Shadow Magic (12 page)

With his body he drove inside her, filling her, thrusting in a tempo too erratic for her to ever attempt to dance, finally joining her in release with a warrior's cry.  She felt his essence fill her as he shuddered inside her; she welcomed and embraced it, in full reluctant knowledge of the fruit such a thing might someday bear.  Regrets?  Later she would examine these, if she had them at all. 

For now, she would take this moment, in all its stark, earthy beauty, and revel in it.

             
Because she knew that Egann, man of Faerie and unwilling King, would not stay long with one such as she.

             
Yet so tenderly did he hold her, still wrapped within his arms.

             
They lay together in silence, while their heartbeats slowed.  Finally, when she had caught her breath, she thought she might have enough self-control to speak, to hide the wonder and the joy and the sense of fulfillment that their lovemaking had given her.

             
Perhaps he had given her a child.

             
And what, she wondered, could she give to him?  He had his own magic, ten times more powerful than any she could bring with her dance.  All he wanted was freedom – that and to find the Amulet of Gwymyrr.  Could she truly assist him in that?

             
She thought of her dream and of how it had foreshadowed the beauty of their bodies joining.   Perhaps she had also dreamt true, when she’d dreamt of the amulet.  Little as it may be, she would share this with him, whether it be truth or lie.

“This amulet you seek, is it the shape of a star?” 

He went suddenly still.  “Aye,” he growled, “it is.”

She smiled, glad that this time she had dreamt true.  “And do gems of bright colors decorate each point?”

              Instead of answering, he pushed her away, rising.

             
"What game is this you seek to play?"  Towering over her, his voice sounded like the ice that coated the cliffs in the winter.

             
Suddenly cold, she reached for her skirt, pulling it around her as she willed her heartbeat to return to normal.

             
“I play no game.  I have dreamt of it.”  She told him simply, wondering if he, who had just made it clear that he did not trust her, would understand.  “Before you found me, on this very day while I slept.  I have seen your amulet in my dreams.  It hangs around the neck of a powerful man.”

             
“Who?”  He faced her with clenched fists and the threatening stance of a warrior about to enter battle. 

             
His harsh expression should not hurt her with such sharp and vicious pain, but it did.   “I could not see his face.  Twas but a dream, after all.”

             
“You know more than you tell.”  His tone was flat.

             
Aching, she forced herself to hold his gaze.   “All I know is what I have dreamt.”

             
"Dreams."  He shook his head, his eyes cold and wary.  "They are nothing.  I too have dreamt, and you have plagued my sleep as well.  But you beguiled me the night my amulet was taken from me, and I think now you use your wiles again to distract me from my purpose."

             
“Use my—“ 
How dare he!
    “If anyone has been beguiled this night, it has been me.”   Shaking with the force of her anger, she moved away.  A distraction.  Was that what he thought this had been?  Did he not sense the disturbance their lovemaking had created in the very fabric of their world?

             
She had been waiting for this all of her life.  This man, this bright warrior, her true mate.  Despite the fact that she could not have him for very long, she had lacked the strength of will to deny herself the aching beauty of their joining.

             
Her anger faded as Deirdre realized the enormity of what she had done.  She had made love with an immortal Faerie of Rune, one who personified everything she would forever be denied.                If she had conceived a child with one such as he - she retreated within herself and tried to think.  Great Goddess, what had she done?

CHAPTER SIX

             
Never before had he exhibited such a shameful lack of restraint.

Cursing his traitorous body, Egan covertly watched the bewitching mortal woman.  Though he had been tortured by sensuous dreams of her for months before the amulet had been stolen, he had not planned to give in to his base desires.  He needed no such complications in his life – especially when he had such an important task to complete. 

Thus far he had managed to protect Deirdre from the damaging rays of the sun, but it now appeared he would have to protect her from himself as well.  If he had managed to impregnate her, the child would be born half-faerie, half mortal.  Such halflings do not live an easy life.  Never would he wish such hardship on a child of his seed.

He had to find the amulet as quickly as possible.  Otherwise he would never be free, for even though it was missing, the thing hung like a heavy stone around his neck.

The amulet.  Did she know who had taken it?  She had dreamt about it – or so she said.  She’d told him just enough information to tantalize him, yet not enough to help him in his search.

It mattered not to his body – already he burned to touch her again.

Magic!  He should have scented it on the wind.  It had to be, for surely nothing else could distract him so thoroughly and so well.                             

Perhaps the one who had stolen the amulet sought to enchant him to distract him from his purpose. 

Was it Deirdre – or another who remained hidden, seeking to move the strings on some shadowy web of manipulation?  Was it the one who had stolen the amulet – and now used its great power in this trivial manner? 

  No matter.  He must resist.  He could ill afford to let himself be swayed.  He must remain determined, focused on a quest that by all rights should be much simpler than it was.

             
The Shadow Dancer was a distraction he did not need.

