Taken By The Fae E-Book

Alana Church

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Aurora, the Summer Lady, is on her way to the Elven city of Lindalorendor. But what should be a courtesy call is complicated by the arrival of a wayward human and a sexy, foul-mouthed orc-woman. Can she balance the needs of Toby and Skrella against her own desires? Aurora won't be the only to be "Taken By The Fae!"

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

"I choose you, Mindorallen," Aurora said. "For your heart and your beauty."

"But not, I fear, for my skill in the bedchamber." He smiled crookedly down at her. "I give you fair warning, my lady. Among my people I am counted uncommonly clumsy in the arts of love."

"While I," she retorted, "have no experience in pleasing a man at all."

~You big liar,~ Summer said. ~With my knowledge to draw on, you could have him in a puddle in five minutes. Ten at the most. Even an elf pales in comparison to the skills a Queen of Summer has at her disposal.~

Quiet, you. I said I had no experience. Not no knowledge. Let the poor boy think he is teaching me.

While she held her internal debate, it seemed that Mindorallen was having one of his own. "My parents..."

  "The room has a lock, does it not? And I hardly think your mother and father the sort to break down a door to halt our lovemaking." She untied the belt and let the robe slip off her shoulders. "Please, Mindy. Make love to me." She closed her eyes, waiting, hoping...

"If my lady would like to lie down?"

Her eyes popped open. "What?"

The red-headed elf ran a finger down her arm. "You are tense, Summer Lady. Let me relax you. How can you gain the full pleasure of our joining if your body and mind are not in harmony?"

My body and mind are in harmony, she was tempted to say. And both of them want you to screw me!

Instead she smiled and lay down on the bed, pillowing her head on her crossed arms. A rustle told her that Mindorallen had shed his trousers, and she risked a peek out of lowered lids as the bed sank beneath his weight. Whoa. Nice.

~If you like that sort,~ Summer sniffed.

And what do you prefer? Warm hands, gentle yet strong, settled on her shoulders, softly rubbing, and she sighed.

~Oh, every race has something to recommend them, and something to desire. The elves make lovemaking an art. But even artistry can pale if there is no passion. The dwarves are renowned for their endurance. But they are as insensitive as the stone and metal and jewels they work with. The halflings are light-hearted and gay. But everything is on the surface with them  all frivolity, no heart. The orcs are refreshingly direct in their desires. But so is a landslide.

~So it is with all of the people of faerie. Someday you will bear a daughter, and someday she will, in her own time, become the Summer Lady, while you become the Summer Queen. But do not look to find a lifemating. It has not happened with the queens for years beyond count.~

That's a cheerful thought. Mindorallen's hands moved lower, his thumbs rubbing her vertebrae. Knots of tension she had not even known existed loosened and flowed away under his skillful touch. Good Gods. If he is counted as clumsy among the elves, I might not survive a skilled lover!

 Her breathing slowed, though the heat in her core grew no less. Her desire was only banked, not doused entirely. As his hands reached her tailbone, she canted her rear up invitingly, sighing as he kneaded her globes.

"You are lovely, my lady." It was the first sound in minutes, the voice a reverent whisper. A tongue-tip touched the hollow of her back, and she moaned low in her throat...

Leseprobe

Taken By the Fae

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2020 Alana Church

~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Journey

If I had known dying would take so long, Toby Williams thought wearily, I would have stolen a bottle of pills and ended all of this months ago.

It was after one in the morning, and visiting hours were long over. Unable to sleep due to the gnawing pain in his guts, Toby was shuffling along the corridors of the Intensive Care Ward, pulling his IV stand after him. The wheels made an evil, rasping squeal on the white linoleum floor, a surreal counterpoint to his halting footsteps.

Twenty-one years old. And unless there’s some kind of miracle, I’m never going to see twenty-two. God better hope I go to Hell, because if I get to heaven, I’m going to punch him in his big dumb face.

It had started five years ago, when he was in high school. Sudden, sharp cramps in his stomach, followed by bouts of vomiting. At first, his aunt and uncle hadn’t been concerned. But then as the episodes grew more severe and Toby began to lose weight, they had taken him in for an examination. What the doctors found had been beyond their worst nightmares. Intestinal cancer, malignant and viciously aggressive.

The following five years had taken them all on a trip through hell. Surgery, chemotherapy, growing hope as it seemed that the cancer had been beaten back into remission, and then despair as the vicious cycle started all over again. This was the fourth time he had gone into St. Christopher’s as a patient. Every time he had left he had been weaker, thinner, and more scarred then the time before.

