Disclaimer: I do not own the Tairen Soul Series by C.L. Wilson. I do own Angela anything non-canon.
A/N: I wanted to split this chapter up because I wanted to reward us all with some Cyr and Angela intimacy. I hope you like it! I intend on doing some more plotline action after this chapter. Please be patient and review!
Update 12.17.17: I fleshed this out more because I felt it was a little too choppy for my taste. Reviews = faster uploads + motivation. Thanks!
Ch. IX: Reactions Part I
Cyr swung his seyani blade at Ravel's face. Ravel shoved him back and slammed Fire into Cyr who used an Air weave to conically soar the Fire away from him.
He wants our mate for himself. He's a threat! Destroy him! The bond-madness urged. Other Fey edgily stood on the sidelines.
Cyr snarled and threw several Fey'cha in Ravel's direction.
Grunting, the Fire Master blocked them and his violet eyes widened as Cyr backhanded Ravel another Fey'cha.
Sian and Torel looked at one another and quickly ran in the direction of Angela. Both knew Angela would be suffering soon and she would need help going through the first time dealing with the emotional upheaval of a jealous shei'tan.
Their primary loyalty is to her and the Feyreisa regardless if the shei'tanista bonding is completed.
Torel angrily muttered under his breath. "They're evenly matched! Air and Fire go well together. Earth helps everyone and Water helps Air. How could they even think to be jealous and fight like this?"
Sian sighed. "Torel, it's part of the ritual. Any male is a threat. Krekk, even Master Baristani would be considered a threat to Angela by Cyr in this state."
Rushing toward Angela's suite the Fey warriors knocked.
Surprised by the knock, Angela stood slowly from her chair by the fire. Lady Marissya had left her after she calmed and ate a small dinner with her. Angela saved much of their meal for Cyr when he returned. Marissya helped Angela change into her nightgown and close the drapes to keep the warmth in.
Angela sighed. Where is Cyr? She wondered, perplexed. He should've―.
Gasping, she nearly fell to the floor. Her mind intuitively opening for the first time to Cyr's. Her breathing ragged as she coughed and her muscles ached as savage pleasure to attack someone coursed through her veins. Her eyes opening wide as platinum bands crisscrossed her piercing grey irises.
Angela screamed falling to her knees.
She is power. She is cyclones. She is wind shears. Her fury knows no bounds.
Her heart pounded. She could not form a coherent thought. Angela had the presence of mind to grab a light brown dress and tug it over her nightdress as she wobbled to the door.
She coughed more sel'dor from her lungs. The sel'dor did not disappear. It remained gathering like a cloud at her knees. She ran out of the palace uncomprehending the shouts of her lu'tans. She vaguely registered shocked Feyan stares and rippling Feyan tapestries as she bolted out the large double doors.
Angela ran toward the forest nearly a blur in the direction only her feet knew.
"Kem'falla! Parei!" Sian shouted running at her. His wide, fearful blue eyes were focused on her as he raised his hands to grab her from the danger behind her.
Her eyes glowed platinum. Her hand shot out and the sel'dor ash changed into a sword forming platinum bands. She pointed the blade in Sian's direction although apparent confusion overwhelmed her.
"Sian?" Angela asked confused.
"Kem'falla! It's not safe for you here." Sian said worriedly. Angela tilted her head in confusion. Seeing the weapon in her hand startled her.
Gasping, she dropped the sword she created and stumbled backward disoriented and her head pounding just as Ravel threw a Fey'cha aimed for Cyr.
"NEEEEI!" Ravel and Cyr shouted together. Each slamming a protective shield toward Angela.
Angela's gaze focused solely on the Fey'cha making its way with deadly accuracy to her throat. Her hand shot out.
She caught the blade between her inflamed fingers. Her chest heaving with shock while Angela's platinum-banded eyes glowed brightly and a moment later she fainted.
Sian and Torel caught Angela and glowered at Ravel. "She needs Fire, now!" Torel snapped furiously.
Ravel wrapped Angela in a Fire weave just as Cyr wove Earth and Sian wove Spirit. Angela's platinum eyes opened and then faded as her whole body healed before their eyes. Her russet hair became a few shades brighter.
"Angela?" Cyr asked anxiously. His amber eyes tense and his dirty blond hair disheveled. His cheek cut and bled profusely despite being a minor cut. Both Fey looked worse for wear as they awaited anxiously for their beloved Angela to comprehend them.
