Chapter 11
Kellen rejoined her. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
The first arrow burrowed into the ground some fifteen feet in front of the relatively large bullseye she was aiming for.
The second sailed past the same target and disappeared into the dark orchard.
The third did the same, and sadly, there was no larger target to aim for unless she started shooting trees.
She had a feeling the grigs would take great offense if she left one of their trees looking like a porcupine—assuming she could consistently hit said tree.
She caught Kellen trying to hide his smile but didn’t challenge him to do better—she was fairly certain he could. Sighing she said, “I might be more dangerous than the enemy.”
He did grin then, and moved behind her, hands going to her waist and lips going to her neck, flooding her chest and sex with warmth. “Practice makes perfect.”
Given the growing erection pressed against her buttocks, she suspected he was thinking about a different kind of practice. “I’m not going inside until I hit a target.”
A target—one, single, solitary victory—not that she’d quit at one, but she didn’t want to end up outside all night or end the night feeling like a failure by setting what seemed like an impossible goal—consistently hitting the largest target.
“It’s all about eye-hand coordination and getting a feel for how much the arrow will drop over a given distance,” Kellen said against her neck, stroking his hands upward along her sides and sending heat ahead of them, heat that went straight to her breasts.
Her nipples tightened into aching points. If they’d been alone…
But they weren’t. The grigs weren’t actively watching her attempts to master the use of a bow, but there were still plenty of them milling around the campfire.
Kellen’s hands moved to just beneath her breasts. “You’re becoming a distraction,” she said and felt his lips curve upward. “If you distract me, this will only take longer, and you’ll end up being the one to suffer the most.”
His laugh was a puff of breath. He pressed his erection more firmly against her, “That almost sounds like a challenge. Are you so sure I’m the only one who’ll suffer?”
She rolled her eyes though she couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not foolish enough to challenge you out in public.” Though it occurred to her the fey might have totally different norms when it came to public displays of affection—or more accurately, fucking in public.
She decided against taking that conversational detour. And relaxed when his hands moved away from her breasts, one going to hold the bow just beneath where her hand gripped the smooth wood, while the other covered hers where it gripped the end of a nocked arrow.
“For tonight,” he said, “just concentrate on developing a feel.”
He tilted the bow upward in a smooth movement, stopped and used his hand on hers to draw the string backward.
“Feel and release,” he said, his hand on the bow keeping it steady as they let the arrow fly.
The arrow hit an outer target ring with a thwack.
It sent a little thrill through her and had her reaching for another arrow.
Once again Kellen guided her movements, said, “Feel and release.”
The arrow hit closer to the center.
“Feel and release,” he said for a third time—and this time the arrow’s point hit the target dead center.
Bullseye.
He nibbled her neck, creating a renewed surge of heat. “Ready to try it on your own?”
“Ready.”
She nocked an arrow, followed the feel and tried to remain steady all the way through the release of the string.
Thwack.
The arrow struck the target—barely, but it struck!
She gave a little shout of glee and hopped up and down, laughed with a flush to her cheeks when several of the grigs made hooting sounds she interpreted as cheers—confirming, at least in her mind, that they were surreptitiously watching what she and Kellen did.
“Just a few more, so I know it wasn’t luck,” she said, anticipating Kellen’s intention to remind her that she’d said she’d quit as soon as she hit the target.
With an exaggerated sigh, he hugged her to him, making her aware of his hardened cock. “Go ahead, torment me.”
“Now and in a few minutes,” she said in a husky voice, the carnal images she envisioned blurring the scene in front of her.
He laughed and released her. “Do your worst.”
She fired a few more arrows at the largest target, hitting it all three times.
Nibbling her bottom lip, she contemplated whether she wanted to stop while she was ahead. But it seemed a waste not to try to hit some of the other targets Kellen had taken the time to set up.
She compromised, “Help me hit some of the smaller ones?”
His arms were immediately around her. “Fire away.”
