ReluctantConsort by Lora Leigh

to
their demands. Whether in creating a chair, a bed or warding off an attack. The
Obsidian stone was tied directly to the Guardian or in the case of this rule,
the Guardians of Obsidian—the darker magicks.
    The stone portal slid open as the Torcs stopped before them,
the shadowed opening parting for the warriors.
    Daelan slid quickly from his mount and moved to his brother,
the warrior nearly lost in the pleasure wrapping around him in the form of the
princess’s magick.
    Gripping her hips, he eased her into his arms, near gasping
at the pleasure, increasing a hundredfold from what it had been without contact
with her flesh. How in the name of the One had Caedan born such pleasure
without finding his release?
    “Warrior.” Muse stepped into their path as they entered the
Great Hall, intent on bearing their Consortress to their quarters where they
could touch her freely, together.
    “Guardian,” Daelan gritted out. “Allow us leave to pass
quickly.”
    Her smile was somber, filled with regret as she lifted her
arm and gestured to the heavily robed maidens who gathered often to do her
bidding.
    “My handmaidens will take her for but a moment, warriors.
Preparations for her Joining must be made.”
    “What say you!” Caelan growled, obviously surprising the
demi-goddess. “She was born of human lands, not magick. Sorceress she may be,
but without the defenses one of magick lands would have provided her woman’s
spirit.”
    Her eyes narrowed, brilliant hued, snapping with sudden ire.
    “Know you for certainty her magick defenses, warrior?” she
snapped. “Which would have greater knowledge of what preparations she would
need? Warriors infused with the hunger of her magick or a Guardian who has
sought the wise council of the great Garron, a magick that harkens only to the
Sorceresses of Covenan?”
    In that moment, iridescent magick filled the hall, bringing
even the Twin Kings to their feet as they watched curiously from their thrones.
    Garron, the great dragon of magick and lore, had come to the
Causeway only once before, it was said, on the eve of the conception of the
Ogre twins to the King of the Causeway and his mate.
    Colors of rainbow hues rippled over the scales of his
powerful body as he stared down at the Sorceress who lay within Daelan’s arms.
    Her magick was sizzling now, snapping against their bodies,
somehow greater, brighter for the presence of this being.
    “What manner of visit is this, Garron?” King Aherin and his
brother moved from the throne dais to the floor of the hall as Garron’s head
tilted to the side, watching the magick of the Sorceress as it began to shift
in color, violets and blues and sparks of multihued greens.
    “Ah, the Twin Kings.” Garron’s voice was a hiss of amusement
as he turned and glanced at the two powerful warriors nearing him. “The Ogre
rule has never been so strong as it is now, the land whispers. All of Cauldaran
and Covenan owe you a great debt for your protection.”
    “We do that which our One commanded us to the best of our
strength and our magick,” Aherin deflected the compliment. “We need no thanks
for what is ours to do.”
    Garron nodded at this. “Humble as well. Wizard Twins would
have much to learn from you.”
    He turned back to Arabella as she stared up at him,
mesmerized by the magick flickering over his body, snapping in his eyes.
    “Sorceress,” he said softly then, lifting a clawed hand to
wave before him. “What magick fills you, Halfling, and how did such come into
being?”
    Daelan felt his brother’s surprise merge with his as their
magick parted from their princess, easing back to them beneath Garron’s command
as Muse stood silently to the side.
    He had called her Halfling? Halflings did not possess such
power. It was unheard of. It was impossible.
    Lifting both clawed hands, Garron silently called her magick
to him, watching with eyes black as the Ogre, yet filled with such pinpoints of
color, such powerful magick that