Chapter Two

Syra looked critically at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, wishing she were taller. She had tossed and turned all night, finally falling asleep as the sun sent fingers of purple and pink light across the mountain range to the east of the valley Castle Syrren was nestled in. Pinching her cheeks in an effort to bring some color to them, she drew a sky-blue dress over her carefully braided hair. The finely woven wool fell to her feet, clinging lovingly to her. The square cut of the neckline showed the cleft between her breasts, and she tugged at the fabric, wishing it didn’t hug her curves so much. She’d never been so aware of her body until that fateful day eighteen months ago … and Rhys’ intense interest afterward. Pulling on the long overcoat banded in silver at the cuffs made her feel less vulnerable.

Leaving the room, she made her way swiftly down the grand staircase to the dining hall to break her fast. Slipping into her seat at the novitiates’ table beside Asha, she glanced around the room and met Rhys’ brooding gaze. Refusing to back down anymore, she boldly met his gaze, raising a haughty brow at him. Amusement lit his eyes as he raised his goblet in salute.

“So you’ve decided to stop running from the big bad wolf,” Asha mocked.

“I never ran; it was just a strategic retreat to regroup. I have, however, decided to take the bull by the horns, so to speak.” She filled her plate with thin slices of sweet ham and soft cheese.

“Eat quickly. I want to get to the great hall early and find a seat where I can get a good look at all the emissaries,” Asha urged, swallowing the last of her own meal.

“Don’t you mean where you look over the emissaries?” She knew Asha, and could read her all too well.

“Oh, I’ll be doing that too. Have you seen that tower of muscle from Nubrah? He’s over there with your father.” She pointed to the far side of the room.

Following the direction of Asha’s finger, she saw her father standing with a man who towered over him by at least six inches. An imposing figure, his head was covered in a series of intricate braids pulled back from his face and secured at the base of his skull with an ornate metal clasp. His skin was the darkest Syra had ever seen, as if he were burnished by the sun. He stood listening intently to what her father was saying.

“He would be hard to miss, even in this impressive crowd,” Syra replied in admiration as her eyes swept the length of the stranger’s frame. A prickling sense of silent admonishment swept over her. She peeked at Rhys under her lashes and saw him frowning ferociously in her direction. So the man of granite could show emotions after all, she thought with a small, satisfied smile.

Her grandmother entered the hall flanked by the four other high mentors. Syra was surprised to see Sorren’s high mentor; Rhys’ elderly relative rarely left the sanctuary. The situation must be graver than her grandmother let on, she thought as she watched Rhynna Sorren lean heavily on her cane as she walked slowly across the room toward Rhys. Each High Mentor positioned themselves by the representative from their home province. The representatives stood, and they left the room in pairs, heading toward her father’s study. Syra watched Rhys leave the room, feeling strangely empty. Reaching for more honeyed bread, she nibbled at it as she tried to distract herself from the butterflies in her stomach.

*

Looking around his study at the faces of the men with whom he joined to stand against the Belandrakes, Orren couldn’t imagine any of these men betraying their cause. Each had, at one time or another, suffered under the harsh hands of the Belandrakes. His instinct told him he had to trust them to move forward. Standing with his back to the fireplace, he cleared his throat to get their attention.

“This is how we hope to proceed; if anyone doesn’t agree with our strategy, now is the time to object.” He looked at each delegate’s face, and saw only steadfast determination. With a nod, he continued. “Each province will surreptitiously move as many troops as they can to one central position within their territory. A teleporter and enhancer will be placed with each army, preferably ones with some telepathic ability. Telepaths will be planted at the vulnerable border towns as a warning system, and as soon as they are attacked, troops will be teleported in. Only as many as necessary, so as not to leave our backs unprotected. We’ll cast a web and hope to catch the spider.”

“Not all of us have teleporters and telepaths,” Lord Erno Barrone protested.

“Those who have been so blessed, will supply whatever gifted you require,” Orren assured his nearest neighbor and good friend.

“Syra will be most welcome,” Barrone said.

Orren stifled a smile. Barrone would welcome any children from Syra and his son Eric, for their magic would be powerful.

“Actually, that will depend on who she is most compatible with,” Darreth interrupted before he could go any further.

“Of course,” Erno demurred, bowing in deference to her. “I had only assumed, as she and my son Eric are close, that they would be automatically paired.”

“Nothing is carved in stone, My Lord,” Darreth replied.

