Irian’s nostrils flared and he scented her, his lips parting. His eyes focused on her body, clad in the corselet that rose to just under her breasts, pushing them up, two thin straps trailing up over her shoulders, and down her back. In front, the laces were pulled tight, revealing an inch of tanned toned flesh and Irian lifted his eyes to study her breasts so prominently displayed, nipples drawn tight and puckered, waist cinched down by the gleaming black leather. The corselet ended in a vee, the pointed ends bringing attention to her mound.

  Almost as devastatingly erotic were the black boots that came up over her knees, elvish made, form-fitting, tight, thin and tooled, the supple leather soft against the gold of her skin.

  “Lovely.” His voice was guttural and deep. Kneeling, he whispered it again as he leaned forward and nuzzled her belly, licking her navel as he reached around her and cupped her ass.

  “Irian…” Tyriel gasped out his name as he caught her in his arms before she could slide to the floor, and he spread the lips of her sex and licked her.

  She swayed and he rose, swinging her up into his arms. “No swooning. Tonight, I’ll have you screaming and sighing, but no swooning.”

  She clung to his shoulders as he carried her to the bed.

  He spread her out, pushing her thighs wide, running his hands over the gleaming black leather of her boots before traveling back up to the apex.

  “I’m going to bury my face in your cunt, Tyriel, and lick you, suck you, taste you, until you lose yourself.”

  Tyriel shivered. He touched her then and she jerked in response, moaning as he spread her open her with his thumbs and stared with bald, naked need.

  “Your pussy is so wet,” he whispered before looking up to stare at her. “You’re all wet and ready for me, aren’t you?”

  She flushed under that burning stare, the afterimage of Irian’s true self trying to merge with Aryn’s to her fae sight while the pulse of his magic filled her like a drug.

  She was going crazy—maybe it had already happened, because this was the last thing she should be doing. But was she pushing him away? Demanding he step back and yield control to Aryn?

  No. She lifted her hips, a needy moan escaping her. “Please…”

  Irian clenched his jaw. “So stubborn.”

  Then he bent over her and bit her lower lip. “I’m just as stubborn. You should already know this.”

  He touched her then and she jolted at the shocking, almost painful pleasure. “Irian!”

  “That’s it,” he purred. “That’s it…say my name…”

  She whimpered, unable to say anything as he worked two thick fingers inside her slippery, tight channel, then began to thrust, ruthlessly driving her straight to climax. He bent his head, taking one tight nipple, then the other into his mouth and sucking on them until they were tight and red as berries.

  She thrashed under him, tearing at the sheets and at his shoulders, begging for completion.

  And when she was almost there, he moved, shifting to sprawl between her thighs, even pausing a moment to rub his cheek against the leather of her booted knee, giving her a sinfully seductive smirk before pressing his mouth to her and dragging his tongue through her swollen, wet folds.

  She shoved her hands into his hair and arched up with a cry,

  “That’s it,” he murmured again. “Lose yourself, wild love.”

  He pushed his fingers back inside her, pumping harder, faster, tongue stabbing and swirling around her clitoris. But…again…when she was close, he backed off.

  “Irian…” she all but growled his name. “If you don’t…”

  “Tell me,” he ordered after one sensual, suckling bite on her inner thigh. “Tell me what you want of me.”

  “Make me come, damn you.”

  “Yes, my lady, my wild love…” Then, as he’d promised, he buried his face against her cunt and licked, sucked, and finger-fucked her until she lost herself, completely and utterly.

  She was still shuddering and whimpering from the multiple climaxes when he rose, some untold time later and began to methodically strip naked.

  “I can’t,” she said with a moan.

  But the sight of that long, pale body rippling with muscles and marked with scars from battle made her quiver.

  “No?” Her lover looked at her with gleaming eyes as he casually unlaced his breeches, freeing his cock. Moving to the side of the bed, he closed his fist over it and stroked. “Perhaps I’ll handle this myself then.”

