A Forced Union

Chapter One: A Forced Union

Elowen Aurial shifted with miniscule movements, the cold stones of the great hall floor numbing her knees. Her crimson gown pooled around her--a reminder of the blood shed trying and failing to defend the castle.

Her gaze flickered sideways to her brother, Lysander, kneeling next to her. His brown hair flopped over the lavender eyes they shared, though her hair, when unconstrained by a coiffure, was dark as midnight and curly.

His gaze remained fixed on the floor, shoulders slumped.

Heavy booted feet marched up the central aisle of the hall, the echoes dying against the dense tapestries covering the stone walls. The column of unseelie sidhe, their lord and commander at the head, strode into the solar, taking possession of the conquered castle.

Elowen's lip caught between her teeth. She tilted her head to peer up, her heart hammering against her ribs. Before this moment, her only view of Lord Thalion had been a glimpse on the battlefield.

All through summer, the fae host had sieged Aurelian Castle. For five months, Lysander and Elowen had held their people together, rationing food and thanking the Dagda for depths of their wells. But then the fae dammed the streams that fed the underground cisterns.

Three days later, Lysander surrendered.

A pair of boots embracing powerful legs stopped before her, leather so soft her fingers itched to pet it. She rolled her eyes up along the length of the sidhe's body, past the sleeveless chain mail vest tumbling down his chest like a shimmering waterfall. A torc shaped of the same fairy silver as his chain embraced his throat, topaz and crystal picking out a lily in its center.

Lord Thalion Moonsong.

His gleaming eyes caught the light of the chandelier, the tiny sparkling stars that formed his irises more beautiful than any pendant she owned.

The unseelie sidhe stared down at Elowen and she trembled under his cool gaze.

His sculpted jawline, framed by a cascade of liquid silver hair, hinted at the strength and passion hidden beneath his enigmatic gaze. The chiseled planes of his face accentuated high cheekbones and sensuous lips that curled into a dark smile as his starlit eyes pinned her where she knelt.

Those glittering orbs stripped her soul naked, as though they could see every flaw.

She swallowed, her guts crawling. According to the ancient tradition of firth, he could claim her hand in marriage. By Brehon Law, their union would bring peace. Would he demand that? She bit her lip, fear drawing a tingling line down her spine. At eighteen, she was old enough for the rites.

Muscles played against his gleaming, moonflower pale skin as he curled his fingers over the silken restraining band that kept her hair up. Thalion jerked and Elowen's ebony curls tumbled out of the careful coiffure to fall to her shoulders in a careless cascade. His smile took on a satisfied air, though the starlit gaze remained cool.

"I had heard you were beautiful." Thalion's voice was a deep, entrancing rumble that reverberated through Elowen's very soul. "I am pleased that it is true."

Her fists crumpled in her dress as he turned away from her to Lysander. "Here are my terms, boy. You will swear your fealty to me, and the fae realm will grow by the length of your lands. You will remove all the measures you have taken against the wee folk, and Aurelian will be fairy once more. To seal your loyalty, I will take your sister as my wife."

Lysander swallowed, his throat-boll jerking up and down in his throat. He finally met her gaze. Anger burned behind his lavender eyes, but defeat slumped his shoulders. "Yes, my lord." His tenor voice seemed thin after the rolling bass tones.

Elowen's breath came faster, her throat convulsing. They had no choice but to surrender. She had known that since the first bucket from the well came up dry. Under Brehon Law, Thalion had every right to claim her. She braided her trembling fingers together as dread balled in her guts.

Stories were told about the sidhe. Tales of what they did to humans in their beds. Her buttocks clenched together, bile rising in her throat. Their power bloomed in lust--the more debouched the better. Her breasts bulged against the corset and around the edges of her sight, darkness closed in.

Her father used to say, 'Fae will suck the life right out of you and make you thank them for the privilege.'

And he had married one of them.

Danu preserve me. She closed her eyes. Will there be anything left of me after Thalion has taken his tribute?

Her fairy mother had left her father bitter and alone.

But Thalion did not wait for either her consent or even Lysander's whispered agreement.

"Diarmuid!" he called over his shoulder.

