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He lifted himself straight. Yara’s gaze dropped to the thick, rock solid cock pocking between his legs. Oh, who was she kidding? She was hungry for him, she was throbbing to feel him stretch her.

As if reading her mind, Rafe locked his eyes on hers, then dragged his hand up her thigh, one last time, all the way, underneath her shirt.

Yara’s self-control burst into a million pieces as his fingers brushed against her intimate labia. The desperate cry she had been holding in exploded out of her lips.

“Oh, Yara,” Rafe exhaled. “You’re so wet!”

His hands explored her, making her squirm even more. Her hips rocked back and forth, in tune with his expert fingers. The fact that she was shackled, unable to control him, to command him, made Yara ache even more. His knuckles brushed her sensitive spot, her entrance, her clit. She groaned in desperation.

“Your scent is driving me wild, woman,” he growled. He forced her legs even further apart, lowered his head down and drew in a long breath.

“Don’t stop,” Yara heard herself plead. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I didn’t intend to,” he replied, already lowering his head again.

His tongue replaced his fingers and Yara lost it. Her last ounce of self-control vanished as soon as she felt his tongue drink from her juices. She cried out loud and arched her back, giving him more access to her heaven. He licked her, nibbled, sucked, ravishing her. Then, he decided to focus on her clit, flickering his tongue rapidly on the hypersensitive knob. Yara’s hips thrust wildly of their own accord. She struggled against the shackles. The delicious ache in her core built up into desperate throbbing.

“More!” she screamed. “Rafe! Please, more!”

“Not yet,” he replied, then his mouth left her inner folds and Yara felt his body pressing against her. His hand cupped the back of her neck, forcing her to look at him. “I want you to taste yourself first.”

His mouth descended on hers like a storm on a dry island. She kissed him as passionately, getting drunk in so much fever, responding to his fervor with everything she had. She couldn’t hug him back, so she wrapped her legs around his hips, and was rewarded with a thick nudge at her entrance.

He pulled back slightly. “Ever since I first saw you, I’ve wanted you. Ever since I tasted your lips at the masquerade party, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Yara’s heart stopped beating entirely. She was lost, overwhelmed by his declaration.

Rafe anchored his arm under one of Yara’s legs, and pushed inside her in one long thrust. She felt his fullness stretch her, pulse inside, in tune with her own heart. She threw her head back and let the delicious ache build. By Apa Dobrý, he was going to make her come without even moving again.

He did, and she did it with him. He drove her hard, plunging deeper and deeper. Yara held on for dear life as all conscious thoughts deserted her. All she cared about was having Rafe fill her, and the orgasm building inside her. He rammed all the way in, to the root, and Yara exploded into a million pieces. Her entire body quivered and spasmed with the powerful orgasm that took over.

Rafe pushed in one last time then stopped, and kissed her deep. “Be right back,” he whispered against her ear.

From the height of her post-orgasmic respite, Yara felt him pull out and sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “Why? You didn’t come,” she murmured.

She turned her head as she heard a wrapping noise. He stood up then turned around as he finished putting the condom on. “Correction, I haven’t come – yet,” he whispered, then flashed her with the most impish smile she’d ever seen.

Ai, Mighty Soartas.

He climbed on top of her again, but this time he hooked both her knees over his arms, baring her out completely, making her even more vulnerable. Yara braced herself for she knew this was not going to be a light ride. Just the way she liked it. A long, delicious moan escaped her lips as Rafe penetrated her once again.
Thank you, Apa Dobrý!

It didn’t take long for both of them to be panting again and ready to burst. Rafe angled her hips in a way that made her tremble at every thrust. Tied up, hooked up by the legs; she was completely at his mercy. He could do anything he wanted to her. She felt the second orgasm building inside. Rafe felt it too, because he quickened his pace. The sound of skin slapping on skin, the smell of sex saturating the air was overwhelming.

