Dangerous. Virile.
Her heart picked up a frantic pace and her wings fluttered excitedly at the thought of fucking this virile elvin king. If his appearance was any indication, her fantasies of lovemaking would, indeed, be as pleasant as she had imagined.
Perhaps her sisters were right. Thoughts of her and this elvin king entwined in an intimate embrace, his massive body covering hers, doing things to her that she’d only dreamed of, had her pulse quickening and moisture gathering between her legs.
Another man entered the room, equally as tall but not as massive in size. Hair almost as dark as the first, but with eyes like amber ale, he stood slightly behind the first giant.
Noele heard Solara suck in a quick breath. Ah, so the second man intrigued her sister.
The raven-haired man spoke to her. “I am Garick, king of the elvin people of Winterland. I bid you welcome to my kingdom.”
For a moment she couldn’t move. Then Solara’s hand at her back reminded her of her duty.
Noele stepped forward, inclined her head in a bow and tried to stem the nervous fluttering of her wings.
“I am humbled to introduce myself as your betrothed, Noele of D’Naath.” Garick’s brow arched, his nostrils flared slightly. He strode toward her, seemingly growing taller and taller with each booted step until he towered over her. He reached for her, his hands cupping her cheeks, and touched his forehead to hers. His gaze penetrated her, his magic powerful and nearly overwhelming.
Sparks flew throughout her being as he sought to telepathically enter her mind. Not unpleasant, but somewhat irritating that he’d be so bold as to attempt to invade her so quickly after their first meeting.
But she had magic, too, and blocked his probe of her innermost thoughts. He raised a brow, clearly understanding that she would not yet allow him access to her mind.
He motioned for the other man in the room to come forward. “This is Roarke, my protector, my right hand, second in command of the Kingdom of Winterland .” Noele nodded warily, fully aware of the role that Roarke would play in her union to Garick. At least he wasn’t repulsive, either. To the contrary, both elvin men would be fought over greatly by the faerie women of her kingdom.
Though nervous about the coming joining, Noele’s excitement grew as she envisioned what was to happen between her, Garick and Roarke over the next few days. Would it be as thrilling as she imagined? Her body was already aroused at the pictures in her mind.
Solara cleared her throat and Noele remembered her place. She swept her hand to either side of her.
“These are my sisters. Solara on my left, and on my right are Mina, Elise and Trista.” Garick, using the same elvin custom of touch as he’d used with her, brushed his forehead to each of her sisters. Then Roarke stepped forward. He bent his head and touched Trista, then Elise, then Mina. When he made contact with Solara, the sparks between the two of them nearly pushed Noele sideways.
Heaven’s magic. There was chemistry between those two. And yet, they were not betrothed. How strange. She’d seen her sister tease and frolic with many of the faerie men, but never had Solara been so affected before.
She both heard and felt the tremors within Solara. Roarke pulled back, his brown eyes darkening as his gaze focused on Solara. Then he quickly moved away.
Garick stepped before her, his gaze boring into hers, his grey eyes like the frosty winter storms of D’Naath.
Would he be as cold, she wondered?
She inhaled a quick breath, stunned when his essence filled her nostrils. Briefly, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel him.
Noele’s senses were already overloaded with Garick’s presence, his scent so like the pine forests of D’Naath that just breathing him in made her ache for home. Yet he didn’t smile like so many of the males she was accustomed to, instead seemed to wear a perpetual frown.
“ Lea ve us,” he commanded. With a bow, her sisters fluttered out of the room, Solara casting a comforting and warm glance in her direction.
But she felt neither comforted nor warm. She felt alone, at the mercy of this handsome giant who was a stranger, and yet soon to be her husband.
“Roarke, return after you have taken your meal.”
Roarke nodded in response and departed, leaving her alone with Garick.
“We will dine now.” Garick nodded to the servants waiting in the doorway. They brought in a small table and their meal and he motioned for Noele to sit.
The sight of food made her stomach roil. Why was she so nervous? She’d been prepared for this her entire life, knew it would happen.