Together they shot arrows at the other targets, including a target that was no larger than her hand. And each time, they were rewarded by the satisfying thwack of success.
With only one arrow remaining, Analia said, “Let me do the last one by myself.”
He stepped back. She took aim at the largest target—knowing herself well enough to accept that if she went small and missed, she’d never be able to quit on a failure.
She released the arrow and held her breath as it sailed straight and true to its target. Not a bull’s eye, but close enough—especially since she hoped to never have to aim, with the intent to kill, at a living creature.
Sighing with relief, she said, “Done.”
Kellen lifted the basket and together they headed toward the closest target.
Anticipation—and no small amount of trepidation—created a whirlpool of sensation in Kellen’s chest. His palms were actually sweaty, and his mouth suddenly dry as he contemplated the thing he intended to do—claim Analia as his mate.
He could no longer deny the attraction or how essential having her in his life had become. His pulse quickened, sending rapid throbbing beats through his cock—a cock that didn’t care whether she understood they’d be permanently bound together by magic or not, as long as it got back inside her.
Eventually she’d discover they were mated. Eventually he’d tell her—but he wasn’t ready for the vulnerability that came with completely handing over his heart.
Not now. Not tonight. Maybe not for days to come.
Kellen dropped the last of the targets into the basket after tugging a final arrow from the wooden circle and passing it to Analia. She placed the arrow in the quiver then took a step toward the dark orchard where some of her earlier shots had disappeared.
A shaft of fear pierced his chest. He grabbed her wrist, halting her. “We’ll collect them in the morning. Or the grigs will.”
“I don’t think the arrows went far,” she said, but didn’t attempt to pull from his grasp.
Kellen lifted his face and inhaled deeply, seeking the scent of enemies. He didn’t know what protections the grigs had, but in this relatively magic-poor world, they would be no match against a fey hound, against Deidra. The bitch might be out there, lurking in the darkness, waiting for a chance to attack.
His hand tightened reflexively on Analia and she flinched but didn’t voice a complaint. “Sorry,” he murmured, easing his grip.
They went to the tree. He heard Analia’s breath catch in wonder as they stepped through the entranceway. Golden glowstones provided enough light to see the woven tapestries lining the smooth walls of the dead tree.
Not dead, Kellen thought a heartbeat later, feeling, more than scenting, the magic emanating from all around him. There were general principles when it came to magic, but it was still unique to each realm and to each species of supernatural beings.
He wondered if centuries past, the tree had surrendered itself to become a place where a clan of grigs could take up residence. There was no smell of rot and no evidence of structural weakness around them or above, where a spiraling staircase led upward, to what was probably a watcher’s post.
Setting the quiver of arrows and bow next to the doorway, Analia said, “This is amazing.”
He placed the basket full of targets next to the quiver and joined her at the edge of a hole on the far side of the entranceway, where the spiraled staircase continued downward.
Glowstones were set in hollowed-out places in the wall, but unlike the stairs that spiraled upward to a greater height, the stairs leading downward extended for only a short distance.
There were three different levels. On each level a dark opening just tall enough to accommodate a standing grig signified a tunnel entranceway.
A young sentry stepped into the tree and hurried over to them. He said, “I’ll lead you to your quarters.”
He jumped into the hole, nimbly landing on the fifth stair beneath the floor of the entry space. Next to Kellen, Analia shivered but took a cautious step down, the evidence of bravery filling him with pride.
She hugged the wall with her body and used the carved-out places where the glowstones sat as handholds.
He followed, ready to grab her if she stumbled.
Their guide reached the first opening and entered the tunnel. On hands and knees, Analia followed, while Kellen rid himself of the human form and became hound.
“Cheater,” she said, and he couldn’t resist the urge to nip one shapely buttock.
She gave a little yip, and he smiled a very toothy hound’s smile as he padded forward, packed earth beneath his paws.
