Gale Season

Chapter Four

The little witch.

Standing squarely in the middle of his bedroom in Seattle, Aerolus stared at her, aware he’d never before felt so charged about anything. When his father passed into the Light, he’d been sad but steady, a rock for his mother to lean on. When the Netharat had invaded his homeworld, he’d felt anger, but beyond that, a calm that kept him focused on what to do.

Now, however, he seethed with resentment, frustration, and unrequited lust. The conniving, scheming Aellei glaring at him made him feel like half a man. And no one, no one talked to Prince Aerolus Storm like that without dire consequences.

He said nothing, merely stared at Alandra until she blushed angrily and thrust her chin out, as if daring him to take a swing. But underneath her bluster, he sensed arousal and a wind of nerves. Her nipples poked through her silken dress. The pale skin of her belly shone like a beacon, arresting his attention and making her decidedly skittish.

He took a step closer, and she backed up. Grimly smiling at her unease, he brought her to him on wings of air, alarming her at the ease with which he controlled her petite frame.

“Let me go,” she growled and pushed at his constraints, at the bands of wind holding her hands to her sides, her legs apart and still before him.

“Not yet, princess,” he murmured, intrigued when she stared at him in shock. Seeing his interest, she swallowed loudly and assumed a pose of casual concern.

So, his affai had royal blood. Wonderful. They now had something in common besides lust.

His cock pressed harder against his jeans, begging for a chance to feel her slick heat around him. Eyeing her sumptuous breasts, he licked his lips, hungry to enjoy what rightfully belonged to him. Just thinking about what he wanted to do to her made him ache.

“You see, I’m suddenly curious about what you can do, purie.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he grinned, making her blink in surprise. He didn’t care. He had no intention of keeping his emotions in check around her. With her, he intended to behave as savagely, as passionately as any Storm Lord warrior with his bride.

“Aerolus?” she asked, hesitantly. He rubbed at the fly of his jeans, immensely aware of how much he needed her right now. Her eyes burned with desire as she noted the heavy bulge between his legs, but she said nothing more than his name.

“It seems to me that if you can assume any shape you want to,” he paused and looked at the curtained window of his bedroom facing Trudy Warner’s house. “And if you couldn’t simply pop in to see me without my direct assistance,” he referred to the protective spell around the house, “then maybe before, when I was jerking off in here thinking about you, I was pleasing not only myself, but you as well.”

She stared open-mouthed, the rosy tint on her cheeks answer enough.

Needing her more than breath, he reached for the snap of his jeans, extremely satisfied when her gaze followed the motion with more than interest. Her breath sped as he unsnapped and lowered the zipper of his pants.

“This is what you do to me, purie,” he murmured and withdrew his cock, grabbing tight and drawing the flesh up and down, imagining her doing this for him. “And I can see I do something to you as well.”

She licked her lips and tried to look away, but her gaze came back to him again and again as he thrust into his palm.

“Wouldn’t you rather I came in you, instead of for you?”

“Dammit, you can’t control me with sex!”

And yet she was breathing hard, her body tense with desire, her eyes glowing with lust. Pleased beyond measure, he increased the pressure on his cock and stood so close his cock brushed the white skin of her belly exposed by her burned dress.

She gasped and closed her eyes, trying to push her legs together. But he wouldn’t let her.

“If I touched you right now,” he gritted, his orgasm rising dangerously close, “you’d be wet, wouldn’t you? Wet and hot for me. You want this, don’t you, love? Tell me how much you want this.” He dragged his cock against her skin, groaning at her exquisite shudder of need.

“Alandra?”

“Yes, yes, alright! I want you so bad I can taste it. Is that what you wanted to hear?” She tossed her hair angrily out of her face, his arousal causing the air around them to stir. “Aerolus, I want you. I admit it. Whatever you want, I’ll do.” She stared at him in challenge, her dare arousing him further. “Tell me what you really want. Your darkest, deepest fantasy.” She closed her eyes and leant towards him, her breasts pushing through the silk, twin globes of femininity stoking his arousal.