  Tyriel licked her lips as she stared at his erection, thick and hard, rising from a thatch of golden hair, a gleaming drop seeping from it. Her eyes blurred again, fae sight pushing in on her and Irian’s true form wavered in her vision. Her heart twisted in her chest, reminding her which man had come to her, which one had reached for her.

  The pain nearly tore her in two.

  “No,” Irian said roughly, kneeling on the bed between her thighs.

  She shook her head mutely. It wasn’t a denial of touch—that she craved, and it hurt to the very core of her that she was so needy, she’d settle even for this.

  But that Irian could see that pain…

  “No,” he said again, but softer and magic pulsed from him, until it wasn’t fae sight causing her vision to blur and alter him. Enchantment wrapped around them both and when he touched her this time, she felt broader hands. When his hair fell over his shoulder to tangle with hers, it was longer, waving locks of black, similar to her own.

  The heavy body mounting hers was broader and more scarred and when she dared looked into his eyes, it was the dark brown gaze of a Wildling man she saw.

  “It is Irian who takes you,” he said as he grasped her hands and jerked them over her head, pinning her down. He wedged a muscled thigh between her legs, spreading her thighs wide to take him. Eyes locked on her face, he rocked against her wet heat.

  “Tell me, wild love…who touches you?” he murmured as he lowered his head to take a reddened nipple into his mouth.

  Straining against his grasp, a sob fell past her lips. He pushed her nipple against the roof of his mouth and suckled deep, rolling his eyes upward to stare at her. Hot and wicked, his tongue and teeth worked the nipple into one aching point of pleasure until she was whimpering and squirming from just the lightest touch of his tongue on her flesh.

  She stared down into his eyes, then let her gaze roam over him as she took in minute details she’d never noticed when he was in his spectral form.

  A hair-thin scar bisected his left eyebrow, and another sliced down his right shoulder…scars she had never noticed before.

  “Who touches you?” he demanded as he kissed a blazing line of kisses between her breasts and locked his teeth around the other nipple drawing it tight and listening to her gasp.

  “Irian…”

  With a ragged groan, he tore his mouth from her breast and positioned himself at the wet, swollen entrance to her pussy, staring down into her eyes. “Years, I have waited. Years without end.” Then he said nothing else as he slowly forged his way into her body, his thick, hard length slicing through her as she stared helplessly, fascinated, into his eyes, arms stretched overhead, ragged gasps falling from her lips.

  She was begging by the time he was buried inside her, pleading and rocking against him, whipping her head back and forth. His cock jerked within her sheath and she whimpered, the muscles in her pussy tightening around him hungrily as she rocked against him.

  Slowing, Irian lowered his body down atop her.

  If she’d been capable of thought, she might have wondered at the heaviness of him—it was only a glamour enchantment, wasn’t it? Truly, it was still Aryn’s body, under Irian’s control.

  But everything felt different.

  His weight, the feel of his body, the texture of his hair, even his taste and she was too tangled up in the spell of his lust and her own to think past anything but the glory of him filling her.

  “Harder,” she begged, needing to chase away even the memory of the empty ache she’d lived with for so long.

  Her mind spun out of control and she sobbed as his mouth covered hers, feeling his cock jerk within her sheath. His hand released her wrists, trailed down the length of her arms, over the side of her breast, her ribcage and waist as he shifted his weight. She felt the phantom brush of his fingers on her clit and she screamed into his mouth as he rode her harder, filling her with deep thrusts of his cock, a groan vibrating from his chest.

  He shifted his angle, moving higher on her body so each time he slammed into her, he rubbed against that bed of nerves buried by the mouth of her womb. Tyriel’s pussy convulsed around him rhythmically and Irian growled against her mouth, rising up to his knees, grabbing her legs, spreading them wide, holding her open with one hand behind each knee as he stared down at her, watching as he pushed his thick, dark cock between the plump wet lips of her sex, his lids low and hooded over his dark eyes.

  With short deep digs of his hips, he filled her, staring down into her eyes hungrily, greedily.