             
In the silver moonlight she looked more like a creature of enchantment than any Fae woman.  Beautiful, ripe, tousled and sensual.  Though once again fully clothed, the material over her full breasts still bore the damp imprint of his mouth, her swollen lips the mark of his. 

Even the sight of her made his body surge.   He cursed silently, even as he felt himself harden. 

Turning away from her so that she would not see how she affected him, he hurriedly pulled on his braes and glanced over his shoulder at her, squinting through the darkness.

Reluctantly, he cast a small spell to light his torch, knowing the flickering light would only make her startling beauty more alluring, knowing as well that he had little control over her effect on him.

              No woman, mortal or Fae, had ever made him so randy, so hard.

             
Deirdre of the Cliffs.  A woman cursed.  What mysterious tie bound him to her, and she to him?  Each time he looked at her, he found her even more beguiling.  The urge to take her again made him fight for control.  Surely one more time would sate him – a simple pleasuring, a final release as he plunged his swollen staff deep into her moist honey over and over again.

             
Such erotic thoughts helped matters not at all.  If anything, the bulge in the front of his braes grew even larger.

             
"Tell me now - are you witch or some kind of magi?  Have you cast some sort of powerful spell, that makes me desire you so badly?" 

             
Keeping a good distance from her, knowing that the slightest touch from her could shatter what little control he had, he was startled when she laughed.  Her laugh was light and silvery, nothing like the smoky murmur of sound she had made when she captured his body and took her own pleasure.

             
"A witch, nay.  You know what I am.  A simple Shadow Dancer, no more.  If it is a spell that makes you hunger, then it has ensnared me as well.”

             
Even her voice, the husky thrum of it, seemed beautiful and sensual to him. And her words – the simple way she told him that she wanted him again too – had the effect of making the fire inside him burn hotter. 

If a spell had been cast, it was a powerful one.  Still he, a Prince of Rune, with all the years of magical training on his side, should have the skill to remove it.

But he did not even want to
.               

That alone told him much.  This enchantment then was potent indeed.

Which meant he – or they – had a powerful enemy.  To be able to cast such a spell, on one such as he – a Faerie who was resistant to such things... It had been more than a spell of simple lust, nay - woven within it was an emotional eroticism of such potency that he knew would continue to haunt him, even now when by all rights he should have slaked his body's thirst with such vigorous coupling as they had shared.

             
She made a small sound, making him conscious that she still stood before him in seductive disarray.  Though he rose a full head taller than she and no doubt carried twice her weight, so untutored was she in the ways of men that she showed no fear, only an artless lack of guile too straightforward to be believed.  But then he was not like other men, never would he take her unwilling.

             
And she had come to him virgin
. 
Unspoiled, sharing herself with only him.

             
A fresh wave of desire hit him, strong enough to make him stagger.  Such untamed lust was dangerous in a man, be he warrior or king.  With the enemies she had, distractions could be fatal indeed.

             
All he wanted was to find the amulet and return it, so his people could find another King.  This fascination with the mortal woman distracted him from his goal. 
Gods teeth
.  Perhaps he would have no choice but to be rid of her.   This could prove dangerous, to both of them.  How could he have his freedom, if he must protect this woman from more than just the sun and the Maccus, but from himself as well?

             
Yet how could he leave her unprotected?  He owed her that much, to find her another village, another group of people willing to take care of her. 

             
Perhaps he would let her choose herself.

Trying not to remember his earlier panic when he’d lost her, slowly he turned.  “I think mayhap we should consider parting.  I know not what matter of spell hangs over us, but I fear I am unable to fight it.”

“Part?”  Surprise and disbelief colored her voice, along with a faint trace of amusement that told him she believed he spoke in jest.  “Why would I leave you, when I can help you find this amulet you so desperately seek?”

“You do not understand.”  Clenching his fists, he shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it.  Passion still thrummed inside him, making his blood run hot and sluggish.  “There is danger in this, in the way your touch inflames me.  Danger and implications that I cannot yet see clearly.”

“I have sensed this too,” she admitted.  “Yet when I think of being apart from you, I—” Hand held out, she shook her head, sending her wealth of dark hair flying.  She took a step towards him and he felt his body respond, even as he struggled to keep from touching her. 

             
“Think well on what you do.  Your life may well depend on it.  Depart, " he ordered, his voice rusty.  "Leave me, and move around in the darkness as you do each night.  I will go the opposite way, and be content to travel by the light of the day, as I should."

             
If he'd sought to score a direct hit with his verbal arrow, he saw from her stricken expression that he had.  Her lovely face crumpled, the gleam of desire he'd seen in her huge golden eyes vanished. 

             
He felt a stab of pain, of regret.  Not since his brother had died had he felt this conflicted, this torn.

             
A second later, she'd regained control of her features, her cool mask in place once more. 

             
"Promises mean so little to you, then?"  Her attempt at a haughty tone fell short, her husky voice breaking.  “You have given me your word to protect me from the sun, and I in turn have pledged to help you find the amulet.”