“Taste me, Roarke. Taste my need for you.”
She held out her hand. Without hesitation, he took her fingers in his mouth, sucking the nectar from them.
The taste of her desire flamed his senses. He licked at her fingers as if he had her pussy in his mouth, all the while thrusting his hips forward to propel his cock through his enclosed hand.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Lick my fingers like you want to lick my cunt. Taste me, take me with you, Roarke. Make me come so hard I scream.”
He wanted all that, and more. While arousing to the point of insanity, this play wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him. Yet with every passing second the head of his cock swelled, his balls trembled, and he knew it would not be long.
“Come for me, Solara. Imagine your fingers are my cock. Show me how you want me to fuck you.” He shifted back to allow himself a clear view of her driving fingers, this time setting his rhythm to hers.
She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, with one hand teasing her clit and the other fucking herself faster and harder. Whimpers and soft mewls escaped her parted lips as she increased the tempo.
Finally, she opened her eyes and met his gaze, and he knew it was time. He let go a torrent of come that splashed across her belly at the same time she stiffened.. Her keening wail filled the night air as she trembled and held her fingers still inside her pussy.
Afterward, their gasps were the only sound that could be heard. Roarke slipped his softening cock into his breeches, then sat on the edge of the tub next to Solara. She removed her fingers and slipped into the water up to her breasts.
Roarke took the floating cloth and moistened it, wiping the fine sheen of sweat from Solara’s face and neck. She smiled wistfully at him, and he knew her thoughts mirrored his own.
What they had together was amazing, miraculous, like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
They were fated, meant to be together, and yet were still held apart by his sense of duty and the requirement she honor her betrothal.
This time, he could not walk away from her. Nor could he tell her all that was in his heart. He had already revealed too much.
“I will be leaving soon,” she murmured, staring off into the distance.
“Aye. In less than a week, Garick will return and then you will be escorted to Greenbriar.”
“I should have gone before. I should not have run off.” She was right, and he knew that. Yet he could not tell her that he was glad she hadn’t, that despite the fact he could never have her as he wanted to, he wouldn’t trade the few days they’d had together for anything.
“All things happen for a reason, or so your sister tells me.” A soft smile graced her coral lips. “She tells me that, too.” So much was left unsaid between them, but Roarke could not utter the words he wanted to. Instead, he knew he had to continue to put distance between himself and Solara.
“Tomorrow I will ride off on patrol.”
Her gaze met his. “I thought you were to stay within Winterland.”
“I will be. I will patrol the outer boundaries. It is common for the guard to do so.”
“Common for the guard to do so, but not common for you?”
“It is good for me to go with the men.”
“How long will you be outside the gates?”
“Three days.”
“I see. You do so to avoid me. It is unnecessary. You need only say the word and I would keep my distance.”
He knew this would hurt her, yet also knew it was necessary. The more she hated him, the easier her new life would be.
“I do what I must. Not everything has to do with you, Solara.” Her eyes moistened and she turned away, refusing his offered hand as she climbed out of the tub and reached for her shift, tossing it over her head.
After she was dressed she stood in front of him, anger and pain blazing in her eyes. “Some day, Roarke, you will realize that your honor and your duty aren’t enough to sustain you. When that day comes, remember what you could have had, because it will be long gone by then.” She turned and walked away, her long, scarlet hair streaming in wet strands down her back.
Roarke stayed seated, watching Solara’s departure until she disappeared from sight. He stayed long after the door of the chamber closed with a resounding slam.
He didn’t have to wait for someday to know what he could have had. Every moment of every day reminded him that he loved a woman who could never be his.
Roarke led the guards around the base of the castle, inspecting for any weaknesses in the structure. The gray stone wall was solid, and he already knew it.
The ride and guard duty were his way of escaping Solara.
After last night, and the episodes before, he knew he was weakening where she was concerned. That he could not allow. Better to keep his distance, put the wall of the castle between them, until she left.
With every day that passed he grew closer and closer to throwing away all that he believed in. He’d actually contemplated risking banishment or even death. His desire for Solara had become more important than his honor, his vows, his duty to his king.
Keeping his mind and body occupied with tasks such as assessing the castle’s strengths and weaknesses was the best thing for both he and Solara.
After all, what would happen to her if he compromised her? She would be shamed, banished, would lose her right to become a queen.
Nay, he would not do that to her. His inner will was strong; he had always been able to rein in his baser impulses. He could do so now.
Today, he would concentrate on his duties.
Clearing his mind, his senses told him something was amiss. A sense of urgency had his muscles tensing, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword.
Something was happening, and he needed to be on guard for any possibility. With their garrison half depleted due to Garick’s sojourn to Greenbriar, he and the remaining men would be the only defense should something occur.
He inhaled, scenting a foul, wicked wind shift. Gazing toward the thick forest, his spine tingled with a sense of foreboding that he could not quell.
That sense had been bombarding him for days, but he’d not recognized it because his mind, his magic, his entire being had been consumed with Solara.
“Keep your eyes open. We are not alone,” he whispered to the guards behind him, who in turn passed the message along to the others. Gazing upward at the crenellations of the tower, he motioned to one of the guard. “Head back inside the castle and warn the rest to stand ready at the battlements for possible attack. Move all the people into the keep. Alert the interior guard to man their posts, weapons ready.
Make sure no one wanders outside. Have the gate closed behind you as soon as you enter.” The guard nodded and turned his horse toward the drawbridge, quickly riding inside. The gate was pulled up soon after.
Turning his attention back to the trees, Roarke directed half the men to ride out to the edge of the forest with him. The other half were instructed to stay along the castle boundaries in case of attack from the cliffs.