The delegates spent the next two hours working on their logistics until, for the most part, everyone was satisfied. They retired to the dining hall to partake in the noon meal, after which they would reconvene for the pairings in the great hall.

* * * *

Every inhabitant of the castle crowded into the great hall, yet the room was oddly silent as they waited expectantly. Sitting on benches that ringed the hall, they all watched as the high mentors stood in a circle at the center of the room, facing each other with their backs to the crowd. The Hall was illuminated by a pool of sunlight emanating from the tall windows in the upper walls. The mentors raised their hands, palms up, and began to chant the pairing spell.

Syra felt the magic build in the room as the five sorceresses moved through an intricate spell designed to heighten compatibility and ensure each pairing’s success. The novices rose to stand around the circle at intervals, facing out, while the unbonded men with power approached each girl to determine if magic rose between them. Eric came to stand before her, his green eyes alight with mischief.

“What are you doing?” she asked indignantly. “You know there is no magic between us.”

“I know, but I must appease my father. He thinks you would make a perfect daughter-in-law. I can’t imagine why,” he grinned down at her. “Besides, this might the only time I get to tweak the wolf’s nose.”

“Just how long do you intend to stand here?” she asked impatiently, anxiety making her nervous.

“Why, what’s your rush?”

Folding her arms across her chest, she decided to wait him out; a show of emotion would only make him tease her longer. Looking around for Asha or Lara to pass the time, her jaw dropped as the giant from Nubrah stood before a transfixed Asha. Their magic flowed into each other, creating an aura of harmonious green; they were paired. He stared down at her petite blonde cousin with a gleam of satisfaction in his golden brown eyes.

A hand descended on Eric’s shoulder. Syra saw him wince as it tightened to the point where it must be painful. She grinned when he turned to send the eager suitor away, and watched his face pale when he realized whose hand was gripping him so tightly.

“Surely you’ve had enough time to see there is no spark here,” Rhys growled at the younger man.

“Syra and I grew up together. I thought maybe familiarity had dulled the spark; I was trying to rekindle it,” Eric hurriedly explained.

“Go light a fire somewhere else,” Rhys ordered, and Syra felt all his attention focus on her.

Their eyes met, and they didn’t even notice Eric saunter away. Raising their hands to press their palms together, they surrendered to the magic. It was like a homecoming at the first touch, until lust flared between them hot and fierce.

Syra could feel, through their link, the grommets of Rhys’ leather pants straining to contain his burgeoning cock. Their magic bloomed into a deep rich purple aura, signaling a pairing of unparalleled power. She stared at him, her lips parted.

“You need to stop looking at me like that, for I have little control left where you are concerned. Unless you want me to take you here and now, have our bond declared.” His voice was gruff with unfulfilled desire.

“It would be nice if you asked, instead of ordering me to do what you want,” she snapped, though her traitorous body responded to his nearness, her core throbbing with a dull, edgy need.

“We’ve moved beyond that, little cat. But I’m asking; even more, I’m begging.” The yearning heat in his eyes had her relenting; Syra cast the spell to transform embroidery on her gown, intertwining Rhys’ colors with her family’s to indicate that she accepted the pairing. Rhys moved to stand behind her as the other girls were quickly paired.

Syra craned her neck to see whom Lara had been paired with and spotted her cousin looking totally bewildered, standing in front of a smug Rorii Sorren. She was delighted for her cousin; the gregarious Rorii would bring her out of her shell.

As soon as the parings were declared acceptable by the high mentors, Lara rushed from the room, tears glistening on her cheeks. Syra turned to follow, only to be stopped by the firm hold on her elbow.

“We need to talk in private,” Rhys tightened his grip as she tried to free her arm. He ushered her into an alcove. “We need to leave as soon as it can be arranged; I can’t be absent from Sorren for long.”

“I can’t possibly leave so quickly, I have to pack my things.” Syra protested.

“They can be sent for at a later date. You’ll be wearing leathers during your time with me since you’ll need to blend in.”

“I’ll wear my own things, thank you. If you’ll give me a moment, I need to find my cousin.” She’d never admit it to him she was dying to wear the less restrictive clothing.

“You have an hour. If I don’t see you then, I’ll come looking for you.” With that he strode off into the milling crowd.

She fumed at his high-handedness. She was going to teach that man some manners if it was the last she did.

She found Lara crying on her sister’s shoulder in one of the turret rooms atop the castle.

“Oh, Lara what’s wrong?”

