Tristan felt his body being carried, or rather dragged, as he woke. Before his brain could rally a fight, he was dropped, none too gently, on a stone floor and heavy manacles were locked on his wrists. Large, dark shadows blocked the sight of his surroundings after the hood was removed from his head. Tristan blinked several times before his vision cleared and saw that his captors had moved toward a thick wooden door.
He stood and started after the bulky guards leaving the room but chains stopped him from moving more than a foot from the wall they were connected to.
“Where am I?” Tristan yelled. “You can’t do this. What do you want?” He received no answer.
Tristan yanked and tugged on the chains binding his wrists but they were fastened securely to the dirty, stone wall. Cursing, he looking around. The room was small and void of furniture. There was only the door the men left out of and another across from him, both closed, and both out of his reach. Tristan realized that he was in a cell, deep in the Palace dungeon, the thugs wearing royal guard clothing. He had heard stories about this place and how very few people ever left once they were brought here.
A tremble coursed through his body as he sank to the floor, his back against the wall, and knees drawn to his chest.
Time passing was immeasurable. The distant screams and clanking of chains and steel held no rhythm. Occasionally a moan or cry would sound closer, only to increase the fear that ran wild inside. He remembered going to sleep safe and warm in his home, not having a clue how he came to be here or why.
Tristan jumped to his feet when the door opened. His breath stopped as a petite blonde woman stepped in. He immediately recognized the Queen, Vanessa Stamblin.
Her garments showed her position of Royalty with their deep purple hue and silky material along with the elegant way she moved. Her appearance was out of place in the small dirty room. Behind her stood two soldiers, silent, arms crossed over their chests, and eyes narrowed on him.
The Queen approached and stood several inches from Tristan who bowed his head as he was taught. She stood there silent for a few moments but he could feel her eyes on him. Eyes that were so icy blue that they looked like frost over the sea. Feeling her intense gaze, he wanted to cover his shirtless chest but refused to act like an adolescent child.
“Stories of you have caught my attention.” Her voice broke the thick tension. The sound was smooth but not sweet to his ears.
Tristan’s brows drew together in confusion. He was the son of a simple farmer who kept to himself. He was content with his life working the land his family kept. He had yet to meet a girl who sent his heart skipping and his father had not yet pushed him into marriage, though he was of age.
“I have heard that you are able to turn sour wine into pure water.” He shook his head. “I don’t…” His voice was raspy and dry.
Vanessa put her fingertips over his lips, interrupting his protest. She knew what she was saying was untrue, but she had to have a reason for having him here. She’d seen this one come and go through the village, his muscles taut and gleaming with sweat as he brought food to market. The sight of his tanned skin and defined muscles sent waves of lust through her body.
Her husband, the King, no longer allowed her to pick common men for her harem, stating that she would leave none to farm or work. He now only allowed her slaves and criminals to add for her pleasure. But as usual, Vanessa found ways to get what she wanted.
She walked over to the second door. Pushing it open, it revealed a second small room. Tristan could see that it was filled with barrels and from the smell they were filled with sour wine.
Vanessa stepped back to Tristan, her eyes narrowing on his lips as her tongue wet her red painted lips.
“This is the way it’s going to be. You have two days to turn this wine into water.
If you can do this, you may go back to your farm and live out your life.” Tristan swallowed hard. “And if I can’t?” His voice trembled slightly as he looked down into her icy depths.
Vanessa stepped closer and placed a hand lightly on his chest. He shivered in disgust at her touch but dared not pull away. He knew she held his life in her hands.
Her hand started to glide over his smooth skin, circling a nipple. Tristan bit his bottom lip to keep from jerking from her touch like it burned his stomach, revolting and churning at her touch.
“You will become part of my harem. I’m in need of a sex slave.” Her voice was honeyed and soft, almost child like, but Tristan heard a cold tone behind the sweetness.
“My last one…well, I had to let him go.” She rose on her toes and placed a light kiss on his stiff, unresponsive lips. “Two days,” she reminded him, as she stepped back and left the room.
