Solara couldn’t imagine having nothing to do to while away the days. The faerie people of D’Naath were known for frivolity, yes, but also worked hard to make sure that food was set upon the table and all their people were wellfed, clothed and looked after. To sit and watch others toil was not in their nature.
As soon as they had finished setting the meals upon the table, the clatter of boots striking the floor signaled the approach of the guards. Solara took her place at Noele’s side. Trista, Elisa and Mina entered the room and took their places at the table next to Solara.
Solara was glad she had brought her sisters along. After all, it had been a half-year since they had last visited Noele. In that time, Solara had grown to rely upon Trista as her confidant and friend. Trista was the only one of her sisters who knew of her current turmoil, and was bound and determined to come up with a solution to Solara’s “problem”, as she called it. Trista patted Solara’s hand, offering an encouraging smile.
Garick walked in, Roarke following. She watched Roarke’s every movement, her breath catching and releasing on a sigh, as it did every time she gazed upon him. His powerful physique showed well in tight breeches and a dark shirt. The laces were half undone, revealing the fine chest that she’d glimpsed earlier this morning. She licked her lips and received a nudge in the ribs from Trista.
“What?”
“You are staring,” Trista whispered, then winked. Her golden eyes sparkled with mischief. Solara cast her sister a glaring look, hoping she wasn’t planning anything foolish.
“I am not. And say nothing. This is not the time for your schemes.” Trista let out a hmph and turned to Elisa and Mina. The twins broke out in laughter.
Roarke turned at the sound of her sisters’ giggles, and his gaze met hers. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. He mesmerized her with his darkly golden eyes, communicating without words as something elemental passed between them. She closed her eyes and felt him enter her being, his thoughts surrounding hers. She fought hard to keep his probing magic at bay, not wanting him to know what was in her heart.
Heat settled between her legs and she clamped her thighs together to ward off the sensations of long, masculine fingers brushing against her sex. She shuddered, lost in images of Roarke’s hands on her, his fingers parting the curls of her mound and petting her damp pussy. She let out a low whimper.
“Is there something wrong, Solara?”
Her eyes flew open at Noele’s question. Her gaze flitted to Roarke, who smiled knowingly.
Damn him for invading her with such sensations.
“Nothing is wrong. I am enjoying the meal.”
“You have not eaten a bite of it.” Noele reached up and touched Solara’s forehead. “Your skin is heated and flushed. I believe you have a fever.”
Roarke snorted and took a long swallow of his drink. Solara wanted to fly away and hide in her room.
“I am fine, really. Do not be concerned for me.”
Fever, indeed. Foolish fever for a man who teased her in front of the entire castle population. She hurriedly finished her meal, then made herself as scarce as possible for the rest of the day, intending to stay far away from Roarke.
By nightfall, she’d grown weary of pacing her bedchambers. She’d bathed, dressed, undressed, then redressed again, deciding not to meet Roarke this evening as she had previously agreed.
What good would it do to see him? What would she say to him? That her heart, her very soul, burned for him, but she could not have him?
Ridiculous waste of time. They had nothing to say to each other. She did not even know how he felt about her. Aye, ’twas obvious they shared a connection of sorts. But that meant nothing.
Still, as the time grew near she could not stay away. She dressed to please him, brushing her hair until the red locks curled and shimmered over her bare shoulders and down her back, spreading over her wings like a cloak. A pale yellow shift that glistened in the light hugged her body’s curves and made her red wings appear like a fiery sunset. She’d scrubbed her skin until the scarlet sparkles glimmered in the full moon’s light.
Solara entered the courtyard, searching for anyone who might be about. It was late, and most of the castle inhabitants were long ago abed. By the time she reached the gardens near the end of the courtyard, she felt silly.
Roarke had probably been teasing her about meeting. She would come out here only to find herself alone and embarrassed at her girlish stupidity.