“She’s overcome by her good fortune; she nabbed a Sorren,” Asha gleefully informed her. “Almost as lucky as me… Did you see him? His name is Mikel and he comes from the province of Nubrah.” There was a smug grin on Asha’s face; she was obviously happy that fate had gifted her with the virile Mikel.

“Asha, please,” Syra stopped her from continuing. “Lara, Rorii is the nicest of the Sorren brothers; he won’t force you to do anything. I’ve seen him with the village children; he’s just a boy himself.”

“You don’t understand,” Lara wailed. “He makes me forget myself. I think things I shouldn’t whenever I see him. It isn’t proper.”

“If I told you about the impure thoughts I’ve had about his brother, it would make you red to the roots of your hair. There are so many new places to see out there. We’ve been so cloistered here, aren’t you the least bit excited?”

“I don’t want to leave Syrren; I’m not like you and Asha, I have no desire to go gallivanting all over the place.”

“Since you’re paired with Rorii, we’ll be together,” Syra tried to comfort her less-adventurous cousin.

“No, we won’t. I’m going to someplace called Straith. God knows where that is, I’ve never even heard of it.”

“I have, it’s in the mountains and word is that it’s colder than a witch’s tit up there. I don’t envy you, little sister,” Asha said, obviously weary of her sister’s complaints.

Syra fixed Asha with a steely eye. “You’re making things worse for her.”

“My strength lies in my powers of healing, as an enhancer I’m a poor second to either one of you. I should return to the sanctuary to join the other healers, preparing for the call to attend to the wounded soldiers,” Lara argued.

“If you were any more prepared, you’d be a walking infirmary,” Asha said dryly.

“Are you sure that’s the true reason you want to stay home Lara?” Syra asked her cousin gently.

“Don’t use your empathy on me Syra, that’s not fair.”

“I don’t need to, we grew up together and I know you almost as well as I know myself. When you came here to live with us after Uncle Owenn’s death and your mother’s seclusion at the sanctuary you felt lost and abandoned, and Syrren has become your personal haven. Even when it was time for us to go to Hertha for our training, you asked father to fetch us at the end of each day, and he indulged you. Well, we’re all grown up now, and it’s time to become the women we were destined to be. The call has come to use our powers to aid in the fight for our people Lara; our bloodline demands it.” Syra watched the warring emotions flit across her cousin’s face. “I for one need to do this, the Belandrakes have caused my mate untold pain and I intend to be standing at his side helping him to achieve his goals.”

Sniffling, Lara mopped up the last of her tears. “I suppose I could pass the time in Straith meeting with the resident healer, I could study the herbs in that area until the attack.”

Asha fell back on the day bed she was sitting on with a groan. “She’s hopeless.”

Laughing, Syra took a seat. “So Asha, tell us what you’ve learned about your gorgeous Nubran giant.”

* * * *

Rhys paced the floor of Orren’s study impatiently, having received a missive to meet him there. He came to a stop in the center of the room and visualized the chest at the foot of his bed. He teleported it across the thousands of miles separating him from his home effortlessly and settled it on the carpet by his feet just as the door opened and Syra’s parents entered the room.

Dressed in a form-fitting lilac gown, it was hard to believe that Siri was the mother of three grown children. Rhys ran an appreciative eye over her slender curves, outlined by the velvet of her robes.

“Watch it boy, I’m not too pleased with you at the moment. Siri tells me that you and Syra have a truebond, according to the color of your combined auras at the ritual. She also senses that you had prior knowledge of it,” Orren barked at Rhys, his body stiff with outrage. “Why didn’t you come forward sooner and claim her?”

“You, of all people, should know my reasons. Claiming her too soon could be disastrous. Could you stand to lose Syra like you lost your sister? This way it will give the impression that this is a temporary arrangement,” Rhys snapped back, taking exception to being referred to as a boy.

Orren stepped toward Rhys, obviously ready to plant a fist in his face for slashing open old wounds, but was stopped by the restraining hand of his amused wife.

“Gentlemen, please. We are, after all, the same family now.” She smiled at the two men who so loved her only daughter.

“Welcome to the family, Rhys. Orren will have to delay giving you the ‘father-in-law’ speech. Darreth says the paired couples can’t stay here much longer, for the concentration of magical power will surely come to Drogo’s attention.” Moving to Rhys, she placed an amulet dangling from a long silver chain around his neck. She pulled him into a fierce hug, filled with motherly love. Returning the embrace awkwardly, Rhys looked up warily as Orren approached to grasp his forearm.

“Take care of our girl,” he ordered in a voice gruff with emotion.

