CHAPTER FOUR
Had I gone too far? Misread his intentions? He had used his usual teasing tone, then added a phrase that left desire pooling in my belly. “No biting, unless she begged.” Would he bite me if I begged, or would he turn away, disgusted by my audacity?
Perhaps we could enjoy each other this one night, the longest night of the year. And I would hold the sweet memory of our time together in my heart, warming me in the months and years to come. I knew he lusted for me, but that was nothing unusual for a vampire, a creature said to have a powerful sex drive. Jacqueline had told me when a vampire fed from a donor they often had sex.
To Sasha, I would simply be one more female he enjoyed, but for me it would be different. I wanted him enough to swallow my fear and give him pleasure, finding pleasure of my own in the strength of his body and the tenderness of his touch. He was kind and honest. He deserved my gift, even if it was only this once.
His hand rested on my lower back as we stood close to the bonfire. I relaxed and did not move away, enjoying the way his possessiveness made me almost feel worthy to be seen at his side. “You look lovely tonight, Elle.” Long fingers traced the line of my jaw, knuckles skimmed my cheek, as if there was true feeling behind his gentleness.
I leaned against his hand, wanting more. “Thank you.” I didn’t tell him I’d agonized over choosing my gown, fixing my hair, even adding a touch of magic to make my cheeks a little rosy. Shameful, but I would not feel guilty that his compliment made my toes curl and my body ache.
Sasha moved his long hand up my arm, pulling me a tiny bit closer, but never so hard as to make me feel trapped. He understood my fears. I wanted to cry, my yearning for him was so great, but I would not act like a silly maiden. I would speak honestly, leaving the choice up to him.
The woodland fae had begun to chant in the language of my people, moving around the bonfire, throwing tiny sticks into the flames. They quickly caught fire and turned to ash, the thrower watching the color of the flames closely.
“What are they saying?” Sasha asked.
“Each petitioner thanks the forest and asks a personal boon. One might wish to leave behind some hurt, forget the memory so it does not affect their future, or one might ask to be shown the correct path to take toward love or happiness. Legend says that if the flame flares blue, the wish will come true.
He bent and handed me a stick, taking one for himself. “What will you wish for?”
“We may not speak it to each other in front of the fire. It is something we ask of the forest only.”
Sasha faced the bonfire, speaking his request in Russian, tossing the stick into the flames. As he watched it burn, his pale skin was lit with the oranges and reds of the fire, giving him a dangerous glow. He was so handsome in that moment I could not breathe.
“Your turn.” He grinned, not understanding how his closeness affected me. If he did, he would prove to be a most intelligent male by walking away and never looking back. I hoped perhaps he would not be so smart tonight.
“What’s wrong, lovely lady? I thought the solstice ceremony was a happy time.” He’d caught me lost in thought.
“You are right. I am being foolish.” I turned and tossed my stick into the fire, asking for something I would never speak out loud.
“Are there other traditions?” He tucked a messy clump of hair behind my ear, his fingers playing with the arch, the lobe, his face leaning closer to kiss a sensitive spot below it. He stayed there breathing deeply of my scent, his hands stroking down my bare arms to weave between my fingers.
“There are bells, food, songs and dancing,” I whispered into his hair.
He stepped back holding both of my hands in his. “Will you dance with me, Lady Elle, although I am only a simple dungeon dweller?” His wide smile was all I saw as he walked backward, tugging me along.
I pictured us together, our bodies moving in time with the traditional tunes and suddenly flashed on another vision. “If you dance with any other female, I will force you to wash your own dishes.”
His eyes glinted with impish amusement. “You do know Rick and I purchased a modern miracle called a dishwasher, don’t you?”
“Hmph. It is a waste of power.” I glanced around at the other fae who’d begun dancing, realizing how selfish I’d sounded. “I am sure there are other females at the celebration that would appeal to you. I cannot be greedy.”
He surprised me by stepping closer. “I see only you. No other female exists for me.”
If only that were true. “I’ve been told you are a master of seduction, a wordsmith who teases and taunts a female into his bed. A male who wins his prize with kisses and caresses, then looks elsewhere.”
“All true, I’m afraid.” Against the light blue backdrop of his eyes flashed with yearning, sadness and resignation. But wasn’t a warrior usually proud of his conquests?
“Unless two lovers are bound—meant to be together for life—it is normal to enjoy many.” I stroked his face. “I trust you, Sasha, as I have not trusted for a long time. You would never be cruel.” Courage filled my heart. “I have decided…”
Music drifted through the woods, an upbeat tune that interrupted my confession. Couples had already formed and were moving to the ancient rhythms and tunes played on musical instruments not often seen in this realm.
His grin was wide, his enthusiasm catching. “Dance with me, Elle, and I’ll tell you what I wished for.” He pulled me into the circle, laughing as he tried to copy what the others were doing.
We danced for hours—the brush of his body against mine sometimes a horrible torture and other times an unimagined joy. This tall vampire who’d thrown himself into the celebration as if he were a young fae fascinated the free-spirited woodland elves. They offered him wine and shouted out encouragement. He learned the dance steps quickly, laughed with ease and tried to sing along with the traditional songs even though he did not know the language. During the feast, he watched me eat, sometimes insisting on feeding me morsels by hand. Being vampire, he could not eat, but the amount of honey wine he drank most certainly contributed to his joyful mood.
At one point he broke into a Russian ballad, surprising us with his clear, deep voice. He told us it was a sad tale of a human male, lost in the snowdrifts of the steppes, the blizzard a constant companion on the windblown, never ending plains. He was pining for his lover, speaking of the things he remembered in his last moments before death took him: the lovely way her hair spread out on the pillow when she looked up into his eyes, the way she kissed him, with her eyes open so she wouldn’t miss a moment of their life together. After he’d translated the lyrics for me, I translated for the others. The words and melody were sad, the audience and the forest silent but for Sasha’s strong voice.
Our fae hosts bowed to him at the end of the song, showing him great respect for honoring them and the forest with the gift of his music. He returned their bow, thanking them for allowing him to attend their ceremony. He was invited to return the following year.
And I was more in love with him than ever.