Seduced by Magic Page 5

  Darkwolf managed to control his surprise and attempted to keep the Fomorii god, Balor, from reading his thoughts. It would not do to have him mistrust Junga when Darkwolf needed the queen. “Balor would not be pleased to hear what you’ve said.”

  The Fomorii queen gave what could have been taken as a casual shrug, but he knew it was not so casual. “How do you know we will not all be destroyed by these beings?” She looked away from him for a moment before returning her gaze to his. “Will Balor sacrifice us in order to regain his rule?”

  At this Darkwolf hardened his expression. “We serve Balor. We do as he commands through the essence in his eye. You know such a great god would not so casually strike down those who serve him.” He met Junga’s gaze head-on and wouldn’t let it go. “Will you continue to serve him?”

  “Of course.” Junga pushed herself from the desk. “Are you certain he will grant the Dark Elves’ request for their part in finding the door?”

  “Yes.” Darkwolf tossed the map aside. “Balor will not forget the Drow as long as they serve him well. He’ll allow them to live aboveground again, so that they can walk in sunlight.”

  Junga paused as if considering what he’d said. “When will the Drow king return?”

  Darkwolf scowled. “We’re to meet him at the pier in two days’ time.”

  Junga clenched her fists—she had often expressed her distrust of the Dark Elves. “If the parchment with the symbols had not been lost, we would eventually have had them deciphered. Surely this Drow would have found us an interpreter.”

  Anger flashed through Darkwolf and the pain in his head grew sharp enough that he could barely keep from wincing. The map keeper had paid with his life for losing that scrap of parchment. The lost paper had accidentally been torn from a page of a brittle, ancient spellbook.

  Darkwolf had been directed to the spellbook when Balor first took over his body and mind in Ireland. He had found it in a cave so old and dank that it had been beyond eerie. He hadn’t known the importance of the parchment or spellbook until recently when Balor had revealed the information to him through his thoughts.

  It was the drawing of the runes that, with the right ceremony, would open the door to Underworld. Not only would more Fomorii be freed, but other creatures that would answer to Balor.

  The loss of the piece of parchment didn’t matter. Balor would tell him what they must do.

  His cock hardened as he studied what was currently a beautiful woman standing beside the desk. Her black hair lay softly about her shoulders. It was easy to forget she was a demon—a hideous demon—within that shell. The fact that he could dominate her in this form gave him a sense of power that made him afire with it.

  “Get over here,” he demanded.

  Elizabeth—Junga—gave him a fierce look. “You do not order me around, warlock.”

  Darkwolf had to remind her who was in control. He strode over to her. Immediately he palmed her full breasts. He knew the moment he touched her in her Elizabeth shell, she would give in to his dominance.

  Elizabeth tilted her head back and moaned while she reached down and rubbed his cock through his jeans. At Darkwolf’s command the demon-woman unbuttoned her fitted suit jacket and tossed it aside, baring her breasts as she wore no bra, something that he insisted upon and that she enjoyed. The body of the woman she now inhabited was delicious and his erection swelled even harder at the sight of her large breasts, sensual curves, and the full lips that he enjoyed having slide over his cock.

  After dropping her skirt to the floor, she was naked save for the garters and high heels.

  Darkwolf gave a sound of satisfaction as he unfastened his jeans. “On your knees in front of me.”

  Junga obeyed at once, kneeling on the hardwood floor. She widened her mouth and took his thick cock deep in her mouth. He grabbed her by the hair and began pumping his hips, his flesh smacking against her face.

  When Darkwolf climaxed, the power he felt over her was even greater. Red flamed in his mind, and he felt Balor’s enjoyment of the moment. After Darkwolf’s semen filled Junga’s mouth, he thrust his hips forward a few more times. He was certain the power of Balor was what rushed through his cock, making it fully erect again.

  Darkwolf didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, even as she swallowed down his seed. He motioned for Elizabeth to stand and go to the desk. “Hands braced on top,” he commanded. “Bend over so that I can see your ass.”

