Bonds Eternal: A Steamy MMF High Fantasy Romance (Ballads of Cadarnle Book 1)

  Bonds Eternal

  Ballads of Cadarnle Book 1

  By AJ Ryder

  Published by Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  The following story is full of romance, fantasy and sensuality. See the preview below for a bit of foreplay.

  As Liandrya gently squeezed the two throbbing members in her hands in between languid strokes and sensual caresses of her thumbs to the moistened tips, Dorlyn and Vylkur took turns between stroking Liandrya’s sensitive nub and penetrating her molten, sopping core with their fingers. The room was filled with the erotic, wordless vocalization of their building pleasure, and the smell of arousal was heavy in the air as the amorous trio reaffirmed their union and bond. Liandrya’s back arched, and she cried out in ecstasy when both Dorlyn and Vylkur leaned down and suckled her pink, erect nipples into their mouths while thrusting into her hands.

  Gently gripping Liandrya’s nipple between his teeth, Dorlyn rapidly flicked his tongue over the pert bud as his fingers stroked and lightly pinched the swollen nub between her legs. Vylkur, for his part, had released Liandrya’s nipple in favor of trailing nipping kissed up the side of her neck so he could nibble along the shell of her pointed ear as he thrust into Liandrya’s slick sheath with three fingers.

  “Never forget that you belong to us every bit as much as we belong to you, my love,” Vylkur whispered into Liandrya’s ear as he hooked his fingers within her and meticulously stroked the small bundle of nerves that he knew would send the ginger beauty over the edge.

  “Never...ever!” Liandrya mewled mere moments before she threw her head act with a wordless cry of release as her inner walls squeezed and spasmed around Vylkur’s fingers.

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  Copyright © 2018 by AJ Ryder & Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.

  All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  More Salacious Romance From AJ Ryder

  Prologue

  The sun trickled down through the forest canopy of the Amber Woods and gave the autumnal leaves of the forest a warm, welcoming glow. So, named because of the very glow currently filling the space below the tree line, the Amber Woods was a veritable Xanadu for those denizens who called it home. The same could be said of any of the forests that populated the expansive lands of Cadarnle, for they were inhabited by the wood elves, and the tall, beautiful, immortal beings would not suffer their home being any less beautiful than they.

  That is not to say that the entirety of the forests was engulfed in beauty. Quite the contrary in fact. The beauty of the forests extended only to the borders of the elven territory. The wilder folk and woodsmen who chose to live in the wilds and away from bustling cities as well as their throngs of people, had no such magic innately and collectively maintaining an otherworldly beauty. That did not mean that their portions of the forests were hideous and ugly; rather, they felt the effects of winter more harshly, and trees would wither and die with age instead of feeding off the elves’ eternal life like the trees within the elven borders.

  Mortals were allowed within the elven borders for the sole purpose of trade, but not for anything more. None but the elves were allowed to dwell within their lands, but exceptions were made on rare occasions; for example, when an elf had the misfortune of falling in love with a mortal, that mortal was allowed to live out the rest of their limited days by the side of their beloved. While such unions were not forbidden by the elves, they were by no means encouraged either.

  After all, eternity was a long time to grieve the loss of a mate.

  Not even the half-breed children that resulted from such a union were immune to the cruel and unfeeling march of Time. Though much longer-lived than their mortal parent, half-elves were still not immortal. Eventually, they too would wither and die before the eyes of their remaining parent, and leave them utterly heartbroken for the rest of their existence.

  As such, the elves were encouraged to choose mates from among their own kind, and mortals were staunchly forbidden from dwelling within the elven borders to further discourage mixed unions. The elves patrolled their borders vigilantly to ensure that no mortal had dared to break that law. Should a mortal be found living within elven lands, they were escorted at arrow-point to the other side of the border.

  The rules had been firmly set in place for centuries. Every generation knew of them; so, it was understandable that Dorlyn Autumnleaf frowned as he dropped silently into a crouch to examine one of his snares upon finding it broken.

  It had been broken, but not by either animal or wear.

  The edges were not frayed, but rather cut clean by a blade. Someone had purposefully stolen from him, and this was not the first time this had happened in the past seven days. This was not the first of his traps to be tampered with, and that made the elf’s frown deepen as his rich, auburn hair fell over his shoulders.

  Dorlyn’s kin and clan-mates knew better than to steal from his traps, or the traps of any other clan-mate, for that matter. There was no theft among his people, for they had no reason to steal from one another. Crops were grown and shared among the entire clan, and every elf was ready to share the meat from the animals they hunted with clan-mates who had not been so fortunate in a hunt. It was simply the way things were done among the wood elves, for they were not ruled by the same greed and ambition as mortals.