Releasing Siri, Rhys stepped back and indicated the ornate chest on the floor.

“If you would see to it that Syra gets this for me, I’ll go make the arrangements for our departure.” He nodded to Orren as he left the room.

* * * *

Syra and her former nanny Gilda, now her personal maid, were locked in a heated argument. “I can’t take all of this with me, Gilda, I’m going by horseback,” Syra looked around, alarmed by the small mountain of trunks piled in the far corner of the room.

“If you think I’m going to let you go off to that heathenish, God-forsaken, back-of-nowhere place without me, you can think again.” Gilda jutted out her round chin stubbornly, plopping her fists on well-padded hips. “You’ll need your things.”

“I’m afraid I have something to add to your load; Rhys sent this,” Siri said as she entered the room, pointing to the chest being carried behind her.

Syra eagerly flipped open the lid, reaching in to pull out a set of beautifully made leathers. “Oh Mother, they are soft as butter,” she sighed with pleasure as she ran her hand down the sleeve of the jacket.

“Try them on, darling. You haven’t got much time.” Siri turned to Gilda as Syra disappeared behind the changing screen. “She has to travel light, one trunk of bedding, another for day and eveningwear, footwear and toiletries in another … nothing else.”

Syra stepped from behind the screen and watched her mother’s eyes widen. She knew what she looked like, clad from head to foot in black leather, the jacket boned to push her breasts up and emphasize her torso. The pants clung to her hips and long legs, and her feet were tucked into a pair of lined boots with a stacked heel that boosted her height a full three inches.

“It’s positively indecent,” gasped Gilda, her mouth pursed in disapproval.

“He must have had them made especially for you; the beadwork is exquisite. It will certainly go with the gift I have for you.” Siri stood, shaking out the bundle beside her on the bed. It was a hooded, double-breasted, floor-length coat, lined with black fur. She helped Syra into it and fastened the miniature toggles.

“You look beautiful,” Siri said, her eyes filling with tears. “There’s nothing more for me to teach you, and I’m only a thought away if you need me. Now let’s join the rest of the travelers in the entranceway.”

Syra slipped out of the coat and tossed her weapons into one of the trunks, then looked around her room one last time, knowing she wouldn’t return the same person. Grasping her mother’s hand, they left the room.

Syra and Siri hurried down the stairs. A crowd milled, people saying tearful farewells and giving last-minute instructions. Syra made a beeline for Asha, who was cloaked in a purple cloak trimmed in silver fox, her face flushed with excitement. Standing beside her was Mikel, who observed the activity going on around him with watchful golden eyes. Just beyond them stood Lara, neat as a pin and dressed modestly in a blue cloak, trying to look inconspicuous. She failed miserably, because almost every man in the room’s eyes were glued on her. Rorii leaned nonchalantly on the column behind her, watching possessively.

Reaching them, Syra hugged her cousins, then stepped back to allow her mother to do the same. She was vividly aware of the moment Rhys entered the room, bringing a blast of cold air with him from outside. Turning to face him, she saw a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he spotted her. He made his way directly to Syra’s side, taking her arm to get a better look at her clad in the garb of the warrior women of Sorren.

“Did you like my gift?” She literally felt it as his eyes took in every detail of her leather-clad body. “It suits you.”

“Yes, though I shouldn’t. I don’t take arbitrary orders well, but didn’t see why I couldn’t at least try them.” She met his gaze and then ruefully admitted, “Once they were on, I felt liberated somehow.”

“We must explore this new freedom of yours as soon as possible.” Rhys’ eyes heated as they rested on her hardening nipples, which bloomed under his perusal, the twin pebbles thrusting against the leather.

Knowing that he was fully aware of her response brought a hot flush to her cheeks. As they stood there, the rest of the room faded away.

“Break it up, you two, you’re embarrassing me,” Asha interrupted, not looking the least bit discomfited. “We’re leaving now.”

Turning, she introduced Mikel briefly, gave Syra a last hug, then swept out of the room before she choked up. Lara made lengthy farewells, but neither brother was inclined to linger and she was soon maneuvered firmly but gently to the front doors by the Sorren brothers.

Seeing her parents ushering out their departing guests, Syra slipped her arms around their waists.

“You have been avoiding me, Father.” She rested her head on his chest, listening to the familiar beat of his heart.

“Not true,” he sighed. “Just putting off the inevitable, I guess.”