And this time, he suspected dully, he would not be coming out again at all, unless it was for his funeral. The doctors had been honest. The experimental drugs, taken in a last-ditch effort to stave off the inevitable, had failed. The tumors were spreading rapidly now, taking up comfortable perches in his lymph nodes and his brain. He could almost feel them, cackling and rubbing their hands together with glee as they plotted his ruin.

He snorted. You need to stop reading all those fantasy books. Or at least find better ones. Your imagination is running away with you.

A pretty young nurse, her black hair bound in a tight knot at the nape of her neck, hurried up the hall. He stopped and moved towards the wall, giving her room to pass.

“You should be in bed, Toby,” she said severely, pausing as she came abreast of him. “What are you thinking?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “So I thought I would take my evening constitutional. You can’t let these things slide, you know. I wouldn’t want to get all fat and gross because I wasn’t exercising.”

She smiled at his joke, though her sympathetic eyes told a different story. “Is there anything you need?”

“A new body, Ruth. Preferably one that’s taller and totally buff. Oh. And one that doesn’t have cancer. Happen to have one handy?”

“Sorry.” She spread her hands. “I’m fresh out.”

“Typical,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “I am definitely going to complain to the management of this place, when I have some time.”

“You do that.” She frowned at him. “If you get to feeling weak, Toby, sit down, okay? We don’t want you to get hurt.”

She patted his arm and walked away, her heels clicking on the linoleum.

He stared after her regretfully, admiring her perky bottom. Right. What would happen if the terminal in three-oh-two lost his footing and had an accident? He might die quicker. Wouldn’t that be awful.

He turned and began to put one foot in front of the other again, trying to think of anything that would distract him from the relentless pain in his belly that no drugs could entirely ease anymore. One hand was a shriveled, bloodless claw, wrapped around the IV stand, dragging the hateful thing after him. The other clutched his side.

It began as a faint glow in a hallway to his left. Warm and golden, it was completely different from the harsh white glow of the fluorescent lighting overhead. Curious, he followed it, turning into a disused service corridor, cluttered with broken-down wheelchairs and old filing cabinets. The light grew, until he had to blink and squint against its pure, radiant light.

That isn’t…possible.

It was a hole, a rip in the fabric of reality. Ten yards away, it hung rippling in the gray, dismal air of the hallway. Pure golden sunshine poured through, the color of the last hour of a warm summer afternoon.

And it wasn’t just light, he realized. He could smell it, too. Smell the sweet scent of lush green grass on a July evening. Feel the soft breeze on his skin, gentle as a mother’s kiss. Hear the sound of insects as twilight gathered the world in a tender embrace. And even taste it, a taste like the first bite of a grape, plucked from the vine at the height of ripeness, so intense his mouth began to water.

He stole a quick look behind him, half-expecting to see his lifeless body lying on the floor. Is that heaven through there? It doesn’t look like Hell should look. But I suppose if the devil wanted me bad enough he could probably make Hell look nice. Though it would have to be pretty bad to be worse than things are right now.

Fuck it. I’m going. Anything has to be better than this. Besides, aren’t you supposed to go to the light? I bet God would be pretty pissed if I ignored his invitation.

He staggered forward. One step. Another. The air grew warmer, the light brighter. He seemed to hear voices. His parents, waiting for him? The edges of the hole wavered, and seemed to shrink. Terrified that his last chance might disappear forever, Toby forced his legs to move faster. On the brink, he gave a trembling, tottering leap, and lunged through the door into Summer.

The fall took a long, long time.

*****

I’m not sure if I’m going to kill this woman, or if I want to screw her brains out.

Aurora, the Summer Lady, youngest of the three Queens of Summer, Lady of Faerie, and grand-daughter and heir of Titania, the Summer Queen, put her hands on her hips and glared at her opposite number. “No, Delia. Absolutely fucking not.”

“Ooh.” Leaning against a tree beside the forest path which, she had been assured, would lead them to the elven city of Lindalorendor, Delia, the Winter Lady, gave her an arch look. “Such language from the Summer Lady.” She cocked her head. “Take my advice, Rory. You need it.”

“No.” Despite the cataclysmic changes in her life over the past few days, she found herself blushing scarlet. “I am not going to walk into a strange city completely…completely naked! It’s ridiculous!” She wheeled to face her two handmaidens, who had been watching the argument with wide eyes. “What do you think?”