  No...it was not one of Dorlyn’s clan mates that were responsible for this violation. That left only one other option.

  A stranger.

  A stranger...an intruder was responsible. An intruder had been the elven territory, and judging by the freshness of the cut snare, that intruder still was. Narrowing his cobalt blue eyes, Dorlyn shifted until he was practically on all fours so he could properly examine the tracks left in the ground.

  Amidst the faded, various paw and hoof prints, Dorlyn found a set of fresh tracks that were decidedly left by a person. Undoubtedly, a human had decided to throw caution to the wind and carve out a place for himself...or perhaps, even herself. The tracks were a bit too small to belong to a man. Perhaps a child? The thought of a child wandering around lost in the woods sent a surge of panic through Dorlyn, for while the elven part of the forest was a thing of beauty to behold, it was no less dangerous than the human part.

  There were still wild animals and poisonous plants that could prove harmful to any who ingested them unknowingly. Never mind the danger brought on by exposure to the elements. It had rained torrentially over the past two days. The thought of a child left alone to fend for themselves in s
uch a situation caused any and all anger Dorlyn had previously felt to fly from his mind, for a child who had gotten lost in the woods was certainly not deserving of his ire. Even so, the possibility still remained that the elf’s quarry was not a child at all.

  After all, dark elves were smaller than wood elves as well as most human men.

  It had been a week since the last raid attempt by dark elves upon Dorlyn’s clan. Perhaps he was dealing with a straggler? Perhaps it was a precursor to something bigger?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Pursing his lips, Dorlyn rose to his feet and drew the large hood of his dark, green cloak down low over his head before proceeding with caution while mentally preparing himself for whatever it was he ended up finding. He followed the tracks without making a sound and kept an arrow notched to his drawn bow as a precaution.

  Tensions were high between wood elves and dark elves. They always had been, and they likely always would be considering the centuries-old hatred between the two races that deeply on both sides. Dark elves regularly launched skirmishes and full raids against the wood elves, and copious blood was spilled on both sides time and time again. Dorlyn knew he would not be able to take on a raiding party by himself, but he also did not want to rally a party of his own if he was only dealing with a single human. Such a thing would be unnecessary, so he vowed to cautiously investigate and determine his next course of action once he determined the culprit.

  It did not take long before Dorlyn’s keen ears became accustomed to the sound of muffled curses and grunts, and he followed the sounds upon silent feet. Using the trunk of a large and ancient oak tree as well as the surrounding foliage for cover, Dorlyn carefully peered around the wide, knotted trunk with painstaking slowness until he was finally afforded a view of a crouched hooded figure attempting to skin a large rabbit...badly.

  Were it not for the fact that the rabbit was undoubtedly the one stolen from Dorlyn’s, the elf would have felt pity for the person’s clear and utter ineptitude. Instead, he felt annoyance that so perfect a specimen was being so horribly butchered. Gods above, there would be nothing worth eating once the thief was done! However, before Dorlyn could say a word, the thief pushed his hood down with a frustrated huff before angrily picking up a rock and throwing it into the distance. It was neither a child, nor a human of any sort; but, rather a lone dark elf.

  To catch a dark elf alone and unawares like this was rare indeed, and Dorlyn was moments away from letting loose his arrow. In fact, had it not been for the fact that he recognized the dark elf, he would have. Dorlyn recognized the dark elf from the raid that had occurred in the past week.

  Dorlyn still remembered vividly the stark fear that had shone in the eyes of the man when he had pressed the tip of his halberd against his throat. Despite the fact that the dark elf had conjured a fireball in his palm, the fear in his eyes had been obvious, as well as the clear and evident reluctance to attack. He truly had not wanted to kill Dorlyn, and so Dorlyn’s own hand had been stayed. It had been in those brief moments that the wood elf had noticed that his prey, though cloaked for protection against the daylight, was decidedly unarmed and unequipped for battle. Determining that the dark elf was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and meaning no harm to the clan that dwelled within that specific forest, Dorlyn had let him go. Fortunately, the chaos of the skirmish had masked his actions from his clan mates, and Dorlyn had assumed that would be the last he would ever see of the hapless dark elf.

  Yet, here he was.

  There was no mistaking him. Though every bit as ebony-skinned as his kin, and possessing the same snowy-white hair that ran rampant through the generations, there was no mistaking the features that managed to be both delicate and masculine.

  Dorlyn felt an odd twinge of betrayal upon seeing the dark elf he had spared stealing from him. Of course, Dorlyn knew that the dark elf had no logical way of knowing that he was stealing from him specifically, but that did nothing to deter his feelings as he emerged from his hiding place to confront the thief.

