Sorry for dragging my feet on this one! Have to admit, this series is more work than the others. Not sure when or if I'll continue, it's getting complicated! At least there's finally some action in this one ;)
Thanks for your feedback and votes.
~I write for pleasure. I post for joy~
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Crouched by the edge of a cliff, Thoran emptied a coarse wicker bag upon a pile of smoking coals. The items gently smouldered, before a small amber flame flickered to life. With a satisfied smile, Thoran retrieved a long, single blonde hair from his pant pocket. Once added to the pile, the flame quickly flared to a fierce, blue blaze.
Bored, Thoran ran a hand through his tidy black hair, and sat back. The muscles across his broad back rippled as he relaxed, his dark eyes moved to the large expanse of wilderness while he waited. An hour passed and still the flame burned, slowly decreasing to the size of an egg. The remaining blue tremored, spluttered and then all trace of light was gone. Thoran's interest returned as a wave of sparkling blue rose in the air above his head. Then the sprinkling carried off, like a tiny flock of birds.
Thoran abruptly gathered his things to follow its direction. While he travelled, his thoughts centred on Sirah, particularly their upcoming binding that she had yet to accept. But it was not her choice. Pondering her physical beauty, her shy, innocent nature and the occasional streaks of rebellion, Thoran contemplated their future. The captured nymph was something of a new discovery, having already displayed various curious snippets of unknown power. Power untypical of a nymph, or any species he knew.
Another day's journey passed with the sun disappearing rapidly at the horizon, and Thoran chose to sleep under the stars. It was well into the night when he woke. He briskly sat up and stared around, his sharp, black eyes noting every detail in his line of sight, until he saw her.
It was a mortal girl, unwittingly drawn to his presence. Thoran frowned, unaware humans resided nearby. She was young, and clearly at the peak of adolescence. It was the time weaker beings were most susceptible to desire.
Thoran rested his forearms across his knees as she watched him breathlessly. He knew the girl thought herself hidden, and knew her heart pounded with fresh, voyeuristic excitement when he looked her direction.
The idea of seducing the girl only mildly interested him, and Thoran realised the true weight of his preoccupation with Sirah. Though pleased to have found an exceptional mate, he was irked by his weakness. Resentful of the fact that if Sirah somehow escaped him, Thoran could not revert to his prior life. He would find and claim her again, even if it took all eternity. He would always hunger for her.
"Come out, girl," he called, and heard her gasp. The girl timidly stepped out of hiding, and walked right up to him.
No older than fifteen, she seemed shocked by her quick approach to a complete stranger in the night. With long, chestnut curls and dark brown eyes enlarged with stunned desire, the girl's innocence was palpable.
"Why have you left the safety of your home?" Thoran asked, not unkindly. The girl tremulously smiled, still nervously gripping the front of her ivory nightdress.
"I don't know," she answered honestly, her long locks spiralled about her waist as she shook her head with confusion.
Thoran pursed his lips as the girl's eyes boldly roamed his muscular physique, every toned shadow enhanced by the moon. Thoran was glad to be wearing pants, feeling in this rare instance he was the one needing protection.
"Go home," he brusquely ordered, laying back. "If you feel restless again, wake your parents. They will explain the danger of your actions." Thinking the matter settled, Thoran closed his eyes.
They flew open with astonishment when the girl ignored his advice and crawled atop him. Her trembling hands stroked his strong chest and arms, a small keening moan escaped her lips when she pressed her lower body against his groin. Thoran cursed, forgetting how powerfully humans felt their desires.
He wondered if he should sear the girl with pain to make her run from him, screaming. Though he cared little for the welfare of vulnerable beings, the girl's determination to ruin herself was frustrating. But Thoran was angrier with himself that his desire was lacking. Even with the virgin straddling him, he did not want her.
"You are the most handsome man I have ever seen," the girl confessed in an honest whisper. "My father would have me wed a boy I've never met. I would rather give myself to you."
Thoran sensed the vibration of her beating heart, quickly accelerating as he met her eyes, shining with hopeful invitation. Thoran caught the scent of her wet arousal creeping down her thighs. Not sweet as Sirah's unearthly nectar, but still tempting with virginal allure.
"Be grateful to be matched with a boy, and not an old man," he murmured, sitting up to firmly lift her from his lap, somewhat bemused by his gentle manner. He'd not intentionally harm the girl, but he certainly had an abrupt, careless way with innocence.
"Go home," he commanded. "If you will not be harshly punished for leaving your bed, tell your parents. Your actions are dangerous."
In silent disagreement, the girl reluctantly got to her feet and resumed wringing her nightdress. Inadvertently pressing the bunched material against the throbbing ache between her thighs, she wistfully watched the unusually large, irresistible male abruptly gather his belongings and disappear into the night.
With his mind disturbed by a loyalty he never expected to show before binding, Thoran continued his journey without rest. The sparkling essence had settled at his destination, the sugary scent easy to follow, laced with Sirah's unique sweetness. None had attempted to stunt, destroy or otherwise interfere with the trace. His approach was welcomed.
Dawn broke, and Thoran's limbs mildly ached from climbing a steep interface for several hours. Heaving himself to higher ground, he stood tall and stretched, his black eyes alert to the surroundings.
Rolling green fields filled his vision, the hills lush with blades of grass shimmying in unison with the morning breeze. There was a scattering of red and yellow wildflowers, and a wide dirt path neatly cleared of flora led to a tidy cottage upon higher ground. It was an unexpectedly pleasant sight to behold. Thoran started when the voice of a woman disrupted his perusal.
"Greetings, demon."
Thoran made out a trim female figure in a pale-crimson dress, delicately perched upon a rock some metres away. She chuckled when he discerned her presence, and shed the glamour shielding her form.
Thoran stared at the pretty woman's long, purple-white hair that tumbled lustrously to her calves as she stood to greet him. He recognised her expression of impish amusement as the same mischievous glint in Sirah's eyes.
"You know my name," Thoran said finally, uncertain what manner to approach the witch.
"Aye, Thoran." With a playful light in her dark blue eyes, the woman gracefully curtsied, the gesture slightly taunting.
"You are Sirah's mother."
"By the reaches of dark magic, we learn many things," she bowed her head with more mockery than acknowledgement.
Thoran's lip curled, not liking her flippant manner or insinuation about him. "Do you know why I am here?"
"Of course," she answered with a sharpness that belied her frivolous demeanour. "You have my daughter."
"Her father, Devan, has permitted me to bind her."
"Then why do you wait?" she asked sweetly, her striking eyes flared with challenge.
Thoran hesitated. He could deal with demonic evil, with Devan's righteous dignity, and Sirah's petulant rebellion. But not something so ambiguously in-between. Thoran noted the witch's emotional mannerisms were her only resemblance to Sirah; almost all of Sirah's physical form was inherited from Devan.
Deciding to take the conciliatory route, Thoran sighed.
"Your daughter will be well-treated, witch. I will treasure her." He straightened as the woman laughed merrily in a manner that made him feel like a fool.
"Have you any choice but to worship her, Thoran?" she tittered, her tone jeering. "You physically captured her, true. But who is beholden?"
Thoran took a deep breath, disliking the truth of her words. "Why does she not know you?"
