers.

  “Aye, my lady,” he whispered, his eyes heavy-lidded. Thalion then reared up on his knees and raised her buttocks off the pillow to edge her closer, giving Sparrow one emphatic thrust, then another, and another. Opening his eyes, he turned toward the sky. Thereupon he glimpsed the silhouette of a dragon flying across the glimmer of the moon. Am I dreaming? With a final thrust, he relinquished his seed. All around them faded, and he collapsed by her side and embraced her. When he peered through the sphere of twilight, the beast was gone. Perchance it was a dream.

  “Mmm. That was heavenly,” she said, circling a hand lightly over his chest.

  “As are you, my love.” Thalion snuggled up and kissed her forehead.

  “I’d have you fly me there again were I not so tired now.”

  “And I’d be most eager to take you there again.” The elf espied his cock at full mast. Most eager indeed. This was nothing unusual for those of his kind. Shifters were endowed with the gift of preternatural tumescence, seemingly perpetual as compared to their human counterparts. When the girl had made this discovery after their first coupling, she ogled his elfhood in amazement, giggling at the sight of “my most dutiful chevalier” as she playfully called him thereafter. “And while my rosy knight is ready to storm your pretty pink castle once more, perchance it’s best you…” Thalion began to say, before he heard Sparrow softly snoring. He slipped his arm from under her and kissed her cheek. “Sleep, my Angel,” he whispered.

  He padded toward a basket hanging on a twig jutting out from a tanglewood. From there, he pulled out a bottle of elderberry wine, uncorked it, and poured some into a goblet to sip as he leaned against a pristine white trunk. Peering into the wood, he surveyed the moonlight lancing through the forest canopy in streams of blue and grey, broken only by the sporadic flight of birds and scamper of foraging creatures.

  Could Sparrow be the end of my dark days? The light I’ve sought for centuries amidst the shadows? After all, even knowing of my beast, she has yet to forsake me.

  Thalion clung to the hope she was.

  Darkness. And dragons.

  The elf recalled what he saw, or dreamt he saw, only moments before. Could that’ve been my brother’s beast flying off to tryst with Lady Maple? Perchance she’s the end of Aranhil’s darkness. Of that he was doubtful. He was unsettled by his brother’s overwhelming preoccupation with his old love, though he could not place a finger on all the whys for his unease. Has Aranhil’s bereavement over Evelyn left him so soon?

  Darkness. And dragons.

  Medlinya! Damn her! I won’t allow her to blight my evening!

  Thalion threw back more elderberry wine. Thinking of the princess tensed the muscles of his neck. He cocked his head to relieve the strain while glancing over the dome above alight with faerie nests. They winked like a legion of green stars under a giant parasol. At that moment, their lights reminded him of her cruel words.

  “You’re a shifter!” Medlinya had mocked him several moons past. “And to everyone in Aeweniel, you’re as useless as a woodland faerie. But, unlike them, I see your worth and have grown to love you.” She had closed in, laying a hand on his as though the gesture would win him over.

  Cold hands, cold heart, he had thought. “No. There’s no love for me in you. Only that for the power you’d gain if I bent to your whims and let you subdue my dragon.” He had stepped away, unconcerned if she took his recoiling as a slight.

  The princess had swatted the air like his words were pestering flies. “Whether power wins over love, what does it matter? With an army of dragon shifters, we could return Aeweniel to her former glory. And I’d make you king among them all.”

  “I have no interest in kingship.” Thalion noticed the faintest sliver of sunlight seeping through the coppery damask walls of the pavilion. Dusk had crept upon them, and he was past weary from Medlinya’s company. “Besides, Aeweniel already has a king, your father, unless your dalliance with the dark arts has made you forswear his sovereignty.”

  “Oh please, my father the king is no innocent on matters of sorcery.”

  “And so began Aeweniel’s decline.” The words flew out without much thought, with only a fleeting regret, but Thalion knew they needed saying.

  “I needn’t take such insolence from the likes of you!” she retorted, rushing in to face him. Medlinya feigned to kiss him but scraped his lower lip between her teeth instead. “Tempt me again, and I’ll bite your tongue. So long as a shifter’s blood runs through your veins, no lady in Aeweniel will love you for who you are.” She twined a lariat around his waist and jerked him closer. The glass shards embedded in its black leather pricked the bare skin of his back. The princess seemed a stranger looking back at him. Her face, once honeyed and vibrant, was pale and bled faint spiderweb veins of blue throughout, and those soft azure eyes were now raging starbursts of midnight flecked with black and silver-grey. “Leastwise with me, you could share my glory and my bed.” Her lips curled up while she tightened the cord, waiting for Thalion to flinch. He did not oblige her.

  “I have no need for either,” he replied.

  The rope went limp as she let it fall to her side. Her coy smile vanished. She stared at him. Hard. With a swift lash of the lariat, she branded him from temple to chin with a serpentine burn. Seconds after, Thalion only saw stars. When he swept his fingers over his cheek, they came away wet with blood. Still, he remained stoic despite the sting and met her stare. I could overtake you now, so easily, were it not for your magic. But fairness was never her forte, and of late, diablerie was Medlinya’s muse, her dark sister, one she wielded recklessly to do her bidding.