The two guards approached Tristan and released the manacles from his wrists before backed away. Everything inside of Tristan told him to take a chance at escape, but looking at these two men, he knew that he’d not get far.
When the door closed and the click of the lock echoed through the chamber, Tristan went to the open doorway. There were at least twenty barrels of wine in the room. Despair filled him as he slid down the doorframe. Pulling his legs up to his chest and settling his arms on his knees, his head rested on them.
His life was over. There were stories whispered in the dark corners of taverns of how the Queen treated those in her harem. Once a man entered it, he was never seen again. Some say that it was a fate worse than death. Rumors told of how all the men she kept were scarred as a result of her misuse and cruelty, and that she cared nothing of their feelings or pain. They were only alive to serve and please her. Tristan let his tears of desolation flow freely as he cried, an action he’d not allowed himself to do since his mother died when he was just a young boy.
A hand settled on his shoulder, its warmth spreading within his body. He felt comforted by the touch, it felt similar to when his mother would wrap her arms around him and kiss his hurts. Slowly, Tristan raised his head and looked into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He had never actually seen eyes like this before. They were two shades of purple. The ring surrounding her black iris was the color of wild violets. The outer ring was darker in color, like the royal garments the King and Queen wore. Thick black lashes framed them. Fairy eyes, they were called.
Tristan looked past the eyes and found a beautiful woman kneeling next to him.
Her hair was long and dark brown in color. Bright red streaked the mousy color. Her lips were deep red, the color of roses ripe in bloom, and hinted at a smile.
He reached up and wiped the tears from his face, reluctant to move from the stranger’s touch. “Who are you?” His voice was quiet and unsure.
“I’m here to help you,” she said, with a voice as sweet as honey.
Tristan laughed. “Unless you can turn all of this sour wine to water…” he said indicating the barrels. “Then you are wasting your time.” The smile fully formed making her beauty shine. “I can help.” Her calm tone sobered him. “How?”
“I have my ways. However, I require payment for my services.” The small hope Tristan held tightly to fell. “I’m sorry but I have nothing to give. I own nothing but the clothing I wear.” He looked down at what he wore, pants and an old pair of shoes, both in ragged shape. “I’m but the son of a farmer. The land we tend isn’t even ours.”
She leaned over and gently pressed her lips to his. Her tongue swept over his flesh, beckoning them to part. His lips opened, allowing her tongue to slip in. The kiss was tentative, one of exploration and shyness on Tristan’s part. As the kiss continued Tristan craved more. She tasted sweeter than honey and found himself moaning when she ended the kiss by pulling away.
“You have what I require,” she said. “You can offer yourself to me as payment.” Tristan blinked slowly at the woman, still reeling from her kiss. It took a moment for him to comprehend her words.
“Me? You want me as payment?” He was unsure he’d heard right. Her offer sounded quite similar to the Queen’s. Both women wanted him as a possession, like he was cattle. He was a simple man, unused to this kind of attention. He had to wonder what fate he crossed to be punished with such a decision.
“I shall turn every barrel to pure water and get you out of here in exchange for your oath to surrender to me.”
Tristan looked at the beauty before him, thinking of the warmth and comfort he felt when she’d touched him. Her smile was sweet and inviting. Her voice was lulling like a spell.
Silently he weighed the pros and cons of his situation. If he pushed this woman away and allowed the Queen to have her way, he would be pulled into a nightmare world, where there would be beatings and punishments at her whim. He would be completely at her mercy with no one to help him. Remembering how his skin crawled at her touch and how much evil he saw in her eyes, he shivered at the thought of being at her mercy.
On the other hand, he knew nothing of this woman in front of him. How would she make the barrels turn from sour wine? How would she get him out of the dungeon?
Where would she take him? If he chose her, would he be exchanging one hell for another?
“How can I be sure that I’m not getting myself into a worse situation than what the Queen has offered?”
“You can’t. You can only trust what your heart tells you to do,” she said, raising her hand to caress his cheek. “I promise that you will be in a better place than this. And you won’t be punished or treated cruelly.”
Tristan felt the warmth of her touch spread through his face. He resisted the urge to lean into her hand.