The glittering host of fae at his back parted in a jingle of mail, and a tall sidhe with shining obsidian skin approached. On his chest, a silver cauldron glittered--the mark of a priest of Cerridwen. Pale sapphires tumbled from the lip to stud the amulet--reflecting the crystalline blue of his eyes. The tight band around Elowen's chest gave a notch or two when he smiled at her, a gentle expression that reminded her of Elder Brennan, the Dagda's priest in the town.

"My lord." Diarmuid bowed with sinuous elegance, a dazzling shadow before his master's bright light.

"You'll marry us."

The priest ran his hand over the cauldron. "If the lady is willing?"

Elowen struggled for breath, her hands clutching at her crimson skirts. Thalion would use her for the laws and discard her. Like my mother did to Father. "I..."

Thalion's hand tangled in her hair. "If you prefer, I can return to the siege."

Her belly cramped. They had lost so many already. Aurelian's folk could not afford her pride, nor her fears. No matter what she'd promised her father, the living needed her courage.

She lifted her chin. "N-No, my lord. I... I consent."

Diarmuid bowed. "Then yes. Now?"

"I see no purpose in waiting." Thalion closed his hands on Elowen's elbows and lifted her effortlessly. The iron fingers on her arms tightened the bands around her chest once more. She was as helpless to resist this as she was to halt the marriage. A thrill of terror ran down her spine, her groin tightening, and a strange tingle trembled in her womanhood.

She swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth. "May I not... have a day to..."

"To what? Get to know me?" Thalion laughed, a rich, tangible sound that rolled over her. "I am older than the castle in which we stand. A day or a year, it will make no difference. We'll get married and seal your brother's surrender in his bedroom. Tomorrow, I want to be on the road home. Lysander, speak your vow of loyalty and stand next to your sister."

Stumbling over the ancient words of fealty, her brother surrendered his independence, fear and anger waging war in his gaze. He bowed his head, twin red spots of rage staining his cheeks.

Elowen's shoulders drew tense lines beneath her silken gown.

I'm going to be married.

To a fay.

I promised father I wouldn't touch their world.

I swore I'd never turn into one of them.

But we have no choice.

I'm going to be married.

The circling thoughts drummed out everything else. Lysander put his hand on her arm, guiding her to the dais where the fay priest stood next to her future husband.

"I'm sorry." Her brother breathed the words in her ear.

Elowen's gaze flickered to him. His hand drew soft, comforting circles on the small of her back. But they had lost--the time for comfort was over.

"Can you do this?" Lysander whispered. "For the sake of our people?"

Their people. Thalion had not spoken of war reparations. She was his prize and if she accepted this fate, he would take no more from them.

Elowen swallowed and raised her chin, hiding the terrible fear swirling inside her. "Yes. He won't break me. I know why I'm going to his bed."

They walked forward to stand beside Lysander's new liege. Thalion nodded to Diarmuid, and the priest started the ceremony. His words washed over Elowen like the dawn chorus of the larks that woke her every morning. Just meaningless sound.

"Under Brehon Law, I bind you to peace and declare you wed," Diarmuid intoned, completing the ceremony.

"Good." Thalion's hand closed over Elowen's arm, and he drew her against him, the chain links pressing into her skin. "Lysander, you will host my men. Food, drink, and such entertainment as you can muster. Elowen, lead me to the lord's chamber."

Her legs shaking, Elowen obeyed. Every step took her away from the scant safety of humans and toward the end of innocence.

Free of the great hall, Thalion's scent rolled around her--honey, with a hint of cinnamon. She lifted her skirts to mount the stairs. He'd be the one lifting her dresses soon. Heat flushed up her neck and into her cheeks. As a noble, she'd expected to marry for politics. But not like this. Not as the prize of conquest. She'd expected a human man, not a debauched fay whose desires...

A shudder rattled down her spine.

No matter what he does, he won't break me. He can't turn me into one of them. She made the promise to herself and to her dead father. I won't let him.

Gritting her teeth in determination, she made it to the top of the stairs.

Beyond the oaken door of the Lord's Chamber waited a giant four-poster bed, its tall, intricately carved posts reaching toward the high ceiling. Azure drapes hung from the canopy, their velvet softness promising warmth.

Elowen's legs stiffened, and she took one shaking step into the room. He'd take her there. On that bed. What would it be like? She wrapped her arms around her chest, her breath trembling over her lips.