“On your knees,” he growled.

She opened her eyes, a sultry smile curving her lips. “I don’t know…”

“I want you supplicant, before me, on your knees,” he demanded, shocking himself with how much he wanted this. Something about Alandra brought out the dominant in him, a dominant he never knew he’d had. “I want you to make me come, in your mouth.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “I—” She stared at his cock, no doubt surprised at his size and the precum glistening at his tip. “Yes,” she whispered, sounding not ashamed, but excited.

He eased her to her knees before him and let the winds fall away into the room. “Did you like watching me through the window, Trudy?” He held his cock to her, desperate to feel her hands on him. He remained still, however, waiting for her answer.

“I did,” she admitted without pause. “I wanted so badly to be with you. You’re so beautiful,” she whispered and reached out a hand to touch him.

“Do it.” He gritted his teeth as she closed a small fist around him. “More.” She brought both hands around him, pumping him while she watched. “No, purie,” he said, stopping her hands. He reached into the silky, white mass of hair framing her perfect face and pulled her to him. “Suck me, hard. Now.” He uttered his demands in a harsh voice, but he wanted it his way. With Alandra he intuitively knew he would have to assume sexual control for them to meet even halfway in their relationship. A mental show of force with his affai would go a long way to showing he wouldn’t be pushed.

She protested half-heartedly. He could see the gleam in her eyes. She loved this game.

“Now,” he grated and shoved past her parting lips.

She consumed him as if he were a feast. Once he’d touched her lips, Alandra eagerly welcomed him. His hands knotted in her hair, thrusting boldly as she accepted him deeper and deeper into her throat.

“Ah, yes,” he sighed, captivated by her skilled tongue and heated mouth. He was so close to coming, too soon, yet he didn’t want to wait. Didn’t have to wait. She cupped his balls and sucked harder, running her tongue along the sensitive underside of his crown, and the decision was taken out of his hands. He shot, unable to stop the stream of cum filling her mouth.

“Alandra,” he groaned as he shuddered. His climax lasted longer and was more empowering than any other he’d experienced. When he finally caught his breath, he noted a taint of gold in the white nimbus around her normally pale skin.

Though she’d milked him of his seed, she continued to tease him with her tongue, lapping his shaft with a comforting warmth that was slowly, surprisingly making him hard again.

Stunned, he began to thrust in time with her sucking, needing to taste her, to fuck her, to cement their soon-to-be unbreakable bond.

“No more,” he rasped and yanked her to her feet. Before she could say anything, he sealed her mouth with his and teleported them, naked, to his bed.

She gasped in surprise when the hair on his chest brushed her full breasts, but her gasp turned to a moan when his lips left hers to engulf one cherry-red nipple.

Her mouth tasted of him, and the thought made him just as hard as he’d been earlier. Thrusting against her thigh, he was lost in the sensual maelstrom of his affai. By the Light, she was rich, an erotic bounty of need, sex and magic that made him lightheaded.

She moaned his name when he nipped and sucked hard on her breasts, her pelvis thrusting against him, wanting what he needed to give her.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmured against her breast. Nipping the other one, he teased her nipples with firm fingers, squeezing with just enough pressure to make her beg for mercy.

“Aerolus, please.”

“Please what, Alandra? Tell me, love. Tell me exactly what you want.”

He pressed his mouth to her abdomen, using his elemental magic to caress her breasts and throat, kissing her with wind as well as his lips. He trailed lower, closer to the sultry scent and heat of her pussy—his pussy.

She moaned and jerked, her white curls meeting his mouth in perfect timing.

“Tell me.” He grasped her hips firmly, holding her still while his wind continued to caress her.

“Shadows, Aerolus! Fuck me! Take me.”