  “Is this how you repay my act of mercy?” Dorlyn demanded with his bow still raised. “I spare your life, and not only do you sully the beauty of these woods with your continued presence, but you steal from me as well?”

  Entirely consumed by his raging hunger as well as his frustration at being completely out of his element, Vylkur had not heard the wood elf’s approach. Gasping in shock, he dropped the massacred rabbit as well as his knife before conjuring a crackling ball of swirling lightning in his palm. It did not take him long to recognize the wood elf that had allowed him to escape.

  “It’s you,” Vylkur uttered while lowering his hand a fraction of an inch.

  “Yes, I am me, and you are you,” Dorlyn replied tersely. “Now that we have established our remembrance of one another, how do you plead to the accusations I have lain at your feet?”

  Vylkur blinked in confusion, for honestly, he had not been listening before. “And they were?”

  “Are you deaf as well as stupid?” Dorlyn asked condescendingly.

  Vylkur narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “If you plan to insult me, at least tell me your name.”

  “And why would I do that?” Dorlyn scoffed.

  “So, I may have the pleasure of knowing just who I happen to be insulting in return,” Vylkur snipped in reply.

  Completely taken aback by the dark elf’s backbone and snark in the face of having an arrow pointed at him, Dorlyn blinked in surprise and lowered his bow a fraction of an inch as an amused chuckle escaped him. “Dorlyn,” he replied. “And what shall I call you, thief? Like it even matters.”

  “Of course, it matters,” Vylkur snapped. “My name is Vylkur, and I am not a thief.”

  “Your crimes upon my traps, and that dead rabbit, speak otherwise,” Dorlyn replied with a roll of his eyes.

  “There was no possible way for me to know the traps I burgled were yours, Dorlyn,” Vylkur retorted. “Unless you are perhaps in possession of invisible ink which you then used to inscribe your name upon said traps,” he added cheekily.

  “Awfully glib for one having an arrow trained upon the point between his eyes,” Dorlyn said with a growl in order to cover up his chuckle.

  “I am hardly helpless,” Vylkur remarked while raising the hand which still held the swirling ball of crackling lightning.

  Dorlyn raised an eyebrow. “Your efforts of skinning that rabbit would dictate otherwise. The poor bugger.”

  This time, it was Vylkur who chuckled. Moments later, he cleared his throat. “So, I’m not an outdoorsman,” he said dismissively.

  “Clearly,” Dorlyn replied with cheek. “Which begs the question as to why you are still in these woods after I so foolishly spared your life and allowed you to escape.”

  Vylkur stared silently at Dorlyn for several moments before clearing his throat and grumbling something incoherently under his breath. He took care to sheepishly avert his eyes as well.

  Both of Dorlyn’s eyebrows raised. “Did you just say what I believe you said?”

  Vylkur sighed and returned his gaze to Dorlyn. If it was at all possible, his ebony cheeks had actually darkened. “Please don’t make me say it again,” he pleaded with an underlying helplessness.

  Dorlyn sighed and briefly closed his eyes while giving a small shake of his head. “You’re lost. You’ve remained in this forest for an entire week because you are lost?”

  “Well, can you blame me?” Vylkur asked with a frustrated sigh. “I’ve spent my entire century of life underground. I know absolutely nothing about trees and the myriad of plant life that grow here on the surface. Everything looks the bloody same!”

  Dorlyn looked to Vylkur with genuine confusion and curiosity now. “What are you even doing up here then?”

  Vylkur sighed then looked to the ball of lightning before returning his gaze back to Dorlyn. “Can we put our weapons away? My tale is rather long, and I would rather not tell it under duress.”

  Do
rlyn frowned. “And what’s to stop you from attacking me with magic?”

  “I haven’t yet, have I?” Vylkur replied after raising a snowy eyebrow. “Really, now, it’s rude to make assumptions.”

  “You might call them assumptions, but I have seen enough of my people slain by yours to know that there is truth and merit to my concerns,” Dorlyn remarked darkly.

  Vylkur sighed. “Not all dark elves desire to inflict malice and mayhem upon others,” he said tiredly. “I happen to be part of that select number.”

  “Are you, indeed?” Dorlyn asked.

  “It’s why I left,” Vylkur said emphatically. “Why I escaped.”

  Dorlyn fell silent for several moments as he weighed Vylkur’s words. Then, he slowly lowered his bow. He waited until Vylkur extinguished his ball of lightning before putting his arrow back into his quiver, and then he cautiously sat on a rock across from the dark elf. It was a tactical move on his part. Curious though he was, he was not about to let his guard down completely by not having Vylkur directly in his sights.