Obsessed (64 page)

Which brought up another question that she turned over in her mind as she headed into the woods. What did she have to do to get out of this game? Damn it, she should have made the dweeb be more specific. Would she have to find some kind of token? Win something? Or maybe she just had to make it from one end of the machine to the other. Hopefully that was it, ’cause she really wasn’t in the mood for games.

Pine needles and leaves crunched beneath Natalie’s sandals as she made it into the forest and headed into its murky depths. Wind tugged at her blouse, pressing the fabric tight against her breasts and tossing her red hair about her shoulders and across her face.

Just as she reached up to pull a chunk of hair out of her mouth, fine hairs prickled at her nape and the star birthmark on the back of her earlobe tingled. A stench like rotten meat washed over her in a hot rush—like the smell in the cave, only stronger…and like someone or something with really, really bad breath had just breathed all over her.

Slowly Nat turned and squinted into the forest. At first she saw nothing as her gaze scanned from left to right, but then an odd glitter caught her eye. It was a kind of hazy shimmer that rose from the ground all the way up into the trees—like a towering pile of…of broken black glass.

The dirty pile moved and the ground reverberated beneath Natalie's feet.

Orange lizard-like eyes blinked at her from the black shape, and she almost screamed.

A dragon. And a damned lifelike dragon at that. Different from any she’d ever seen pictures of, yet similar. Countless glimmering black scales covered its head and body, and she knew the wings the beast held close to its sides would be enormous when it spread them wide.

But of course it’s not real.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage and she again fought the urge to run as fast as she could into the forest. “It’s just make-believe. It’s not real,” she repeated, this time out loud. She swallowed as she watched the immense shape step closer, and the ground shuddered beneath her feet. She had the sudden image of the T-Rex in
Jurassic Park,
only this seemed far more real than that one did on the big screen.

The virtual reality nerds are probably watching you on camera, Nat. They’re waiting to see if you’re going to freak out and they’re going to be laughing their asses off if you do. Don’t let them see that you’re scared shitless over a big fake dragon.

The beast opened its jaws, and the hot malodor of rotten meat blasted out and gagged Natalie. Dry heaves caused her stomach to clench and clench and clench.

The big fake dragon cocked its head, and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn that it smiled…the evil and vindictive smile of a being that has hated and sought revenge for countless centuries.

Something within told Nat that she needed to run. That she needed to get out of there as fast as she could.

But none of this is real. Why give those nerds the satisfaction of seeing how unsettled this exhibit made her feel?

Assholes.

A thundering started in her ears, but she couldn’t tell if it was a storm sweeping in behind her, or if it was the blood rushing through her head. The sound grew louder yet as the dragon reared back, like a snake preparing to strike. A big, nasty, glittering, snake-dragon.

I’m just going to walk away.
Natalie swallowed, hard.
It’s not real. This is not real.

Cursing herself for being unnerved by something so stupid as a fake dragon, Natalie turned, only to see a horse and rider bearing down on her.

This time she couldn’t help it. A scream tore from her throat as a dark figure reached down, grabbed her around the waist and flung her across its lap.

At the same moment the dragon shrieked and a blast of heat scorched her legs and backside. Natalie screamed again as pain seared her body and her skirt caught fire.

Dair, Merth Darkling

Evvan, the Devline Elvin Enforcer, scented the wind as he followed the trail of the Fae killer. The bastard’s stench lingered, along with the Faerie blood that stained his vicious hands.

With the golden Elvin steed L’th’amir following close behind, Evvan threaded his way through the depths of Merth Darkling. Bow and quiver resting across his naked back and sword slapping against his thigh, Evvan scowled, his mood as dark as the dense forest. Much larger and more powerfully built than the Seraphine Elves, the Devline were a fierce and proud warrior tribe. Their beliefs rested on their might, their strength as a people. Whereas the Seraphine allowed Seers and prophecies to dictate their futures, Devline Enforcers relied on their swords, their bows, their fists…and when needed, shrouding. When used with an enemy, shrouding allowed the Enforcer to cancel out all of his opponent’s senses, rendering the enemy incapable of fighting.