Nevertheless, she was here so she might as well see if he would even appear. She spread her wings and fluttered above the tall hedges. The moon cast a silver glow over the greenery, lighting the path like a map. ’Twas easy to wind her way through the maze of bushes toward the cliffs. Not too far down the path she spotted a bench and stopped there, in awe of the view of the ocean. She inhaled deeply and marveled at the quiet calm of late night. The only sounds were the breakers crashing against the massive sea wall protecting Winterland.
Which was why she screamed when warm hands grabbed her from behind. Whirling around, she saw Roarke lift a finger to his lips.
“Let us not wake the entire castle with your screaming.”
’Twas hardly her fault since he surprised her. “I did not hear you.” He winked and grinned. “I know. I wouldn’t be much of a warrior if I crashed through the hedges like a charging bear, now would I?”
The thought of him thrashing through the brambles like a lumbering animal made her giggle.
“Ah, now that is what I wanted to see.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.
Her heart fluttered as rapidly as her beating wings. “What is that?”
“My faerie’s smile. You have gone much too long without one.” His faerie. The words should mean nothing, and yet were what she had dreamed of for a very long time.
But dreams and reality were neither close nor attainable.
Nearly invisible in the darkness wearing his black breeches and tunic, she nevertheless could easily make out every curve and angle of Roarke’s body. His nearness unnerved her, sparked desires she should not be having for a man who was not her betrothed. Yet she knew no way to stop her feelings other than to stay away from him.
Something she had failed miserably at doing.
“Why did you ask me here, Roarke?”
He reached for a scarlet curl that lay just over her breast. Her nipple rose to greet the brush of his hand.
She gasped at the tightening pleasure spiraling through her.
“I don’t know what I want. I just know that I wanted to see you. Alone.”
“Being alone is not such a good idea.”
“Yet you came when I asked you.”
“Aye.” That she did, but she shouldn’t have. Not when she belonged to another. Yet he pulled her like an invisible force that she could not deny.
“What do
you
want, Solara?”
She turned away from him and fluttered to the edge of the cliff, trying to immerse herself in the sounds of the ocean instead of answering Roarke’s question. “It does not matter what I want.”
“To me it does.”
Heat emanated from his body as he stepped behind her. She steeled herself from turning around and leaping into his arms. “This was a mistake. I should go back to my room.” But when his hands caressed her bare shoulders, his breath ruffling the hair on top of her head, she couldn’t move. Memorizing his touch, his scent, she vowed that despite her fate, she’d never forget the way her body came alive when his hands touched her. The dark promise in his eyes, the way he smiled, would always be a part of her mind.
“Look at me, Solara.”
She dare not. Admittedly weak where he was concerned, one glance and she’d be lost. Too much was at stake to take that step. She held firm to her resolve, refusing to waver.
Her mouth fell open in a gasp as he whirled her around, pulling her tight against him. She wriggled away, afraid of him. No, that was not true. Fear was her own making, fear of her own reactions to him. “Let me go, Roarke.”
Concern etched his face in a frown and he loosened his hold on her. “Am I hurting you?” He’d taken tender care with her wings, sliding his hands below them to pull her close. His fingers burned through her shift and set fire to her skin. “No.”
“Then tell me why my touch revolts you?”
She paused, stricken that he would think such a thing. “Oh, no. Your touch does not revolt me at all.”
“Then what is the problem? Why do you seem as if you want to be close, but when I touch you, you pull away?”
The words hovered on her lips, but she feared lending them voice. Telling him how she felt put her feelings in the open. She dared not. “Because you shouldn’t touch me.” He looked away. “You are right, of course. You belong to another, and I have no right.” But when he stepped away, doing exactly as she asked, her soul cried out for him. A chill crossed her body at the loss of his warmth. She wanted to ask him to come back. She wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter that she belonged to another man.
But it did matter. To both of them.
“Why don’t I feel guilty when I look at you and think things I shouldn’t?” he asked, his voice so faint
’twas almost as if he asked the question of himself.
Solara flew over to where he stood and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Because we want something we can’t have.”
