Not Magic Enough Page 3

  It was his own fault - he was so far from others of his kind who would’ve offered solace; he was rare thing, a solitary elf, restless and yearning…though, for what he didn’t know.

  Once more he saw Calon fall, the goblin’s spear taking him from the saddle even as Dorovan himself had turned his bow upon it. His desperate race to reach Calon was nearly a match to Melis’. He could still hear her cry of grief as Calon fell…

  He shook his head to clear it. Restless - that cry of agony still ringing in his head - he dressed in clean clothes from his pack.

  The room was too small, too confining. It wasn’t for Elves to be held within stone, yet the storm outside raged ever more fiercely, as he found as he returned to the great room to look out through the shutters there. Even if he left the warmth here, took Charis out into the storm it would be a day or longer before they would reach Talaena and there would be the storm to add weight. Even his innate magic would be hard put against it, not to mention the risk of injury to both himself and Charis. It was foolish to consider it.

  Still, grief and sorrow moved in him.

  Delae too, found sleep far away - her thoughts caught up with worry, with calculation and cost. The storm looked not to abate for days and the food the refugees would eat would deplete their stores badly. Once the storm broke she would have to send someone to Riverford to purchase more against need - there would be more storms yet to come in what promised to be a very long, very harsh winter.

  And if this was a harbinger of what was to come? If they were caught short, folk would starve. They were her responsibility. And yet coin was short.

  Her cares ate at her. They weighed on her as she tried to find the balance between current need and future need.

  For all her weariness, she knew she would get no sleep this night so long as she fretted.

  It seemed a heaviness to the spirit hung in the air.

  In only her threadbare robe and linen nightdress she wandered out to the great room, thinking of the tapestry that awaited her there and the distraction it would offer.

  And was surprised to find herself not alone - Dorovan stood at the shutters looking out onto the howling winds of the storm-tossed night.

  As it had in that first moment when he had crouched beside her, his beauty caught at her. More so now.

  Dressed simply in an Elven-silk tunic and loose drawstring trews, it was clear he was as lovely in body as he was in face.

  Lost in thought, completely unaware of her presence, there was something in his stance - his solitude, a slump of those broad shoulders, the slight bow of his head – that spoke of some greater sorrow than her own. She understood what it was to be alone with no one for comfort. When the Grippe had come, laying waste to whole villages, it had taken her parents and so many others with as it passed, leaving no solace behind it.

  What she couldn’t have, she would give.

  Small slender fingers touched the back of Dorovan’s hand, so much in the way of his people that the simple gesture alone eased him, gave him a small measure of peace. It softened his surprise as he looked down to find Delae beside him, her vibrant hair atumble, her blue eyes compassionate, her expression gently questioning.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  She shook her head, all unknowing of what she’d done.

  “No thanks needed. Should I ask?”

  That courtesy was a surprise as well, giving him the room to withdraw if he so chose. He didn’t.

  “I was with a party of Hunters - we lost one among us.”

  His heart twinged at the memory.

  To his surprise, he found himself taking the comfort she offered, his fingers threading between hers.

  The pain was piercing, Delae could see it.

  In comparison to the lands of men, those of the Elves were few and their numbers equally so as they weren’t as fertile. She also knew enough to know of the empathy they shared. To lose someone who shared that same kind of sense, who he would’ve known so well…

  “Oh, Dorovan,” she said, heartfelt, “I’m so sorry. This then is little enough comfort to give.”

  There was a shared grief in her eyes - sympathy and sorrow at his pain - at his loss.

  “It is enough,” he said. And, surprisingly, it was. To find it here even more so. “Like enough to what my own folk would give to remind me that sorrows can be shared.”

  And eased. Something her very presence gave him a kind of solace. He felt less alone - not so far from home with her there - although she wasn’t Elf. He found it didn’t matter so much. Yet still, he wasn’t alone because she was also awake at such a dark hour.

  “Which brings me to ask what you do so late? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

  Delae waved it away as if carelessly, not wanting to make much of it. “I don’t sleep well or often, I just hadn’t expected to find another awake on my late night ramblings.”

  On many nights she walked or paced these same halls by herself, and so often she could walk them blindfolded.

  For all the lightness of her tone, Dorovan could sense the weight that lay on her heart that she put aside in the face of his.

  “Sorrows can be shared, Delae,” he repeated.

  Looking up into his eyes, his beautiful face was as impassive as all those of his race, in those eyes Delae could see compassion, could sense it in him.

  Still.

  A part of her ached - yearned for comfort and yet she dared not. Once that wall came down… She quailed, flinched away in fear at the thought, afraid the weight of her responsibilities would crush her if she looked at them too closely.

  “You have enough of your own sorrow,” she said, gently, “You don’t need mine as well. I’m long used to it.”

  “You seem very…alone,” he said.

  She did. Even in the midst of her own people she’d seemed solitary, as if there were a barrier he couldn’t see between her and them.

  His perception pierced her.

  At his words Delae had to turn away, from the sympathy but above all from the kindness in his voice. It touched her to her core. Kindness would undo her, who had known anything but weight and responsibility, demands and complaints for so long - and she knew it.

