another black glare at the
elves in situ. They scattered like leaves in the wind.
He grunted as he dropped to the hastily vacated furs. He
didn’t want any more of Briac’s surprises, unless it was the guys’ head on a
plate. He slid a sideways glance at his king. Hurry up and sire a brat, so I
can gut you without breaking my promise.
The other elf caught his look and clicked his tongue
chidingly.
“Now, is that any way to treat your king? Especially when I’ve
gone out of my way to do something nice for you.”
“Fuck off.”
Briac laughed, leaned back on his throne and ran a hand
through his shoulder-length hair. Unlike Bane, he preferred his hair long,
which made him look like a jumped-up faery in the bigger man’s opinion.
“Well, I’m not one for redheads, but if you don’t want her, I
guess I could rise to the occasion.”
Bane’s temper rose. He didn’t like cryptic, and Briac was
wily tongued at the best of times. “Talk plain elvish.”
Briac’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Open your fucking eyes, Bane, instead of letting that rage
blind you.” He nodded toward the group of women assembled the other side of the
“court” clearing.
All faeries, slender with delicate limbs, they were dressed
in the almost sheer white Claiming shifts. Nervously they watched the elves
around them, one gasping as one of the braver spectators sneaked past the
guards to grope the rounded globe of her ass. She responded with a heavy right
hook that almost made Bane grin. That was so like his Tamryn.
The elf stumbled with the force of the blow, parting the
women and guards in front of him and his “victim”. Bane flicked a glance over
the woman and froze. Red hair tumbled over her almost bare shoulders, the
slender form he’d last seen in leathers and tunic encased in a white shift as
she moved to the front of the group. His jaw dropped open.
Tamryn. Here. In a Claiming shift.
Mine, his body and feral instincts roared.
“If you’re no longer interested, there are many who are.
After all, she’s been, uhm, introduced to our ways, hasn’t she? Rather
thoroughl—”
Bane surged to his feet, anger and need waging a war in his
veins. He shot his king a dangerous look, the accompanying growl loud enough to
roll around the suddenly quiet clearing.
“She’s mine. Any man who touches her is a dead man.”
He looked around the small clearing, poised and ready for
battle. Any man who was foolish enough to challenge him for the redheaded
beauty was getting cut into so many pieces it would take a week to find them
all.
No one moved. No one stepped forward. The elf who’d touched
Tamryn had gone purple, as though he wasn’t even breathing for fear of
incurring Bane’s wrath. He should worry. Bane knew his name and where in camp
he bedded down so it was only a matter of time before he decided they needed a
friendly little “chat” off in the darkness of the woods. No one thought
anything of two buds heading into the woods for some “male bonding”. With so
few women, it was expected. Bane didn’t do man-on-man action, but there was going
to be a whole lot of knife-across-throat action. No one touched his woman and
got away with it.
There were no challengers. Relief and disappointment
shimmered through Bane as he switched his attention to Tamryn, standing at the
front of the group of faery women. Relief because she wouldn’t have to see him
brutally kill men for the right to make her his and disappointment that she
hadn’t seen him doing what he did best.
Any sense of relaxation disappeared as his gaze wandered
over her. Fuck, she looked fantastic. His body roared to life, cock straining
against the leather of his pants and throbbing in complaint at the confinement.
“Come here.”
The order was rough, and growled in a low voice. Feet
spread, a glower on his face and his leathers still splattered with troll
blood, he cut a fearsome figure. One who three of the faery women were eyeing
with panic as
elves in situ. They scattered like leaves in the wind.
He grunted as he dropped to the hastily vacated furs. He
didn’t want any more of Briac’s surprises, unless it was the guys’ head on a
plate. He slid a sideways glance at his king. Hurry up and sire a brat, so I
can gut you without breaking my promise.
The other elf caught his look and clicked his tongue
chidingly.
“Now, is that any way to treat your king? Especially when I’ve
gone out of my way to do something nice for you.”
“Fuck off.”
Briac laughed, leaned back on his throne and ran a hand
through his shoulder-length hair. Unlike Bane, he preferred his hair long,
which made him look like a jumped-up faery in the bigger man’s opinion.
“Well, I’m not one for redheads, but if you don’t want her, I
guess I could rise to the occasion.”
Bane’s temper rose. He didn’t like cryptic, and Briac was
wily tongued at the best of times. “Talk plain elvish.”
Briac’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Open your fucking eyes, Bane, instead of letting that rage
blind you.” He nodded toward the group of women assembled the other side of the
“court” clearing.
All faeries, slender with delicate limbs, they were dressed
in the almost sheer white Claiming shifts. Nervously they watched the elves
around them, one gasping as one of the braver spectators sneaked past the
guards to grope the rounded globe of her ass. She responded with a heavy right
hook that almost made Bane grin. That was so like his Tamryn.
The elf stumbled with the force of the blow, parting the
women and guards in front of him and his “victim”. Bane flicked a glance over
the woman and froze. Red hair tumbled over her almost bare shoulders, the
slender form he’d last seen in leathers and tunic encased in a white shift as
she moved to the front of the group. His jaw dropped open.
Tamryn. Here. In a Claiming shift.
Mine, his body and feral instincts roared.
“If you’re no longer interested, there are many who are.
After all, she’s been, uhm, introduced to our ways, hasn’t she? Rather
thoroughl—”
Bane surged to his feet, anger and need waging a war in his
veins. He shot his king a dangerous look, the accompanying growl loud enough to
roll around the suddenly quiet clearing.
“She’s mine. Any man who touches her is a dead man.”
He looked around the small clearing, poised and ready for
battle. Any man who was foolish enough to challenge him for the redheaded
beauty was getting cut into so many pieces it would take a week to find them
all.
No one moved. No one stepped forward. The elf who’d touched
Tamryn had gone purple, as though he wasn’t even breathing for fear of
incurring Bane’s wrath. He should worry. Bane knew his name and where in camp
he bedded down so it was only a matter of time before he decided they needed a
friendly little “chat” off in the darkness of the woods. No one thought
anything of two buds heading into the woods for some “male bonding”. With so
few women, it was expected. Bane didn’t do man-on-man action, but there was going
to be a whole lot of knife-across-throat action. No one touched his woman and
got away with it.
There were no challengers. Relief and disappointment
shimmered through Bane as he switched his attention to Tamryn, standing at the
front of the group of faery women. Relief because she wouldn’t have to see him
brutally kill men for the right to make her his and disappointment that she
hadn’t seen him doing what he did best.
Any sense of relaxation disappeared as his gaze wandered
over her. Fuck, she looked fantastic. His body roared to life, cock straining
against the leather of his pants and throbbing in complaint at the confinement.
“Come here.”
The order was rough, and growled in a low voice. Feet
spread, a glower on his face and his leathers still splattered with troll
blood, he cut a fearsome figure. One who three of the faery women were eyeing
with panic as
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