OwnedbytheElf (3 page)

Fucking hells.

Bane gritted his teeth as the swirl of dark energy he’d felt
drew closer. He recognized the feel of Briac’s power as easily as he’d
recognize his own father’s. They’d grown up together, picked up a sword within
minutes of each other…and Briac had a habit of stealing any woman Bane took an
interest in.

His body raging with lust, he grabbed Tamryn and shoved her
behind him as the tall, broad-shouldered figure of the elven king took shape
from the darkness. Behind him were his ever-present troll bodyguards, hulking
brutes the lot of them.

Gnalt, the biggest bastard of the lot, gave him a glare that
Bane ignored. It had nothing at all to do with the current situation and
everything to do with the black eye the troll was currently sporting. A present
from Bane during yesterday’s sparring match.

But Gnalt wasn’t Bane’s problem, so he switched his
attention to Briac. The king was far too cunning and aware of myriad politics
and petty power games among his warriors. Bane was sure he’d orchestrated half
the feuds that were currently raging. Better to have his warriors fighting
among themselves than casting eyes on the throne.

Bane didn’t do feuds, nor did he want the throne. A rotted
lump of carved wood, it seemed possession of the damn thing, through birthright
or right of conquest, only took a warrior off the battlefield where he belonged
and thrust him into a world where words were cheap and everyone lied. There was
a good reason Bane wasn’t into politics. Killing your opposition for lying was
frowned upon, even in the elven court.

Briac, though…Briac he’d make an exception for. The only
reason they hadn’t seriously come to blows yet was because Bane’s father had
made him promise on his deathbed not to kill the little weasel. At least until
the pain in the ass had sired a son to take the crown.

“Well, hello, hello. What do we have here?” Briac smiled,
his quicksilver eyes warming as he spotted the slender woman half hidden behind
Bane.

“Nothing you need to be worried about.”

Bane sidestepped to block Briac’s view. A glance over his
shoulder made him groan inwardly. Tamryn’s hair was tousled, an artful tumble
of curls around her pretty heart-shaped face that invited a man to run his
hands through it. Big violet eyes were wide and wary over a button nose and
bee-stung lips swollen from his kisses completed the look. She was a siren
enough to tempt any man, and elves weren’t known for their restraint.

“Just an enemy scout I’m questioning.”

Briac’s eyebrow shot up. “We’re calling it questioning now?
I thought we just called it f—”

“Questioning,” Bane growled, hand already on his sword hilt.
It was suicide to challenge the king in front of his lapdogs, but anger
overruled any and all common sense. He glared at the line of trolls, bristling
like one of their attack dogs as he silently dared any of them to say anything.
Briac chuckled.

“Very well, questioning it is. Bitch queen has deployed
dragons, so we’re moving back. Join us when you’re finished…questioning.”

“As you command.”
Now walk on, kingling, get the fuck out
of here.

Unreleased lust ran rampant through Bane’s body as he
watched the trickster king and his entourage depart, blending into the darkness
as silently as they’d arrived.

“Trolls. Fucking filthy animals.”

He spat on the ground in the direction they’d left and then
turned back to Tamryn. She looked off into the darkness after the departing
group.

“Was that…?”

“Briac the Bloodthirsty, yes,” he snapped, jealousy filling
him that she was thinking about another man. “Around here we generally call him
Briac the bloody annoying. Come on, unless you want to be here when some of
those trolls double back for a taste of faery flesh.”

Fear flashed in her eyes and she stepped a little closer to
him at his words. The tiny movement, as though she trusted him to protect her,
fed his male pride. Pity she was wrong. He had no interest in protecting her
for anything other than his own purposes. Reaching out, he imprisoned her wrist
in a manacle of firm fingers, then pulled her up against his solid body.

“You don’t need to be scared of them, little one.”

He stroked a thumb along her full lower lip. Her breath
huffed against his skin and her eyes darkened at the touch, and became pools of
violet he could drown in. Leaning down as though to kiss her, he paused a
fraction from her lips to whisper a warning.