  He still had her hand and wouldn’t release it however gently she tried to free it.

  A part of her went still, understanding he wouldn’t let it go.

  She realized too that she couldn’t look at him long. Her loneliness cried out to her.

  As with all his people, there was a beauty in his calm sureness. He attracted her with his compassion and kindness, with that devastating beauty, dark silky hair and silvery eyes. A sudden yearning came over her, to be touched and held, to give and be given comfort. The sudden rush of heat - of need - raced through her with such shocking intensity it stunned her, catching her completely off guard. It was something she hadn’t allowed herself to think or feel in such a very long time she’d almost forgotten what it was.

  His mere presence made her want what she hadn’t had…couldn’t have.

  Dorovan was Elf. She was of the race of Men. It was foolish even to think it.

  Even this touch though, this sweet clasp of hands, was more than she’d known for more years than she could count.

  The sudden sting of tears in her eyes horrified her. With an effort she turned her head away, forced a smile and a light laugh.

  “I have plenty of people here,” she said, in answer to his statement.

  And she did, all around her, but none who touched her.

  Dorovan could feel the weight on her heart as much as he sensed her sudden bright burst of need, desire. Unlike many of her kind though, she turned away from it.

  In all his time he’d never seen another living creature so alone and so in need of simple comfort. And yet she would deny herself that, even when offered.

  Reaching out, a small frown creasing his forehead though he didn’t know it, Dorovan drew her chin around and up so he could look into her eyes and held her there un
til she looked back at him. It was so little to give and so much to receive.

  Delae couldn’t be so rude as to tear herself away from him, nor so cowardly as not to face him, so did what she could to try to hide that which ached inside her until she saw what was in his eyes and then all the breath escaped her in a soft rush.

  Slowly Dorovan lowered his mouth to hers.

  The kiss was so sweet, so gentle that Delae’s fragile heart broke…and opened to let him in.

  She gave herself freely, asking nothing but what he was willing to give, save that he let her give what she could to no other… In a moment he knew it all, all her sorrow, her pain. He grieved for her and admired her for the strength and will that kept her going.

  His mouth closed over hers, tasting her, her spirit, her soul, as she tasted him.

  It was a gift she offered him and he to her and he knew it, knew how precious it was as something within him opened to take what she offered.

  His long strong body was pressed against hers and to Delae’s surprise she found her hands skimming up the long lean muscles of his back and felt them flex beneath her hands as he drew her closer.

  Fire such as she’d never known raced beneath her skin, setting heart, soul, mind and body ablaze.

  Dorovan speared his long fingers into the rich abundance of her brilliant hair, feeling the curls close around each one as his mouth took hers. Her hair was silken and springy within his fingers, so different from his people. Suddenly he wanted to explore her, to seek out all the differences in her and to define the likenesses. Pleasure and anticipation rushed through him. What would it be to touch her, to feel her - to share with her?

  In one movement he swept her up in his arms.

  “Dorovan,” she breathed, half in protest.

  Gently, he brushed his mouth over hers.

  “Hush,” he said, “I know.”

  So much stood between them. It was unheard of.

  He did know and yet he still did it.

  Delae wanted to weep; from relief, from need.

  Dorovan set her on her feet by her bed only long enough to kiss her once again, sliding his hands over her to brush both her robe and the threadbare nightdress beneath it from her shoulders. They slid to the floor with a soft whisper of sound, leaving her bared and breathless.

  “Lovely,” he breathed and she looked up at him in astonishment and wonder that he, an Elf, should think so, think one of her race so.

  He smiled to see it. To him she was.

  She was so small - compared to most of his folk - but sweetly curved and rounded in all the places a woman should be.

  Sliding his hands down her arms he caught her around the waist, looking down and over her, letting his pleasure and satisfaction show clearly, as he would to another of his kind.

  In wonder, Delae touched his face - just the lightest caress of her fingertips along his cheek - as her lips parted.

  His eyes seemed to glow, a small smile curved his beautiful mouth.

  She took in every inch of his face. His beauty nearly destroyed her but what she saw in his eyes did, destroying her fragile composure.

  Watching his face almost shyly, she ran her hands over Dorovan’s chest, feeling the strong curved muscles there and her eyes widened with delight.

  Because he knew she wouldn’t, he stripped off his tunic and watched her eyes grow round as she spanned his chest with her hands. Dorovan almost had to laugh at her evident pleasure in touching him.

  She looked so much like a child faced with a wonder that his heart broke for her. It was so little for him to give. And so much. He longed to caress her himself but he gave her this moment.

  Delae couldn’t get enough of touching him, of running her hands over all the beautiful sculpted lines of him. He was amazing to look at, a delight to touch, his skin beneath her fingers like warmed silk stretched over the firm curves of his muscles.

  Curiosity warred within her; what did the rest of him look like?

  Her gaze flashed up to his, a little sideways glance, almost abashed, as she reached for the tie to his trews.

  Slowly, she tugged on the string that closed them, unconsciously seductive.

  Curious, she paused with one hand on the tie while she slid the other lightly along the silken cloth to feel what was beneath it… He was rigid beneath the cloth.

