BlackMoon Reaper (21 page)

“It will be and I will see that one is brought to the fortress,” She told him. “Now go.

Time is of the essence here.”

The warriors nodded to Her then left. Once in the tunnel a bright flash behind them

signaled the start of the BlackMoon device. There was a sizzle through the air, the

ground shook then the flash died away and the vibrations ceased.

“I’d kinda like to take a trip in that thing,” Cynyr commented as they made their

way up to the mine’s surface.

“Me too,” Eanan admitted.

“Don’t worry, boys. Something tells me we will,” Arawn said on a long sigh.

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Taken out of the bitter pain that had racked his body for hours, Phelan found himself drifting

on a warm summer breeze filled with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. Beneath him was a

lush green meadow carpeted with red clover flowers and bright yellow dandelions, Exasla

bluebonnets and stalks of lavender. To the east lay pristine snow-capped, blue-tinted mountains

soaring above an azure lake beside which graceful willows swayed. To the west, the sun was a

soft orange ball hovering in a lavender sky.

He sighed as he settled to earth. Naked as the day his mother birthed him, his bare feet

touched the coolness of the ground and he inhaled of the perfumes wafting on the air. Closing his

eyes to better savor the intoxicating scents, he felt more alive than he had his entire life.

After a while he opened his eyes to survey his surroundings. Nothing moved in this placid

stillness, yet he knew he was not alone. The one he loved was close by, heading toward him.

Perhaps from over the gentle rise there by the lapping waves of the lake or maybe from just

around the bend in the silver-shot stream where the emerald leaves of mighty oaks rustled. He

was at peace, so calm, so devoid of troubles or worries. The clover caressed his feet and the

dandelions tickled his bare calves as he walked.

Near the winding stream that bubbled over glistening dark gray rocks, he came upon a stand

of blood grass—the blades brushing against his thighs. He ran his palm over the spiky leaves,

smiling at the tickle. Birds sang to him and he looked up as a white-tail deer bound through the

tall grasses.

Meandering across the meadow, he made his way to the shores of the lake. His heart soared

for there on the banks was the one he loved. She turned and waved to him, beckoning him to pick

up the pace. She was laughing—happy and carefree.

“Is this paradise?” he asked as he drew closer.

“Aye, I believe it is,” Lucy agreed.

She was sitting cross-legged on a quilt and she held her arms up to him, her naked breasts

arching in invitation. “Kiss me, Phe,” she said.

He sank down beside her, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, almost chastely, then

wrapped his arms around her as she settled against his bare chest.

“I like it here,” Phelan said, looking about the fertile valley, the grass sprig clenched between

his teeth bobbing up and down. “I could stay here forever.”

“I could love here forever,” Lucy said as she trailed the tips of her fingers over Phelan’s

chest. She rubbed his nipple and smiled.

As with most dreams, things shifted without warning. Phelan found himself lying on his

back looking up at the beautiful blue sky. His mate’s hands roamed over his willing body—

touching him everywhere he so longed to be touched. Her touch was soft as a feather. She lay on

his right side facing him, leaned over to capture his lips. Her sweet tongue slipped past his lips,

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probed deep into his mouth as the fingers of her right hand rolled his nipple into a tight little

bud. She dragged the tip of her fingernail over it.

Her hand wandered down Phelan’s side and hip to enclose his cock in a firm grip. One

slender thigh lay over his as she stroked upward, her soft fingers moving over Phelan’s balls with

each downward pull. She put her lips to his ear to swirl her tongue inside.

Shivers ran down Phelan’s sides. His toes curled beneath the assault. Lucy’s mouth went

back to devouring his. Her hot tongue flicked at the corners of his mouth, swept over and around

his lips, darted inside. Her fingers moved to his nipple to tweak it.

Again the dream changed.

Lucy was on all fours, tossing her beautiful hair over her shoulder as she looked past it to

smile up at him. Her beautiful breasts swayed with her movement.

“I love you, Phe,” she said.

He entered her cunt on a slow, languid glide that pushed her hips forward, made his thighs

tense.

“I love you, Lucy-Lou,” he replied. He flicked his tongue along her neck, nibbled. He began

the slow thrust into Lucy’s creamy sheath that made their bodies rock in unison.

Change.

Phelan knelt over Lucy with her cunt to his lips, his cock to hers. A quivering shiver and

Lucy came, her lips tightening around Phelan’s cock, arching her neck to allow him to slide

farther down her throat.

But before he could release the building climax in his own body, the dream changed again.

Lucy sat astride his rock-hard cock. She rode him hard. Her thighs flexed as she pushed

upward then sank down upon his stiff rod. The sound of his cock going in and out of her slick

wetness, the scent of it, was lustful. She tossed her head from side to side, causing her long hair

to whip about her face. Her hands were tight on his pectorals, fingernails digging into his flesh.

It hurt but it was a delicious pain he savored.

The climax was striving to erupt, but once again the dream morphed. Over and over again

he reached the verge of release only to be drawn back by a greedy hand, a hot channel, a wet

mouth. His cock felt as though it were ready to explode with the pressure building higher and

higher with each shifting of the dream.

One moment he was burning with fever as Lucy passed her knowing mouth over every inch

of him. The next he was shivering with cold as her hot cunt took him to the very limits of

endurance.

He shuddered. He writhed. He groaned and moaned and whimpered. He grunted and

growled and panted. He grasped and took and gave away.