  Shivering, Junga obeyed. Her naked body glowed in the soft library lighting and from the side Darkwolf saw that her nipples stood out like ruby stones.

  Darkwolf moved behind Elizabeth and grabbed her hips. Without ceremony, he drove his cock into her pussy. Her cry echoed through the room. “Yes,” she murmured. “Fuck me like that.”

  He thrust himself in and out of her pussy rough enough that her breasts rubbed against the hard surface of the desk. As hard as he could, he slapped one side of her ass with his palm. Elizabeth gave a loud cry. “You will not question Balor ever,” he commanded. She whimpered and he slapped her other ass cheek just as hard, causing her to shout again.

  Her long manicured fingernails dug into the wood of the desk when he slapped her again and again. He knew she loved the pain, and he gave it to her with everything he had. Her ass cheeks grew hot beneath his palm and her cries grew louder.

  “You are here to serve Balor, do whatever he commands,” he said as he continued to spank her. “Do you understand, bitch?”

  “Y-yes!” she shouted at the same time her orgasm ripped through her. Her entire body bucked and trembled. He slapped her ass cheeks again, causing her to cry out and her pussy to squeeze his cock.

  He grabbed her by the hair, twisted her around, and forced her down to her hands and knees on the floor, so that her ass was facing him. Without allowing her to catch her breath, he knelt behind her and drove his cock into her ass, his favorite place to fuck the demon-woman. It was tight and clamped around him, giving him ultimate pleasure.

  Junga moaned and it pleased him that the nonlubricated invasion most likely hurt her. He knew she liked pain, and that only made him thrust into her harder.

  “Like that, Darkwolf!” she cried. “Just like that.”

  He slapped her ass as hard as he could, causing her to shriek. “No one fucks you like I do, isn’t that right?”

  The demon-woman’s words came out in a pant and she squirmed beneath his thrusts. “No, Darkwolf. Only you.”

  With one more smack of his hips against her ass, Junga shrieked with another climax and he came in a rush. All his pleasure centered around his cock and balls.

  Darkwolf grinned in satisfaction at these moments of complete dominance over her. He tucked his cock back into his jeans as he stood and said, “Get up, bitch, and get dressed.”

  For a moment Elizabeth stayed where she was—either in defiance or because she was out of breath, he wasn’t sure which. She slowly got to her feet and turned to him. She was a goddess in Elizabeth’s form, her naked body near perfection.

  Control and dominance. That was the key to keeping every being within his power in line.

  Five

  Otherworld

  Tiernan gasped for breath the moment he walked through the veil to Otherworld. His chest seized and his vision blurred. He wanted to claw at his throat. His eyes felt as if they were bulging from their sockets—

  He could breathe again.

  Tiernan leaned over, his hands braced on his thighs, and he fought to steady himself. Even before he raised his head he knew he was home just from the sweet scents of pine and wildflowers, as well as the sounds of Faerie song and grumbling Dwarves in the distance.

  When he finally did straighten, he realized Cassia, the Elvin Witch who had escorted him through The Veil, was no longer by his side. He whirled to look behind him and saw only a great mound of earth, as well as the bushes, trees, and flowers of his homeland. Cassia and the bridge had vanished.

  Tiernan faced the direction of the village.
He breathed deeply of the scents of rich earth, moss, and unpolluted air. He unfolded his wings and took to the sky.

  It was not long before he landed in the village and folded away his wings. Peasants simply nodded to Tiernan, murmuring such things as, “Good day, my lord.” As soon as the peasants acknowledged him, they continued with their tasks. It wasn’t their place to converse with him. Only gentlemen and ladies of the court could do that freely—and the ladies would never be seen in such a common place as the village.

  Only the warrior class could move freely between those very separate worlds, and he was that rare Fae—a warrior, but also of the court.