The wizards had been quiet of late, which meant they must have been plotting an attack. Now that the elvin community had become wise to the wizards’ magic, whisking away one of their own in the dead of night was no longer possible. If they were going to attack, they’d have to do it physically, head on, by storming the castle.
Knowing this, Winterland was well prepared for what may come. But Roarke would still feel more confident once Garick returned with the other half of the garrison. Having the castle weak in guards made them vulnerable, and that he did not like.
They patrolled the perimeter of the forest, Roarke keeping a keen eye out for anything that moved or made a sound.
The pounding hooves of horses turned his attention to a dust cloud in the distance ahead. He’d been prepared for an attack from the cliffs or the eastern forest, but not one from directly in front of them.
Calling out to his guard, they raced to the front of the castle, forming a line with the rest of the garrison.
Orders were shouted to the battlements above them, and men could be seen within the crenellations, bows and arrows made ready.
Everything was in place. Roarke could only pray that everyone inside was as well. As the approaching horses drew near, he could tell they were badly outnumbered.
This attack could end up being a massacre. He feared nothing for his own life, but worried for the people of Winterland. If the garrison were killed, they would have minimal protection inside the walls.
Roarke called forth his magic, telepathically merging with Garick and urging him to hasten his return to Winterland.
Then, because this might be the last time he could do so, he searched and found Solara’s thoughts.
Raising his sword in the air, he sent her a goodbye.
* * * * *
“It is Roarke. I must go.”
She stood, desperate to run into her bedchambers and peer out the castle windows, but Noele’s hand on her wrist stopped her. “Nay, you cannot go there.”
“Roarke is in danger!” she cried. “I felt him. He reached out to me to tell me there was an attack.” Noele nodded, the expression on her worried face telling her that she knew already. “Aye, I felt it, too.
But putting yourself in danger is not what he wants, Solara. Not right now. You need to bring your magic forth—we all do,” she said, looking to Elisa and Mina. “Roarke needs our help now.” Calm down. Force the panic aside. Noele is right. Roarke needs your magic right now, not your fear.
She nodded, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. It began to build within her, gaining strength, filling her with power. Once gathered, she sent every bit of magic she possessed to Roarke.
Their connection was instantaneous. So much that she traveled along with her magic. She merged with Roarke and found herself outside the gates. They were one now, as if she physically lived inside Roarke’s body. She saw what he saw, felt what he felt, knew the same sense of hopelessness that he experienced. The battle was fierce and intensifying by the moment. They were outnumbered. They were going to die.
“No!”
She felt hands squeezing hers gently, felt the pull from her sisters to return to the castle, yet she would not leave him. If she could do nothing more, she wanted him to know that he was not alone.
If he needed eyes in the back of his head, she would be those. If he needed strength to wield the sword, she would give him all she had. If he was going to die, she wanted to be with him when it happened.
Wizards surrounded them, evil, twisted caricatures of beings, more skeletal than form. Yet their strength belied their appearance and they thrust with swords heavy enough to slice a man in two.
Roarke’s incredible strength of will filled her as he thrust and stabbed a wizard, making a rapid turn to slice through another coming up behind him. She held on to his mind, not distracting him in any way, not letting him know of her worry, but giving him her hope and encouragement.
You will win, Roarke. Your will is stronger than theirs. They are but soulless demons with no heart. Stay strong and do not give up.
If her words penetrated, he did not acknowledge them. Nor did she push further other than to call forth the magic of the faerie, take what her sisters offered, and add to what the elvin people had already delivered to their warriors—their belief that the garrison outside the castle would win the battle they fought.
All around them the sounds of steel clashing with steel resounded in the air.
Arrows rained down as the guards inside sprayed the wizards from the tower battlements. Piercing screams resounded as the arrows penetrated the black hearts of the wizards. Each time one fell, Solara felt a joy she never knew she was capable of. Celebrating death was not in faerie nature, and yet these creatures had been a thorn in the side of the faerie and elvin people for too long now. Murderers, they not only killed and stole lands that did not belong to them, but also the very souls of the elvin and faerie people. The sooner they were all dead, the easier life would be for all of them.
The battle wore on for what seemed like hours. And yet, the longer it went on, the more it seemed as if the garrison had taken the upper hand. Solara sensed when the tide turned as she looked around and found a few of the Winterland guard on the ground, yet many more of the wizards.
They were winning, pushing the demons back toward the forest, advancing as the wizards retreated. She willed her strength even further into Roarke’s arm as he hefted the sword above his head and decapitated an approaching wizard.
Soon, the attackers were turning and running into the forest. Leaving their horses behind, their thin, black-clad bodies slipped through the thick trees.
It was over. They were safe. No harm could come to—
A painful burning sensation in her side had Solara doubled over, dropping to her knees on the ground.
Her movements mimicked Roarke’s. She saw him reach for his side, saw the blood covering his hand as he moved it in front of him, felt his disbelief as he turned and saw a lone wizard with a sword held over his head.
“No!” she screamed in her mind, knowing they were about to die. But one of Roarke’s guards caught the wizard from behind, sinking his sword deeply into the creature’s back. The wizard screamed an unholy sound, then dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap, the sword landing with a thud on the dirt.
Her heart lodged in her throat, she turned inward toward Roarke. She felt his strength ebb as he fought for consciousness. Dizziness assailed her and she had to squeeze her sisters’ hands hard to keep from falling into the darkness.
She opened her eyes and stood, orienting herself to being back in the hall. “Roarke is injured. We must get out there now!”
Without waiting to see if they followed, she ran out, shouting for help along the way. She opened her wings and sailed through the doorway and out into the courtyard, hurrying toward the gate.