See Prologue (A) for Disclaimers

(See version B instead)

The wood was dark once they passed the torchlight of the paths, lit only by the full moon above that filtered its rays through the thick foliage.  Pasha seemed certain of the way however.  Sharak followed her, his heart beating fiercely in his chest, desire burning higher with every step he took.  When she stopped and turned to face him, Sharak didn't give her a chance to speak.  His arms went around her waist, pulling her close to him, his mouth descending to claim hers.

The kiss was furious, passionate, demanding -- and Pasha gave as good as she got.  Her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands descending to cup his ass and pull him even closer to her.  Sharak growled low in his throat and took a step forward, forcing her to step back willingly until they reached a tree.  Pasha let out a soft growl of her own as her back was pressed against the rough bark.

Sharak dipped slightly, his arms lifting her with the added leverage, so that their eyes were almost on a level.  One of his arms lowered and that hand slipped under the slitted fabric of the skirt to slide against the bare skin of her thigh.  Pasha growled again and pulled away from the kiss, her head angling slightly to nip at the side of his neck, then down to the crease of skin between neck and shoulder that showed through the collar of his shirt.

Sharak tensed as he felt the sharp pleasure-pain, his breath coming in a sharp gasp.  Then her hands moved, sliding around the front to work at the fastenings of his pants.  He released her thigh and used both hands to capture her wrists.  Pasha gasped in surprise as he pulled her hands away from their endeavors, then smiled ferociously as he pushed them to her sides and bent his knees.

His mouth found the pulse-point at her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before moving down to the expanse of skin of the cleavage in her blouse.  He released her hands and quickly undid the knot that held the blouse's sides together in front, then pushed the fabric away from the full breasts, and off her shoulders.

Pasha gasped again as his mouth descended on first one breast and then the other, kissing, licking, suckling.  Her hands went to his shoulders and pushed urgently at his shirt, trying to get it  off.  Sharak smiled against her skin and paused just long enough to step back and comply with that urge.  He felt the cool night breeze against his skin, and then the smooth, warm silk of Pasha's skin as he pulled her towards him again.

Sharak let out a long, low growl of need and released every restraint on his mind and soul, released all of his hard-won control.  Including that which had previously kept the magick in his blood from opening the psychic link Dar shared with anything that had a beast-form.

Just outside of the dance circle, Dar paused in the middle of putting down his cup of wine as a connection suddenly flared open.  He gasped as sensation flooded through the link, in addition to the sight and sound he was accustomed to.  The cup slammed down onto the table as his mind reeled.  Distantly, he heard Rhianna's voice asking if he was all right, but his senses were focused on the information slamming into him through the link that he somehow  knew was from Sharak.

Skin like silk, firm and soft under his touch.  A hot, wet mouth that left wonderful fire behind it touched his own, and moved down to his skin.  Overwhelming, almost unbearable desire, stoked by the sight and feel and taste and smell of her . . .

Dar gasped, blinking in surprise at both the connection and at the surge of response from his own system.  He could feel her, taste her, smell her . . . and he knew that scent, he had been close to it just a few minutes ago.  Pasha.  As if her name summoned it, a secondary connection opened, as if caught in the first.

Skin on skin, hot mouth tasting and suckling, fire in her belly that licked outwards to her limbs as his hand moved. . .  Deep, pulsing desire.  Passion, need, want. . .

Gods, what was happening?!  Dar had never felt something this strong, this complete, taking over his own senses so that he almost felt as if those hands were on  his body, as if the mouth tasting her flesh were his own, driving his own pent-up need suddenly skyrocketing through his system.  He had to get away.  He had to go somewhere away from the dancing, away from the people . . .  Somewhere he could concentrate, control the link . . .   Go to her, some part of him demanded.   Go to them.  Find them.  Share them . . .

Dar stood abruptly from the table -- he thought he muttered an excuse -- and stumbled away from the confusing sounds of the festivities.  Tao and Miren were still in the dance-circle.  Around him a few people noticed his stumbling, but shrugged as Rhianna stood as well and said she would make sure he was alright.

The BeastMaster stumbled to the wall of a house on the outskirts of the party and stopped, leaning against it for support.  Every muscle trembled as he tried to control the urges and needs that rampaged through him, tried to control or shut off the images and sensations.