  This is a fight I can’t win.

  The princess moved in and lapped her tongue across his cheek. “Tastes sweet but dreadfully stale, much like your pathetic little dreams.” She grimaced like someone tasting soured wine. “How many centuries has it been? Yet you still haven’t found your ladylove?” she mocked with a bloodied sneer. “One elven lady after another you’ve bedded, but none saw fit to betroth you. In the end, they discarded you like a spent whore.”

  “If my dreams are elusive, I’m the only one harmed. The same can’t be said of yours.”

  “Don’t play self-righteous with me, shifter!” the princess had roared.

  “I play nothing, Medlinya. But I will take leave of you now.” Thalion had made his way to walk around her, but she had stepped aside to block him.

  “Don’t forget what they say of shifters’ love dreams. They’re like dragonflies soaring too close to t
he sun. Pretty though they are, they turn to ashes. So fly off with your hopeless dreams, shifter! You’ll never find this ladylove of yours! And when you don’t, you’ll come groveling back to me!”

  That’ll never happen, he had thought.

  Groggy giggles stirred him from his thoughts and brought him back to Dragonfire.

  “Mmm, Thalion. Why do you tease my nipple so? You know I love when you fill your mouth with her.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He chuckled in surprise and turned around to see Oriel, a mischievous faerie of his acquaintance with a penchant for elven ladies’ nipples, mounted on Sparrow’s breast and suckling on the perky bud. Her arms haloed her head as she lay on the bed, and she arched her back with glee while unaware of the faerie’s perversion. Thalion snickered at the sight and woke her from her reverie. Bleary-eyed, she shifted to face him, confusion setting in once she realized the elf’s lips, though wondrously gifted, could not be the source of her pleasure given their distance from each other. She glanced down to see the male sprite latched onto a ruby nipple, filling his diminutive lips to the hilt. With a flurry of limbs, the girl jumped from the bed in a panic, shrieking, swatting at the offending faerie as she tried to unlatch him. Thalion’s laughter gave way to concern, and he scurried toward her to still her thrashing arms. Once grabbing her, his worry soon melted into a reassuring smile. “I should be envious Oriel took such liberties with his lips.” He pried the sullen-faced faerie off her breast by his wings and released him, allowing him to fly off.

  After catching her breath, Sparrow passed him a coquettish glance. “You aren’t jealous of Oriel’s antics, are you?”

  “No, but he did actually find favor with me by his actions here tonight, especially given your lively response.”

  “How so?” she asked, bemused.

  “I don’t know when I’ll ever behold milady’s bosom bounce with such enthusiasm as I did this evening.” Stone-faced, Thalion inhaled before a chuckle belied his serious guise.

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way,” she said, sauntering toward the bed to lie down again. She bit her lip to curb a simper, arms circling her head.

  The elf followed and lay beside her. “Oh, I intend to, my lady. Until then,” he said before kissing her breast, “I shall nurse this succulent sister, the one Oriel so woefully neglected as he greedily suckled her twin.”

  “Mmm, I won’t object,” replied Sparrow, as she filtered her fingers through his hair. “Perchance you should begin tending them anew, lest either of them feels forgotten.”

  CHAPTER 13

  MEDLINYA

  “My Princess, you promised me you’d let me go so long as I did what you asked.” The elven princess lay on an aubergine velvet chaise lounge, the paleness of her naked body draped by the elf’s golden nude physique.

  “Did I?” Medlinya twisted and pulled his blond locks until he winced, piercing him with frosty eyes. She took pleasure in his feeble protests.

  “And… I… I’ve done my duty. I sought out Thalion and reported my findings to you. One night, I spied him frolicking with the raven-haired girl in the forest. Then again, this evening past, he bedded her atop the Cliffs of Dragonfire.”

  “Yes, you served me well, my dear Faeron,” she replied, lifting his chin with the head of her riding crop. “And so Thalion’s found a lowly wench to replace me.”

  “So when may I leave?”

  “How thoughtless can you be, Faeron?” she asked, embittered by the question. “I just confided to you the loss of my former lover. Now every time you remind me of your release, I’ll add another sennight toward your servitude to me.”

  “I… I’m sorry, my Princess.” Despondent, the elf rested his head on her belly.

  She raked her fingers through his hair and leered down at the young elf. A masculine physique with a milksop’s mind. Her hubris swelled. I’ll break your spirit until there’s barely life in you left, she thought, wearing a fiendish smile. “You don’t want to forgo the honor of pleasuring me, do you?”

  “No, but—”

  Medlinya yanked his flaxen hair and smacked his bottom with the riding crop. “The only butts I’ll accept is yours I’ll whip mercilessly for displeasing me and mine giving you pleasure as you kiss it!” The princess grabbed the back of his skull with bony, white fingers and pushed his face into her cold teat. “For now, I’ll be content with you sucking my tit!” The elf obeyed, looking up at her with frightened, lusterless olivine eyes as he pursed his trembling lips over a spiked nipple. “Mmm, yes. That’s more like it: An obedient elf hanging from my royal tit. There, there. Aren’t you much happier?”