“How?” he asked softly, licking between her folds, lapping at the creamy honey flowing between her thighs.

“I want your cock in my pussy, your hands, your mouth all over me. I need you, Wind Mage, please,” she cried in a husky voice.

Her passion set off his own. Sucking deep, he drew her clit into his mouth and licked until she was bucking and begging for him to end it. Almost to the point of pain, his cock wept with desire, with the utter need to come inside her.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll come again and again,” he promised, meeting her desperate gaze. She looked beyond caring, beyond anything but raw lust.

Sliding up her sleek body, he gave her no gentle touch, no graceful easing to allow her familiarity with him. He thrust deep and hard through her slick sex, pumping with such force the bed knocked against the wall as he took her.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she cried and wrapped her thighs around his waist. The movement drew her clit against his abdomen as he rode her, and within seconds, she was climaxing.

Sobbing his name, she pulsed around him, her tight heat urging him to join her. But he needed to push her harder. He continued to plunge, deeper and deeper as she contracted, until she began climbing another peak and another. As multiple orgasms ripped her apart, he succumbed to his body’s demands and shouted his release.

“Alandra.” He closed his eyes and continued to come, this orgasm as fierce as the last. They tensed and gripped one another, her body draining him of his last vestiges of energy. Climaxing so hard he saw stars, Aerolus was sweating and panting for breath before he could again think rationally.

Rising up on his elbows above her, he lifted his forehead from hers and paused at what he saw.

“Alandra?” he asked, alarmed at the glaze in her wide eyes. He hadn’t been gentle… Oh, shit, what have I done?

“I can’t believe how hot you are in bed.”

He stared for a minute as her words penetrated, then let out a relieved sigh. She looked absolutely stunned, not harmed, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit peeved that she sounded so surprised.

“Alandra—”

“I had no idea you had that in you.” She glanced down to where they were still joined. “You were celibate for so long,” she said softly, staring up at him with awe. At the look he began to grin. “I can’t believe you are so, so…”

“Incredibly talented? So large and so skilled?” he added, taking a turn at being the vain one in their relationship.

She frowned. “Large is right. You really let me have it.” A sigh replaced the frown, and with it, her pussy clenched around him.

“And I’ll do it again and again, whenever I want,” he said coolly, aware he ventured easily into sexual dominance. Surprisingly, for a man given to plain-speaking, he enjoyed their penchant for bedplay. Damned if he wasn’t growing hard again. He felt as if he’d used a replenish spell. What was the vixen doing to him?

“Alandra, what—”

“Shh.” She placed a finger over his lips and smiled. “I’m giving you what you demand, my prince,” she purred and rotated her hips to push him halfway out, only to draw him back in. “You’ve made me so wet. Your cum and mine, sliding together.” Her breathlessness was not an act, nor were the beading nipples scoring his chest and the glazed look in her now grey-violet eyes.

Something was happening between them, something magical and extraordinary, but Aerolus was too busy thrusting inside his affai again to give it the due attention it deserved.

First Aerolus, and now Cadmus was missing. Outpour had yielded no answers except the possibility that he might see Lexa, so Arim sought the one other lead he had on the unusual.

He stared suspiciously at Trudy Warner in her living room, just knowing the woman had played some part in his nephews’ disappearances. Today something about the woman was decidedly off. She gave him no hint of the desire she’d professed yesterday, nor did she possess any of the timidity she’d had in dealing with him. No, today Dr. Trudy Warner was all icy bitchiness, and that faint glow around her said it all.

He didn’t think she’d been shining the last time he’d seen her. But now he couldn’t be sure of anything. If the Aellei were involved, he might very well have met with an imposter yesterday, one that at least had the sense to mask herself better than she was now.

Studying the luminescent glow around the taller but still stout woman, he noted the abrupt way she stood, her legs splayed slightly wider than a woman’s stance, the archaic dialogue spewing from her mouth an obvious blunder. And the way she looked at him…‘she’ was most likely a ‘he’.