  “Y’ cannot know how long I’ve waited,” he muttered. Her eyes locked with his, captivated, as he released one of her legs and trailed his hand down her body. “Days, months, years without end.”

  Thumb and forefinger closed around one dark rose-red nipple and he plucked it, smiling as she arched with a weak scream.

  “Such a pretty, pretty thing…wild, wild Wildling-elf. So tight, so wet, soft as silk, sweet…”

  Tyriel’s head was spinning. Her heart pounded in her chest, heavy and hard, echoing the slow, pounding thrusts of his cock inside her vagina as he pushed into her. The tight wet clasp of her sex hugged his cock, clung to him as he pulled out and surged back inside. His hand slid further down her body and pinched her clit, then rotated over it in sure steady strokes until her pussy started to convulse around him.

  He growled, bending low and wrapping his arms tightly around her, bracing her weight for his thrusts with a steely, corded embrace and banding her against his heavy length as he shuddered. Against her hair, he started to groan. “My name…who am I?”

  But Tyriel barely heard him as she fisted her hands in the silky skeins of his raven-black hair, the climax inside her womb exploding outward and arching her up until she was breathless and blind from the pleasure, bucking against him, liquid pleasure sliding from her, coating his cock, the muscles in her pussy locking down rhythmically around his sex and stroking him into climax.

  And in a low, broken moan, she whimpered, “Irian.”

  Moments later, she sighed as he stroked her hair and soothed her into sleep. His name slid from her lips one final time as she slid into slumber. “Irian…”

  The guilt in his gut faded away to a dull ache as he wrapped his arms around her and rested.

  He didn’t really sleep, not even in this body. He hovered in a semiconscious state that charged his mind and magic, and allowed his soul to wander, his mind to remember. So much to remember, and so very little that was pleasant. When Irian dragged himself back to the present, he was aware of Tyriel’s firm little ass, snug against his cock, the sweet scent of her hair, those wild Jiupsu curls spilling all over his arms and chest, tickling his chin. His cock throbbed against her ass, a sweet ache, one he hadn’t had the luxury of feeling in years.

  Ahhh…what was he to do? He could not allow the lass to leave. Such danger lurked for her. The blackness crowded at the very edges of Irian’s mind, his soul. Such a powerful thing she was…how could he force her into staying? If she wasn’t elvin, he could make her—not through physical force or violence. The idea sickened him. Had she been weaker willed, he could have intimidated her into bending to his will.

  But not Tyriel.

  And of course, if he tried to bar her from leaving, well, she could throw his bearer against a fucking wall. Elf-kind were strong, stronger than mortal men.

  She must stay safe…they needed her. And whether the fool admitted it or not, Aryn needed her. She already owned his heart. Irian lived inside the man’s head—he should know.

  She murmured and sighed in her sleep.

  The swordsman’s name.

  She fled for fear the swordsman did not love her.

  Aryn loved her well and truly, and even he knew it. It was his own mortality he feared.

  If the daft fool would simply open his blind eyes.

  But he didn’t and Irian had to resort to taking over simply to ensure their Wildling elf stayed safe.

  Their Wildling elf.

  Irian ached, brutally jealous of the foolish mercenary who bore him. He’d given anything to be real and here and whole—alive. He’d claim what Aryn was so willing to walk away from, steal away with her to whatever part of the world she wanted to go.

  But he was chained to a hunk of metal until he fulfilled a vow, and then he’d…go on to whatever existed beyond this.

  For now, I have this.

  And if neither of them will do it, I’ll be the one who makes sure she stays safe.

  He lowered his mouth to Tyriel’s naked shoulder, the black curls tangling with and mingling with hers until he couldn’t tell where her hair ended and his began. Gripping one naked hip in his big, scarred hand, he pressed a hot, opened-mouthed kiss to her shoulder and started to pump his cock against the curve of her ass, using the heat and touch of his body to distract her as magic whispered through the air, dispelling the illusion he’d worked earlier that had let Tyriel see through time and age to the man he’d once been.

