Birds and Prey Read online

  Birds and Prey

  Book 2 of the Elven Claimed Series

  A BWWM Paranormal Erotic Romance

  by

  Lexi Johnson

  This is Book 2 of the Elven Claimed Series, a serialized novel consisting of five parts: The Elven King, Birds and Prey, and An Elven Storm Books 1-3. You can also pick up all 5-Books at a significant discount with the Elven Claimed Series Boxed Set.

  Published by SF Buzz Press © 2014

  Copyright © 2014 by Lexi Johnson

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Remember to sign up HERE for information about updates, new releases, discount offers, and FREE Books from Lexi Johnson and other great authors from SFBuzz Press.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  BOOK 2- BIRDS AND PREY

  Chapter 1: Jeweled Crows

  Chapter 2: The Hawk

  Chapter 3: Heart’s Blade

  Chapter 4: Wind Dancer

  Chapter 5: The Shifter’s Den

  Chapter 6: Mate of Flesh

  Chapter 7: Mate of Spirit

  Chapter 8: Seduction of Memory

  Chapter 9: Hunt

  Chapter 10: Her Own Rules

  Chapter 11: The Moonlight Prince

  Chapter 12: Wind Dancer’s Choice

  BOOKS 3-5 - AN ELVEN STORM

  Prologue: Hell’s Teeth

  About the Author

  BOOK 2- BIRDS AND PREY

  Chapter 1: Jeweled Crows

  Wind swept from the peaks of the Hell’s Teeth, up through the red and gold leaves of the treetops that housed the elven court of Edenost.

  To Lady Sade, known to most as Laire’s Pet or sometimes Little Bird, the wind seemed an endless weeping. She woke to the wind’s sobs, ate and performed her duties as Princess Lairelithoniel’s handmaiden in the whisper of the wind’s lament, and, when, she curled up at night in a sumptuous pile of pillows at the foot of the princess’s bed, the wind haunted Sade’s dreams.

  Though the wind frightened her, she also found it comforting. It was the only constant in her life here. And, while she didn’t understand why the wind mourned, she empathized with its pain, as she carried a similar, nameless wound in her own heart.

  Princess Lairelithoniel -- or Laire, as most called her -- had commanded Sade to be dressed appropriately for the midmorning feast.

  Sade stood in the center of the princess’s dressing chamber, while the lower courtiers swept around her, a flock of crows ordering Sade to move this way and that as they draped her in silk and jewels. She would have preferred to eat from her tray in the princess’s rooms, rather than be put on display in the Great Hall at the princess’s feet. Though Sade had been told her place as Laire’s handmaiden was one of honor, there was always a cruelty in the princess’s smiles, and an edge to her compliments that made Sade feel small.

  She wished she could remember her life before the court -- before Edenost. But, the few times she’d dared ask, Laire had waved Sade’s concerns away, while the other elves had looked on with fear or pity, and said nothing.

  “Oh, Little Bird, this will be so lovely in your hair!” Melda, differentiated from the others only by the shock of white running through her long, thick braid, held a jeweled comb in front of Sade’s eyes.

  “Thank you,” Sade said. She was grateful for the kindness. None of the others even attempted to explain what they were doing, and, unlike those of the princess, Melda’s eyes didn’t shine with mirth whenever Sade felt confused or out of place.

  Melda nodded. She pushed the comb into Sade’s short, thick curls.

  Sade knew she didn’t look like the other elves. They were tall, with skin as pale as moonlight on water, black eyes with no differentiation between pupil and iris, and ears that drew up to tapered points. In contrast, Sade was brown, with a round face, round ears, and thick, wild brown curls.

  Just as Melda set the last comb in Sade’s hair, and another elf tied the dress into place, the princess entered.

  “Oh!” Laire said, raising her hand to her throat in an expression of delight. “Yes, that is almost perfect!”