Who the hell had taught this young whelp to transform?

“Well, Mr. Arim? I suspect you’d best take your leave before I call upon the appropriate authorities.” Trudy crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a glare that promised grim retribution if he didn’t leave her alone.

Arim sighed. “I can kill you, or you can tell me what’s really going on. I’m feeling generous, so it’s your choice.”

Trudy stammered. “I-I don’t know what possessed you to say such a thing, but if you take one more step I’ll call—”

“The appropriate authorities. I know.” The thin tether on his patience drew taut. “Your speech is pathetic. I thought your kind visited this plane rather frequently.”

Trudy blanched and looked beyond Arim, giving him just enough notice to narrowly avoid a blast of green fire from his immediate left. Stabbing his fingers towards the source of the attack, he heard a muffled cry before the figure turned to stone.

In a lightning move too quick to actually be seen, Arim had Trudy by the collar and dangled her in the air in a grip too powerful to escape without incurring tremendous damage.

“Change back, now,” he ordered, his voice a silky threat.

The young Aellei shimmered back into his original shape. Long, light-brown hair glittered around a sensual, almost feminine face. Like his kind, this Aellei was exotic enough in looks to never pass for human. He was tall, his feet now reaching the floor, and his eyes were a pale, almost colourless blue. But it was his bright white skin that set him most apart.

Arim shook him. “Let’s cut the crap. You know who I am.”

The young male nodded, trembling like a leaf in heavy wind. A streak of world-weary satisfaction hit Arim, that his reputation as a sorcerer and Killer of Shadow was as strong in Aelle as it had been hundreds of years ago.

Unfortunately, he’d had to earn that reputation. It had taken the Dark Tribes centuries to truly divide, and he’d had little choice in the matter to either accept death at the hands of Darkness, or fight back with the Light.

He stared at the young Aellei. “What should I do with you now?”

His words had the male shivering, his gaze darting to his companion frozen by the kitchen. “I-I wish, I, ah, don’t know what—”

“Tell me why you’re here, or your death will be very long in the making.”

The Aellei swallowed loudly. “We’re just here to get one of our lost.”

“A lost Aellei?”

Nodding furiously, the Aellei explained, “Our people thrive on change. Several times a year, mostly during festival season, we travel to other places to play, for fun.”

“But the earth realm was declared off-limits centuries ago, when the humans started seeing strange things. Puck and his under-appreciated sense of humour,” Arim added sarcastically.

The male nodded and flushed. “Right, well. So we’re—I’m here to gather one of our lost ones back before the queen has to explain why we broke the boundary again.”

Arim stared. Something about the youngster was decidedly wrong. Altering his perception, Arim growled low in his throat and threw the young Aellei so hard he broke through the wall.

“Enough, young one. I tire of these games.” His mood darkened as the Aellei snickered. “Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll feed you to the Light, one piece of flesh at a time.”

The male sneered but shimmered into another form, this one of a much more mature Aellei, his hair reaching his hips, his eyes a bitter blue and full of deceit. “Took you long enough, oh, great Light Bringer. I fear rumours of your greatness have been exaggerated.”

Arim arched a brow, and the male’s foot turned to stone.

Shrieking and swearing in several languages, the Aellei pulled frantically at his foot, but could only move it a few inches at a time, as if the appendage weighed several hundred pounds.

“That’s Noraevian rock. It responds strongly to the gravitational force in this plane. Now try again, before I forget myself and leave you here to rot with your friend.”

“I’m here for a traitor. It’s Aellein business, nothing to do with a Light Bringer.” The Aellei looked like he wanted to weep as he stared at his foot, no doubt more concerned at how his foot looked than how it felt. An odd vulnerability, the Aellei clung to vanity almost like a religion.

In his upset, the male’s colouring grew so brilliant Arim had to shield his eyes. He cursed and allowed half of the male’s foot to return to normal.