Putting his arm around her shoulder he gave her a hard hug. “Go. Give the Belandrakes hell, my pet. I’ll be here when you get back.” With that he led her through the doors into the courtyard. Rhys and his personal guard were soothing the restive firesteeds. Sitting by four large trunks was Gilda, bundled up against the cold. Handing the reins of his horse to one of his men, Rhys approached them.

“I don’t suppose there is any way we can leave her behind?” he asked hopefully.

“Not a chance in hell,” Orren replied, obviously happy to see Rhys’ plans of immediate seduction going awry.

“In that case we’ll have to borrow a baggage cart,” Rhys replied in a thoughtful tone. “We could take the cart and baggage and inadvertently leave Syra’s maidservant behind.” With a challenging grin at Orren, he bowed to Siri and stalked away to give the order for their departure.

Syra made her goodbyes to her parents and joined Rhys with his guards. They all saluted her politely except for Morag di Mari, who shot her a baleful glare. Unperturbed by the presence of Rhys’ former lover, she mounted her mare. With a last look back she trotted out with the rest of the party, followed by the unwieldy cart. They passed through the last watch tower and picked up speed as they reached the road leading them away from the castle.

“Ready?” Rhys asked. She felt his power brush against hers and instinctively enhanced with his guidance. She closed her eyes for a moment; feeling disoriented, and shook her head to clear it. On opening them, she saw they were now galloping over a misty pasture at a much higher elevation. The firesteeds snorted, fiery flames and steam emitting from their nostrils. They cantered toward what appeared to be a thick bank of clouds. As they neared it, Rhys recited an incantation and the clouds parted to reveal a large settlement.

Her first impression of her new home was of mist, but as they got closer she saw a high wall enclosing a sprawling town built on an incline. The homes were the oddest houses she had ever seen. They were all round with a door halfway up the structure, and no visible way to enter. Each dwelling had long, narrow windows placed randomly around the building. Behind the town a stony crag rose abruptly out the ground. Perched atop it and wrapped around the upper third was Castle Sorren; it appeared to be a predator waiting to pounce. It was made of iridescent limestone, a beacon to guide the Sorrens home.

As they passed through the watch towers, people began throwing open hidden doors, and staircases spiraled magically out of the walls. People spilled into the frigid air to welcome Rhys home.

“Rhys, I see you’ve brought a pretty home. Will you be sharing, my boy?” a red-haired man shouted, as he looked down on them from the top of his stairs, puffing merrily on his pipe.

“I would, if Hana wouldn’t take a pot to our heads,” Rhys laughingly answered.

Syra felt the curious gaze of the townspeople as they ascended toward the castle. They greeted Rhys warmly as the entourage rode up the main cobbled street. Rhys kept his greetings short, for the temperature was dropping rapidly. Halting at the base of the crag, Rhys had one of his men pull Gilda up before him on his horse, then they rode single-file up a narrow, winding path to the castle. Riding into the courtyard, Rhys dismounted and reached up to lift Syra down.

“Welcome to Castle Sorren,” he said, leading her into a cavernous entrance hall. Syra took in the stark beauty of the room. It was scrupulously clean but sparsely furnished, with scarred wooden benches and tables. It was obviously a house inhabited by men.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” he ushered her into the great hall. The room had a massive fireplace in each of the four walls, filled with moonstones the size of summer melons.

“I’ve never seen moonstones this big before.”

“That’s why Drogo covets the moonstones from the Sorren mines. We very rarely let stones of this size out of Sorren.”

Helping her out of her coat, he covered her wind-chilled cheek with his palm. Leaning in to kiss her, he groaned as footsteps approached from down the corridor.

“My Lord, you’ve returned,” chirped a small dumpling of a woman as she bustled into the room, bringing the aroma of spices with her.

“Maida, the keeper of the Sorren boys, this is the lady Syra, come to stay with us for a while.” Rhys introduced the woman who’d helped him raise his younger brothers after his parents were murdered.

“Go on with you lad, you won’t get around me with your sweet words. I’ll show the lady her chambers so she can freshen up. Her Gilda is a bit green around the gills after the ride up, but insisted on seeing the lady’s room.” She sniffed, obviously a bit put out by Gilda’s persistence. “She won’t find a speck of dust, even for the lack of a lady in residence.”

In her chamber, Gilda was busy putting away Syra’s things in an alcove off the main room, next to which was a bathing room.

“Your bedding won’t fit this bed. Why would anyone need such a large bed? It could sleep six,” she groused as she puttered around the room. “There are several sets of those indecent leathers in the alcove, and the bathing room is too decadent for a maiden.”