Elanor, blond and shy, smiled at her in a conciliatory manner. “My lady is quite lovely, as are all the Queens of Summer. And Winter too,” she added hastily, with a nervous glance at Delia.

“And elves are renowned for their hunger for all things beautiful,” added Rose, red-headed and as impetuous as Elanor was reserved. “If you were to arrive in such a fashion, they may be so taken with you that your visit might start off well.”

“If that’s all it takes, why don’t we just have a wet t-shirt contest?” she said, gesturing at her chest.

“Because your tits are so big they have their own gravitational field?” Delia asked nastily.

“Listen, Emo Barbie,” she snapped, tired of Delia’s mockery. “I didn’t ask for this body. It just…happened, all right? How was I supposed to know that my mother had put a damned spell on me and that my grandmother could take it off just by waving her hand? Or that magic was real in the first place! Or Faerie itself? Less than a week ago, I lived on Earth and I was happy with my life. And then Titania showed up and changed everything! I didn’t used to look like this. I was normal!”

Of course, her old body hadn’t been nearly as attractive, either. And normal was a matter of perspective, when you really got down to it. Her old body had been almost aggressively plain – thin, lank-haired, hollow-cheeked and unfeminine, with a negligible libido to match. Aurora wasn’t about to tell the Winter Lady that her own mother had suppressed her sex drive and used the extra energy to cloak her daughter in an illusion so encompassing that she was unaware of its very existence. For her entire life, she had been convinced that she was asexual, finding neither men nor women attractive, when in fact it had been the exact opposite. Her mother had used the untapped power of her sex drive as fuel to hide her from the faerie courts, including her grandmother Titania.

Delia put her hands on her hips. “Well, if you don’t approve of the way you look, including those funbags of yours, why don’t you just shift form?” she asked reasonably.

“Do what?”

The smaller woman, dressed in an outfit that would make a stripper blush, sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her long white hair, tinged with only the faintest hint of gold, fell in a wave around her shoulders as she shook her head in disgust.

“The Summer Lady. And ignorant as a child at her mother’s teat.” She held up a hand. “Look.”

Her nails grew, lengthened, gleaming like icicles made of steel, razor-sharp. A quick slash, and a nearby sapling was shorn off at its base, toppling to lie on the ground.

“We are the queens, little Rory,” Delia said, “cloaked in immense power. The two of us are the least of the six, and we still could challenge some of the lesser gods if we chose. A shift of this physical form is the work of a moment.” She tipped her head, challenging. “Unless you are too weak or too clumsy to try.”

“Stop that!” The death of the sapling tore at her senses, honed to an edge by her time in Faerie, and she was filled with hot, boiling rage at Delia’s casual destruction of life. She lifted her own hand, and lightning danced between her fingertips. “Lay a cruel hand on anything in Summer again, and I will strike you down, Winter Lady or no,” she grated from between her teeth. “No one gave you permission to wreak havoc in my grandmother’s realm.”

“Ah. At last, some fire. Maybe you are a true scion of Summer after all, rather than simply a petulant, whining child.” Beneath the leather band which she wore across her chest, Aurora could see the indentations as Delia’s nipples stiffened. “Good. I like that.” She sauntered over to her, slim hips swaying. “Try to take me, little Roy,” she said, lifting her hand so one nail-tip pricked the bottom of her chin. “Just try. It would be sweet to defeat you. And even sweeter to savor my triumph with your head between my legs, serving me.”

A red mist fell over her eyes. But before she could raise her hand to smack the smug look off Delia’s face, Elanor stepped between them. “My lady! Winter tells the truth, of a sort. If your body does not please you,” and here she faltered, as if she could not comprehend such a thing, “you have the ability to change it. Use your magic,” she urged. “Remember the dress?”

She nodded stiffly, lowering her arm. Yesterday she had performed magic for the first time, creating clothing out of thin air. It had been the catalyst which had forced her to accept that Titania’s words were truth, and that the woman was not a raving lunatic. And also, she thought with a wry grimace, that Aurora herself was not suffering from a psychotic episode.

Closing her eyes, she delved deep inside her, searching for the white-hot spark, like a miniature sun, where Summer’s power lay. Suddenly, it was there, and she breathed deep. Hardly knowing how, she brought up, in her mind’s eye, an image of her own form, the one her grandmother Titania had given her just a few days ago. No, not given, she corrected herself. Restored. Her true self. The one that had been stolen from her and replaced with a parody of a feminine body.