The Clash of Yesterday Page 3

  The driver comes to a halt in front of The Sapphire, and I have to decide. It’s the fact that in all the years I’ve known and hated Eliana, I’ve never seen her scared of a single thing. She is the most fearless woman I know.

  Her hand goes back under her skirt, but I grab her by the wrist, pulling it out. She makes a sound of protest, but I point out, “We’re here… at your place.”

  “Oh,” she says, momentarily distracted, but then whatever is going on inside her body starts to heat up again. She gasps, trying to pull her wrist out of my grip, but acknowledging that she has to get out of public view. “I need to get inside.”

  Quickly, I open the back door, slide out, and pull Eliana with me. She bobbles her briefcase, and I take it from her. Her legs are wobbly, so I let her lean against me, my free arm going around her waist.

  Inside the lobby, we gather a few stares. She’s panting with need, and I haven’t the foggiest idea what to do with her other than dump her in her apartment and hope she has a lot of batteries and a vibrator handy.

  The elevator doors open as soon as she hits the button, and we step inside. She taps the 27th floor, and the minute the doors slide closed, she jerks away from me with a groan. “Goddamn it,” she snarls. “I need to come again so bad.”

  “Jesus,” I mutter as I try not to watch, but her hand dives under her skirt again. I see long legs, hand working hard, and it takes all my willpower to turn away. “What the fuck did he give you? I didn’t think ecstasy worked like that.”

  “Maybe I’m more susceptible,” she rasps as her hips twist to rub against her hand.

  “Apparently,” I murmur as I keep my eyes focused on the opposite wall.

  Eliana lets out a low groan, the sound of her orgasming again, and I clench my teeth.

  “Fuck,” she growls in irritation. “As soon as this passes, I’m going to go find that guy and cut his balls off.”

  “He deserves it,” I agree, bringing my gaze back. Her hand is blessedly removed from between her legs when we reach her floor.

  The elevator doors slide open, and she cuts me a sharp glance. “Thanks for the ride. I can make it to my apartment now.”

  “Sure—”

  But then Eliana is moaning again, tears springing to her eyes. “God… what the fuck is going on? It’s starting again, and it’s even worse.”

  I stare at her wide-eyed, having never seen anything like this before. Eliana’s a highly sexualized woman—and it’s to my dismay I know this from an encounter in the past. But whatever drug was given to her, it’s actually causing her pain as the sexual tension builds in her again.

  Her gaze locks on mine, and I don’t like what I see one little bit.

  “Ronan… please,” she whispers.

  “No,” I respond adamantly.

  “Please help me,” she implores, and fuck if tears don’t well up in her eyes. “This isn’t going to stop anytime soon. I can tell, and it’s worse each time.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask, even though my hard-on tells me that I know exactly what I want to do, no matter how much I loathe myself for it.

  She doesn’t answer. Merely steps back into the elevator, grabs my wrist, and shoves my hand under her skirt. I feel the lace of her panties, which is soaking wet, and my hand reflexively squeezes her pussy.

  “Yes… that… please,” she begs.

  The elevator doors start to close on us, and I react quickly, pulling my hand away from her and putting it between the doors. Eliana cries out in dismay, thinking I’m denying her, but I merely take her hand and pull her into the hallway. “Which condo is yours?” I ask.

  She takes off, trotting down the hall, and I follow quickly. She calls back over her shoulder, “My keys are in the side pocket of my briefcase.”

  I have them in my hand when she stops in front of a door, and because her hands are shaking, I unlock it.

  Eliana has the sense to enter the code in her alarm as I step in, then she slams the door shut before turning to me.

  “Please… hurry,” she demands as she reaches down and hikes her skirt up around her hips.

  I hiss when I see the black lace panties, but I don’t wait for an invitation. She needs a quick release, so I give her my hand again.

  Because I’m a rough guy, and I know Eliana doesn’t care if I am, I jerk the flimsy material to the side and dip my finger inside her. Gathering wetness, I pull it out and attack her clit hard. She cries out, head falling back to hit the wall, and she comes hard and fast. I am beyond amazed. That’s three orgasms in less than ten minutes.