Syra threw herself on the fur-covered expanse of the bed, taking delight in the large room. She crawled to the center of the bed, rubbing her face against the luxurious pelt. Maida entered the room, carrying a steaming pewter jug and two mugs.

“I thought you’d like a warm drink. Lord Rhys has gone out to secure the outlying villages; there’s a blizzard heading our way. He’s asked me to see to your comfort until he returns.”

“Thank you, the room is lovely.” She reached over to take one of the mugs and sipped the unfamiliar liquid, its delicious warmth sliding over tongue. “What is this, Maida?”

“It’s chocomilk, a favorite with my boys. It was a small treat their mother gave them as children, which I continued after her death.” In the next several hours Maida regaled her with tales of the Sorren boys’ youth. It gave Syra an insight into Rhys she hadn’t had before.

She took a long, leisurely bath before dressing for dinner. The huge tub, with its endless supply of water from springs higher in the mountains, was heated by a pile of moonstones. Discarding half her wardrobe, she finally settled on a midnight-blue velvet gown, the bodice cut low to show the deep cleft of her cleavage. Not bothering to braid her hair, she had Gilda tie it back with a simple ribbon. Ready, she joined Rhys in his private solar for their evening meal.

He stood looking out a window at the heavy snowfall, dressed in a soft shirt and his usual leather pants. Turning as she entered the room, he took her hand and skimmed his lips across her knuckles before drawing her to a small table set for two lit by suspend moonstone lanterns.

“Are you comfortable? I have some things in storage we collected over the years, but never bothered to put out. So if you would like to change anything, let Maida know.” He removed the covers from the dishes, revealing foods she was unfamiliar with. “I had Maida give us a selection of my favorite dishes. I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as we do.”

“I like to try new foods. Mother was always introducing us to foods from the other provinces when they were available.” His scrupulous politeness made her feel a little unsure, after all those heated looks he’d been giving her. She thought he would have picked up where he left off in the great hall.

Rhys served her bits and pieces from each of the covered dishes. She particularly liked the dessert, which was a liqueur-soaked cake topped with custard. They lingered over the meal, talking about inconsequential things.

“I’ve sent my personal guard home to their families for the duration of the blizzard. Where is your Gilda?”

“No doubt she’s waiting for me in my room,” Syra replied, smiling at her nanny’s misguided attempt to keep her virtue intact. Something she was more than eager to hand over to the man sitting across from her. Asha would be proud of me, she thought, hiding a smile behind her goblet.

Rhys stood and walked around the table, then took her hand and guided her to the wall behind them. He waved his hand across a knot in the stone and the wall slid open to reveal a large room, obviously lovingly cared for.

“This was my mother’s hideaway; consider it yours.”

She stepped into the room and was enveloped by warmth; her empathy caught a hint of his mother’s essence. Syra ran her fingers over a collection of pretty stones atop a table piled with beautifully bound books. She turned to look at him where he stood in the doorway watching her.

“Thank you Rhys, it’s lovely. You must have spent happy times here with your family,” she smiled shyly at him.

He entered the room to draw her to the chaise before the fireplace, and with a flick of his wrist, the moonstones heated the cool room.

“My father explained to me that there was no greater pleasure in the world than kissing a pretty girl in this very room,” he pressed his lips softly against hers, then pulled her down onto the chaise.

“So you’ve been kissing pretty girls ever since,” she laughed up into his face as he leaned closer to her.

“I thought I should practice until I got it right.”

He pulled her gently into his arms and kissed her again. Syra parted her lips to allow his tongue to enter. The kiss deepened, fanning the banked flames of their need for each other. As their tongues dueled he caressed her, his hot hands wandering at will down her back. Rhys pulled her against him, so she was very much aware of his arousal pressing into her stomach. Breathless, he tore his lips away and rested his forehead on hers.

She held onto him and felt need riding him hard as he fought to contain his lust for her. Syra sensed his body clamoring for release, and appreciated his self-imposed abstinence; he was not a man who denied himself the pleasures of a woman’s flesh.

“If things were different I would have courted you with words, flowers and trinkets, as you deserve. But I find that if I don’t have you soon I will surely go insane,” he whispered against her lips.

“I don’t need the words, and courting me would be a waste of precious time, for we both know what we want.” She was as impatient for him as he was for her.

“I’ll try to be as gentle as I can,” he reassured her.

“Not too gentle, I hope, for I’ve needs of my own that must be fulfilled.” Syra met his gaze, her desire for him shining from her luminous eyes.

