|
An Excerpt From: QUEST INTO THE FORBIDDEN
Copyright © VANESSA N. GILFOY, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
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 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, where 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 rolled away, 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 made a whispering
sound, if not for the thunder of a rocky waterfall behind his nymph
blocking it out. 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 being accompanied by 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.
CLOSE WINDOW
|