“You need to be scared of me.”

You need to be scared of me.

The words swirled around inside Tamryn’s head as he dragged
her back through the forest the way they’d come. How he knew which way to go
was beyond her. Everything looked the same, the trees crowding in around them
with eager whispers, their branches reaching out long fingers to pluck at her
hair and clothes. She gasped, moving faster to stay closer behind her
fearsome-looking captor. None of the enchanted trees dared touch him, their
questing branches falling away as he turned at her sound.

Anger flared across his face as he saw the movement. He
barked an order in a language she didn’t understand, glaring at the blackened
branches. They quailed under his look, shivering and trying to wrap around each
other as though to escape his furious look.

Fear and excitement warred within her, making her stumble as
they moved again, plowing through the darkness. Fear that those trolls would
come back—there were stories of exactly what trolls did to the faeries they’d
captured—and excitement because she hoped that at least half the stories of
what Bane did to
his
captives were true.

He shouldered his way through a last set of branches to
reveal the small camp she’d woken up in. Yanking her around, he threw her onto
his bed furs and loomed over her. The size and breadth of him took her breath
away as she looked up. The heat that had been dampened by the arrival of the king
and his brutal bodyguards flared into full life as she took in every inch of
him.

He was tall, easily as tall as the trolls, with broad
shoulders, a narrow waist and what she would have called horsemen’s thighs if
she’d suspected he’d ever been anywhere near a horse. As far as she knew, the
only thing a horse was called in the Elven army was “dinner”.

His feet planted, his face was a mask of concentration as he
muttered under his breath. She opened her mouth to ask if he’d finally lost his
mind when she felt the buildup of power in the clearing.

Unlike her magic, which was linked to the earth and the
seasons, this was chaotic and untamed. Wild magic in the rawest of forms. It
swirled around the trees, circling the clearing and the man standing at the center.
He called it to him, demanding that it obey in a voice of power and authority.
She shivered as it crawled over her skin, caressing her with a sensuous bite as
it answered Bane’s call.

A call she felt herself. Faeries were creatures of magic, as
susceptible to the call of power as wild magic itself. All she wanted to do was
follow it, crawling on her hands and knees to his feet to rub her face against
his thigh and obey his every command.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

She bit her lip, using the sharp distraction to stay where
she was as Bane set wards around the small camp. Her body was on fire. Need
clawed at her, racing through her veins. Her nipples were tight, drawing a
simmering line of desire down her body to her aching cunt as she squirmed on
his bed furs. She knew what was going to happen. He hadn’t dragged her back to
his camp for a nice chat over a cup of tea.

She was going to get fucked. By a big, brutal elven warrior.
Her lips pressed together to contain her moan. She might want it, she might
need it more than her next breath, but she’d be damned if he’d make her beg for
it.

A soundless clap of power sealed the wards and he looked
down. His eyes blazed with dark lust as his gaze wandered over her body.

“Fuck me, you’re beautiful.”

He dropped to his knees and grabbed her ankles. The muscles
in his arms bunched as he spread her legs and pulled her bodily toward him. She
struggled, but it made no difference. His hands were manacles of steel on her
ankles. She slithered across the furs until he ended up between her spread
thighs.

“Yeah? You’re an elf, what would you know about beauty?”

She knew she was gabbling, but she couldn’t stop the words
tumbling out of her mouth. As small a fight as back chatting was, she still had
to do it. Anything other than be a victim and take it. Even if she did want it.

His big hands swept down the outsides of her spread thighs
as he leaned over her. The bulk of his large, heavily muscled body blocked some
of the light from the fire, his face cast into darkness. His eyes glittered in
the blackness.

“I know it when I see it.”

Bracing himself over her on one arm, he looped the fingers
of his free hand into the lacings that ran down the front of her tunic. With a
savage jerk, he tore through the thin cords that held it together. She gasped
as the tunic parted and cold air washed over her exposed flesh.

“Like dragons, we lust after beauty…covet it. We want to
possess it. Taste it. Own it.”