  His pleasure was evident in his pale eyes.

  It astonished her, who was so used to rejection.

  Dorovan looked down, to see Delae looking up at him in obvious delight that she could do this to him.

  For a moment, her gaze dropped, widened, and she blinked. Her lips parted on a sigh.

  Had his body not already grown as taut as it had, it would’ve grown even more so then.

  Involuntarily, he groaned.

  Delae’s gaze shot up to his.

  Another groan escaped him at her touch, at that look.

  He held his gaze on hers as she tugged and his trews slid free.

  Gently he curled an arm around her back, lifted her to the bed and lowered her onto it. She was so beautiful, her body so welcoming, her breasts full and lovely.

  He lowered his mouth to one, kissed the rosy tip.

  Pleasure rang through Delae so intensely she cried out as heat shot through her in brilliant flood. She’d never felt anything like it. It was wonderful, incredible…

  This first time it would go quickly, Dorovan knew. He could sense that her need was too great, she’d gone too long without. As was his desire to salve that need. It broke his heart to think it, knowing her sweetness. Among his folk this they did here was very nearly a sacred act - a thing of joy, of sharing and of joining.

  There would be time later for finesse - for deeper delight - now he would slake her thirst and his own. He could take his time later, the storm outside without wouldn’t pass soon, he knew. His own hunger for her surprised him even as he settled his hips in the cradle of hers - felt her heat, her dampness. The anticipation of pleasure sent a surge through him as her legs parted and she took him inside her. For a moment he held them both there, rapt in pleasure as she closed so tightly around him - buried in her warmth, in the heated dampness, in the pleasure of her, his eyes closed to savor every sweet inch of her around him.

  Beneath him Delae arched, a soft cry of joy escaping her.

  Opening his eyes, he looked down into her face - into the heartbreaking wonder on her face as he filled her.

  With deliberate slowness, Dorovan moved deeper inside her as her hands caressed him - lowering his mouth to hers once again, to kiss her deeply.

  Delae tangled her hands in the silken lengths of his hair as it streamed around her, feeling the long smooth strands brush over her breasts tantalizingly. Her body bent to take him deeper, to offer him more, to offer him everything she could give - the only thing she had, herself.

  It was maddening, delirious to feel Dorovan inside her, to feel the glorious pleasure of as he filled her so very completely, stretching her, his mouth on hers, his hands on her.

  Dorovan took her, in delight and a wonder of his own, sliding sweetly inside her until he claimed the very depths of her, one arm beneath and around her shoulders, the other on her hip. He raised his head to look down at her, her flaming hair spread across the thin pillows. Her blue eyes were half-lidded, fluttering, a smile of sheer glory on her lips to feel him so deep inside her.

  Dorovan felt her close around him, tighten quickly and then her body arched as ecstasy burst through her.

  He watched as brilliant color washed beneath her milky skin, saw her eyes widen with astonishment and then her lips curve in unadulterated delight.

  It was a joy to watch her find her pleasure, to feel her pulse around him, stroke him within her.

  He let her racing heart settle and then, looking down at her, began to move within her again.

  To his delight he saw her eyes widen as she looked up at him. It was clear this was something she’d never known, that the one who loved her might withhold his
own pleasure to give her that much more.

  And himself.

  He knew she watched as he lowered his mouth to her other breast, drew that tender tip into it and suckled it. Each motion of his mouth was echoed within her, her body caressed him, stroked him. He nibbled and she tightened sharply, her body jolting in response.

  Delae couldn’t believe it, it was nearly more than she could bear - each movement of his mouth on her was hot and sweet, each sent a burst of pleasure down to where he filled her, to the core of her. She was in heaven, feeling him swell within her, to throb, to pulse.

  The pleasure was no longer his to control, Dorovan felt his own ecstasy hover as she tightened around him in a rapture of her own. His pleasure swelled within her, expanded, and he thrust deeply, his cheek beside hers now as she clung to him. Her hips rose to meet his as he plunged into her and then he exploded, pleasure erupting from within him, filling her even as she cried out to feel him spill into her.

  Delae had never known it could be like this, so beautiful, so wonderful. The few times her husband had touched her had seemed like nothing more than the mindless rutting of the beasts in the field. Instead her body still seemed to echo with their joined pleasure even as it hummed through her veins - their bodies still locked together.

  When Dorovan could finally move - still buried inside her - he inched them up the bed so they were completely in it and then drew the covers over them, cradling Delae close.

  He looked down at her, brushed the fiery strands of her hair from her face gently, pausing a moment to muse at the one curled around his finger. A smile curved his mouth.

  “You are a part of my heart,” he said, in wonder, “as my people say a friend-of-my-heart.”

  It wasn’t a soul-bond, but it was a bond of a kind and a true one, something he’d thought unknown and possibly impossible with one of the race of men. Yet it was there, unmistakably there. It was far more than he’d had and with Delae, this woman of men who was a wonder and a joy to him, who knew Honor as his people did, who was a balm to his heart.

  As he was to hers.

  Impossible as it was, it was what it was and for all the difficulty of it, all the difficulty it would bring him, Dorovan couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry for it.