Except that ability, unique to the Devline, had been useless against the Fae killer. That alone had convinced Evvan that he was dealing with a power far more sinister than anyone had imagined.

Evvan’s muscles bunched and flexed with every movement he made, yet he traveled as silently as the Devline’s fair-skinned Seraphine cousins. Evvan’s skilled and refined senses noted every bent twig, every indentation in the rich loam, and every nuance or change in forest smells.

L’th’amir’s hooves and Evvan’s boot-clad feet made not a sound as the pair worked their way through the treacherous forest, alert for any sign of the Fae killer or dangerous magical beasts. The golden-eyed Lycidian dragons made Merth Darkling their home and did not take kindly to travelers of any race or being invading their realm. The recent death of one of their kind at a Nordai’s hands had made them restless, edgy, and more dangerous than ever.

The Enforcer had been tracking the Fae killer for three days now, and for the first time Evvan sensed the evil being was close. Very close. Rage flamed in Evvan’s gut for the Fae lives the murderer had taken, and he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword as though to strike out at the bastard in his thoughts. To use the point of the Elvin-forged blade to gouge out those orange eyes. Eyes that Evvan had glimpsed beneath the Fae killer’s dark hood when the vile beast had attempted to murder Anistana, Queen of Faerie.

Aye, Evvan had prevented Anistana’s death, but it was his fault she had been there to begin with…and it was his fault Simoone had died.

He gritted his teeth as he dodged the low-hanging branch of a bluewood tree. He could not forgive himself for the Faerie’s death at the killer’s hands, just six days past. This, despite the fact that the Overseers’ Council had determined the Fae killer was Voral, one of the most powerful dark Sorcerers in all of Dair’s recorded history.

Which very well explained why the shrouding had not worked.

But it mattered not what being had murdered Simoone. It had been Evvan’s responsibility to guard the Faeries of Astral and he had failed. Gods and goddesses of all peoples be damned, Evvan would not rest until he had avenged Simoone’s life.

A sharp and bitter wind from the north lifted his thick black hair, stirring it about his massive shoulders. With the shift in the wind came an unfamiliar fragrance and he inhaled deeply. Sweet as the perfume of jensai blooms, yet more exotic. And feminine heat, a rich scent that caused his blood to boil and his cock to buck beneath his leather breeches. Instinctively, by scent and sense, he knew this was a woman accustomed to fine things, a warm bath, and silken sheets.

What in the goddess’s name could such a fair woman be doing in Merth Darkling? Traveling unescorted, no less, in one of the most perilous places in all of Dair?

A warning chill rolled over Evvan’s dark skin. Following the woman’s perfume was a sinister stench…the deadly malodor of a lycidian dragon.

Goddess damn! Nothing could sway Evvan from his tracking. Nothing…but an innocent about to meet a horrid death.

L’th’amir,
the Enforcer shouted in mind-speak as he spun toward the golden steed. In a flash he mounted the horse and was seated in his leather saddle.
Fly, my friend,
Evvan instructed in thought, urging the magical beast toward the woman’s scent.

On hooves as swift as the current in the Everlasting River, L’th’amir bolted through the forest toward the woman who faced certain peril. Evvan urged the Elvin stallion to go faster and faster yet, through pine, oak, and bluewood. Over fallen logs, around boulders, and across a stream. No longer were L’th’amir’s hooves silent. Nay, they thundered across the ground like the rush of an oncoming summer storm. A magical sound that would fool the dragon until it was too late.

Evvan and L’th’amir broke through the cover of trees and into a clearing.

There she was. The woman.

A redheaded maid, staring defiantly at the dragon—a full-grown monster at that—as though the beast was nothing more than a pet. As the lycidian reared back to strike, the daft woman turned her back on it, a haughty look upon her features—’til she saw L’th’amir.

The stallion bore down on the maid and she screamed.

Evvan splayed the fingers of one hand, palm facing the dragon. With a muttered oath, he invoked the power of the goddess, calling upon the shrouding, to snuff every one of the beast’s senses, including his fire and his sight.