But she hadn’t expected Garick. Hadn’t expected the magic between the two of them to be so powerful. He frightened her, excited her and worried her, too.
Her destiny was in his hands, and she did not care one bit for that part of this entire marriage rite. To possibly be cast aside or given to another was not what she would choose for herself. And yet Garick held that right.
For someone like her who had done exactly what she pleased her entire life, it was a bitter pill to be forced to bend under someone else’s will.
Noele looked down at her plate of food and pushed it away. She had no appetite, merely picking at the roasted pheasant and dola on her plate.
“You must eat,” Garick said, having already devoured his meal. “You will need your strength.” The thought of why she needed strength wasn’t something she wanted foremost on her mind, so she tucked the thought away. “I am much smaller than you, Garick. I do not require as much food.”
“Then drink this. It will relax you.” He poured her a cup of wiloa, an ancient elvin wine that burned her stomach and fired her blood, heating her from the inside out. She welcomed the relaxing effect of the drink, knowing what would be forthcoming.
“You seem uncomfortable.”
She looked up from the table and met his probing gaze. “I am not uncomfortable.”
“You do not wish to be here.”
His search of her innermost thoughts had not been successful earlier. He was merely guessing now.
“Why do you say that? I am where I am supposed to be.” His lips curled in a half smile that Noele found quite appealing. “But it is not where you would want to be.”
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
“Then why ask?”
“Curious. If the situation were reversed, I would not be happy at all.”
“No, I cannot imagine you would be.” Garick was not the type of man who would bend for anyone. She already knew that much about him. His will was strong. She had to fight hard to keep his thoughts from invading her.
At least she’d managed to prevent his entry into her mind. She may be forced through official rites to do certain things, but she was not required to give up her thoughts to him.
“Shall we get on with the rite of inspection?” he asked, pushing back from the table.
Noele swallowed past the lump in her throat and stood. Garick nodded to Roarke, who had returned and stood at the doorway. He stepped in, closed the door and guarded silently.
“Must he remain?”
Garick arched a dark brow. “Have our customs been explained to you?”
“Of course,” she answered quickly, surprised to hear the nervous rasp in her own voice. “I merely assumed his presence would not be required until consummation eve.”
“Roarke is required to view the inspection, but he will not participate.” She nodded. “Very well.” As if she had a choice. She could no more change elvin custom than she could change faerie. If she could, she would be anywhere else but standing here right now, about to be stripped bare and inspected by the elvin king.
Garick eyed the pale-haired faerie who was to become his queen, unable to believe such blinding beauty existed. He’d been forced to call upon all his magic to mask his shock when he entered the chamber and found the ethereal creature standing before him.
Clad in a simple shift, the flowing garment showed off her long legs and creamy thighs. Her white wings, woven with threads of silver, glittered against the light cast by the fire. She looked to be an angel, pale except for the shimmer of silver that graced every centimeter of her exposed skin.
His hands shook at the thought of taking her as his bride, and he fought desperately for control. He would be no good to his or Noele’s people if he couldn’t keep his emotions under control.
But Roarke knew his reaction. Knew it and laughed at him telepathically.
“I think you have met your match,” Roarke thought to him, a touch of sarcasm lacing his deep thoughts.
“Bah. I haven’t fucked a faerie in many a long year, ‘tis all. And this one is particularly alluring.”
“Your heart pounds for her,” Roarke said.
“No, my cock pounds for her,” Garick objected. But Roarke was right, Garick thought as he forced his lifelong friend and protector out of his thoughts and emotions. Noele of D’Naath had struck him a fatal blow, and he’d be certain to guard his heart around this one. She may be his life mate, but he did not need to bring emotion into their union. Their marriage was one of his duties as king, and he would perform it just as he had performed all his required obligations. He had not shown emotion since he’d taken the throne upon his parents’ death.
Emotion was for the weak. Love was for the foolish. He was a warrior, and had been his entire life.