“And my life here? What becomes of that?”
“It will be behind you. You will have no need of it. I will keep you safe.” The woman removed her hand and he instantly felt the coolness of the cell’s air where her warmth had been. He shivered, not liking the feeling.
Knowing that he would have a short, tortuous life if he stayed there, Tristan took a deep breath and let it slowly seep out of his lungs.
“If you get me out of this dungeon and safely away from the Queen and her fury, I give you my oath and surrender myself completely to you as payment.” She nodded. “Why don’t you lie down and rest while I take care of things?” Tristan looked to the spot that held her gaze and saw that there was a pallet of straw in the corner of the cell. He knew it wasn’t there before, but before he could question it, he felt very tired and the makeshift bed beckoned him. The woman stood and helped him up and walked with him over to the pallet. In several blinks of his eyes, he was lulled into a deep, dreamless slumber.
* * * *
Tristan woke snuggled under thick covers. Grudgingly, he opened his eyes and met with bright rays of sunshine seeping in through a small window. Sleep slowly drifted from his body and he remembered the events of the previous day. He turned and found that he was no longer in the cold, dark cell. He sat up and looked around the room he’d never seen before.
Tristan threw the covers back and gave a small groan as his muscles protested the movements. His body was sore and stiff when he stood and stretched. He was barefoot and his dirty, torn clothing was gone. He now wore a clean pair of tan pants held at his waist with a tie.
“Hello?” Tristan called out.
He left the room calling out again. There was no answer. He made his way through the small cottage. It had one bedroom, a bathroom, living area, and a kitchen.
He found no one else there.
Tristan opened the only door leading out of the cottage. He stepped out onto a porch that led into a garden. Walking out he called out again but only the sound of nature answered his call. He walked around the garden in awe. It was a beautiful place filled with all sorts of flowers, all in bloom. The air smelled sweet and vaguely familiar.
A vegetable garden was set along one side of the cottage.
This gave him no clue as to where he was. He’d never seen such a place as this.
How had he gotten from the Palace cell to this place? Had he just dreamed the Queen capturing him? Or maybe this was a dream. Tristan reached over and pinched his arm.
“Ow,” he said aloud, feeling the pain but he was still in the garden.
There was a dirt path winding around the garden and Tristan found himself following it until it came to a little white gate. It was connected to a fence that surrounded the entire garden including the cottage. On the other side of the fence was a thick, dark forest. It was a strange place. Everything the fence surrounded the sun beamed down on it, but on the other side it was dark, and a little daunting.
With just a slight hesitation Tristan opened the gate and tried to walk through, only to be stopped by some unseen barrier.
Tristan cursed and pressed his hands out in front of him, making contact with something that felt as solid as a wall but couldn’t be seen. His fists pounded on it but it didn’t make a noise or budge. He rose on his toes and found that it continued higher than he stood.
Slowly he walked around the fence, his hands touching the same unseen barrier all the way around until he was once more at the gate. There was no way out, no opening for him to leave…or anyone to enter. Tristan’s anger flared. He had given up one cell to be placed in another.
His words came back to haunt him. “If you get me out of this dungeon and safely away from the Queen and her fury, I give you my oath and surrender myself completely to you as payment.” Tristan had given his word to the strange woman. He’d given his oath but he had not expected this. He had been desperate to escape the Queen. He’d let her sweet smile and sensual kiss lead him into thinking he would be safer with her, a stranger.
Tristan had given his oath willingly but that didn’t stop the anger rushing through him. What had he done to deserve this fate? Who had he angered? He stomped around the garden banging on the invisible wall here and there, hoping to break through somehow.
Passing a group of tulips, he ripped a handful of them from the ground and threw them down smashing them under his foot. He turned and grabbed several other blooms, he knew not their names and tore them to pieces before throwing them aside.
Turning back to where the tulips lay, Tristan froze. Where he had torn the tulips up from their roots he found that more stood in their places. Turning slowly in a circle, he saw that the same had occurred to the other flowers he had destroyed. All were replaced and as beautiful as the ones he’d torn up.
“It’s enchanted,” Tristan murmured, and sank to the ground. It all came together.