“The traitor?”

“She’s not here, obviously.” Even under Arim’s power the Aellei had the nerve to sound disdainful. “Look, this really isn’t your business.” The man’s cocky tone dimmed somewhat, and he looked almost apologetic as he stared from his foot to Arim. “I am sorry you witnessed this. I don’t want any trouble. Just—”

Sensing another presence, Arim ducked and rolled behind Trudy’s couch. Several more Aellei arrived to join their friend. Archaic spells, green fire and a sudden slowing of time twisted Trudy Warner’s house into another plane altogether.

Familiar with Aellein tactics, though he hadn’t faced them in years, Arim cast a quick protective spell, enabling him to deal with the Aellein attackers, shattering their time warp.

“Shit, it’s not working,” one swore.

“My dark cloud isn’t working either,” another muttered.

“Meha! Ah ele feal rul tser.” Another cursed. Grab him, staffs at the ready.

Arim teleported into Trudy’s kitchen, only to find himself facing nearly a dozen wary Aellei. All appeared to be seasoned warriors, their marked battlestaffs and calculating expressions indicative of harnessed malevolence.

“Ah, the infamous Killer of Shadow, Tanselm’s much-feared sorcerer.” The tallest of them spoke, his eyes a luminescent green. “I’ve been wanting to do this for the longest time.”

He pointed his staff, which began to shimmer into a hazy grey, at Arim’s middle. A stream of dark energy flew from the staff into Arim’s shield. But instead of deflecting away, the burst of energy melded with his defence, channelling through Arim’s rage until the shield disintegrated into a neutral layer of magic.

Once the shield fell, others began firing at will, the seething, shifting pulses of Shadow like an icy burn, striving to invade and take hold of his person.

As they held him within their small half-circle, the Aellein warriors laughed, their scheming cheer brimming with anticipation. Arim remained calm, fighting the incessant clawing at his mind and magic. He defended himself with Tanselm’s Light and the spells he’d been born knowing, realising the fight with these warriors would not be as easy as defeating mere wraiths.

The Aellei and those who lived in Shadow were far more dangerous than they appeared. Shadow dwellers possessed characteristics both Light and Dark, making them resistant to many spells and able to penetrate energy barriers with ease.

Arim chanted a spell in his mind, pleased when a few of the warriors began to blink in discomfort. Several dropped their staffs and began to squirm, the Light within them threatening to break free.

“Rainku.” The leader cursed him and clenched his mouth shut, fighting the effects of the spell. In a garbled voice, he added, “Fian, take him.”

Arim stood with his back to the refrigerator, keeping himself safe on at least one front. Or so he thought. A shimmer of magic kissed his neck, and he whirled to meet the threat from behind, but wasn’t quick enough. Where the appliance once stood, a giant ogre lumbered. It threw him across the room like a javelin in Tanselm’s summer games. He landed in a heap against Trudy’s entertainment centre, smashing his right arm against her plasma screen TV before crumpling into a bruised heap on the ground.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore, one of Cadmus’ new phrases coming in handy as he stumbled to his feet. He gingerly cradled his arm and cast a healing spell before confronting the ogre. Staring at the decidedly ugly Shadren, he wondered if he might talk it out of this battle.

Large and slow, ogres were nevertheless quick of mind, contrary to those who thought them as dim as they were ugly. Its skin a lacklustre, scarred green, this ogre was surprisingly clean and dressed in fine cloth, a different type of foe from the ogres Arim had long ago battled. Its eyes were large, black and clear, unusually sober. Dangerous, but interesting.

“If I might ask a question,” Arim said formally, nodding in respect to the creature that trudged closer.

“Kill him, Fian,” the leader demanded, rubbing at his burning eyes. “Do it before he ensorcels you.”