  The courtiers stepped back as the Princess Laire approached. They didn’t chatter amongst themselves as they had before; instead they huddled together in expectant silence.

  “Yes…”

  Laire cupped Sade’s face in both of her palms. As always, the princess’s touch sent pleasure through Sade’s body, making the inside of her pussy throb with need. “Your face is perfect,” Laire said, “and I love how the gold brings some vibrancy to your skin. It is quite lovely and soft.” She rubbed her thumb over Sade’s cheek. “If I could figure out how, I’d have this exact texture for my pillows.”

  Trembling, Sade forced a smile.

  As good as the princess’s touch felt, Sade hated it when Laire came this close to her. The pleasure beat a sharp counterpoint to the unending pain in Sade’s chest, and she had trouble breathing.

  “But…” Laire tightened her grip and squinted at Sade’s lips. “What is this color? Burnished copper?! My pet needs something brighter, you fool!”

  Laire released Sade’s jaw, leaving Sade breathless, her body a confused mix of alarm, disappointment, and relief.

  The princess crooked her finger toward the group of courtiers. One stepped forward as though against her will. She held the errant stick of copper coloring in her hand.

  “My apologies, my princess,” the elf said. She was small and pale. Her entire face was covered by a wave of inky hair, as she threw herself to her knees in front of Laire.

  “Did you mean to shame me, Naira?” Laire let go of Sade’s face, and rested a hand atop the prostrate elf’s head. “Was that your plan? To make a fool of me?”

  “No, princess! I swear by all the Gods! No!”

  Laire ran her fingers through Naira’s thick, black hair, and Naira winced.

  Laire said: “Then you are simply a sightless fool? With no understanding of beauty?”

  “Yes,” Naira cried. “Yes, yes! Please -- ”

  “Well,” Laire said, interrupting her as calmly as if she didn’t matter at all, “then we’ll simply have to find another use for you. Perhaps it would be best if you were to spend some time entertaining the birds.”

  A strangled gasp came from the group of courtiers. Naira began to weep openly.

  In Sade’s short time here in the Edenost court, she had seen one other be given over to ‘entertain the birds.’ The offending elf had been chained, naked, in iron, overlooking a busy passage, in easy sight of the courtiers passing below. He’d hung there for days while the birds fed upon his living flesh.

  Sade had never known the man’s offense, and had never seen him again, but she suspected he’d been put to work in the kitchens, like the other faceless drudges who scurried between the stoves in shapeless brown sacks, their faces and limbs ever hidden.

  Aside from Melda, Sade wasn’t fond of these elves who nominally served her -- but none of them deserved this.

  “Take her,” Laire said. She pointed to two of the other courtiers.

  “Wait!” Sade shouted.

  The princess looked at Sade with an air of surprise, as though she were a piece of furniture that had somehow discovered speech. “Yes, my pet?” she said.

  Sade was shaking now too. The princess had as much power over her as over any in the court. But Laire had treated Sade with relative kindness… so far.

  “It was me,” Sad
e said. “I asked for the copper. I thought it was pretty.”

  “You?” Laire’s mouth screwed up in a furious grimace.

  The expression swept over her features for only a second. Then she was smiling again. “How clever, pet! You chose the color?”

  Sade nodded. It wasn’t a very good lie. But then again, elves were terrible at parsing out lies. “Please, don’t hurt her.” That much, Sade could beg sincerely.

  Laire sighed deeply. “Of course, my pet,” she said, patting Sade’s cheek absently. Each brief touch forced pleasure through Sade’s body. “I wouldn’t punish her for something that clearly was not her responsibility.”

  Laire looked down at Naira, who was still weeping in the other elves’ arms.

  “Let her go,” she said. “And all of you, leave us. Return to your duties.”

  The courtiers fled in a fluttering of hair and silk, leaving Sade and Laire alone together.

  “You have a kind heart,” Laire said, wrinkling her nose as she said it. “But perhaps that is because you are carrying so much pain.”