  Hips still bucking against me, Eliana uses her few moments of clarity to start stripping. She undoes her blouse, tosses it to the floor, and then her bra, too.

  I hate the woman, but she has the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re full, round, and have perfectly pink, tight nipples that were made to be sucked and bitten.

  “Get naked, Ronan,” she snaps, and then huffs out a breath of annoyance. “Because it’s starting again.”

  “Goddamn it,” I mutter. I do not want to touch Eliana again. I don’t want to help her. I want her to suffer.

  But my cock is calling the shots, so I start shedding my clothes.

  In no time at all, Eliana snatches my hand and leads me through her condo to the master bedroom. She has the most perfect ass, too, and my eyes stay pinned on it as I follow her.

  When we reach her bed, she turns me around, pushes me down onto the mattress, and climbs on top of me. I’m not arguing with her taking command because while my body is wildly attracted to her, my conscience is roaring that this is all wrong.

  I’m wondering what I did to piss off the fates that landed me here.

  Eliana rises above me, her warm hands pressed down on my chest while her hips hover just over my rigid cock. She stares at me with some lucidity for a moment before her eyes cloud over and she moans in what sounds like pain.

  I have no clue what she’s feeling, but, judging by her actions, sounds, and expression, it seems like she’s built up to an incredible release and has no way of tipping over the edge. As a man who has experienced blue balls a time or two in my life, I can actually empathize.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask, laying perfectly still.

  Her eyes focus a bit, and her voice is bitter with shame. “I want you to promise to fuck me all night if that’s what it takes to make this pain go away.”

  Before I can even agree—which I will—she groans, squeezing her eyes shut hard. Taking a deep breath, she opens them and looks down between our bodies. Her hand takes my shaft, and she gives me a rough squeeze that has my balls tightening before she lowers down on me. Eliana is wet, warm, and she slides easily down on my cock until we’re pressed tight together.

  “God, yes,” she purrs as she arches her back. “That’s what I needed.”

  Fuck, me too. But I don’t let her know that.

  Her eyes lock onto mine, and her normally pale blue artic orbs of ice seem to flare with heat. Leveraging her body with her hands on my chest, she starts to ride me.

  Not soft and slow, but a hard bounce on my stick that makes her tits bounce. Eliana is clearly going to get to where she needs to go, but before I can even question why I’m doing it, I decide to help her along. I grab one hip to guide her movements while bringing my other hand to her clit, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.

  She cries out from the sensation, bouncing harder, and I can feel my orgasm gathering in my balls. I grit my teeth, wanting to hold on because truthfully, this might be the best sex in, well… I can’t remember. A long damn time ago, that’s when.

  I rub at her clit harder, wanting to see her come one more time.

  Needing to see it.

  Eliana makes mewling noises as she rides me, her hands going to her nipples to twist them. I think it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  I know she starts to come when her pussy clamps down hard on me and her head falls back as sh
e cries out. Her muscles ripple around me as it starts, and I give her clit a little pinch.

  She bucks, cries out again, and then… what one could only describe as magical, crimson-colored wings burst from Eliana’s shoulder blades and fan out to the sides as she gives over to the orgasm.

  Fuck, it’s beautiful, and it triggers my own release. I have to concentrate every bit of my focus on riding out the pleasure she caused to explode within me, forcing my own wings to stay tucked where they belong. Letting them out in a moment of pleasure has meaning, and I’m not going to give that to her.

  I come deep inside her, hot and spurting, and it goes on and on and on. The entire time, Eliana rotates her hips, greedily wringing every drop she can take before finally giving a low moan of satisfaction.

  Her eyes open slowly, and she gazes down.

  Not in triumph.

  Not in satisfaction.

  Not even in gratitude.

  I can see it in her eyes—while she got what she wanted, she hated it was me as much as I hated it was her.

  “I’m not going to apologize,” she says bitterly, her hands coming to rest on her thighs as she sits back a little. My cock is still hard inside her, completely happy to stay snugly in her warmth.