The beautiful woman with her fairy like eyes, how she got into his cell, how he got here.
It was magic, all of it. How was he to beat magic? How was he to get out of this with his life intact?
Sighing, Tristan got up and went back inside. He had to admit that the cottage was cozy. It had a warm feeling to it, one that caused him to relax no matter the state of his emotions. He sat heavily on the couch and before long laid down, his mind racing, but mostly focused on the woman with the strange violet eyes.
Tristan must have drifted to sleep once more because when his eyes opened again the cottage was dark except for a dim light coming from the fireplace. He turned toward the fire and met with those amazing violet eyes. He pushed off the couch quickly and started pacing the room, keeping his distance from her magical influence.
“Who are you really?” he demanded angrily. “Where am I and why are you holding me here?”
“You are safe, out of the Queen’s harm. Do you not like it here? Does it not please you?” Her voice was soft, the tone alluring.
Tristan rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension there. He was very frustrated despite the fact that his eyes kept going to the enticing vixen.
“It’s nice,” he sighed, shaking his head, his aggravation not lessening. “But I’m in a prison just like before.”
The woman went to Tristan. With the lightest touch, she laid her hand against his cheek. “You surrendered yourself to me. This is your home, not a prison. You will be safe from harm here.”
He pulled away from her touch as he felt his agitation calm. He wanted to feel his anger. It was something he could take hold of, something that was his and not enchanted.
“Don’t touch me. Just leave me be. Go away.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head, a little confused at his reaction. Had he not willingly given his oath to her? She had saved him from a cruel fate. Did he think that she would just leave when he said? “You are my responsibility. I must care for you.” Tristan looked at her and saw the irritation that flared in her eyes. The emotion made her eyes shine brightly, the colors nearly twinkling. He saw a glimpse of fire within her and was drawn to it. His eyes lowered to her lips and found that there was a most beguiling curve to their lusciousness. He jerked his eyes away and turned his back to her to stare at the fire.
He heard her sigh before she called his name. He fought the urge to turn and go to her. She said his name again, this time with a firm and commanding tone. His body responded before he could fight it, turning back to her against his will. His breath caught as he looked upon her unclothed body. She was seated on the couch.
“On your hands and knees Tristan.” She commanded in the same authoritative tone that made his body do her will. “Now, crawl to me and kneel.” His body responded to her commands, no matter how his muscles fought it. He found himself kneeling before her but his anger was escalating.
“What have you done to me?” he growled at her savagely. He realized that his body…no his will, was no longer his own.
“I have done nothing. It was you who gave yourself to me. By surrendering yourself you have given all to me, including your body to do with as I please.” Her eyes met his, loving the fire anger brought to him. His body was rigid and she could see his muscles twitching in revolt. He looked so alive at that moment, and she felt his emotions bursting inside of her as if they were her own.
The dark haired vixen slid off the couch and kneeled before Tristan. She leaned forward and let her lips give his a gentle caress. He was surprised when his lips responded to her touch. She deepened the kiss as he opened his mouth fully to her, reveling in her sweet taste. At that moment, he was unsure if his actions were caused by what she wanted or what he really wanted to do. Thinking of it only confused him more.
He felt her hands travel his body, her fingers brushing over his strained muscles.
Her mouth pulled away only to start laying kisses under his earlobe. Tristan tried to ignore her touch and lips as he gasped for breath. He tried to turn his mind to a matter of distraction but failed as his mind brought forth images of her eyes, lips, and body. In spite of her tricking him and his hostile attitude toward her, he couldn’t deny the desire that surged within his body. From the first moment he’d seen her, he had wanted her.
Her hot breath feathered his ear, as her voice caressed his soul. “Tristan. Touch me. Feel me. Be with me.” Her voice held no trace of the commanding tone as it had earlier. He could sense that she didn’t want to force him into this. She had given him a display of her power over him, but she wanted him willing.
Her hands were at the waist of his pants and pulled on the strings. He felt one of her hands dip inside and take hold of his hardening length. Her other hand slid up his body and gently took one of his nipples between her fingers. Tristan braced himself against her sensual touch. He tried not to show her how much she affected him, but his body was alive with tremors and longing.
