“Daren!?”
I don’t like the guy, but I run toward the screaming. What if he’s been caught in a bear trap or something?
As I sprint to where the screaming came from, the shadow moves through the trees. When I round the corner where I think Daren went with his ax, he plows right over me, knocking me into a snowdrift.
“Hey!” I shout.
All I hear is his rapid retreat through the snow
and his words, “I’m getting the fuck out of here. Never drinking again!”
Struggling to stand, I slip and fall back into the snow. Panic rises in my throat. Something or someone is here.
That something reaches out a hand to help me stand.
Gulping, I stare first at the hand. Long, bare fingers extend toward me. This person’s lack of snow gear would be remarkable if another feature wasn’t overpowering everything else. His skin. It glows.
He is the tallest man I’ve ever seen. But he can’t be a man. No man has glowing skin, a braid down to his waist, and—oh no, this isn’t natural—pointy ears. The creature’s almond-shaped eyes have no irises; they are two vast pools of blackness. His long smooth nose and severe mouth look carved from stone. He is naked except for a strange leather kilt and belt situation. Hands so big that one of them could rip a modestly sized Fraser fir up by the roots.
And the outline in that leather kilt?
Holy clanging silver bells.
Chapter Four
Eldrin
I have her. She’s mine now.
“Clara,” is all I can muster to say because I’m so overwhelmed by seeing her again.
She and I had never made eye contact before, and something is blocking my throat, making speech difficult.
Her lovely hazel eyes widen in fright when she hears me speak her name. Of course, she’s surprised. I’m nothing but a stranger to her, and a terrifying one at that.
“I…did Reba send you? As…a joke?”
A joke?
An odd look comes over her face, and she collapses in peals of laughter.
I have experienced being laughed at before in the elven community. A lot.
Clara laughs too, but it feels different. There is a nuance to it. I know from her sweet aura she is not laughing at me with a mean spirit. She is reacting out of surprise.
We are creatures who take everything so seriously and with a sense of superiority.
My falling in love with a human was the butt of a joke among the other elves. Although my exile would not have been my choice, I was relieved that I never had to hear another creature’s chortling at my expense.
Clara’s laugh is something else entirely. I never want to escape it. Her laugh starts soft and low, then rises like a tinkling bell. The notes rise higher the more amused she is. When she is so caught up in her laughter that she goes silent is what worries me. At first, I think it’s some kind of asphyxiation.
“Do not panic. I will help you, my queen.” With both hands, I hold her head still and slant my mouth against hers.
My lips must be some kind of magic because the contact results in her instantly gasping for breath. Clara inhales the breath from my lungs, so much so that I grow dizzy.
Her body struggles against me in her mirth, so I hold her still, moving my hands down to her stomach. Clara jerks and squirms against me, but I press my mouth deeper and notice how my body responds to this new touch.
I’ve saved her life now, but I don’t want to stop this contact. I follow my body’s signals and continue. We are kissing now. From what I’ve observed, this is what humans do as a precursor to mating. I can see why. Kissing my queen is the most thrilling moment of my life.