In the tunnel, the glowstones were spaced much further apart, set in thick roots that ran parallel to the burrow, and above it, offering greater stability and perhaps shielding the grigs from an attack coming from the surface.
Unlike the yellow glowstones in the main entrance and stairwells, the ones in the tunnel were blue.
There were openings off the burrow, leading to additional tunnels. And along those tunnels as well as the burrow they were in, wooden doors indicated private dens.
The doors were carved, or painted, some more artistic than others, some projecting a serious tone while others were whimsical.
“I wish Sabra and Saffron and Ace could see this,” Analia murmured, then glanced over her shoulder. “Will I even be able to tell them about this adventure?”
In hound form he couldn’t answer, so he shifted and said, “I don’t know about Sabra and Ace, but Saffron can know. She’s part of the supernatural world.”
Analia gave a small laugh. “Probably just as well. Sabra and Ace might think hooking up with you has negatively impacted my sanity.”
The young grig in front of them stopped and turned to face a door on the left. He gave it a push and it opened. “These are your quarters.”
He spoke a word so ancient it had become universal in origin, and the dark space was illuminated by soft, golden light.
On hands and knees, Kellen followed Analia into the chamber. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood, closing the door behind them with a thanks to their escort.
Analia also stood. She rolled her shoulders and together they took in their quarters.
A thick mat of woven material was placed in the center of the room to serve as a bed. There were no blankets, but they weren’t needed. Warmth seeped from earthen walls.
In the far left corner, a stream of water traveled from ceiling to floor, its path created by a thick root. In the far right corner, a wide pot created out of clay sat next to a ceramic slab covering what was no doubt a hole for disposing of waste.
Kellen grasped Analia’s hand and pulled her close. He speared his fingers through her luxurious hair and covered her mouth with his.
His tongue licked across the seam of her lips and he moaned when she opened for him, her tongue immediately seeking his, gliding slick and welcoming along its length and making his cock jerk and spasm with a demand for the same greeting.
He tugged her shirt upward, slid first one hand then the other beneath the material to caress her silky skin. Her hands went to the front of his shirt, slowly freeing the buttons, then pushing it off his shoulders.
He unzipped, rid himself of shoes and pants, and needed her naked.
Their eyes met and held. He wanted to promise that he’d never again be a source of pain. But he had only to remember those moments before she’d been whisked away to the grig realm to know such a promise would be impossible to keep.
Misunderstandings would happen—especially if he continued to hold back the truth. But he’d do his best to ensure she never regretted becoming his mate—and when the time was right, he’d tell her they were bound.
That promise he could make to himself as well as her. He leaned in, took her mouth and found it so much easier to convey the enormity of what he felt for her, the precipice he’d chosen to jump off for her, the trust he was placing in her, with the slide of lips against lips and the twine of tongues.
She’d become his world. And as he stripped her of clothing, he was surprised he’d lasted this long—given she’d ensnared him with her scent at the supernatural fair.
His hands swept down her naked back. His cock brushed against her abdomen, wetting her silky skin with its own kiss.
Her nipples were tight points jabbing his chest and demanding attention, and for the first time in his life, he imagined himself siring children, imagined walking into a room and seeing them at his mate’s breasts—at Analia’s breasts.
The imagery sent a hot throb through his cock, and a rush of heat to the place where it would soon swell and lock inside her channel. His hips bucked, driven by his dick’s desire.
Her soft laugh drove her lips away from his. “We don’t have to do this standing,” she teased, flooding his heart with a giddy, unfamiliar lightness.
“True,” he said, swinging her into his arms, the lightness swelling his chest.
He carried her the short distance to the mat and placed her on it, immediately covering her body with his, the press of skin to skin, the pleasure of having her beneath him, turning the swelling in his chest into the driving need to ensure she remained in his life forever.
His lips took hers and he reveled in the feel of her hands in his hair and raking across his back, revealing her need as surely as the scent of her arousal did. Her legs locked around his waist and her pussy rubbed against his cock in its own demand.