  He generally liked the village and enjoyed being with other D’Danann warriors, drinking ale and eating trenchers of beef or pork while sopping up the juices with freshly baked bread. He also enjoyed observing the vendors as they hawked their wares, the smell of smoke from the forge, and smells of roasted meats and vegetables coming from many a cooking fire. He had quite often slaked his desires in the building at the far end of the village, one of the well-kept Pleasure Houses, where he had spent much free time fucking one beautiful woman after another.

  His thoughts turned back to the disparity between classes. A warrior’s life he lived, yes, but there was always a sense that he did not fully belong in their world.

  Tiernan strode with purpose past the Chieftans’ large gathering chamber at the far end of the village. Behind the chamber stood enormous black gates that kept out all but the D’Danann hierarchy. Manor after beautiful manor was ensconced within the brown walls that blended in with the forest.

  Guards at the massive entrance bowed as they opened the gates to allow Tiernan to pass through. He scarcely gave each guard a nod and barely noticed the surroundings that had been a part of his life for centuries. Beautiful gardens, flagstone paths, and natural waterfalls he had known since the D’Danann left Ireland to form their own Sidhe. Sounds of water roaring over rock and crashing to great pools, and the chirp of birds met his ears. And if he was not mistaken, he heard Faerie song as well.

  A burst of energy surged through him. It felt good to be home after spending much time in San Francisco of the Otherworld called Earth he had been summoned to, and a sense of pride in his homeland thrummed through his veins. Yet urgency coursed through him as well—he could not stay long as he must return to San Francisco to aid his fellow warriors in stopping the warlocks and Fomorii. But he had a task to perform here before he could leave again.

  When he reached his family’s manor, he strode up the stone steps of his home. One of the many servants of the House of Cathal welcomed him as he opened the door and let Tiernan into the manor made of granite and the finest woods the Dryads would allow to be taken.

  “Tiernan!” Cian’s voice came from the top of the stairs. His mother picked up her apple-green skirts just enough that she wouldn’t trip over them. White petticoats swirled around her ankles as she descended the stairs to greet him. Her hair was the same shade of blond as Tiernan’s. She was of full figure and had a smile that could light up the darkest of rooms.

  “Mother.” Tiernan’s heart warmed as he took her hands in his when she reached him, and he kissed each of her cheeks. As always, the faintest hint of lilacs surrounded her.

  “My son. Right on time for your handfasting in two days.” She squeezed his hands. “Airell is all aflutter. I think the poor maid is having prejoining anxiety.”

  Tiernan swallowed a sigh.

  He had known from the time he was a child many centuries ago that the family legacy was his to bear. As a lord and the only heir to House of Cathal, he would be expected to strengthen his house with a good union and continue the line. But no suitable bride from a powerful house had been born until eighteen years ago.

  His parents, too, had only married to make their houses stronger, and they had borne their first son. However, that son had been killed in one of the old battles. Therefore his parents sought to produce another son, and Tiernan was the result. The task of bringing forth new heirs and ensuring the continuation of his family’s lineage rested squarely on his shoulders. As he had from childhood, he only wished to please his parents and live up to his many responsibilities. Duty and honor were more than words to him, more than court games or gallant speeches.

  The reason for their handfasting was to produce an heir. A strange sensation jerked at his gut. He was of the same mind as Airell and had no wish to mate with her as she was so young compared to him. Merely eighteen years of age while he was centuries old. But their families expected them to join and produce a son. And that was what he would ensure they would produce, a son. No matter how many joinings it took.

  The thought of a child of his own made him smile. The one thing lacking from his life, that he had always wanted, were children. A son or daughter—to him it mattered not. Even better would be two, three, or four.

  However, he had never had intercourse with Airell simply because she did not wish it before their handfasting, and she preferred that he seek his pleasure elsewhere. It was perfectly acceptable among the members of the court for lords and ladies to relieve their needs with many of the Pleasure Partners in the village whose job it was to satisfy all comers. Tiernan was no exception—his needs were great, sometimes insatiable.

  His mother slipped her arm through his and he patted her hand as his thoughts returned to the moment.

  “What troubles you, son?” Cian asked.

