Wait a minute—
“We will not hurt you, Celeste,” Diaphonus adds, lifting his wine glass and leaning back in the rattan chair. I quickly scold myself and avert my gaze from the gilded pecs peeking out of his casually unbuttoned linen shirt. Yet he catches me, and a faint smirk ripples his face. “But to find a safe way to draw this power from you and to help our dying world, we need your cooperation.”
Wait a fucking minute—
“We will not use any spells on you or force you into anything that you don’t agree to.” Tarcyll crosses his arms in front of his sculpted chest. Images of unseen creatures and mysterious symbols twirl along his forearms, tempting me to speculate what the rest of his body looks like. “But we need time and your consent to pull this off.”
I down the rum in one gulp and look back at them. Tarcyll’s dark brow is arched, and he’s playing with his tall glass, the ring on his finger catching my eye. An uninvited flashback of him and Jasmin hits me with the most miserable timing ever. Diaphonus´ muscles are tense as he watches me, his fingers rubbing the blond stubble on his cheek.
“So, the deal is that I help you find a way to extract my magic without hurting me and getting me killed in the process, and then I’m free to go?”
They nod simultaneously.
“And no more glamour?” Both confirm enthusiastically.
“What about your creepy white-haired friend with the steampunk dog and the demon you call the Dreadful One?” I ask, pouring myself another rum. I try to sound calm and keep my mind off what would happen if I had another episode without my medications.
Tarcyll crosses his massive arms behind his neck. The eerie creatures on his skin look like they’re moving, “Without your magic, you’re a mere mortal to them, and they will leave you alone. And so will we,” he declares with convincing confidence.
Is it normal to feel a sting of disappointment after this revelation? What’s wrong with me? Am I secretly enjoying being hunted by these powerful and gorgeous Fae males?
“I accept your deal!” I slam the empty rum glass on the table. The humid heat speeds up the intoxication, and the night garden spins around me. Terrified of losing control and probably doing something incredibly stupid, I stumble toward my room without further explanation.
I throw myself on the bed and listen to the serenade of crickets and the soft conversation both males hold in their enticing lilting language.
Each word holds power and charges the air around me, the melodic syllables caressing my skin, brushing my nipples, tickling my thighs.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my fingers push my lacy white panties aside and dip between my drenched folds. The muffled whispers become exploring hands, tongues hungry for a taste, and I climax quickly. The forbidden vision of Tarcyll and Diaphonus taking me simultaneously is so vivid that it fills the room. Then the rum drags me into the inky abyss of restless sleep.
Tarcyll – The Spymaster
T he night breeze wafts Celeste´s arousal as soon as she withdraws to her chambers. The priest senses it, too, his brow covered with sweat, and he excuses himself. Oh, I know the dark desires that taint his pristine soul; I know that he will please himself aggressively tonight, imagining taking her—claiming her in all possible ways.
I know because I do the same. And while I pump my rigid cock, visualizing rubbing it between her lavish breasts, I realize that this woman is the kindling to start a fire that could consume our entire world.
I find her swimming in the pool the following day. For some minutes, I just stand there and watch her frolic in the water, perplexed by her simple mortal joy of being. She savors the warm caress of the morning sun and the water’s soothing touch. Her body is lean and glowing under the crystal surface, and she’s wearing the revealing bikini I left in her room. This observation alone makes me hard.
I join her in the pool, unsure of my intentions. Our meeting with Diaphonus is after lunch. I feel her curious gaze on me when I dive and relish in the scent of her curiosity when I break the turquoise surface.
I’m aware of the effect my appearance has on human females. It’s not only my imposing height and the mystery of the sacred tattoos covering my body but the otherness in my essence, that hint of barely leashed power under my skin.
She hurriedly leaves the pool, rewarding me with a delicious view of her backside, glittering water drops trickling down her curves. Will she touch herself again, thinking of me?
I need release before the meeting, as I cannot think straight. I head to the bathroom next to the pool, and visions of Celeste invade my mind. I barely contained myself not to rip that wretched bikini to reveal her center, pink and open, begging for me.
I find them both in the kitchen later. Celeste leans over an open book at the marble island, Diaphonus behind her, his arms encasing her, palms resting on the polished stone surface, his blond strands touching the top of her head. I notice how close his hips are to her rear. I bet she feels his heat through the airy fabric of her dress. He looks over his shoulder, and our eyes lock. I frown when I notice how the smug blond devil inhales the scent of her hair deeply before reluctantly pulling away.
Diaphonus the Fair. Countless Fae males and females lust after him. My own king summoned three youths bearing a striking resemblance to him to his harem. In my world, he is the closest thing to a sex symbol. High elves are just as promiscuous as all the Fae, known for their stamina in bed. Some priests take celibacy vows, and I speculate if that’s his case. I have never seen him touch a woman since we’ve been in this realm, and he had plenty of opportunities. Yet his dilated pupils and the noticeable bulge in his pants are evidence of his carnal desires. Will the presence of our human guest make him rethink his abstinence from pleasures of the flesh?
Celeste notices me and smiles. My heart skips a beat.
The meeting kicks off with debates about the options we have. Diaphonus holds extensive lectures and explains to her how magic works. We chuckle more than once—so many things that are obvious to us and common knowledge for all Fae are new to our guest.
“Why do you call the humans with magic Anchors?” Celeste inquires, and I furrow my brow. Yet another chance for the priest to outshine me with some sophisticated rhetoric.
“Because people with such powers anchor your realm to the body of the Serpent. Without them, your world would float to the lower dimensions, and this is a place nobody wants to be,” he concludes enigmatically, and I have the urge to slap the smirk from his beautiful face.
“What happened with the rest of these people, the other Anchors?” She shuffles nervously on the tall stool behind the kitchen island.