The familiar ache in her crotch was now a painful throb; she needed him inside her to put an end to the emptiness that never left her. Cream seeped out of her as she felt his cock press heavily against her mons; she quivered in anticipation of it filling her sheath. A hunger she had never imagined swept through her. She wanted so badly to have his hands on her bare skin, his tongue laving the nipples now puckered in reaction to the erotic kiss they had shared. She pressed her body against his, inviting more of the caresses she craved.

Rhys laughed, swung her up into his arms and stalked into his bedchamber. He laid her down on a bed even larger than her own. His bedchamber was dominated by the enormous fur-covered bed. The only other pieces of furniture in it were a hide-upholstered chair set beside a bookcase that covered one wall and was crammed with books.

He pecked her softly on the lips as he ran a finger slowly down the center of her dress; it vanished apace with his finger.

“Neat trick, it must come in handy.” Syra felt him opening himself to her freely, linking psychically as she reached deep into him. She was amazed by the scope and depth of the magic he concealed from the rest of the world. Warmed by his trust, a single tear ran down her soft cheek.

“You should see what else I can do,” he murmured, his voice filled with carnal intent, his tongue catching the tear. The deep hunger she heard in his voice sent a shiver through her.

Pulling the ribbon from her hair, he threaded his fingers through the silky length of it. ”I can hardly believe you’re finally here with me.” He ran his callused thumb across her kiss-swollen lips.

“Why, you’ve know for some time we were mated.”

“All the more reason not to draw attention to our bond.” Drawing her closer, the silk of his hair slithered across her bare nipples, reminding her of her nudity.

“You’re a little overdressed for the occasion,” she teased, tugging at the laces of his lawn shirt.

He sat back and took in her naked glory. Her hair spread across his pillow, falling back from her flushed face and stubborn chin. Rhys glanced down at her bared breasts; the budded pink tips of her breasts tempted him beyond reason. Her unblemished golden skin shimmered in the glow of the moonstones as it flickered over her slender curves. He shifted his eyes down to the apex of her mons, and drew back, startled. Her pussy was barely covered by a neatly trimmed strip of blonde hair down the center.

“I’ve never seen such a…” He paused as he searched for the words to explain the beauty of her. In his experience, women were proud of their pelt. The sparseness of the hair surrounding the lips of her pussy intrigued him … emphasized the plump flesh he fervently wished to rest his shaft between. Parting the soft lips, he exposed the succulent folds just beginning to dew as she became more aroused. The scent of her infused the air with her unique aroma. He breathed in deeply, savoring the moment before grazing the bud of her clitoris with his thumb. Rhys memorized every inch of her with his hands and eyes then pressed his lips to the cluster of moles at the jointure of her right thigh and crotch.

“They’re like a constellation,” he murmured in wonder as he traced them with his finger. “Like stars to lead me home.” Then he eased the same finger slowly inside her, testing her tightness.

Syra tired of his prolonged scrutiny and took matters into her own hands, casting a summoning spell on the laces holding his leather pants up. Tossing the laces aside, she separated the material, then reached in to take hold of him and received a surprise of her own.

“It will never fit,” she gasped, drawing back her hand.

“By the time I’ve finished preparing you, you’ll accommodate me like a custom-made glove.” He rose to strip off his clothing and boots, then his big body moved over her, his broad chest just inches from the aching peaks of her breasts. His cock, already proudly erect in a nest of black hair, strained for release.

Seeing him nude again, after so many months, finally gave her the opportunity to do a little exploration of her own. She ran her fingers across the ridged muscles of his chest and abdomen as he hovered over her. Hesitantly, she grasped his manhood again and marveled at the length and heft of him. Still doubtful she would be able to take him inside her, she started to withdraw her hand. He stopped her by placing his hand on top of hers, silently teaching her to stroke him the way he found most pleasurable. Fusing his lips to hers he separated them with his tongue, deepening the kiss as her arm wound around his neck and her fingers caressed him fervently.

Ending the kiss, he sought the pink tips of her breasts and laved them at his leisure. He gently brushed his fingertips back and forth along the length of her inner thigh, working his way up to the vee between her thighs.

Syra moved restlessly beneath him with unrequited lust. Through their mind link she could feel him holding back, not wanting to rush her first experience. He slowly aroused her until enough of her honeyed moisture had gathered to allow him entrance.

She began to pant in short shallow gasps and raked his back, seeking some sort of appeasement. “Please Rhys,” she pleaded, moaning as he continued to edge her toward a small measure of insanity.

