[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
sounded almost too good to be true. Oh, he was harsh at times, but that was to
be expected from such a powerful male.
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Troyes caught her hand as they turned from the path onto a hunter's trace to
cut across country and save time. She did not question it because the lycan
often traveled by the back ways rather than the roads. They traveled north
toward the caves that were considered the northern boundary of the clan lands.
"There are none lovelier chief's daughter," Troyes said smoothly, sliding into
that deep, rumbling purr that could be almost lycan. "They will all be
jealous."
Merissa rewarded him with a smile.
* * * *
Isranon never told anyone that ghosts talked to him. No one would believe
him. Ghosts did not talk to sa'necari. He was walking alone, trying to think
after Merissa rode out again that morning with Troyes. Isranon had spent many
hours over the past months arguing with Claw over these outings of Merissa and
Troyes'. Claw did not like her going, but refused to outright forbid it yet.
Merissa was willful. Furthermore, Claw doubted the sa'necari was stupid enough
to harm her and bring the clan's wrath down on himself and the rest of his
kind. The waystation was too important. Isranon, on the other hand, suspected
otherwise. The ghosts that came to him that morning were wolves. They oozed up
out of the earth, howling in private voices for his ears only, "Merissa!
Merisssssssssaaaaaa!"
He sprinted for the house and shouted in the door, "Troyes has run off with
Merissa! I'm going after them."
Then he ran for the stable before he had gotten an answer. There was no one
there. Isranon saddled up rapidly and rode out, the ghosts racing about him.
Troyes and Merissa had gone north with a large head start. Claw and his myn
were south with the herds and there was no time to go after them. There was no
question in his mind that Troyes would probably kill him, but so long as
Merissa got away it would be enough. That was all he could ask for. He made
his peace with it, reciting the words as he was taught them and put his heels
to his mount. He could not let him kill her without trying to stop him. He
experienced a brief passage of validation in knowing this was what Nevin would
want him to do. In fact, this was what Nevin would have done in his place.
* * * *
Merissa woke at the tug on her wrists. She had fallen asleep, spooned around
Troyes where they camped. They had ridden far into the hills. They were
running away together. Her father would be angry, but he would never catch
them. She would have fine clothes and a high place as the mate of a sa'necari.
She would become powerful in her own right.
"Troyes?" She blinked sleepily, her eyes opening wider and then she saw what
he was doing and screamed. Two slender strands of spellcord those bands
woven of enchantary fibers, puce, ebony, cerulean and gold, which could seal a
mage from all access to her magic banded her wrists like deadly bracelets,
preventing her shifting. She twisted, pummeling and kicking ineffectually at
the large sa'necari. Troyes shrugged off her blows, striking with a word.
Merissa's screams of terror turned to a shriek of pain and then to a
whimpering, weeping anguish. She curled up, pressing her folded arms across
her abdomen and drawing her knees in.
Troyes' fangs extended fully as he stroked her hair. "Foolish Merissa. I only
wanted you because Isranon loves you. I rited his little nibari, his beloved
Rose. Oh, how she screamed!"
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Merissa's eyes ran with tears of pain and terror. She tried to speak, but her
throat would not form words.
"They will never find your remains because there will not be any. I will
consume all of you. I cannot begin to tell you how hungry I have been for a
superior death like yours. You will make a very fine death. I have grown tired
of lesser humans and dared not take a Sharani."
He lifted her up, carrying her through the trees to the far side of a little
copse. As they broke through she could see the tables: a large mon shaped one
with spouts and basins poised to catch the blood that would flow through the
grooves; and a smaller one on which he would lay his tools.
There were many versions of the rite: from a brief one that required only
spoken words before his cock and the blade entered her to the full rite which
could take nearly her entire soul, requiring him to carve and write arcane
symbols upon her body before plunging flesh and steel inside her. He might
even begin to drink her blood and eat her flesh while he rode if he was one of
those who were slow to climax. Those were the kind who usually chose shifters
for the rites because shifters like sa'necari died hard. Troyes was one of
those. She always had to be patient with him.
He stripped and secured her to the bleeding-table before the spell could fade
and then drank the fear in her eyes. "It was only a matter of time, Merissa,
before one of us ate you. You were always so free with your favors, so
inviting. Your blood is so rich and strong."
Troyes laid an array of black-hilted blades on the table beside her,
considering them. He took one and sliced her leg open from hip to knee with
languid slowness, regarding the welling blood reflectively. The spell
loosened, allowing her to scream. Hoof beats sounded. Troyes dropped the blade
he had been using and snatched up a different one. Abruptly, Troyes skidded
across her, spinning into the dirt beyond with Isranon on top of him. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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sounded almost too good to be true. Oh, he was harsh at times, but that was to
be expected from such a powerful male.