Suddenly, Rafe’s eyes went wild. A deep groan reverberated in his chest as he thrust inside one last time. He penetrated Yara with such power that it also drove her over the edge. She cried out and shook uncontrollably against him, as he howled his own orgasm out.

Chapter Eleven

“We’re almost there,” Naiah’s soft voice was absorbed by the tall trees and thick leafage of the Amazon jungle.

She was quite a tracker. Her small stature and frail demeanor were truly misleading. She was quick on her feet and sharp in her movements, the perfect combination for a survivor in a harsh environment.

Her slender hips swayed from left to right in front of him, luring him in. She had ditched the beige cotton dress for one of Sam’s pairs of jeans and a tank top that hugged her curves perfectly. Her small breasts were delightfully enticing and her rear-end did justice to the Brazilian reputation.

“Focus on the mission, muppet,” he chided himself softly.

“What?” Naiah turned around alarmed. “What’s wrong?” Her long midnight locks swirling around her exposed shoulders.

“Nothing, just the heat,” Dyam lied. “It’s still very warm despite being late at night.”

She wrinkled her delicate nose. “I know, sorry, nothing I can do about it. Nothing can tame the jungle heat.”

I truly hope you’re wrong.
“Please carry on; we don’t have much time left before sunrise.”

That was true. The crescent moon hung low in the sky. By Dyam’s calculations, skill he perfected well as the half-human son of a Cherokee shaman, they had no more than an hour before the sun rose and burned him to ashes. So, he’d better get his act together, focus on finding that Emerald Lake and getting back home. Period. No diversions. 

Out of nowhere, Naiah darted up a small hill. At the top, she turned around and smiled. Just smiled.

What was she playing at? Dyam lifted an eyebrow and followed her up.

“We’re here,” she whispered when he reached the top.

And there they were indeed. At the bottom of the shallow valley below stood a wide lake the color of a gem stone. Its emerald waters were filled with beautiful water lilies. Their dish-like leaves floated on the water's surface, intermingled with beautiful white flowers.

“It’s stunning,” Dyam breathed. “And those leaves are enormous!”

“We call them water stars. They can reach up to 10 ft. in diameter,” Naiah replied with a wide, proud smile. “Depends on how strong one’s inmã is in life.”

Dyam frowned. “How strong one’s inmã is?”

“Come, I’ll show you.”

Dyam followed Naiah down the small hill and knelt by her side on the lake’s sandy bank. She interlaced her hand in his and brushed the water with their fingers. A tingling sensation went up Dyam’s arms.

“How bizarre,” he exclaimed under his breath.

“What do you feel?” she asked softly.

He closed his eyes and let his body relax. “It feels like my hand is getting a super charged acupuncture session. Like a thousand little needles vibrating against my skin.” He could also feel Naiah’s warm hand covering his, caressing his fingers with hers. He decided not to share the particular piece of information.

He opened his eyes and was met by her penetrating gaze. Something stirred inside him in a very warm and very disturbing way. He gently pulled his hands away and rested them safely on his lap. “What is this place?”

“This is the essence of our powers,” she explained. “The Emerald Lake feeds on the energy of all elements around, under and above it, especially the moon and the stars. The legend goes that thousands of years ago, the Moon Goddess, Jaci, descended upon our jungle and chose one of the witches to return to Apa Dobrý with her. The water witch, instead of dying, because only a calathor can cross to the spiritual plane and return unharmed, turned into a beautiful star in the sky. Every evening after that, the goddess would repeat the ritual, and every evening, one more star was born. One of the witches, though, couldn’t wait for her turn to be chosen. The Mothers warned her that she had to learn patience, but the young witch didn’t want to hear it. Blinded by her obsession, she would spend her evening running after the moon, trying to reach it, to no avail. One night, tired and weak, she stopped by this very lake to recover some energy. But when she leaned down to drink the water, she saw the goddess in it, mistaking the reflection of the moon for the real deity. She jumped in and soon discovered how wrong she’d been. But the lake was too deep and she was too tired and weak to fight its waters, and drowned. Moved by the young witch’s sacrifice, the goddess decided to turn her into a star, but not any star, a water star. And that’s how our water stars were born. We are all daughters of that young witch.   Our inmãs are linked to the lake. When a witch dies, before her inmã flows along the Rivers of Apa Sâmbetei, it remains here for a while, until it’s ready to either be reborn or join her sisters in the spiritual plane.”