The lycidian’s eyes remained focused on the maiden…he widened his jaws and flames boiled at its throat.

The shrouding had failed…but this time with the dragon.

With his free arm, Evvan scooped up the maid as though she was a weightless child and flung her over his legs so that her belly lay across his lap. A blast of fire from the dragon seared the woman’s backside. Her scant clothing burst into flame and she screamed again.

“Be calm, little one,” Evvan murmured as he leaned close, pressing himself to the woman’s back. Her screams became near hysterical as he snuffed the flames with his bare chest and hands, cooling her blistered skin by shrouding the nerves wherever the fire had singed her.

It was a most useful skill. Shrouding could be used by an Enforcer to ensure his foe was quite defenseless, or to keep an innocent from feeling pain.

And it was rumored to be most interesting to apply shrouding in the sexual arts.

Evvan did not bother to shroud the pain in his own arm. The Devline tolerated pain far better than any other beings on Dair.

The golden stallion never slowed his furious gallop, his hooves pounding the forest floor. From behind them came the dragon’s enraged roar and the throbbing whoosh of wings, along with sharp cracks and snaps of breaking branches and loud crashes of felled trees. L’th’amir dodged through the woods, choosing the densest paths in an attempt to make it more difficult for the beast to follow ’til they found a safe place to hide.

If there was such a place in Merth Darkling.

The woman’s words were unintelligible as she continued shouting. She clenched her fists in his breeches, her nails digging into the flesh of his calf.

“I will protect you,” Evvan said to the maid in the common tongue, rather than in Elvish as he continued to focus his powers on her blistered legs, trying to erase the pain she must feel from her wounds. He gently stroked his hands over her skin and her charred clothing.

No matter the direness of their situation, Evvan could not help but notice the softness of her curves against his palm. His embrace tightened as he absorbed her warm, feminine musk, her scent of jasmine and spring, and all that was this beautiful creature… The jensai-red tresses that spilled over her face as she hung upside down across his lap, the soft curve of her ear, the unusual birthmark on the backside of her earlobe…

A silver star?

Why would the maid have the mishnui tree’s star pattern on her lobe?

Surely not.

Evvan clenched L’th’amir’s reins and behind them the dragon roared again. It sounded closer rather than farther away. Impossible. The beast should not have been able to follow them so quickly and easily through such thick woods.

But then the beast should not have been unaffected by Evvan’s magic.

And he had no doubt now—he knew exactly what that dragon truly was. Evvan had every intention of confronting and slaying the beast, but first he had to get the maid to safety.

The stallion bolted along a path to the right, and Evvan gripped the woman tighter. Brief and sudden, a vision came to him…he was trailing his tongue over the mark on the woman’s earlobe, down her neck, along her spine, over her luscious buttocks and further yet. A rush of need consumed him and he yearned to lap at her folds and taste what his senses told him would be the honey of the goddess.

A fierce protectiveness slammed into him, unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He had to possess this creature in every way a man could have a woman.

She belonged to him.

His cock hardened against her belly as she rocked on his lap, and he had the mad image of turning her so that she straddled him. Aye, he would slide her down the length of his cock, thrusting deep within her. He would fuck her in time with the motion of the horse, driving in and out of her slick core.

The dragon’s bellow reverberated through the forest, unbelievably louder, snapping Evvan from his fantasy. He cursed himself for his mental lapse, mating desires or no, and used his senses to assist L’th’amir in searching for some means of cover or protection.

The Netherworld will serve us best,
he told the stallion who whinnied in agreement.
Let us find the closest entrance.

Preferably not an entrance leading to D’euan Deep, home of the Dwarves. The burly blue-skinned bastards harbored no great love for the Devline Elves. Or any other Fae, for that matter. But Evvan would battle any man—any army of beings—who dared to touch this woman.

Evvan felt twice as alert, twice as predatory with the maid in his arms. All of his life he had been a guardian, but now, to guard this woman—his teeth clenched, and he bit back a snarl.

The Fae killer, the dragon, the Dwarves—all could pose danger to his little one, his l’tiani. If they came near, he would rend them, limb from limb.