Lord of Snow and Ice. Heather Massey

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СКАЧАТЬ her head. The other rested across her stomach. Such an invitation! With a heated blush, Stellan fantasized about slipping his hand into her small one as he draped his tall frame upon her. The sight of the blond, glossy hair surrounding her face stirred unfamiliar feelings within him. Ensconced beneath the drab, overcast skies of a snow-laden kingdom he often loathed calling home, Stellan was not accustomed to such brightness.

      Skin reminiscent of goldenrod wrapped her petite frame. It betrayed many such hours soaking up fresh air. Casting an eye toward the midmorning sun, he decided it paled in comparison to her beauty. Now thoroughly entranced, he greedily continued his appraisal. Pleasant, unblemished features marked her as royalty. There were other telltale signs as well. Only a member of a royal family would spend time so frivolously. The rich, lustrous sheen of her clothing was another giveaway. The fabric formed a deep puddle on the grass next to her.

      Then there were her tantalizing and very full breasts.

      The sorcerer stared, drawn to the forbidden nature of the sight. He had only seen one other pair of breasts, ones belonging to his adoptive mother as she nursed her infant son years ago. These before him now were of a different class entirely–exuberantly plump and firm. Pink tips jutted toward the sky, the perfect size for a man’s mouth. Stellan gripped the soft earth beneath him, squeezing it between an ever-tightening fist as he struggled to maintain control.

      The woman was easily half a day’s ride from the nearest village. What purpose brought her here other than a sunbath? He had thought this stretch of riverbank to be little traveled by Aldebaran’s citizens, if at all. Needing stealth and seclusion, he came to the spot periodically for respite during patrols. Years earlier he had even built a covered trench here for supplies. Food. Clothing. Medicinal herbs. But mostly for weapons–weapons rife with deadly, magickal properties. Stellan had learned about them from another outcast, an apothecary, but he rarely made contact with him lest he endanger the man’s cover.

      The trench was invisible to the naked eye. But if someone like this young waif decided to go searching for pebbles or flowers or whatever females yearned to collect… Stellan grimaced. It would not do for common folk to tamper with them. Not at all. The weapons were for one purpose, and one purpose only: extinction of the abominations.

      He had depended on this area remaining deserted. Obviously, that was not the case now. With a quiet sigh, he realized he would have to relocate. Though the woman’s presence indicated a definite intrusion, it was one Stellan found he didn’t mind so very much. The feeling both surprised and troubled him.

      Movement roused him from his thoughts. The living painting stretched her arms back and rolled lazily over to one side, facing away from him. This left him with a clear view of her ripened bottom, a curvaceous peach ready to satisfy his hunger. He wanted to burst from his hiding place and claim her. Then he’d steal her away to the darkness from whence he came.

      But Stellan made no such move. He’d given up on the idea of a lover long ago.

      Like a barbed, relentless torture device, exile had eroded vital parts of both his mind and temperament. It was sapping at his humanity despite his sworn mission to protect the Five Lands from the nameless blight. He couldn’t escape the loss no matter how many hours he spent diverting time with his ancient pipe organ, seeking solace that withered away with each passing note. Stellan sighed. Then another beguiling sight beckoned him.

      The woman’s legs… She was rubbing them together. The golden thighs alone promised untold pleasures far into the night. Stellan wiped the sweat from his eyes. Damn this temptation! What was he thinking, anyway? He had another patrol ahead of him and a long, cold trek home once he left the fertile lands of Aldebaran. The woman was proving a dangerous distraction.

      And yet, he couldn’t look away.

      Now she had rolled back, apparently restless in her sleep. This action provided him with a view of not only her breasts, but also the seductive curve of her belly–and her sex. It glowed as temptingly as her hair.

      The lush tableau prompted such wild fantasies that Stellan had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek. Either that or release a loud moan of primitive longing. Though resigned to a lifetime of bachelorhood, he still had needs. This woman, with her wanton display of rapturous, unaffected beauty, wasn’t making his solitude any easier to bear. Neither would she appreciate his intrusion, if he made his presence known. So why was he prolonging the torture?

      As his conscience waged a debate about his inappropriate advantage, a swift, hard rush of heat caused a stirring and lengthening between his thighs. The prostrate position into which he had flung himself grew increasingly unmanageable. He ached for much softer, wetter comfort than the unyielding ground. Even though his mind didn’t know quite what it wanted, his body definitely did.

      Above, a few light, fluffy clouds cavorted with the sun. The blue sky seemed particularly vivid today. But it wasn’t the golden orb’s shameless heat or the breathtaking panorama of distant, white-capped mountains making his blood thrash and boil with arousal.

      As anguish tempered overzealous attraction, Stellan clenched his teeth. Truly, why was he entertaining such boyish daydreams? He had left those behind even at the age of fifteen, the year of his banishment. Thanks to his purported “family,” he had neither time nor inclination for romantic relationships. His sister’s betrayal still burned hot in his soul. Up until that point, he had thought he and his twin were inseparable. Impregnable. One mind, one soul, and one heart. Together, they would have ruled a powerful, mystical kingdom. But in a single hour, Stellan had destroyed everything. The Black Mage may as well have killed his son, “the traitor,” than forced him into the depths of that cursed region–an endless hell of frozen horrors deep in the heart of the Five Lands.

      Painful memories surfaced with their usual vigor. I only did what was just, and for my action I was rewarded with nothing but ruin. Inside, locked away in the deepest pit of his being, a sense of abandonment gnawed with sharp, voracious fangs. Sexual relations merely scratched the surface of the closeness he craved. But he was far too damaged to be of value to anyone. Far too bitter.

      Because of all these factors, the woman who lay in peaceful repose would never want him. The knowledge that she–or any woman–could never be his sent a sharp lance of pain into his heart. She would sooner toss lye into his face than to look at him. Seeing one so enchanting was a stark reminder of his barren life, one made all the more egregious by the chilly wastes blanketing his kingdom. Even when the sun shone feverishly everywhere else, brutal winter storms draped his habitat with veils of ice.

      Despite his woes, he wanted to sweep his fingers across her flawless skin, delight her with provocative touches. Her parted lips begged for capture, for feasting, and Stellan was one to deliver. He felt sure of it. The thought of one of her breasts in his mouth was almost enough to soothe his dry throat, especially as he also imagined burying a hand between the folds of her sex. By now, under a hot, steamy sun, it must have been dripping.

      Ah! Stop it! Stellan shut his eyes fast against a tide of raging libido. He willed his dark part to take over, the part that hated, seething with anger. He could know neither pleasure nor comfort, nor beauty or love. A crusade such as his couldn’t be swept aside for mere indulgences of the flesh or the heart. Much work lay ahead, and he ought to be planning a clean escape. He had to exercise better control. His conscience demanded nothing less.

      But when he opened his eyes, there was movement again. One more look, then. One more to last me the rest of my life. Stellan angled forward, breathing hard. He was now at the water’s edge. Dragonflies and gnats buzzed about his dampened black locks, but he didn’t care. He hoped the woman would turn onto her stomach so he might catch a glimpse of her bottom again. The anticipation made such a tightness of his leggings that they threatened СКАЧАТЬ