The ogre blinked and stopped several feet away. “Question?” It grunted and motioned for Arim to continue. Behind it several Aellei burst into bright light while others phased away, leaving only four remaining who appeared to be overcoming his Light spell.

“Why do you do that one’s bidding?”

The ogre looked over its shoulder at the leader. “Zartic not so bad. He promise ‘Landra’s secret ‘lixir.”

“Fian, shut up and kill him. I’m not paying you for your conversation, you ill-mannered cretin.” Zartic had apparently recovered and gathered his three remaining warriors near the kitchen island.

Fian turned its homely visage back to Arim, a thick, red band of coarse hair framing its face like a lion’s mane—only this ‘lion’ looked more like a rabid baboon. The ogre appeared irritated, sparking in Arim a lick of hope.

His elbow still throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning in his gut. Shadow magic didn’t mix well with Light, and Arim hadn’t yet been able to deal with the murkiness travelling throughout his body. He needed a distraction, or at least help in dealing with the Aellei.

“Fian, is it?” Arim bowed but kept his eyes on the ogre. “I am Arim, a Light Bringer from Tanselm. I have no discord with you, friend ogre, but with the ones there who think so little of manners and honesty.” He glared at Zartic and his cohorts. “’Landra never had the elixir, Fian. I have it, and they want it for themselves.”

Fian stared hard at Arim, making Arim wonder if this ‘Landra really did have an elixir the ogre wanted. From what he knew of their breed, ogres would do almost anything for fine, aged cinarum.

“As a matter of fact,” he bluffed, subtly rubbing at the pain in his sternum while he stood firm and tall. “I’ll give you a barrel of the stuff right now if you dispose of those rogues for me.” He waved his hand and a barrel of royal cinarum appeared, the finest ‘elixir’ in all of Tanselm. Queen Ravyn would have his head if she knew, but her celebrations could make do without one more barrel of the stuff.

“You shoddy fuck.” Zartic glared at him, thrusting his staff in Arim’s direction, which, unfortunately for the Aellei, also pierced the ogre. The Aellein warriors took their cue and turned their weapons on Arim as well, making it look as if they had turned traitor to their ogre.

Fian took the insult and the threat to heart. “Not like tricksters. Want payment. Want apology,” it said in a clear, angry voice. “Now.”

“Shit. Just kill it and the sorcerer,” Zartic huffed.

But the ogre didn’t fall under their steady blasts, and soon it was upon them, its meaty fists clobbering the first warrior it reached.

“Dammit, Zartic. Control it!” The warrior under attack sounded strangled, his throat wrapped by the ogre’s fist.

“Fian, stop! You’re mine, I own you!”

Arim shook his head and began to heal the burn pervading his body. “Tsk, tsk, Zartic. For a leader, you know precious little about those you command. Ogres are a proud race. And you Aellei know all about pride, don’t you?” he asked softly. “If not for your sorry conceit, you might still be in Tanselm, hmm?”

Knowing the jibe would further irritate the Aellei, he was pleasantly surprised when the warrior neatly bypassed Fian, who was now making a mess out of the remaining Aellei, and moved in for the kill.

The minute Zartic’s staff made contact with him, Arim closed his hand around it, skewing its polarity.

Zartic screamed in dismay and watched helplessly as the staff burned into a pile of ash before his eyes.

“Come now, before me,” Arim murmured and enslaved Zartic with a mind spell.

If only I’d been able to do that to Cadmus. Arim grimaced. He glanced distractedly at the ogre. “The cinarum is yours, Fian. And good health to you.”

Fian grunted that he’d heard and continued to smash his fists into the barely moving Aellei.

“Now unless you want to join in your brethren’s fate, perhaps you’d best explain why you’re here. Tell me all about this traitor, and unlike Fian, I might let you leave with all your limbs intact.”

Zartic gasped as one of his men screamed, the sucking sound of flesh parting from bone a heady enticement to talk. He spoke quickly, his words making Arim’s already bad mood steadily worse.