Magnus was not possessed but he was not himself. His face was grim, his mouth set, his brown eyes hard. Even the small gold cross in his right eye seemed to glitter. Dangerous, her witch-senses sparkled, but was she not dangerous, too? He kissed her and she took his kiss, embracing his crooked, warm lips with greedy fervor.
I have things to tell him, many things, but this moment is ours and we should take it.
“Naughty,” he warned, as she tongued and nipped his ear and throat, her fingers tracing his mouth, gliding over his body. So big he was, so strong and magnificent, so long-limbed, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, lean-thighed.
“I cannot taste enough of you,” she moaned, trembling beneath his answering caress.
His eyes darkened more and her breath stopped. She heard a ripping of cloth as he hauled off his tunic, flinging it into the growing shadows. At the back of her mind she caught the silvery whisper of the wood-elves’ approving laughter, then it was Magnus, only Magnus. She reached for him but he scooped her over, flung up her skirt and entered her.
She was ready for him. Feeling him hard and hot and thick within her, she sheathing him completely, Elfrida wanted only more. That filling, stretching rampaging. Magnus, crusading into her so she felt weak and strong at the same time. Pinned as she was, she could not move and her helplessness was strangely arousing.
“Elf, lovely elf,” he whispered against her ear, his scarred, bristly chin rasping deliciously against her cheek as he battered over and over into her.
“Goddess!” she hissed, as his pleasure met her sweet, sweet yielding.
Moonlight fell into his eyes, shimmered through her body and she was lost. Dimly, blindly, she snuggled as Magnus finally released her. Curling against his white-hot-iron heated body, she heard him mutter, “That should do it.”
Do what? she wondered, then asked, “Are you asleep?”
A long snore answered her. She said, a little louder than before, “Magnus? We have to talk.”
She felt him start against her and sigh. “You are right. Pah, my mouth is a furnace! Have we any mead left or did you use it?”
Both sorry and glad they were out of their own world, their snatched time together, Elfrida needed no reminders of the missing girls, or her responsibility to Rowena and the others. She shook the flask attached to her belt. “There is a little.”
“Good.” Magnus sat up on the woodland floor, shaking crushed bluebells off himself like water off a dripping hound, and reached for his tunic. “We talk and eat. We need a plan to rescue the girls, all of them.”
“It is not going to be easy,” Elfrida remarked quietly.
“I do not know,” Magnus admitted. “I fear you are right.” He crossed himself.
'A Summer Bewitchment,' my sequel to 'The Snow Bride'. 4.5 Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies. Now also on Amazon with 5 Star Reviews.
NB. The first novel of this series, 'The Snow Bride' is half-price at Bookstrand here: http://www.bookstrand.com/the-snow-bride and less than $3 at Amazon.
Best wishes, Lindsay Townsend