Tristan’s hands finally lifted of their own accord and started their exploration of her body. He felt the heat rising from her skin. Her breath quicken as his fingers brushed over her nipples. He cursed himself and his body for wanting her so much, yet he couldn’t help himself. No matter the circumstances, he ached to be with her. These feelings were not because of her magic but because it was what he truly desired.
He pushed her back on the floor. Was that animal skin there before? The question flashed through his mind but he was soon discarded by the sight of her naked flesh stretched out before him. His primal instinct took over as his mouth traveled down her body, tasting her, devouring her. His kisses led him down to her already moist core. He took a moment and inhaled her scent. It was the same as she tasted, sweet, but it was mixed with something else. Perhaps it was the obvious magic flowing in her veins.
No longer fighting or thinking, he tentatively flicked his tongue over her clit. He felt encouraged when her body jumped in response and she let loose a low growl. He began exploring her folds with his tongue. Her moans grew louder as he began dabbing the throbbing center of her desire. Her hardened nub pulsed stronger as he sucked it into his mouth, causing her to cry out in climax. He continued gently licking her sweet juices as she came down from her orgasm.
Tristan felt her hands pull on his body. After sliding up her body she flipped him, so that he now lay on his back. He watched with hooded eyes as she slid her body down on his throbbing length. He growled out a groan and was soon lost in the sensations of her body riding him.
Tristan didn’t know how the broken moans and horse cries of pleasure torn from his body were driving his vixen wild. Didn’t know her rhythm was driven by pure lust for the mortal man that lay beneath her. It was not long before they reached orgasm, their releases so intense their cries disturbed the animals in the surrounding woods.
“This doesn’t mean I’m any happier to be here,” Tristan grumbled against her hair as they lay catching their breath.
“But it will make it more enjoyable,” she whispered, coiling her body around his.
* * * *
When Tristan woke the next morning his gorgeous vixen was gone, starting the pattern for their lives. His days were spent in the cottage or out in the garden, always alone. As the sun set she would always return to him. At first, he spent his days in anger. He hated how he had little control of his life, no matter how hard his brain tried to tell him that this life was better than the one he would have had with the Queen. He tried to keep his anger but the moment he looked into her eyes when she appeared, his anger would dissolve to be replaced by desire.
Their nights were spent finding new ways to pleasure one another. The sex was hot and passionate. Between their lusty interludes, she would ask Tristan questions about how his life had been. Tristan, once he appreciated that his life could have turned out worse, enjoyed these talks. But when he began questioning her, she gave him little information, including her name; saying that she liked it when he called her Vixen.
Time passed and as usual Tristan woke alone. Turning over to reach for her, he felt a deep ache in his chest. He wondered what she looked like first thing in the morning, wondered if she woke happy or grouchy. He wondered how it would feel to wake with her lying in his arms, her beauty greeting him every morning. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks on the chest. He was in love with his little Vixen. As each morning passed his heart stung more at not having her by his side. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He wanted to give her children. He didn’t care if he had to live in this magical cottage until his dying days; he just wanted to be with her.
* * * *
“I love you,” he confessed later that night. A light wind passed over their naked bodies as his words were whispered into the night. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you. I want to wake to you every morning. I want you to be my wife,” he said, despite knowing she was immortal. She would never die, while he would slowly grow old and die.
Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked at him. “Tristan, I would like that very much but you know that it is not possible. Our ways are different than yours.” She lightly caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. “You have given yourself to me and I will care for you, but we cannot marry.” Her voice was sad.
“If two people truly love each other, why not?” His frustration was coming out in his tone. “You do love me, right?”
She smiled. She had already confessed how she’d watched over him for years and how she had fallen in love with him. When she saw what his Queen had planned for him, she had pleaded with her King to allow her to save him. “Yes, I love you with all my heart.”