His voice grew lower, husky. Each word tugged at Tamryn, the
ache within her pulsing in resonance with his deep voice. Oh hells yeah, if
they were talking about the sensual type of tasting, she was all in.

He pushed the fabric farther apart. Slender of form, without
the big bust of her sidhe cousins, she didn’t wear anything beneath. She sucked
in a breath as his fingers brushed the underside of her breast, then cupped the
small mound. His hand was large and warm, roughened with calluses that made her
shiver.

“So delicate and pretty.”

His words were soft against her skin as he leaned down to
pepper kisses over the slope of her shoulder before working his way down. She
made a small sound of need and pleading, torn from deep within her.

He growled in response, the deep rumble emanating from deep
within his chest as he gathered her to him. His supporting arm under her neck
pillowed her head, while his free hand pulled her thigh up over his hip.
Rolling his hips, he pressed against her, his cock rubbing against her clit.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he rubbed against her
sinuously. Hard male body over her and the sensuous feel of soft fur beneath…sensory
heavens. His lips trailed down her breast to close on a nipple. He sucked and
liquid heat shot through her body.

Working her nipple, he sucked and nipped until she was
writhing beneath him. Then he swirled his tongue around her nipple, soothing
the small hurts, and she was lost. Gods, the things the man could do with his
mouth should be illegal.

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, then up his neck
and over his head. The short stubble of his hair was like velvet under her
hands as she held him against her. He had a full head of hair, so why he cropped
it to the scalp, she didn’t know and didn’t care. Not when it felt so good to
touch.

Arching her back, she offered herself up to him in a willing
sacrifice. She needed this, wanted it…wanted him…

“Damn, you taste good…”

His words were murmured against her skin as he moved down
her stomach. Automatically, she sucked in a breath. She wasn’t vain, but she
knew she was in good shape. All of the Queen’s Scouts were—a result of being on
the move and having to snag meals on the trot.

He kissed and licked down the valley of her breasts, between
the ribs and onto her softly rounded belly. His lips left a lingering trail
over her skin, until he was stopped by the waistband of her leathers.

“These have to go.”

His hands smoothed over the leather across her hips, and for
a second she thought he was about to start kissing it. Which was all well and
good, lots of men she knew had a leather fetish…but she could think of far
better uses for his lips.

“Oothraal…”

His word was a whisper, but she felt the spell attached to
it and squeaked as her leathers disappeared. Instead of feeling his hands on
her hips through the leathers, they were on her skin.

“Better,” he murmured as he leaned down to carry on kissing
over her stomach. Surprise and sudden heat backdrafted through her body. She
was half naked under him, her legs spread wide by his broad shoulders. Open and
vulnerable to anything he wanted to do to her. Cool air teased at her exposed
lower lips, the contrast with his hot mouth just above her mons making her
shiver in sensual delight.

Her hands still on his head, she urged him lower. Her pussy
clenched as he took the hint and moved down, flicking his tongue over the
neatly trimmed strip of pubic hair. Nerves spread to the breaking point, she
lifted her hands to twine them in the furs around her.

Her clit was a tight bundle of anticipation as his mouth
hovered over her. She shifted her hips, displaying herself for him in an
age-old feminine movement.

She didn’t have to wait long. He growled and his hands
clamped around her hips to hold her still. His hot breath washed over her pussy
lips, then he parted them with a bold sweep of his tongue.

A cry of pleasure escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Before she’d realized what she was doing, she had her hands back on his head
again, running her fingers over the velvet-like stubble and urging him on. He
didn’t need any urging. A low guttural moan escaped her. She’d been eaten out
before, but never as expertly as this.

Splaying a large hand over her stomach, he circled her clit,
then dipped down to rim the entrance to her cunt with his tongue. Her ability
to think went up in the same flames that consumed her. He licked and nibbled,
playing her body with an ease and skill his brutish appearance belied. The
tightness in her core spread to the rest of her body, driven tighter by the
rasp of his tongue as he ran it from slit to clit.