When he turned to face her, she knew his pain mirrored her own. “I know. The problem is, I
want
to touch you, Solara. It’s almost a burning need that I cannot resist.” She wanted that more than her next breath. Yet a part of her still held on to her duty, more for his sake than her own. “You can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because your touch awakens something in me.” As soon as the words left her lips, she knew she had made a mistake. Now he knew exactly how she felt. Already weak where he was concerned, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to tell him no again.
Moon glow shone on his face, lighting up his features. His eyes held a melting warmth, their color toasty brown with flecks of dark gold, like sunshine peeking through a thick canopy of trees.
He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers.
Her internal battle was lost. She gave herself up to the magic of Roarke’s mouth.
Roarke should have never touched Solara. Never pressed his lips to hers.
What was he thinking?
He wasn’t. Not with his head anyway. His cock propelled him to make stupid choices. This woman in his arms was betrothed to another. His honor forbade him to touch her.
But touch her he did. Her lips tasted as sweet as fresh dolaberries, her tongue tantalizing as it brushed up against his. When she whimpered into his mouth, he knew he was lost.
Damn her fate, and his. He was no king, could not claim a faerie princess as his bride. He was nothing more than an elvin warrior, a commoner among the royal elves and faeries.
What he did now tarnished his honor and that of his king, his friend, a man who was as close to a brother as he would ever have. They shared a telepathic link forged since childhood, their lives bound together forever.
And yet he could not stop. Solara gave with all her being, moving closer to him. She retracted her wings so he could fit his arms fully around her, her acquiescing movements an invitation he could not resist.
His faerie craved their joining as much as he did. Aye, it was wrong, but let him be damned for eternity, for he’d not let her out of his arms.
With a burgeoning ache, his cock hardened. He pulled Solara toward that sweet pain and rocked against her. A moan escaped her lips and he drank in her desire, sipping at the delectable nectar of her mouth.
Passion overcame common sense and he lifted her into his arms. Finding a secluded spot within the hedges, he laid her down on the soft mound of grass and marveled at the moon’s glow shining over her.
Her skin twinkled in the night like red stars. Kneeling down beside her, he tentatively brushed his fingers over her shoulder, then down her arm, eliciting small shudders of delight.
Her nipples hardened to tight peaks against her transparent shift. Unable to resist, he swept the gown over her shoulders, baring her breasts. He sucked in a breath at the perfect beauty of the small globes.
Anxious to taste her, he bent down and fit his mouth over one hard nub. She gasped and threaded her hands in his hair, whispering his name.
Her pheromones invaded his senses. The sweet smell of flowers in the summertime wafted over him, covering him with the desire to lick her skin and discover if her taste was as arousing as her scent. The urge to tear her shift away and bury himself deep within her was nearly overpowering. He fought the desire, knowing it would be a dangerous road from which neither of them could return.
Already he had breached that which he should not. But he was a man possessed, unable to halt his actions.
And, stars, she did not wish it either. Her body writhed against the soft earth and she held out her arms to him, beckoning him to take her. A small part of him knew this was wrong, knew they should stop before they went too far.
“Solara, we should not—”
“Roarke, please,” she begged. With an urgency he clearly understood, she grasped his shoulder and pulled him down against her. Eagerly, she reached for his shaft and palmed it over his breeches.
He sucked in a tight breath, panting like an animal. Heated to near boiling, he was delirious with the fever she gave him.
She would never be his, he would never take her virginity, but by all that was magic he would have a small part of her tonight.
With a low growl he covered her body with his hands, clearing his mind of guilt and hesitancy. For many long months, since they had first met, he had wanted her, dreamed of her, desired her.
The long separation had done nothing to quell his need for her. Every night he lay unable to sleep, feeling a connection to the scarlet faerie who resided so far away in D’Naath. Many times he had wondered if she felt the same way, if she burned for him despite being apart.
Her response now told him that she had.
Like a blind man relying on touch, he memorized her skin. The hollow in her throat, the way her neck arched as she swallowed, the way her breasts rose and pressed against his hands. The small buds nestled perfectly in his palms, her nipples teasing him with their tightened tips.