Need shuddered through him. His foreskin retracted further, bringing instinct to the forefront.
He should give her some warning about what lay in the future. Once the magic bound them together, she’d need his touch. She’d be bereft without it. The fey were like an addiction when it came to humans.
While she lived, it would be impossible for him to be with another female. And part of him demanded that he trust her completely, surrender all of himself. She wasn’t like Cosette, wouldn’t be repulsed to learn he hadn’t been born perfectly formed.
When we get back to the human realm, he told himself, not wanting to share his childhood, his fears with her. Not wanting to open himself to the world of pain that would come if he was wrong about her, not when it was so easy to lose himself in pleasure.
Her fingers speared through his hair and she urged him downward, back to her mouth, and he let himself be guided back to her lips and the promise of ecstasy.
Heat suffused him, need translated into the thrust of tongue against tongue, the rub of cock to pussy.
Want and instinct entwined, became a driving, pulsing imperative that could only be answered in one way. With a panted moan he rose onto his knees, had to grip his cock to silence its scream of protest. Then squeeze harder when she rolled over as if answering his unspoken command to position herself for mounting.
She got on elbows and knees, opened her thighs, and his gaze was instantly locked on the slick, parted lips of her pussy.
He covered her, entered in a single, mind-blowing thrust. “Fuck, Lia, you’re going to be the death of me.”
It was literal truth, but he readily accepted her mortality as his own. Couldn’t imagine life without her now that he’d stopped fighting the idea of a mate.
He pressed kisses along her shoulder and neck, fought the need to thrust and keep thrusting. He wanted to savor the sensation of being inside her and knowing this time he wouldn’t retreat when his shaft swelled in preparation for locking him into her channel.
He breathed in, filled his nostrils with the lush scent of his mate. And lost the ability to delay.
He thrust. Then thrust again, and again.
His kisses turned into sucking bites and finally the grip of his teeth where shoulder met beautiful neck.
She rocked back against him, driving him deeper, deeper, instinctively demanding what was her due, and his cock answered that demand, swelling beneath the head, his balls swelling at the same time, filling with semen.
His hand went to her swollen clit, swirled over the sensitive head, pressed and pumped, increasing the frequency of her moans and the fierceness in which she rocked backward, internal muscles spasming on him, her hot arousal scorching him, sending him into a frenzy.
All control fled.
He was driven by one thought, one goal.
She came on a sharp cry and the savage squeeze of her channel on his shaft had his cock locking inside her, his hips jerking wildly as hot rush after hot rush of semen erupted.
Sated, he collapsed, taking her down to the mat, still beneath him, his body still tied to hers. He felt the bond between them, a magical leash he relished rather than rejected.
He rubbed his cheek against her shoulder, her hair. He pushed his hand beneath her chest to cup her breast.
Mine.
She was finally completely and totally his.
His mouth found the place he’d gripped and held her as they’d mated. He sucked the tender skin into his mouth.
Her channel squeezed him, sending a fresh rush of renewed desire through his dick. He rubbed his fingertips over her nipple until it turned into a tight berry of need.
Slowly the swelling in his cock subsided, allowing him movement in her slick, heated channel. “You okay?”
“Will your ego become uncontrollable if I say I’m far better than just okay? That I’m still being buffeted by wave after wave of pleasure?”
He grinned and captured a nipple between his fingers. Nuzzled the place on her shoulder now marked by his bite. “It might. But I suspect you can easily wrestle my ego back under control.”
He kissed along her neck, felt a contentment he’d never experienced before, a soul-deep happiness that made all things possible in the future.
He luxuriated in the feel of his mate’s body beneath his, in the wet heat of her welcoming channel. He’d tell her soon, he promised himself. He’d tell her how much she meant to him.
Finally, reluctantly, he rolled off her, only to begin swelling again when she covered his body with hers, rubbing her smooth belly against his shaft and murmuring, “My turn to be on top.”