  “We both got off,” I say with a shrug. “Although you apparently can’t control yourself,” I taunt with a pointed look at her red-feathered wings.

  Eliana’s head turns left, then right, taking in the gloriousness of each spread-out length, the feathers glossy and soft as silk. A small smile comes to her lips—pride in their beauty—and I know my taunt missed its mark.

  She twists, gaze returning to mine, and she slowly lifts her hips. The slide of her wet flesh along mine causes me to groan, and then she’s pushing back down.

  She folds her wings in until they’ve fully disappeared. Her expression is hard. “I can feel it starting again. Can you keep going?”

  Since that was the best sex in forever, despite the fact she’s my enemy, I give her a curt nod. “As many times as you need.”

  And that’s a fact. Whatever drug is causing her to need this continual release, it’s no match against my stamina. As a Light Fae, I can fuck for weeks at a time and never slow down.

  Her hands come back to my chest where they rest lightly before she says, “Thank you.”

  I nod.

  “I still hate you, Bluff Dweller,” she adds.

  “Hate you too, Meadowlander,” I reply before roughly flipping her over on her stomach and driving in hard from behind. She cries out in pleasure, and I nearly pass out from how good it feels. I plunge a hand into her long hair, wrap it up tight, and jerk her head to the side so she can see me through lust-bleared eyes. And for the first time ever, I lean forward, put my mouth against my sworn enemy’s, and kiss her.

  CHAPTER 4

  Eliana

  Brevala

  It feels good to be back home in Brevala, especially since the Meadowlands are warm with spring air that smells of the wildflowers growing in the valley. When Brevala was created as an alternate universe for Light Fae to dwell in, it was done with exquisite care to make this the most beautiful place in the cosmos. I’ve traveled the world many times over, and I can say with absolute certainty there is no prettier place.

  I’m here for a short visit. The Festival of Creation starts tomorrow and is being held in the land of Faere, where our queen, Nimeyah, lives. Most of the Light Fae live there, too, leading quite boring lives filled with endless parties and social engagements.

  Eons ago, some Light Fae started choosing to move to other realms—like Brevala—seeing how an untold number of alternatives are available.

  And then there are Light Fae like me, who have chosen to make the Earth realm home, which is a never-ending source of disdain from some of my family.

  Regardless, missing the Festival of Creation is not an option. Not only does Nimeyah expect all her subjects to be there, but my clan—the Meadowlanders—also expect it as well, which is fine because it only occurs once every hundred years.

  It’s Nimeyah’s mandate that we gather to celebrate her creation of Faere, which was done with great magic. Faere is much bigger than Brevala, but in my opinion, it looks too garishly fake to be comfortable as a home. The colors are too bright, and the fae too disingenuous. The royals, nobles, and gentry of Faere rely strictly on magic to provide for their every need. Essentially, they don’t have to work at anything. Although, there is a lower class who suffers and has extraordinarily little in their lives except to work for slave wages for the upper class.

  By contrast, Brevala inhabitants chose to live life and gain personal fulfillment by mastering challenges. It was created in the Earth realm’s likeness. Brevala brought over the Earth realm’s food sources—like seeds for crops—to grow. Animals—like cows, sheep, pigs, and chickens—are used for domestic food, too. There are also plenty of wild animals to hunt.

  Life is more primitive, although we do use our magic to make a few necessities—such as electricity and running water—easier. I absolutely love it.

  Just as I love my plush condo in Seattle.

  I’m a layered type of woman who is just as happy spending a day at the spa with my girlfriends as I am fighting in the Roman Coliseum against gladiators—which I spent a lot of time doing in the first century A.D.

  When I come home to the Meadowlands to visit, I fall right back into the lifestyle. Our homes aren’t modern, but they are clean and serviceable, while our clothes are not meant to win any fashion contests, even though we’re creative. The Brevala inhabitants are Light Fae warriors, and we dress to be battle-ready at any time.