Dyam was flabbergasted by her story. “Do you mean that these lilies are the inmãs of water witches who passed away?”

Naiah nodded.

“How amazing!” His eyes roamed over one of the flowers closest to the shore. Its large petals were shining white. He narrowed his eyes and focused on one of them. There was something coursing along its length – a bright shine that seemed to swim inside it.

“What you’re seeing is the inmã of one of my ancestors,” Naiah said, reading his mind.

“So, you can feel it when one of your sisters becomes a… water star?”

She nodded again. “And as the keeper of the Soarta Scrolls, it’s my job to register any incident, every occurrence, every water star. I know for sure, Dyam, that Yara is not here. She’s still alive.”

Remarkable. Dyam was lost for words. He didn’t know if he was overwhelmed by the beautiful story or by the beautiful witch who told it. She was so young, yet she exuded a dexterity he’d seldom come across in his long life. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“How old are you?”

Her jaw dropped in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Dyam retracted quickly.
Freaking moron!
“The reason I ask it’s because you look young but you’re very … err… confident and your knowledge of life is very impressive.”

A cute blush emerged in her café-late cheeks. “Thank you,” she replied under her breath. “I’m fifty-one.”

“Excuse me?” he asked but it was more like a shriek.

“Well, don’t look so surprised,” she exclaimed blushing again.

Dyam blinked a few times, trying to wake his mind out the shock. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you...”

“Again,” Naiah added, crossing her arms over her slender breasts.

“Yes, I didn’t mean to offend you again,” Dyam agreed. “Please forgive me. It’s just that, it’s just ...” His voice trailed. He had no idea what to say. For the first time in his life, Dyam was completely lost for words.

Her lips curved up on a light smirk. “It’s just that I don’t look that
old
, is that what you wanted to say?”

He cringed at her tone but nodded in agreement. He wasn’t an ageist, not at all; he believed women were beautiful no matter their age, but Naiah’s revelation had taken him by surprise.

“That’s because you think water witches are human,” she explained. “And we’re not. Our life span is three times as long. Didn’t Yara ever tell you that?”

He shook his head, scratching his scalp. “I think she’d kick my ass from New York to Alaska if I had even brought up the subject.”

Naiah chuckled. Two cute dimples appeared on her cheeks. “Yes, she would.”

Dyam did the calculations in his head. “So, being 51 for a water witch means that in human years you are …”

“17.”

Fuck.

His brain went into overdrive and crashed.

“Dyam?”

“Yes.”

“You’re ogling again.”

“Sorry.” He closed his eyes and forced his mind to kick start again. “I’ll try and keep my mouth shut for the rest of the evening.”

She smiled, but he knew that she knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise.

Seven-freaking-teen!
Fuck! The words underage and pedophile were screamed in his ears, at the same time his gut churned and his cock tingled with desire. By Apa Dobrý, what was happening to him tonight? He wasn’t like Joel – who jumped at any opportunity to dive between a pair of legs! But Dyam just couldn’t deny his attraction to the woman before him – no, not woman, child. She was still a child for crying out loud! He had closed himself for passion a long time ago, his life was his king and fellow warriors, his mission was to protect and to serve the way his father had taught him; but Naiah somehow shook him in ways his reason couldn’t grasp. She was so alluring, so enticing. She reminded him of Yara’s seductive ways and didn’t at the same time. Yara was the well-versed seductress. If you were lucky enough to be granted a night with her, you knew it would be the best time of your life. Naiah was as sexy and enthralling, but in a virginal way. Very virginal.