  “Princess?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Little Bird, how you weep into your pillows when you believe I’m sleeping. When you came to us from the Sidhe, you were suffering a deep wound of the soul. We gave you to our best healers, but the best they could do was make you forget.”

  Laire’s gaze was faraway, and Sade listened, barely breathing as the princess spoke.

  “That oath-breaker whom I was promised to marry -- Prince Aranion -- is the source of your despair,” murmured Laire.

  “Aranion?” Saying the name made Sade feel warmer somehow. And at the same time, that place in her chest -- the soul-wound, as Laire had explained it -- ached sharply.

  “Yes. The Bright Court and Edenost have been at war for millennia. But, with our marriage, Aranion and I had the power to bring peace to our peoples. He stood with me before the Gods and our fathers, and promised that we would wed.” Laire sounded more sorrowful than angry.

  “But,” she went on, “instead, he betrayed our oath. His betrayal hurt me, but the wound that he caused you was far deeper. I cannot say for sure -- because I didn’t witness it -- but I assume he made you similar promises. And you’re a mortal, and thus prone to foolish fancies.” Laire’s voice was almost tender.

  “There’s no shame that you believed him. The shame is Aranion’s. But, in spite of our greatest magics, the bond you share still bleeds. And it will destroy you.”

  Destroy her? Sade couldn’t imagine allowing a stranger’s promises to injure her in this way. But it was true that the wound was there. It hovered in the space between her lungs, sometimes aching, sometimes burning… and sometimes, in the middle of the night, filling her with such sorrow and longing that she felt like throwing herself off the edge of the princess’s chamber, and letting the wind dash her against the ground.

  “I…” she tried to say, but stumbled over her tongue. “How would…”

  Laire took both of Sade’s hands, and looked down at the mortal, her black eyes glistening.

  “I don’t blame you,” Laire said. “The Sidhe make a game of tempting mortals. You couldn’t have known he had made promises elsewhere when he said he loved you. But now” – he voice became intense – “I have found a way for us both to have our revenge. A way for you to end your pain forever. But, it will require that you be very brave. Will you do this for me, Little Bird? Will you do this for yourself?”

  Sade was overwhelmed. In these past few minutes, she had learned more about herself and her past than in all of the time since she had awakened in the princess’s bed.

  And Princess Laire, when she showed her own pain, was less frightening. Maybe, after all, the princess wasn’t as cruel as she seemed. She had never laid a hand in anger on Sade. Never hurt her, not even pulling at her hair when Laire combed it late at night, before Sade used her hands and tongue to bring her princess pleasure, and they fell asleep together.

  Laire’s grip on Sade’s hands tightened. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt unless Sade struggled, but, after all, Sade had learned in these past weeks not to struggle against the princess’s will. It was the struggle that brought pain.

  Sade took a breath. She nodded.

  “I will try,” she said.

  “That’s all any of us can ask,” Laire said with a smile. A true smile, one that made her eyes shine with a sort of manic joy.

  “Now,” she said, “come with me to my father’s hall. We can’t keep our guest waiting.”

  Chapter 2: The Hawk

  Like all Shifters, Haytham had little use for Elves and their politics, and even less for mortals. Given his choice, he would have shed his human skin to soar evermore in the swirling winds of the Hell’s Peaks. He would have descended only to capture his prey in his talons, and to savor the crunch of bone and the sweet salt of blood in his beak.

  But Haytham owed the Edenost queen his wings. So when the royal family called for him, the geis between them meant he had no choice but to obey.

  Usually, they asked him for small things. They might call for him to scout ahead the path for a Wild Hunt, or, on the rare occasions when their cold war with the Sidhe grew heated, to gather reconnaissance about where the Sidhe were hiding their warriors and magical sink-stones. Occasionally, they asked him to kill.

  Mostly, however, they left him alone. And Haytham was glad of that.

  But this was not most times.