Page 154
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Troyes caught her hand as they turned from the path onto a hunter's trace to
cut across country and save time. She did not question it because the lycan
often traveled by the back ways rather than the roads. They traveled north
toward the caves that were considered the northern boundary of the clan lands.
"There are none lovelier chief's daughter," Troyes said smoothly, sliding into
that deep, rumbling purr that could be almost lycan. "They will all be
jealous."
Merissa rewarded him with a smile.
* * * *
Isranon never told anyone that ghosts talked to him. No one would believe
him. Ghosts did not talk to sa'necari. He was walking alone, trying to think
after Merissa rode out again that morning with Troyes. Isranon had spent many
hours over the past months arguing with Claw over these outings of Merissa and
Troyes'. Claw did not like her going, but refused to outright forbid it yet.
Merissa was willful. Furthermore, Claw doubted the sa'necari was stupid enough
to harm her and bring the clan's wrath down on himself and the rest of his
kind. The waystation was too important. Isranon, on the other hand, suspected
otherwise. The ghosts that came to him that morning were wolves. They oozed up
out of the earth, howling in private voices for his ears only, "Merissa!
Merisssssssssaaaaaa!"
He sprinted for the house and shouted in the door, "Troyes has run off with
Merissa! I'm going after them."
Then he ran for the stable before he had gotten an answer. There was no one
there. Isranon saddled up rapidly and rode out, the ghosts racing about him.
Troyes and Merissa had gone north with a large head start. Claw and his myn
were south with the herds and there was no time to go after them. There was no
question in his mind that Troyes would probably kill him, but so long as
Merissa got away it would be enough. That was all he could ask for. He made
his peace with it, reciting the words as he was taught them and put his heels
to his mount. He could not let him kill her without trying to stop him. He
experienced a brief passage of validation in knowing this was what Nevin would
want him to do. In fact, this was what Nevin would have done in his place.
* * * *
Merissa woke at the tug on her wrists. She had fallen asleep, spooned around
Troyes where they camped. They had ridden far into the hills. They were
running away together. Her father would be angry, but he would never catch
them. She would have fine clothes and a high place as the mate of a sa'necari.
She would become powerful in her own right.
"Troyes?" She blinked sleepily, her eyes opening wider and then she saw what
he was doing and screamed. Two slender strands of spellcord those bands
woven of enchantary fibers, puce, ebony, cerulean and gold, which could seal a
mage from all access to her magic banded her wrists like deadly bracelets,
preventing her shifting. She twisted, pummeling and kicking ineffectually at
the large sa'necari. Troyes shrugged off her blows, striking with a word.
Merissa's screams of terror turned to a shriek of pain and then to a
whimpering, weeping anguish. She curled up, pressing her folded arms across
her abdomen and drawing her knees in.
Troyes' fangs extended fully as he stroked her hair. "Foolish Merissa. I only
wanted you because Isranon loves you. I rited his little nibari, his beloved
Rose. Oh, how she screamed!"
Page 155
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Merissa's eyes ran with tears of pain and terror. She tried to speak, but her
throat would not form words.
"They will never find your remains because there will not be any. I will
consume all of you. I cannot begin to tell you how hungry I have been for a
superior death like yours. You will make a very fine death. I have grown tired
of lesser humans and dared not take a Sharani."
He lifted her up, carrying her through the trees to the far side of a little
copse. As they broke through she could see the tables: a large mon shaped one
with spouts and basins poised to catch the blood that would flow through the
grooves; and a smaller one on which he would lay his tools.
There were many versions of the rite: from a brief one that required only
spoken words before his cock and the blade entered her to the full rite which
could take nearly her entire soul, requiring him to carve and write arcane
symbols upon her body before plunging flesh and steel inside her. He might
even begin to drink her blood and eat her flesh while he rode if he was one of
those who were slow to climax. Those were the kind who usually chose shifters
for the rites because shifters like sa'necari died hard. Troyes was one of
those. She always had to be patient with him.
He stripped and secured her to the bleeding-table before the spell could fade
and then drank the fear in her eyes. "It was only a matter of time, Merissa,
before one of us ate you. You were always so free with your favors, so
inviting. Your blood is so rich and strong."
Troyes laid an array of black-hilted blades on the table beside her,
considering them. He took one and sliced her leg open from hip to knee with
languid slowness, regarding the welling blood reflectively. The spell
loosened, allowing her to scream. Hoof beats sounded. Troyes dropped the blade
he had been using and snatched up a different one. Abruptly, Troyes skidded
across her, spinning into the dirt beyond with Isranon on top of him. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]