  “Nothing, Mother.” Tiernan smiled as he looked down upon her. “I am simply pleased to be home.”

  “Your father will be delighted to see you, of course.” Cian guided him to his father’s chambers, where the man spent most of his time when they were not entertaining.

  Artan was reclining in the leather chair behind a table made from the special wood provided by the Dryads, the tree Faeries. He had contracts spread out upon the surface, and his forehead was wrinkled in concentration.

  Along the walls were shelves of books, works of art, including oil paintings of the family, the House of Cathal’s shield, and a collection of swords. It was interesting that his father collected such instruments even though he had opposed Tiernan’s decision to become a D’Danann warrior all those centuries ago, rather than a legal counselor like him. He had said he did not want to chance losing another heir to battle.

  “Ah, my son.” Artan pushed his chair away from his desk. “I was just going over the contract of your impending nuptials with Airell.”

  Tiernan shook hands with his father in the hand-to-elbow grasp common to his people. He smiled at his father, from whom he had inherited his blue eyes and strong features. The redheaded Artan gave Tiernan a hearty pat on the back before returning to his desk and leaning back in his chair.

  “With your handfasting just two days away, you must be thrilled,” Cian said with one of her brilliant smiles. “I am so proud of you both. You will make a perfect couple and make the House of Cathal even stronger and more powerful.”

  What his mother said was true. Torin and Cathal were two of the most powerful houses in all the D’Danann court. From the moment Airell was born, she had been pledged to handfast with Tiernan when she reached her eighteenth birthday. Yet he was over two thousand years old, countless lifetimes older than she.

  “We will make you proud.” Tiernan looked from his mother to his father. “We will carry on the honor and integrity of both houses.”

  “My son.” Cian hugged Tiernan, and he embraced her in return. When she pulled away a single tear rolled down her powdered cheek. “No matter what, just know that we shall always be proud of you, Tiernan.”

  After a lunch of many portions of roasted fowl and vegetables followed by puddings and a rich fruit trifle, Tiernan left his home, intent on having a few moments alone with his betrothed. Spending time with his family, seeing the pride in his father’s and mother’s eyes had driven home the importance of carrying on both their lines.

  The thought of being bedded by a man might seem distasteful t
o a young maid, but once they were joined he could show her the joy of such intimacy. With their hand-fasting so close, perhaps now she would be receptive to experiencing such pleasures.

  When he reached Airell’s family’s mansion, he was informed by a servant that Lady Airell had gone for a walk in the forest. The servant gestured in the direction Airell had taken. Tiernan bowed his thanks and followed the tree-lined path.

  A sense of peace filled him at being in his own world once again. He breathed deeply of the forest smells of rich earth and of the trees tended by the Dryads. No breeze stirred the air, yet he caught the scent of something familiar, something that did not belong. A powdery perfume. He sniffed. Airell’s, of course. She had come this way.

  Nary a leaf crunched under his boots as he made his way through the forest. Sunlight slanted through the trees and he felt the warmth on his arms whenever he came out of shadow into the sunlight.

  He began to wonder how far the maid had traveled when he heard voices coming from behind a line of towering bushes ahead. Knowing the forest so well he could map every tree and stone if required, he knew there was a small grassy clearing on the other side of the bushes.

  Airell’s laughter rang clear through the forest. With a smile he started toward the clearing. He reached a gap in the bushes and came to a full stop.

  Blood rushed in his ears. He could not move.

  Airell was on her back, her blond curls splayed across the thick grass. Her bodice had been pulled below her breasts so that her creamy mounds and light pink nipples were exposed. Her long blue dress was pushed all the way up to her waist, exposing the fair hair of her mons, and her knees were bent, her thighs spread wide.

  Lowering himself between her fair-skinned thighs was Urien, a brown-haired, brown-eyed young man that Tiernan knew to be of Airell’s age. His breeches were untied and he guided his erection toward Airell’s center. Her folds gleamed with wetness in the sunlit clearing.