Parting her with his fingers after what seemed to be an eternity, Rhys finally fitted the blunt head of his eager cock between the damp petals. He slid up and down the length of her pussy, lubricating himself, giving her a little time to be comfortable with his invading presence. Then he pressed forward, hardly moving in order to spare her as much pain as possible.

“Rhys, there is no need for you to be so careful. I’ve been dreaming about you inside me for so long,” she whispered in an aching voice.

Rearing back, he burrowed forward, breaking through the thin barrier, causing her only momentary discomfort. He rested in her for long tortuous minutes, to accustom her to his bulk.

Syra ran her hand down his back and pushed her pelvis up against his, raised her mouth to meet his kiss. She was stretched almost too wide, unaccustomed to such a large presence … to any presence. He moved within her, slowly and steadily, until she caught his rhythm. Waves of pleasure pulsed through her, originating from the very spot Rhys was massaging unremittingly with his surging cock. Syra clasped him to her and hung on for the ride as he speared her heated pussy so deep and high a new and intense sensation started her spasming.

It was more than Syra had ever imagined—the fullness and the deepness. A plethora of new sensations seeped into every fiber of her being. Giving and receiving with Rhys was all she existed for at this moment. The look of tortured pleasure on his face only added to her pleasure, and she involuntarily gripped him with her sheath.

“Ahhh, that’s it, my love, that’s it,” he encouraged.

Slow and steady he kept on, and on, not easing up until she arched her back high off the bed, screaming, to fall dazed on the bed. Still at full mast, he maintained his pace with shallow thrusts, waiting for her to respond. When she began to ease her hips up at him he picked up the pace. Rhys ground his pubic bone against her clit, concentrating all his effort on the tiny button until she caught up with him.

Syra looked into the face of the man who labored to bring her to yet another peak, and offered herself to him. She needed to please Rhys as much as he was pleasing her. She spread her legs wider, wrapping them around his hips, giving her all to him with no reservations.

Slamming into her repeatedly, Rhys finally released a torrent deep inside of her, the hot bath of seed triggering another orgasm deep within her. In that moment their auras melded, and she saw the true depth of the magic he’d kept hidden from the world.

Hearts pounding, they laid boneless in a tangle of twisted sheets, unable to move. Gradually Syra was able to string two coherent thoughts together, and a smile of satisfaction slowly spread across her face. So this is what all the fuss was about. Looking over at Rhys, she saw he had fallen into a light doze, ridiculously long lashes fanning his cheeks. His face relaxed, the hard lines were gone, the enormous burdens he carried put aside for a short time. Reaching down, she pulled up the coverlet and drew it over him, preparing to return to her own room. His hand snaked out to grab her forearm.

“Where do you think you are going?” His dark eyes were languorous as he ran his fingertips down her arm.

“I thought I should return to my room.” She suddenly felt shy under his teasing gaze.

“So you have your way with me and toss me aside,” he asked half seriously, lifting the covers to pull her closer to him. Wrapping his arms around her, he fitted her body to his.

“Are you sore?” he murmured softly.

“Only a little bit,” she whispered, then looked up at him sharply when she realized he had spoken to her telepathically.

“Yes, our bond is complete. You have no idea how happy or how terrified that makes me.” Anguish filled his voice as he thought of the possibilities.

She pressed a soft kiss on his lips and soothed him with waves of love and understanding, drawing him out of his pain. The tension eased out of his body, and she felt his feeling of contentment return. He returned her kiss, and desire flared between them. He slipped his fingers into the folds of her pussy to ready her for him, stopping as she winced. Gathering her up into his arms, with a thought he took her to a cavern deep beneath the castle. Rhys lowered her into a bubbling mineral pool rich with healing properties, the unusual rock formations from the mineral deposits creating many levels which hot water gushed over, causing a steamy haven. The moonstone veins emitted a soft blue light which cast long shadows and gave the cavern a feeling of intimacy.

“This is wonderful,” she moaned as the heat and mineral-rich water eased away her aches and pains. Delighting in the unexpected buoyancy of the water, she floated away from Rhys on her back.

“We need to talk. About steps we need to take to ensure your safety.”

The peaks of her breasts peeping up through the water were distracting his train of thought. Flipping over she swam across the pool, her firm ass bobbing, her legs separating as she used them to propel her forward, giving him glimpses of the succulence between them. His prick sprang to life, stiffening and hardening as her glossy pink pussy beckoned him.

“To hell with it,” he muttered and swam after her to pick up where he’d left off.