Heat.

Touch.

Taste.

Kiss.

Caress.

Fire.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and Dar pulled away, spinning to face the intruder.  Somewhere in his mind, where he wasn't battling the link, he recognized Rhianna's concerned face.  "Leave me alone," he gasped out.

He turned and stumbled a few more steps, around the corner of the house, out of sight of the party.  But not far enough.  He could still hear it all, turning the world into a cacophony of sound that threatened to overwhelm him completely.  Rhianna's hand found his shoulder again, her other hand going to his forehead, gently smoothing back his hair.  "What is it?" she asked.  "What's wrong?"

Dar shook his head.  "Too much," he whispered hoarsely.  "I'm . . . losing myself. . ."

Rhianna frowned and gently turned his face towards her with her fingers.  The BeastMaster's hazel-green eyes were wide, the pupils dilated enormously, far beyond what should have been allowable for the dim light.  Rhianna's frown grew.  "What is happening?"

Dar pulled away from her, trying to walk again.  Before he could protest, Rhianna was at his side, one arm wrapping about his waist, pulling his own arm about her shoulders to offer support.  His reaction was unexpected.

Scent flared, accompanied by touch.  Here.  Now.  Not Pasha, but another.  Another who was lovely, and sweet, and alluring in her own way.  Sensations poured through the link, mixing with these, jumbling them all together.  Hard-won control slipped and need overtook him.  Dar turned with a speed honed by years of training, his arm tightening about her shoulders and pulling her towards him.  His free hand came up to touch her face and then his mouth was on hers, hot, demanding, desperate.  

Rhianna gasped and struggled for a moment before her own long-quelled needs surfaced.  She kissed him back, but pulled away after a time, knowing something was very wrong.  Dar's eyes were still huge, but they also seemed dazed in a way that she was not sure had anything to do with her skill in kissing him.  Dar groaned slightly and lowered his head, his forehead resting against hers.  His breath was harsh, uneven, his skin hot to the touch.  "Dar," Rhianna said softly.  "Tell me."

The young BeastMaster shook his head as he struggled to speak through the sensations.  Gods, he was so hot . . . and so erect, ready for true touch, that it was starting to hurt.  "Sharak," he managed to tell her.  "He and Pasha . . . and the link . . . I can't shut it down . . ."

Rhianna frowned as understanding came to her.  Dar had said the other day that the link between a BeastMaster and the beasts allowed him to see through their eyes, hear through their ears -- apparently in some extreme cases, he could get a lot more.  But Sharak was human, as was Pasha . . .  Rhianna shook her head.   Not always.  And both have magick in their blood.  Mix that with wine and simple, single-minded desire and perhaps it can force open the link -- and keep it too open for poor Dar's own good.

"What can I do?" she asked.

Dar looked at her and gave a short bark of laughter, a wild, desperate note to it.  Rhianna blushed as she realized the obvious answer.  That kiss had been a melding of their desire and his own, when his self-control flickered.  And yet, it was the one moment where he did not seem so lost.  Rhianna considered and came to a decision.  Gently, she raised her hands to cradle the BeastMaster's face, her eyes meeting his unhesitatingly.  Then she raised herself slightly on her toes, and kissed him.

Dar froze for a half-second in sheer surprise, then instinct and need took over.  The kiss was still desperate, hungry, but this time the need in it was returned equally.  It had been a very long time since Rhianna had shared a man's bed, for all the time she had shared Ordan's life, and she knew well that it might be even longer until Ordan came to his senses and the opportunity arose again.  But now, the BeastMaster needed her, wanted her -- she was certain that the hardest thing for him to control was his own urges -- and she was more than willingly to help.

But . . .

She pulled away from the kiss with difficulty, primarily from her own reluctance to leave that intoxicating mouth.  "Not here," she whispered.  "Still too close.  Someone might see."

Dar nodded, forcing himself to think.  "Where?"