Cushions piled high atop the linen bedclothes, adorned with the embroidered sigil of her house--a crimson sun in splendor rising on an azure field. The sigil reminded her of her duty, and she raised her chin.

A large, ornate hearth dominated one wall of the room, an array of shimmering candles on its carved mantlepiece. The flickering firelight bathed the chamber in a soft glow. Shadows danced across the walls and the orange flames accentuated the rich textures of the tapestries that kept the cool fall air at bay.

Despite the warmth, Elowen shivered. Fire could not dispel the icy fear inside her.

In one corner of the room stood a beautifully crafted wooden armoire, its polished surface gleaming in the candlelight. Next to it, a silver jug waited with a pair of crystal goblets on the sideboard. A few steps away, an elegant chaise lounge offered a place to recline and relax, its leather surface covered in a deep blue brocade.

This had never been her room. A flutter of wings constricted her throat, and she longed for the comfort of her own small chamber.

Better this way, maybe. At least he won't take that sanctuary from me.

The door slammed shut behind Thalion, and Elowen jumped. His rich basso laugh thrummed through her, and he strode across the woolen rugs to the hearth. The mail came slithering over his head to land in a silvered heap on the floor. He unbuckled his sword belt, hooking it over the edge of the sideboard.

Elowen followed every move of his hands, her breath coming fast as she wondered what came next. But he did not continue disrobing. He sat on the chaise, leaning back, one leg carelessly flung over the raised arm. The leather tops of his boots rode up to mid-thigh, covering black linen pants. A low v-cut on his gray tunic left much of his pale chest exposed.

An ogham rune dangled around his neck, silver and sharp-angled. It caught the light from his starry eyes, a red glint flashing over the silver. Elowen gulped, the tendons in her neck standing taut. It was the mark of a mage, an eirnacht who knew elemental magic. They held power far beyond even a sidhe lord.

A jumble of stories about the dark fate of those who meddled in magic clouded her mind, and her stomach squirmed with fear. Once more, her father's voice rang through her memories. 'They will suck the life right out of you.'

Thalion's eyes glided over her from crown to feet, a dark smile carving into his face.

Her fingers knotted in the crimson folds of her gown. "My lord...?"

"Pour some wine for me and then stand there." He pointed at a small red rug before the flickering hearth.

Her hands shaking, Elowen obeyed. The wine splashed over her thumb and she licked it clean, her eyes burning. With trembling fingers, she handed over the glass and stood where he commanded, her skin glowing in the candlelight.

His gaze wandered over her, hot with desire. "Are you a virgin?"

Heat scalded Elowen's cheeks, and a nod was the only reply she could manage.

His brows knitted together, a dark line over his starlit eyes. "Answer out loud."

"Y-Yes, my lord." Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

"Good. Take off your dress."

Elowen caught her lip between her teeth. He lay there, fully clothed, and expected her to stand naked before him. Her shoulders drew toward her ears.

His eyes narrowed. "If I have to do it for you, it will be in the great hall in front of my men."

She gasped and raised her fingers to the laces on her corset. Trembling on every eyelet, she struggled to loosen the garment. At last, she reached the top and her palms skimmed over her breasts as she pushed down the long bell sleeves.

She couldn't let go of the dress.

He'll make me do it.

A shaky defiance made her wrap her arms around her body, keeping the crimson gown up.

Then let him.

"You think I am bluffing?" Thalion put one foot on the floor. "If I get up from here, I'll take you by the hair, drag you out into the hall, spread you on the table and fuck you while making your brother hold you down."

Eyes burning with unshed tears, Elowen let go and the crimson gown glided to the floor. She stood before him, wearing only her chemise. The siege had left her near gaunt, hip bones jutting out, ribs countable.

What if he doesn't like what he sees? She licked her lips, nervous despite herself.

His gaze roved over her, lingering on her breasts and her groin. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she raised her hands to cover herself.

"No." His command arrested the motion. "No covering. Or I'll teach you what shame truly means."

Elowen swallowed, shivering despite the warmth of the fire. But she'd promised Lysander that Thalion wouldn't break her. She lifted her chin and let her hands drop to her sides.

"Turn. Slowly. Let me see what I have won."

Arms tight against her side, she obeyed. When she faced the fire, boots thudded to the floor behind her. "Stop."