He realized he was doing it again, he was ogling her, so he stared at his hands, for the lack of other options. “Oh.” A frown creased his forehead when he noticed his skin was sparkling, as if he had dipped it into a jar of green glitter.

“That’s normal, don’t worry,” Naiah replied. “It’s just the Lake’s sediments that linger on your skin for a while. Here, let me clean it out for you.”

Before he could protest, she wrapped her little hands around his and started brushing the sparkles away. As she leaned forward, her cleavage widened, giving him a glimpse of her delicious breasts. His mouth salivated, his shaft jumped awake.

“You’re so cold,” she exclaimed under her breath.

“And you’re so warm.” His voice came out a few octaves below normal.

Her gaze locked on his. Heat, hunger, desire burned inside him. A faint smell of female juices reached his nose. Damn the Soartas, she was wet for him. His cock reacted in tune, as if that had been his cue to come into action. Her eyes descended to his mouth then her tongue slowly snaked out and licked her lower lip. It was an innocent gesture, almost as if unknowing, yet impossibly seductive. A low growl reverberated in Dyam’s chest. That girl might be seventeen but she knew exactly how to play that game. Unable to stop it, his eyes followed her pink tongue over her thick, juicy lips which were already parted. He wanted her, he wanted her so bad. He found himself leaning forward. Naiah didn’t pull back. Quite the opposite, she edged in closer, narrowing the gap between them. He could smell her scent of salty water; her warm breath touched his skin. He lowered his chin and brushed his lips over hers. She tasted deliciously fresh. He could hear her heart thumping wildly, echoing his own. She cocked her head sideways, angling it better against his mouth, a silent invitation for him to taste some more. A dark hunger engulfed him, driving him to the edge, luring him to take her, to taste her again, in sweeter spots. He felt like a helpless sailor under a mermaid’s spell. And at that moment, Dyam would be happy to die if that meant he’d have another taste of that sweet mouth of hers.

Faint noises of twigs breaking reached his ears, snapping him out of their moment.

Crash, crash.
He heard it again. It was quiet, distant, but it was as clear as a marching band for his acute ears – a marching band, coming their way. His protective inmã went into full alert. He pulled out his hunting knife and jumped to his feet, onto a low crouch.

“What is it?” Naiah asked.

“We’ve got company.”

“
Porra
, Apa Dobrý!” she exclaimed looking at the sky. Dyam couldn’t speak Portuguese, but her remark sounded awfully like a dirty protest.

“Come, we gotta get out of here.” He took her hand and prepared to teleport.

“Wait!” she exclaimed under her breath. “Can you hear it?”

“Yes, footsteps approaching quickly from the east. Come on, let’s go.”

“No, not that,” she replied frowning, then her eyes travelled toward the Lake. “Mighty Soartas!” she cried out, pointing at something in front of her.

A cold shiver went up his spine when he saw what Naiah was gaping at – the beautiful white lilies adorning the surface of the lake were shifting. One by one, they closed themselves then their sparkling surface turned bright red.

“Is this normal?” he asked, fear engulfing his heart.

“No,” she breathed.

Crap.

And then, he heard it. It was a faint hum at first, then it soon grew louder and louder, until it became unbearable. It was like a choir of a thousand voices, but they weren’t singing, they were wailing.

He cupped his ears with both hands, and looked around trying to find out where the horrible sound was coming from. “What is this? What’s happening?”

But Naiah didn’t answer him. Her wide eyes were fixed on the lake. “
Pale flowers drawn upon Jaci’s glow. White turns red, night turns day. Virgin blood is swept away,
” she recited the words as if remembering an old poem.

“What are you saying?” Dyam whispered.

“This is not good,” Naiah breathed. “This is so not good.”

He wanted to ask her why, what was happening, why were those women wailing and the flowers turning red, but the footsteps were getting closer and closer by the second. “We must go, Naiah, now!” He wrapped her in his arms, covering her small body with his.