“Then there must be a way for us to be together. I want to wake with you in my arms. I want you with me all the time; I want to father your children. I don’t care if I’m going to die one day. I want to spend that time happy with you.” She sighed and took his hand in hers. “So do I,” she acknowledged. Her fingers lightly drew circles on his hand as her mind raced. “There is…” she started softly but stopped.
“What?” He’d not been sure that she’d said anything.
“There is a way we could be together.” Her head was down, refusing to meet his eyes.
He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head gently so he could see her face. Sadness clouded her eyes.
“Tell me.”
“You must guess my true name.”
“That’s it?” Tristan almost chuckled. It may not be the easiest task but surely he could find a way to figure out her name.
“You only have three chances. If you can say my name, we can be together the way we want.”
“Ok, so what if I can’t guess correctly after my three chances?” He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know the answer but he had to know what he was getting into before he started spouting off names.
“We lose each other forever.” Her eyes lowered and watched her fingers, still touching his hand. “You don’t have to do this Tristan. As I’ve said before, you are my responsibility and I will always care for you. We could stay like this. Here. Until…” But she didn’t finish the sentence. They both knew the ending, despite the knowledge that he will age slower being in the enchanted setting.
Tristan gathered her into his arms and kissed her head. “I know. I’ll think about it. But one way or another, I’ll find a way for us to be together,” he vowed.
Tristan’s sleep was restless that night. Sometime before the early dawn, he slipped into a dream. He kneeled before an older man, his dark hair streaked with silver. This strange man wore clothing made of silky shining material but dark in color.
The man’s posture was regal and tall, and radiated authority and confidence.
“You have found your true love Tristan, and she has found you. Do not doubt it.
Merely look deep inside your heart to find the answers you seek. Your destiny is her eternity.”
The man faded to be replaced by the image of his beautiful Vixen, feeding a baby at her breast. He watched an image of himself go to her and kiss her lips, then the child’s head. A bright light slowly entered his dream, blinding him from the image.
Blinking, Tristan found himself alone in his bed, the morning sun shining bright into his room, beginning a new day.
All day Tristan roamed the cottage and garden restlessly. He was anxious for his vixen’s return. He wanted to tell her about his dream and see if she knew what it meant.
He knew that he had to have her, to find a way to be with her.
When the sun finally started to set she appeared before him unclothed. His worries and restlessness evaporated, leaving only a longing to bury himself between her legs, to lose himself in her body. He picked her up and carried her to their bed.
They made love with an intensity that drowned out their previous nights of passion. Their need to touch was urgent, as was their want of joining.
She cried out his name as her body trembled and released herself to its pleasure.
Tristan felt his body shudder as her body clamped down hard on him. In the instant of his orgasm, he growled the name that had risen from the deep depths of his soul.
“Mikayla!”
She gasped as his seed filled her womb creating life with their love.
Forcing the pleasure induced haze from his mind Tristan lifted his head and looked at his Vixen. She had tears running down her cheeks and her lips trembled as she tried to control her sobs.
“What is it? Did I hurt you?” He was immediately concerned, never seeing her in this state.
Her hands cupped his face. “How did you know?” she asked softly.
Tristan remembered vaguely saying a name. One that was now bursting all over his mind. “Mikayla. Is that your name?” he asked in awe. How could he have known it?
The name was unusual; he never would have guessed it.
She nodded. “Yes. You…you said my true name but…how did you know? How could…?”
Tristan shook his head. “I’m not sure but it’s like I’ve always known, it was just buried.
Mikayla smiled and kissed Tristan. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he groaned, as her kiss made him hard again.
They made love several times that night, Tristan making sure he said her name over and over before they finally fell into an exhausted sleep. When he woke the next morning, she was lying asleep in his arms. His breath stopped at seeing her beauty in the morning sun, stealing his heart all over again. She roused enough to make love to Tristan once more before she took them to see her King.
Her King was not only her ruler but also her father. He was also the man that had appeared in Tristan’s dream. Tristan opened his mouth to ask the King about the dream when the slightest shake of the older man’s head stopped him. Tristan nodded and bowed before the man, like he had in his dream.
Mikayla’s father granted Tristan immortality, stating that he and Mikayla should live as long as their love for one another did. They were married that same day and 52