  Of course, our battles with the Bluff Dwellers have decreased over the years to nothing more than some minor raiding skirmishes, but still—we are prepared to fight if necessary because we hate the Bluff Dwellers with our entire souls.

  Which is why I inherently hate Ronan, and I have through the centuries.

  You didn’t hate every moment of that night you spent together two weeks ago though, did you?

  Stupid conscience pricking at me.

  I tell it to shut the hell up, trying to distract myself by moving over to a bonfire where several clan families have gathered to eat, drink, and be merry before we head to Faere tomorrow. In a simple white tunic, cut closely in a Grecian style that falls below my waist and is cinched with a simple leather belt I’ve paired with taupe-colored cotton leggings I actually brought with me from the Earth realm—as the suede ones worn and made here in Brevala aren’t as comfortable—and camel-colored Steve Madden boots, I’m a perfect cross between a Brevalian and an Earth-realm dweller.

  My father, Arnus, sits on a log bench facing the fire, with my mother, Eschella, on one side, and my older sister, Rishka, on the other. Arnus is fully engaged in conversation with Rishka, who is his pride and joy, both outfitted in battle armor, which, in my opinion, is a little silly. My mother is often ignored by them both, but she has never minded. Love isn’t a part of any familial formula here in Brevala—or among the fae in its entirety, for that matter. Arnus doesn’t love her, and she doesn’t love him. She holds great affection for Rishka and me, but, otherwise, she’s happy and content with her life just the way it is.

  I’m certainly not the apple of my father’s eye. He has no pride in me over my choice to live in the Earth realm, which is far too modern for him. Arnus lives for war and establishing might, which is actually quite sad. Brevala has settled into a tentative peace between the Meadowlanders and the Bluff Dwellers over the last millennia, and I suspect it makes his life rather boring. I think it’s the reason he truly hates my leaving—because my life is far more exciting and fulfilling than his.

  But Rishka stayed behind, which makes Arnus happy, so I’m happy for them.

  I was born in the year 746 B.C., while Rishka was four hundred years before that. Light Fae do not procreate easily and having two children is a blessing in any family.

  While we were born in Brevala, our parents
were not. In fact, they had lived thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years in the Earth realm.

  The Light Fae who had come before them?

  Well, they are known as fallen angels. There’s an entire legend that will be retold countless times at the Festival of Creation, but essentially a group of angels attempted to start a rebellion in Heaven. When God tossed them out, the worst ones—which are now known as Dark Fae—were sent to the Underworld to remain trapped for all eternity while those who weren’t actively involved, merely sympathizers, were banished to earth. Those became Light Fae.

  They were stripped of their wings, their divine holiness, and most of their magic. It was supposedly a horrendous punishment for those who enjoyed the majesty of the Heavens.

  Light Fae roamed the earth from the dawn of modern man and through the ages, but the human population eventually swelled and outnumbered the Light Fae, putting them in danger.

  But then something magical happened. A meteor hurtled down to earth, but it didn’t do any damage when it hit the Egyptian desert in roughly 2,000 BC. Rather, it sort of settled into the sand, and that alone meant it was special.

  In fact, it held magic, which was when things changed for the Light Fae. Pieces of the stone were chipped away, the magic used to create alternate realms where the Light Fae could go and imbued them with magical powers once again. There were hundreds of alternate dimensions, most commonly called an AltVeritas, and Brevala was one such example.

  That is the legend of our existence, and while none of the Brevala Light Fae are original fallen angels, there are many living with Queen Nimeyah in Faere, a realm she created with part of the meteor stone.

  Walking clockwise around the huge bonfire, I take a seat on the log bench next to Rishka, who spares me only a short glance before turning back to talk to our father. Our relationship is a little weird, and Rishka is pretty standoffish. Like Arnus, she’s never quite forgiven me for choosing to live in the Earth realm.

  It wasn’t always like that, though. We’d been close when we were younger, but that was over a thousand years ago. At best, we’re civil to each other now, and that’s fine by me. When immortal, the passage of time changes things over and over and over again. Nothing stays the same. One day, perhaps, we’ll grow close again. We’ve got eons to figure it out, though.