She tried to peek over her shoulder, but he gripped the back of her head, turning her face forward. His other hand closed on her waist, hard fingers digging into her hips. She writhed under his grip, but his strength, fae and male both, overwhelmed her.

Her breath came in hard pants, but she forced it slow down. This was her duty. She had agreed to this marriage, however forced that agreement. She stilled under his hands.

"Better." His fingers ran into her dark curls, controlling her head. The other slipped over her belly, rubbing the chemise against her skin.

The touch sent tingling shocks through Elowen's limbs, and she shivered under his calloused fingertips.

What is this?

She couldn't be feeling desire. Her body wouldn't betray her like that. She'd married him out of duty. He was Aurelian's conqueror, not her lover. She was human. Half, a nasty little voice in her mind sang. Half-human.

His leg separated hers from behind, and he bent her forward. "Hands on the mantel."

Trembling in every limb, Elowen obeyed. Thalion spread her legs wider. She thought she knew what was coming and braced herself. But instead of spearing her from behind, his hands roved gently over her buttocks, gliding up her side, leaving tingling traces on her skin.

She shuddered under his touch.

His finger traced down her spine, digging into the cleft of her rump. He spread her cheeks and played over her tight puckered rose, the silken cloth of the chemise bunching in that forbidden place.

Is he going to...?

Her shoulders cramped as he pulled her wider, his leg riding up between hers. "Please, my lord." Shame flooded her as she begged. Not there...

"Please what?" His fingers dug iron hard into her buttocks. "Please, you want it there?"

"N-No." The word shivered out of her mouth.

He laughed, dark and cruel. "You're lucky that tonight is about sealing the bargain. But thank you for telling me what you fear."

Elowen's knuckles turned white, fingers stiffening on the mantel, and her throat closed. He would take her there. Perhaps not tonight. But some night. Her treacherous groin tightened as he released her cheeks and trailed his fingers over her spread thighs.

His hands skimmed past her womanhood and his chest brushed against her back, the silver ogham rune laying a warm imprint against her spine. Palms found her breasts and rolled the cloth of the chemise over her nipples. They jutted out like thimbles on a seamstress' fingers, and even the silk was rough on her tingling skin.

She jutted her bosom into his touch... and hated herself for it. I promised...

But his fingers pinched and pulled at her breasts and Elowen groaned. The sudden spark of pain was like finding a spicy center in a candy--a delight that made the sweetness all the better. Involuntarily, her back arched, her body betraying her again as she thrust the pert globes into his palms.

"I enjoy teaching a woman what I want." Thalion's right hand left her breast and closed hard on her throat. "You want to know what I want, don't you?"

"I..." She fought for breath, bucking under him. She had to answer. They were married. "I am your wife, my lord."

The words evoked moisture gathering on the lips of her womanhood, and Elowen tried to close her thighs. How could her body turn traitor like this? It was a duty, not a pleasure. Her father was right--Thalion would leave her hollow and make her wish for more.

But his leg prevented hers from closing, and he pulled her back from the mantlepiece, curving her like a bow against him. She struggled against his iron fingers, skin tingling with every touch.

"Good. Then you will learn what pleases me." His palm skimmed over her belly once more, pausing on her hip. The grip on her throat relaxed. "And also what pleases you. What have you liked best so far?"

Elowen's eyes flickered sideways to meet his starlit gaze, her lips parting. Is he really expecting me to...?

His palm smacked her thigh. "Answer me."

Shame flooded through her, somehow heightening the ardor, and she looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "When you... when you pinched my nipples."

Thalion's dark laugh tumbled around her. "Interesting. A taste for spice." His hand rammed between her legs. "And wet from it."

Elowen groaned, need straining against the hand on her neck. She writhed on his leg, pulsing with a steady, demanding beat. "Please..." The word curdled in her throat as tremors wracked her body.

Thalion lifted his hand away, and she sobbed, her womanhood aching. "Nameless begging won't get you anything." He slapped her lightly between the legs and desire spiked in her gut as his fingers tightened once more. Turning her head sideways, he claimed her mouth in a hot, dominant kiss.

Elowen yielded to his thrusting tongue, eager noises strangling in the back of her throat. Why did she sound like that? But the thought vanished under a tide of desire as she rocked on his leg, the motion sending thrills of pleasure dancing through her.

A glow suffused his fingers as he kissed her. She rolled her eyes, trying to see.