And through it all, the climax hovered just out of his reach. He wanted the surcease from the

pleasure-pain stirring within him. He ached. He desired. He needed.

“Please,” he begged.

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Morrigunia sat hunched over the sleeping Reaper as She waited for the cold to

penetrate his body. Voyeur that She was, She delved into his dreams to watch while She

waited for his heart to slow, his blood to go sluggish, his breathing to quiet. What She

saw excited Her and She knew very soon She would have Her way with him. It had

been a long time since She’d known the pleasure of Phelan Kiel. Too long. She wanted

his seed within Her, the feel of his cock pressing against Her very fertile womb.

Another son or two by him would not be amiss. A visit to his quarters once he was

healed was something for which She could look forward.

Trembling from the cold, for Her species was just as susceptible to the frigid polar

ice as the ghorets, She blew Her hot, incendiary breath over Her hands to warm them.

She then turned her attention to the glass container where the hellion moved sluggishly

and laid Her hands upon it to warm it as well. The hellion reacted with a bit more

animation, gazing up at the goddess with something akin to affection.

“Soon, little one,” She promised the hellion. “Soon you will have your new male.”

Now and again she would touch Phelan’s lung where the little fledgling struggled

to stay alive. Her touch kept the organ warm enough to sustain life in the brave little

entity.

“Your work will not have been in vain, sweet one,” She cooed. “I’ll not let you die,

my sweet girl. My good little girl.”

Another half-hour and She thought She could safely remove the dying vipers then

place Eanan’s hellion queen within Kiel. It was not that She feared the hellish things for

She did not. Morrigunia feared nothing. Though they were a part of the fiendish

demon-god Raphian, the Destroyer of Men’s Souls, they could do Her no real harm.

What She feared was one of the vile creatures striking out at Phelan as She pulled it

free of his wound, biting him, injecting venom into an internal organ. A bite to the flesh

wouldn’t be that bad but an organ? No. It was best to wait—no matter how

uncomfortable and agonized She was—rather than risk more harm to Her Reaper. He

was far more important than She. His safety was all that mattered.

It was night at the polar boot. Freezing cold sliced into Her like razors, turned Her

flesh a strange mottled blue color. She was lethargic, wanting nothing more than to lie

down beside Phelan and sleep, but that would do neither of them any good. In his

weakness, She was not altogether sure the intense cold would not eventually take the

Reaper’s life if She were not careful. That She could not chance.

And so She waited, looking out over the white expanse of sparkling ice beneath a

full moon where nothing moved, with only the Wind and an unconscious Reaper as

company.

* * * * *

Slow, sensuous licks swept up his cock then down again. Like a piece of rock-hard candy he

was being tasted by beautiful lips that parted to draw the cock head into the wet warmth of

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Lucy’s mouth. She swirled her tongue over his tip, plunged it into the slit. She drew him far

down her throat until the sensitive bulb could feel the press of her tonsils against it.

“Lucy,” he sighed. His hands twisted in the blanket.

She massaged his balls with slowness and expertise as she slid her mouth up and down the

length of him then nibbled at the head.

He shuddered and sighed.

The dream changed.

She sat at his feet and plied each of Phelan’s toes—rubbing them, caressing them.

A long, heartfelt moan slipped from Phelan’s mouth and he turned his head to one side. The

sheer beauty of the moment was not lost on him, yet he was growing agitated that he could not

release the climax that had built to such intensity within him he was trembling from the force of

it.

“Please,” Phelan whispered. “I need…”

“I know what you need, Reaper,” Lucy said, and bent her head once more to suckle his balls.

She slid one questing finger past his tight rim to probe deep.

“Please!” The one word was a prayer more than a plea.

“In time, my love,” she assured him. “In time. Be patient.”

Like summer lightning striking out of the blue, the dream changed focus still again and this

time he was flat on his belly with Lucy’s sweet hands kneading the taut muscles of his shoulders.

She was sitting on his upturned rump. The spiky curls over her nether lips tickled him and he

wriggled beneath her.

“Be still, warrior,” she said. She was massaging Phelan’s scalp. “You must learn to relax.”

“I need to come,” Phelan said, grinding his hips into the quilt. “I have to come!”

“Not yet,” Lucy denied. “It isn’t time yet.”

This time a whimper escaped Phelan’s lips. He squeezed his eyes shut. Pressing his hard,

swollen cock against the quilt, he tried to raise his hips but Lucy would have none of that. She

raked her nails down his back and told him to lie still.

Her nails hurt and Phelan squirmed beneath that unexpected pain.

“For the love of Alel, I am begging you!” he croaked. “Please let me come!”

“Not yet,” she said.

The world around him spun crazily for a moment and he felt intense, debilitating pain deep

in his back. His eyes popped open but he could see nothing for there was only darkness and a cold

so bitter it brought tears.

“Go back to sleep, Reaper,” a soft, soothing voice said, and a warm, phantom hand touched

his head. “Go back to
Pargys
.”

Gone was the cold, the pain, the spinning world. He was once again in the soft green

meadow with birds chirping in the trees, a soft wind soughing around him, jasmine scenting the

air and the warm sun beating down on his face. On his back, he looked up into the beautiful face

of his mate.

“Where did you go, Phe?” Lucy asked.

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He couldn’t answer, but there was no need to. He ached between his legs. Nothing seemed to

matter but the release of the juices that seeped from the tip of his engorged cock.

“Lucy, I can’t take much more of this,” he said.

She knelt between his legs and drew him into her warm mouth.