hair. As always, his silken locks were pulled tight against his neck, fastened by a Celtic clasp. Not a strand out of place. Wolfel would tolerate no disorder, least of all from his own body. He was a Warrior of Áis, after all.
One of the chosen, one of the Goddess-blessed Uprising heroes who finally defeated the Technocrats.
And the Warriors of Áis, male and female alike, were rumored to have the sexual appetites of wild beasts. Most were unmated and unpledged. They had fought too long and seen too much. They had walked through black fires, felt the cold of sinister magik, and lived to tell the story. They had too many scars on their souls to love.
They possess. They dominate. They know no other way. That’s why they stay at Stonefall.
To keep the rest of the planet safe from their dark desires.
In the two years Keli had studied with the stoic, stern Warriors, she had come to believe this might be accurate.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat. Part of her wanted to reject the very idea that Dram Wolfel might have to dominate a sexual partner to find release. The other part of her longed to discover truth in each whispered rumor about the Warriors of Áis.
At least one of those Warriors.
She could well imagine herself on her knees, serving Dram Wolfel’s every whim.
No matter how dark. No matter how painful.
Somehow she knew the reward would be beyond her imagination.
67
Annie Windsor
“I’m out of my mind,” she whispered to herself, then nearly fainted from fear that the man had heard her.
Wolfel kept his head down, obviously allowing no distractions. After all, he was renowned for his single-minded pursuit of excellence. He was the Bastard of Stonefall, and one of the most powerful wytches known to Earthwork society. And, he was…Wolf, only Wolf, in Keli’s endless nighttime vision-play.
He would have scars beneath the sensible drape of his druid’s robes, from the Uprising. His hands would be worn from helping lay stones in the walled cities where the remaining Technocrats were contained—all but the Volcanic Rim, where they always evaded final capture. The rest of the destructive maniacs had been isolated into compounds, and the world re-divided between native tribes and Earthwork bastions.
The planet’s healing had begun—but what of the healing of men like Dram Wolfel?
Each time Keli stood near him, her heart ached from the pain she sensed. And the rest of her ached from his need.
The former soldier of the Goddess would smell like storms, and his flesh would feel like pliable rock. His rumbling voice—ah, but that would be masterful and intoxicating, like his taste, like his firm, demanding grasp…
Keli’s body contracted at the mere thought of touching him, and she nearly came at the image of him ordering her to submit to his sweet tortures. With a sigh, she once more affirmed that she wasn’t Crone material. She was far too interested in men, sex, and Dram Wolfel. Since coming to Stonefall, she had known boys and men, but never an equal.
Never a master.
Could she know this one?
The Wolf. Her Wolf…
If the stories were true…if he would have her. If she offered herself, and agreed to whatever he asked. And, of course, if Wolf didn’t kill her and chuck her body into the Bayou, an offense most novitiates believed him capable of committing.
Damn. It’s getting hotter in here.
As afternoon found the cypress swamp surrounding Stonefall, the sun blistered through the arched windows. Keli’s cotton blouse clung to her trembling arms.
Through the damp fabric, she could see her own freckled skin. Her red hair spilled down, hiding her visible and aching nipples.
Am I enough for a man like him? Could I ever be enough?
She swallowed hard, wishing she had a glass of water.
But, surely Wolf had been approached by students before, especially students like her, who weren’t really students any longer. He was young as professors went, perhaps thirty-five, perhaps forty. So
One of the chosen, one of the Goddess-blessed Uprising heroes who finally defeated the Technocrats.
And the Warriors of Áis, male and female alike, were rumored to have the sexual appetites of wild beasts. Most were unmated and unpledged. They had fought too long and seen too much. They had walked through black fires, felt the cold of sinister magik, and lived to tell the story. They had too many scars on their souls to love.
They possess. They dominate. They know no other way. That’s why they stay at Stonefall.
To keep the rest of the planet safe from their dark desires.
In the two years Keli had studied with the stoic, stern Warriors, she had come to believe this might be accurate.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat. Part of her wanted to reject the very idea that Dram Wolfel might have to dominate a sexual partner to find release. The other part of her longed to discover truth in each whispered rumor about the Warriors of Áis.
At least one of those Warriors.
She could well imagine herself on her knees, serving Dram Wolfel’s every whim.
No matter how dark. No matter how painful.
Somehow she knew the reward would be beyond her imagination.
67
Annie Windsor
“I’m out of my mind,” she whispered to herself, then nearly fainted from fear that the man had heard her.
Wolfel kept his head down, obviously allowing no distractions. After all, he was renowned for his single-minded pursuit of excellence. He was the Bastard of Stonefall, and one of the most powerful wytches known to Earthwork society. And, he was…Wolf, only Wolf, in Keli’s endless nighttime vision-play.
He would have scars beneath the sensible drape of his druid’s robes, from the Uprising. His hands would be worn from helping lay stones in the walled cities where the remaining Technocrats were contained—all but the Volcanic Rim, where they always evaded final capture. The rest of the destructive maniacs had been isolated into compounds, and the world re-divided between native tribes and Earthwork bastions.
The planet’s healing had begun—but what of the healing of men like Dram Wolfel?
Each time Keli stood near him, her heart ached from the pain she sensed. And the rest of her ached from his need.
The former soldier of the Goddess would smell like storms, and his flesh would feel like pliable rock. His rumbling voice—ah, but that would be masterful and intoxicating, like his taste, like his firm, demanding grasp…
Keli’s body contracted at the mere thought of touching him, and she nearly came at the image of him ordering her to submit to his sweet tortures. With a sigh, she once more affirmed that she wasn’t Crone material. She was far too interested in men, sex, and Dram Wolfel. Since coming to Stonefall, she had known boys and men, but never an equal.
Never a master.
Could she know this one?
The Wolf. Her Wolf…
If the stories were true…if he would have her. If she offered herself, and agreed to whatever he asked. And, of course, if Wolf didn’t kill her and chuck her body into the Bayou, an offense most novitiates believed him capable of committing.
Damn. It’s getting hotter in here.
As afternoon found the cypress swamp surrounding Stonefall, the sun blistered through the arched windows. Keli’s cotton blouse clung to her trembling arms.
Through the damp fabric, she could see her own freckled skin. Her red hair spilled down, hiding her visible and aching nipples.
Am I enough for a man like him? Could I ever be enough?
She swallowed hard, wishing she had a glass of water.
But, surely Wolf had been approached by students before, especially students like her, who weren’t really students any longer. He was young as professors went, perhaps thirty-five, perhaps forty. So
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