  Haytham stood at the entrance to the Elven Queen’s reception hall. He was dressed in uncomfortably formal clothes, which made his too-tight skin itch all over. All around him, thick branches densely covered by broad red-and-gold leaves obscured the song of the wind. Certainly there were openings -- some even wide enough to leap through -- but it was still too confining. Haytham couldn’t understand how the elves could stand to live in such spaces, and all packed in so close together.

  “The princess will receive you now, in her chambers,” said a thin, black-haired elf wearing far too many robes, and beckoning toward yet another arched doorway.

  At his words, the door swung open. The elf stepped through them, and started announcing the princess’s full name and titles -- a tedious process that Haytham ignored.

  When the elf had finished, Haytham gave the princess a formal nod. “My lady,” he said. This was as courtly as his manners got.

  “Call me Laire,” the princess said. She gave a toothy, practiced smile that showed nothing of her character.

  She pointed to the elf who had brought Haytham in. “Leave us.”

  The elf nodded and backed out of the room. Once the door had shut softly behind Haytham, the princess turned back and considered him.

  The last time he’d seen her, she had been at that diffuse age between childhood and adulthood. Not awkward -- elves were incapable of that -- but not refined, either. Now she had become a full adult, and beautiful, in the way a blade is beautiful: clean, sharp, and ready to draw blood.

  “Haytham, isn’t it?” Laire asked.

  “Yes.” Of course she remembered him, but Laire liked her games.

  She also hated him. She had hated him ever since her mother had punished her for hanging him up in iron chains, and forcing him to fight the local carrion birds with only his beak and claws.

  Laire said, “My mother speaks highly of you.”

  “Thank you,” Haytham said.

  He wondered if the queen knew that Laire was playing with her mother’s toys. The princess, while still clearly dangerous, did not have her mother’s years of experience in treachery. Perhaps there was an opportunity here.

  “This is the first time you’ve summoned me,” Haytham said. “I am curious as to how I can help you.”

  The princess said, “I have a special situation. It requires a…delicate touch.”

  Haytham hated talking to elves. They were always so vague.

  “Do you need someone killed without the use of m
agic?” he asked.

  Princess Laire wrinkled her nose. “Can’t we go about this with any subtlety at all?” She sighed. “It is a bit more complicated than that. I need you to train another to kill. My pet. A mortal from beyond the Veil.”

  How in the world had Princess Laire acquired a mortal from beyond the Veil? But Haytham knew better than to ask questions to which he’d rather not know the answer.

  So instead he asked: “Has she killed?”

  Laire’s smile grew a bit more genuine. “Not yet. This will be her first.”

  “Surely there must be someone here who could train her. I’ve never even taught another Shifter the Wind Dance, let alone a mortal without wings.” Truth to tell, Haytham doubted he’d have the patience for either task. He was anti-social, even for one of his own kind.

  “Yes, but… the situation is delicate. And I have taken a vow before the Justicius that neither I, nor any member of my court, will hurt her. She cannot learn what she must without some suffering. And, also…” Laire took a step towards him, extending her hand. “May I?”

  Without waiting for permission, Laire ran her fingernail along his jaw.

  Haytham wanted to grab the finger and break it. But the geis between him and the royal family made it impossible for him to hurt her, so he stood stiffly, enduring her touch.

  “You are very handsome,” said Laire. “As you must know.”

  Haytham shrugged. He had no trouble finding lovers when the winds drew them together.

  “Don’t be modest,” Laire said. “It doesn’t suit you.” She tapped his chin once with her index finger. Then -- apparently finished amusing herself with him, at least for now – she said: “Let me be clear. I mean for you to train my pet in the ways of killing an elf, quickly and without hesitation. What’s more, I mean for you to…capture her interest. Distract her. Seduce her,” she clarified. “And take your pleasure in her.”

  Haytham had about as much interest in mindlessly rutting a mortal as he did in the elves and their endless games.