Jory Strong - Elven Surrender

Reluctantly he handed the statuette back to Wraith. He took a moment to look around, hoping the distraction would ease the ache in his testicles and the throbbing of his fully engorged penis.

Wraith’s living room was warm, comfortable, a welcoming refuge from life in the elven enclaves—not what he would have expected of someone who guarded others for a living and was gone for long periods of time.

There were numerous chess sets around the room, each crafted with the same care as the woman revealed in wood. As Tynan studied them he contemplated how they would go about finding the unknown woman. Though he was sure he knew the answer, he asked anyway, “She’s not familiar to you?”

“No. Not even in my dreams. I uncovered her features only with each stroke of my carving knife.”

Tynan nodded, his gaze drawn back to the figurine. Consciously or unconsciously, Wraith’s thumb traced the same path his had taken—lips, neck, the slope of breasts—then lower, over hardened nipples.

A foreign hunger pulsed through Tynan’s cock. In a heartbeat his recurrent dream was expanded to include images of watching as the woman in it writhed in pleasure under Wraith’s hand, of being watched as she thrashed in orgasm in his care.

Whoever she was, she was destined for them. If their births had been orchestrated long ago by calculating women who desired power for themselves and their clans, then hers had been brought about by natural forces intent on restoring harmony to the southern borderlands. “I think she must be near,” he said.

Wraith nodded. “Given your dream and my carving, as well as us both being in this area at the same time, it would be reasonable to expect she is also close by.”

Like human sorcerers, elves rarely cast spells together, but as Tynan watched Wraith’s thumb glide over the smooth abdomen and reach the place where the un-carved wood kept the sweet secret of the woman’s mound hidden, he knew what had to be done. He was Earth Clan. Wraith was Wind Clan. If they joined in a summoning spell she wouldn’t be able to resist coming to them.

The wind knew no boundaries and would find her.

Stone and wood would yield to form a path for her to follow until she reached them.

Silver’s side ached and her face stung from the branches that clawed her as she fought her way through the thick elven woods. When she got to a tiny clearing she stopped and doubled over, fighting for breath and willing her heart to slow its frantic pace.

Behind her the forest slowly returned to its normal rhythm. The silence caused by her frenzied flight gave way to the call of night birds and the croaking of frogs.

Her fear faded under the soft glow of the moon. It didn’t subside completely, but the panicked horror dissipated and flowed away on a spring breeze. Silver opened her fist to look at The Mark.

It was in the form of a circle though it contained smooth sections as well as patterned ones. A rippling line made her think of water. A jagged one made her think of mountain ranges. A spiked section was repeated in the very center of the circle. It made her think of flames and she wondered if that’s why her palm had burned when The Mark appeared.

Why? Why me?

She spent only a second on the question because she already knew there was no answer. Witches, warlocks, sorcerers, nulls, even among themselves they couldn’t agree on what The Mark meant and why it appeared.

A noise in the woods brought her head up. Crackling leaves and rustling branches had her standing upright again.

Theodor hit her first, a second before she saw the feral yellow eyes. Wild boar, maybe, or a fey creature out for some fun, or perhaps even a sorcerer using the pig to hunt her.

She took a cautious step backward and the boar lowered its head. Even though it was almost completely shrouded in the darkness of the forest, its tusks gleamed yellow and wicked.

Silver continued backing away slowly. Surreptitiously she looked for an escape route. A shiver of surprise slid down her spine when the wind rustled, parting the dense undergrowth and revealing a path. She slipped onto it just as the boar’s massive head was captured in the moon glow of the small clearing.

Instinct shouted at her to hurry, to run. And she listened.

Wraith’s body tightened in anticipation. She’d been closer than either of them imagined. As soon as they’d cast their spell they’d known that instead of waiting days for her to come to them, she’d be there before even a single star faded from the sky.

He glanced at Tynan and saw the same tension and need written on his brother’s face. He wasn’t sure if they were feeding off each other’s desire in the same way their magic had been stronger when merged, or whether the reality of the woman’s existence had them both hard and anxious, hungry to make her theirs.

Tonight was fated. Wraith believed it deeply, totally. There was no other explanation. He and Tynan were meant to share this woman and in doing so, bring harmony and prosperity to the southern borderlands.

His cock throbbed as spell magic rippled past him on the breeze, arriving ahead of the female and opening the path for her even as the same path was being closed behind her. Beside him Tynan shifted position. Their shoulders touched in an unplanned gesture of unity just as undergrowth parted and tree branches bent to reveal her.

Exquisite. Enchanting . Wraith’s breath caught in his throat and remained lodged there until he saw her storm-colored eyes flash with fear. He reached for her at the same time Tynan did. He saw her intention to turn and flee and the horror in her face when she realized the woods had closed around her, trapping her.

“Forgive me for trespassing. I’m being chased and seek only to remain safe until the Turning Ceremony,” she said, holding her hands out in an instinctive gesture to ward off an attack.

Shock rippled through Wraith when he saw the mark on her hand. She was elfling—On the Cusp of Change. That she was here in these woods, afraid of them and speaking of the witches’ ceremony meant she’d been raised human and was unaware of her heritage, unaware of the elven magic building inside her until it could be triggered by a spell.

“We intend you no harm,”Tynan said, remaining still though he wanted to rush in and enfold her in his arms. Elfling. He needed no other proof she was created for the purpose of restoring harmony.

Matings between humans and elves were rare and half elf offspring were never knowingly left among humans. If a casual coupling resulted in a child, the newborn was stolen by their elf parent and raised in the enclaves until the mark appeared and the spell cast to trigger The Changing.

That the elfling in front of them thought she was human meant she was pure of affiliations and political aspirations despite the Fire Clan symbol in the center of the circular mark. She was On the Cusp of Change and would be wholly theirs once she became elf.

“You are safe with us,”Tynan said, unable to stop from taking a small step closer, from lifting his hand and pressing his palm against one of hers.

Heat streaked straight to his cock and made him gasp. It wasn’t the magic of the Fire Clan that caused his reaction, but the first touch of flesh to flesh.

“You are safe with us,” he repeated. “I’m Tynan Carved From Stone and this is my brother, Wraith In Shadows.”

His penis jerked when she wet her lips. His testicles pulled tight against his body when Wraith’s palm covered the elfling mark on her left one.

She trembled, just a little, as the last of her fear faded. “My name is Silver, Silver Delacroix.”

“Come inside. Take shelter and stay the night with us.”

“I’m not elf,” Silver said. She couldn’t imagine they’d mistake her for one and yet the way they were both looking at her and the offer of their names instead of a curse made her wonder.