  Now it was the form he was forced to wear she would see when she opened her eyes.

  Blond hair spilled across Tyriel’s body, straight, thick, golden as the sun. A firm strong hand caught her face and guided her head around so he could kiss her as he continued to rock against her, the channel between her tight ass growing slick with sweat and the clear fluid seeping from his cock as the need to climax edged closer.

  “I want to push inside your snug ass and fuck you there,” he murmured, reaching down and gripping one cheek to spread her before rocking against her again. “Can I, love?”

  Tyriel shivered, but didn’t respond, her sleek body tight with tension and he lapsed into silence, playing her body with the same expertise she used with her flute.

  Again and again, he moved against her, until she was rocking back against him, her movements timed to echo his own while broken cries escaped her.

  Irian used his body and their combined lust to keep her distracted as he reached out with his magic-honed senses and rifled through Aryn’s pack, easily finding a small vial of oil the swordsman kept on hand for body aches.

  Once it floated to his hand, he tucked the bottle into hers and brought it closer so he could easily reach it, but still yielding the control to her.

  She shivered and rolled her head to meet his eyes as he whispered what he wanted again, and what he’d like her to do, if she was willing.

  When she spilled the oil onto his fingers, he could have howled in victory, an animalistic instinct to let all know that he’d won her.

  Instead, he brought his lubricated fingers down between their bodies and worked them against the tight, clenched opening of her ass. She gasped as he pushed inside, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she drew in a ragged breath and bore down on him.

  “Yes, love...yield to me,” he murmured, taking slow possession and delighting in every second of it.

  He added more oil, then as she squirmed and whimpered in his arms, all but begging for him to mount her, he closed his oil-slicked fingers around his cock for the final preparation.

  Still bent over her, most of his weight on one elbow, he took her free hand and guided to her bottom. “Hold yourself open for me...like that...spread your cheeks so I can watch as you take me.”

  “Hardly fair,” she whispered, staring at him with a gaze gone glassy with desire.

  “You’ve driven me all but mad since the day you flashed that beautiful smile, love. I think it’s perfectly fair that I can get to watch as I sink this prick inside your snug bottom.”

  Her mouth parted and again, Irian condemned his owner to be a fool.

  Not now, he told himself. Now he was going to enjoy every hot, wicked second of the night.

  She gasped as he pushed into her, the flared head of his cock breaching the tight ring of muscle. He held there, not surging deeper as he wanted to. Instead, he rocked, slow and lazy possession in each move as he slid his free hand down between her thighs.

  “You’re wet as rain, love. So, so wet...”

  She whimpered as he circled his finger over her clit, jerking when he stopped, then going rigid as the movement deepened his penetration of her ass.

  “Am I hurting you?” he whispered, pressing his mouth to her shoulder.

  “Yes...no...Irian...move...please...it’s too much.”

  Her broken pleas and the hungry demands of her body told him what she needed and he rolled more completely on top of her before dragging both of them onto their knees.

  She quivered, bent on her hands and knees before him, her graceful spine undulating as she rocked and fought to acclimate to this intimate intrusion.

  “Irian...”

  “Tell me what you want, love.”

  She arched her spine. “Move...fuck me. Please.”

  Her words left him shuddering, his paper-thin control falling to shreds around him.

  “Aye, that. I’ll fuck you, love.” He gripped her hips and hauled her back roughly on his cock, lunging forward at the same time so that he filled her completely on that first, deep thrust.

  Her sharp, broken cry was followed by a desperate whisper. “Again...”

  So he gave it to her, fucking her deep and hard, hands gripping her hips and holding her still as he pummeled her ass.

  She sank face down into the mattress and his eyes almost crossed when his felt her fingers brush over his sac. The thought of her stroking herself, how swollen and tight her clit must feel under her touch, how close to the edge she must be, it all but drove him mad, and he growled her name.

  The orgasm slammed into him only seconds after she started coming, her body clenching down tight around him and milking him until he yielded to her demands.

 

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