  “Yes, my Princess,” he muttered into her breast.

  “Then let me hear it!” she growled. Once more, she whacked his buttocks, nearly jolting him off the chaise. In haste, he clamped onto her again, moaning louder, giving Medlinya the reassurance she demanded as he sucked it. “Much better, my dear. That’s why I like you so much, Faeron. You’re so… accommodating. Unlike more rebellious shifters I know.” Thalion! That unruly one! But I fooled him years ago. Wiped his memory of that little trollop he driveled on about in his sleep. Probably some slovenly wench serving ale at that wretched theatre. One forget-me-spell and that stupid bitch is history!

  “Princess Medlinya, I have news regarding your sister,” the voice shouted from outside the entrance of the pavilion. Veryan, one of her servants, stood in shadow behind its copper curtains, his silhouette flanked by two iron candelabras aflame with scarlet candles standing inside the damask canopy.

  “Well, don’t just stand there! Come in!”

  Faeron startled but remained diligent in his duty.

  Orange-blue flames from the candles guttered as Veryan whisked in. “Oh dear!” he cried, almost stumbling before he stopped at the foot of the lounge. He glanced at the unhindered elf lip-locked onto her teat. “Pardon me, I—”

  “What’s there to pardon? I invited you in,” she said, scowling. She paused to regard him with disdain. “What word is there of Helegil?”

  “Sh-she’s finally awakened from deep slumber, Princess Medlinya.” Veryan struggled to focus on her while speaking over Faeron’s moans.

  “How delightful!”

  “Uh…yes. It’s w-w-welcome news,” he gushed. The servant shook his head with such enthusiasm the princess thought he would nod it off. “However, sh-she’s now… uh… aware of the pain and the remedies on hand are not… um… fulfilling her needs.”

  “Then send for Imrathion again. At once! Tell him we’ll spare no expense to ensure Helegil is made comfortable during her treatments while she makes a full recovery.” Medlinya watched as Veryan continued to nod on her every other word. I do wish you’d stop that! My eyes hurt just looking at you! She added, “I don’t want my poor sister suffering, especially at the hands of Thalion, that spineless scoundrel.”

  “Yes, of course. Uh—”

  “Is there anything else?” she asked with upturned chin and arched brows. Impatience reeked from her tone. She noticed Veryan staring at Faeron’s bobbing head. “What? You’ve never seen an elf suck the tit of a princess before?” Laughter blared from her like screeching metal. The sound made the servant cringe; still, the young elf kept bobbing away.

  “Uh… uh… no, my Princess. I meant no offense by—” he began, hands up like a slave fending off a lashing.

  “What? Would you care to join him? Though I’ve had two elves latched onto my nipples at once many times before, it’s been a long time since I’ve visited the pleasure.”

  “My… uh… Princess… I… uh—” Tears of sweat streamed from his black hairline.

  “Uh… uh… oh never mind, you blithering fool! If your mouth’s as inept at tit-sucking as it is at forming words, then I want nothing to do with you! Now get out!” She hurled the riding crop at him.

  “Um… yes, my Princess.” Veryan bowed several times as he backed up, nearly knocking over a candelabrum in his hastiness before exiting the pavilion.

  �
��That obsequious little shit!” she hissed. Medlinya turned her attention to the sucking elf. “You see, Faeron? That’s why some are destined to serve,” she said, coiling her legs around him like a python, “while others, like myself, were born to master. It’s nature’s way of winnowing the weak from the strong. Everyone’s ensured their proper place.”

  “Yes, my Princess,” he muttered.

  “You know what I want now?” the princess asked, her voice thick with feigned sweetness. The elf unlatched his lips from the angry nipple and raised his head. Without a word, his lifeless eyes darted toward the other breast, red-pointed but neglected, and he leaned in to nurse it. But she swung a hand to his mouth to stop him.

  “Wrong answer,” she said.

  Confused, Faeron hesitated, then turned away from her disapproving stare and wriggled downward until his tired lips hovered over her sex. As cautious as a skittish kitten, he inched ever closer and coaxed her thighs apart. When he sank in to kiss her nether lips, Medlinya pulled him up by his hair.

  “Again—wrong answer,” she declared, sterner than before.

  “I… I don’t have the strength to do what you ask, my Princess. You know my magic grows weak whenever I’m in your powerful presence.”

  “Ah, stroking my ego, though a noble attempt, will not absolve you from granting me my wish. Not unless you want to serve me for another sennight before I release you.”

  “Very well, my Princess.” Faeron got up from the chaise and took his place several feet from the foot of it, his cock standing as alert and erect as him.

  Yet another virtue of shifters I find so ingratiating. Very little dampens their libido. “As I’ve done before, I shall tweak my powers only enough for you to have the energy to shift. In doing so, you’ll indulge my hunger for your beast. Just remember: If you intend any harm upon me during our mating, I’ll sense your malice before you can act on it, and I shall wield my power to strike your dragon down.”