Rhianna smiled and caught his hand in her own, then pulled him after her.  They only went a short distance, it seemed, but the little orchard-like copse of trees was secluded and comparatively quiet.  She turned to face him, her eyes smiling and gentle, and Dar forced himself to stop.  "Are you --"

Rhianna stopped the question with a kiss, her hands gliding across his arms and shoulders, trailing fire along every inch.  Dar groaned against her mouth and wrapped his arms about her waist, crushing her to him desperately.  Across the link, the sensations increased in intensity, and Dar found himself lost between what was shared by Sharak and what came from Rhianna.

Musk.

Sweet flowers as he pushed her gently down onto the ground.

Sharp pleasure-pain of a bite against his shoulder.

Soft kisses across his throat and collarbone.  He pushed the fabric of her dress down, hardly bothering with the buttons, only to realize she had unfastened them for him.  Sweet, hot skin under his mouth.  The taste of her blossomed in his mouth as he ran his tongue across her shoulders and down to the small, firm mounds of her breasts.

The salt of sweat as his tongue licked slowly across the skin of her belly.  She was twisting underneath him as his hand slipped down to the cleft between her thighs, fingers sliding against her core in promise and urging.

She pushed her head back against the ground, torso lifting, and he suckled her, then returned to her mouth, hot, hungry, demanding.  She growled a "Now!" and kissed him back, lifting her hips to wrap her legs about his waist.

She let out a soft sigh and caught her fingers in his hair, pulling him back up for a kiss.  Her hands slid down to the loincloth, unfastening it with almost uncanny ease, and pushed it down torturously slow.  She pushed slightly and they rolled over, leaving her momentarily on top, his back cushioned by the abandoned fabric of her dress.

Delicious pain as he entered her, hard and fast, his mouth crushing hers, tongues dueling as he pushed in more.  She growled against his mouth and tightened her legs, ankles crossed and feet resting beneath his firm ass.  She pulled him into her even more, panting now in need and desire.

He rolled them again, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of sensation, but hesitated.  He didn't want to hurt her, risk hurting her . . .  Her hand slid down to his cock, grasping firmly and stroking, her eyes fast on his own, smiling, giving him permission.  He groaned softly and kissed her, let her guide him to the already slick opening that waited for him.  Slow, as gentle as he could, he pushed into her, feeling the sensations through the link recede to a controllable level as his own body's instincts took over.

Hot, and tight, and wet.  So very wet.  Welcoming him, urging him, begging him.  He withdrew and then thrust into her again, hearing the sharp little cry of encouragement.

She let out a low cry as he entered her, her fingers clenching on his shoulders.  So long, she thought vaguely.  It had been so damn long . . . and he knew it.  He could feel it in the sweet tension of her body, the tightness of her passage as it welcomed his cock, molded itself around him.  He kissed the side and front of her neck, then her mouth, pushing down his own raging need to kiss her gently.  Thanks and reassurance and all the gentleness he could muster.

Again, and again . . .

They moved together now, their bodies finding a harmony beyond that of any link, any magick.  Her legs came up to wrap about his waist, sliding like silk against the sensitive skin of his hips and ass.  His weight came down on her, moving deliberately to rub against her breasts, bringing little moans of pleasure as the closeness created friction above and below.

And again, and again.  Becoming faster, harder, hotter.  Magick sparking between them almost visibly, like calling to like, building up sensation until the world exploded.

He felt the others' climax through the link, felt it wash over him like nothing he had ever felt before.  Beneath him, she arched and moaned, letting out little cries that begged him for more, for everything, for release.  Sensations melded again, augmenting his own desire, the intensity of his pleasure as he took her and was taken by her.  He groaned and pushed into her harder, faster, her cries escalating, until he could almost feel her pleasure as well.  Some part of him was glad the music and laughter were still so loud and that they were so distant.  The rest of him focused completely, entirely, on the woman beneath him.

She kissed him and he kissed her back, feeling the tension, the intensity, sudden triple, crashing into him in single, overwhelming wave.  He gave a long, harsh cry, the sound half-swallowed by her mouth as she kissed him urgently.  Existence fragmented into a millions shards of light, sound, taste, smell, feel, exploding outwards from his body and soul.  He felt her tense as well, then arch against him.  A low scream emerged from her throat, almost keening, and her fingers clenched hard against his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.  He felt her inner muscles clench tightly about him, urging him on as he continued to come, gladly squeezing out everything his body had to give, and giving peace in return.

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