Excerpt:
He would never forget the first time he saw her.
Illuminated by flashes of light within the foggy
waters, she seemed a goddess of night. Her thick mane of liquid mahogany
poured down her breasts and shoulders too beautiful to be real. He
imagined it felt even smoother than his elven silk cloak. The tips of her
pointed ears poked out, which made this all the more taboo.
He shouldn’t look. If someone caught him, he’d lose all
possibility of a treaty with the Western River Elves. He couldn’t prove
that lousy fortune reading true.
But her fair skin glistened brighter than the Old Moon
above, drawing his gaze. Droplets dripped down the dramatic angles of her
face, the way he’d touch her, given the chance. His fingers would slip all
over. Oh, she’d slide so perfectly against him while the warm water lapped
and swirled.
Holt grinned and leaned against a mossy tree, arms
across his chest as he inhaled the earthy scent. Surprisingly comfortable.
Lush elven moss cushioned just about everything in this moist land. A
perfect bed. He could sleep right here on the mossy bank of rocks but he’d
rather do something else.
Only twenty feet away, she stroked the nearly hidden
surface of the lake. Mist furled, giving him a clearer view of her body.
Slender yet firm. The way she held herself exuded strength. Jaw parallel
to the water, sloped shoulders back, long neck taut.
He loved that. Strong women always offered a greater
challenge. A thrill that not even battle could match.
Holt unclasped the elven silk cloak at his throat. The
protective garment would have whispered and thudded, if not for the
thunder of a rocky waterfall behind his nymph. Foamy white curled and
swelled down the rough cliff and crashed into the lake. It looked more
like cloud than water.
What better medium? Magic sparked throughout. Like the
magic he’d feel in her. His heart quickened at the thought. He’d never
been with an elf before.
He couldn’t unbutton his shirt fast enough. One of the
tricky little bits of plastic popped off and disappeared into the mist
that buried his shins and feet.
“What are you doing? She’ll kill you,” Warren warned,
head tipped down to Holt’s ear.
The old man appeared beside Holt as he always did, like
a conscience.
“Not if I phrase it right.” Anyone could be convinced
of anything. This just might take several tries, considering the stigma
against interracial relations.
“Elves aren’t like dwarves and wizards. She won’t just
slap you.”
Holt laughed, head cocked. He’d been slapped quite a
few times, especially by dwarven women but that had never dissuaded his
pursuit before. Lost battles in victorious wars. Eventually they softened,
given enough compliments and persistence. He always won in the end.
Besides, how could he pass up this opportunity? How
many human men ever ventured this deep into elven land without elven ash
arrows flying at them? Add to that a beautiful, nude elven woman and the
odds were staggering.
“Go on ahead and I’ll catch up,” Holt said despite
Warren’s tightening grip on his shoulder. He shrugged off the old man’s
hold along with his shirt. Warm mists crept up Holt’s bare skin like
seductive fingers. Strange. It tingled his skin and left behind an ache.
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