Warriors had no time for such frivolity. His father had shown him that from a very young age. Women were to bear children and oversee the daily activities at the castle.
His father had shown no love or affection to his mother, and his mother had accepted that as her duty as his wife. Aye, she had loved Garick, but she had been just as immersed in her own duties as his father had.
As a result, Winterland held strong to the northern territories for many years. Garick would make sure that hold would continue.
“Retract your wings,” he commanded Noele, noticing the nervous flapping of the shimmering wings at her back.
She nodded, her wings folding onto themselves and disappearing from sight. He reached for her, sensing her anxiety and waiting for her to flinch. She stood still though, her chin held high and her pale blue eyes fixed on his face.
He admired her courage, realizing how difficult the ceremonies over the next several days would be. But it was custom and he would do what was required, as, it seemed, would she.
Not one to employ tenderness around females, he surprised even himself when he gently grazed her slender shoulders. At his first touch upon her skin, a shock of pleasure unlike anything he’d ever known knifed through him.
He removed his hands and gazed upon her, fighting for control over the intensity of desire that stabbed at his middle. It would be so easy to take her tonight, to bury his cock within her, and make her his.
But their marriage was all about ceremony and ritual. He could not have her this day. Soon, he would.
Once he did, the fire that licked at his loins would be quenched and he could return to his other duties without another thought for Noele.
Breathing in a fortifying breath, he once again touched her, fighting back a groan as his fingers traced her magical skin. She shuddered against his fingers and his gaze met hers. A man could get lost in her wintry blue eyes.
Thankfully, he wasn’t a man easily lost.
He slipped his fingers underneath the gossamer gown. He did so slowly, watching Noele’s reaction. She shivered, but kept her gaze focused on his face.
His cock throbbed against his breeches, coming to life in a fast and furious way. If she were one of the many willing elvin females that clamored for his touch, he would pull out his rigid shaft and plunge it inside her, immediately relieving his tension.
But she wasn’t. She was faerie, his betrothed, and a virgin. He would hold his emotions in check and not violate this fragile creature. “I am going to disrobe you.” She nodded and trembled when he pulled the garment to her waist, baring breasts that bordered on perfection. Nipples, as pale as cream, were surrounded by small, high breasts that shimmered with silver flecks. The buds puckered and hardened.
His heart pounded and he recognized a desire to lick the tips of the globes until they glistened with his saliva.
“It is my right to taste you this eve.”
“Yes, I know.” Her voice rasped against his senses, flaming him hotter than the burning wood in the fireplace. Neither her words nor the magical essence unique to faerie told him she objected.
Noele’s lips parted, her mouth forming a perfect bow. He brushed his thumb against her bottom lip and moved forward, leaning down to capture her mouth in a kiss.
He meant only to kiss her briefly. No more, just a brush of lips, a way to gauge her reaction, to prime her for their wedding eve.
But as soon as their lips met, her pheromones released, assaulting his senses with the sweet scent of the sterling silver roses that grew in the forest. He inhaled, then shuddered and lost all control. He slid his tongue inside her mouth and fit his lips more fully against hers. He couldn’t find his next breath as she’d stolen it away from him.
Her skin was the softest rose petal, her body pliant and willing in his arms. Her agreeable response both shocked and pleased him. His erection quivered, his balls tightened and he suddenly wished for release more than anything.
No, not yet. With great discipline he held back, not wanting to crush the faerie with his ardent passion.
A desire to see more of her overwhelmed him. He bent down to draw the garment over her slender hips.
A pale tuft of hair covered her mound, it, too, threaded with silver. He crouched down and reached for her buttocks, drawing her femininity closer to him.
The scent of roses and sweet female nectar assailed him. He couldn’t resist taking a taste of her bounty.
She let out a moan when he rubbed his nose against her soft fur and inhaled her essence. When he placed a light kiss against her mound, her small hand threaded through his hair.
Needing no further encouragement, he nudged her legs apart and slowly swiped his tongue over her stiffened bud, licking the honeyed drops of desire from her nether lips.