The woman pulled her heavy curtain of curls back from her face and stared at the worried Fey warriors. "Cyr?" Angela asked uncertainly. Before her hand came to her face and she closed her eyes. The world spinning so much she felt nauseated. Gulping the young woman turned and found Sian with a strange sense making her frown. It feels like...a bubbling current? Is that Sian's gift? Water? And she clasped Sian's hand. "Did I…?" Angela gulped upset. The unfinished question ringing with her fear, shame and guilt from possibly stabbing her lu'tan to death.
"Nei, kem'falla." Sian said patiently. "You didn't harm me at all."
Relieved, Angela frowned at Cyr's and Ravel's gazes. "What exactly happened here?" Angela asked suspiciously. "I thought you were in danger?" Her eyes flashing at her shei'tan and her lu'tan.
Both men exchanged a telling glance.
"Kem'falla," Sian interrupted, shifting closer to her protectively. "With respect, what could you have done?"
Angela rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure how Fey women do things...but in Norban, I would have had to grab a blade myself to end a problem."
Everyone started at that.
"What? After the bear attacks we lost many men. Hence, why Norbans didn't drown their second daughters anymore." Angela said matter-of-factly.
"What?" Cyr demanded quietly. "They drowned their daughters?" What kind of backwards town did kem'Angela grow up in?!
Angela nodded. "Well of course," Angela said shrugging. "Girls are burdensome. We need more men in the woods. So after too many male deaths we all carried daggers." Angela's expression stiffened. "In my case, I grew up in a smithy so handling a sword was easier for me whenever Papa and Mama were asleep." In fact, she was surprised her brother found out despite the telling signs of her sword practice. Vandar and Felicity Michaelson seemed none the wiser.
Angela frowned at everyone's shocked, angry looks.
"What?" Angela asked, perplexed.
Cyr remained at Angela's side as he slowly tugged her into a standing position.
«Don't say anything.» Cyr Spirited. «We need to go right now. I'll explain everything later.»
Without protest, Angela took Cyr's wrist the Fey way. He silently led her to their room and quickly shut their door, locking it with his magical combination and placing a strong privacy weave around the perimeter of their suite. It was fast becoming a habit for him to do so.
Cyr breathed in slowly, centering himself before turning to his shei'tani.
He gaped at her. "Angela...you look…" He said inelegantly.
Angela scowled. "I look awful and I know it. I was just about to settle down and wait for you to share dinner and then all of a sudden I get pulled in by some―some unseen force and then you're fighting Ravel. Care to explain?" Angela asked waspishly. Her hands on her hips.
Cyr blinked, immediately jealous. Turning from her he walked stiffly to the vanity and began removing his weapons to place on the small table designated for that purpose.
Frowning, Angela followed him. Miffed at his retreating form. She decided she would have an answer from him whether he liked it or not.
"We were having a gentleman's quarrel." Cyr muttered. Hating how petulant he sounded.
"A gentleman's quarrel? You mean like what those Celierian lordlings are always goin' on 'bout?" Angela asked curiously. "I never witnessed one myself, mind, but…" Sighing, Angela nearly jumped back as she stared at her appearance in the vanity mirror. Suddenly nervous, she slowly turned her hands over and then looked back at her reflection in awe.
She looked lovelier than ever. Her skin is smoother and her freckles more pronounced. Her russet hair became more like wine red.
Her hands were healed and showed only thin scarring on the webbings.
Angela's eyes filled with tears and she hugged Cyr from behind, nuzzling his back. Angela's tears fell to the ground, hardening into sel'dor pearls. Neither of them paid any attention to the sound since both were too tense from their early evening run-in; ad Angela was sniffling.
"How…?" She asked in choked voice. "How―did you remove them?" The pain of her shame had disappeared. Angela realized she felt the best she ever had.
Gasping at her touch and soft body pressed into him, Cyr could only look at her expression from the mirror.
"I don't know, ajiana." He answered thickly. He half-turned and repositioned them by using one arm to pull her closer to him and the other tilt her head back. "But I'm more than happy to say bellah sallan." Praise the gods. He said quietly.
Angela gulped, blushing, as she stared up at Cyr's intense amber eyes boring into her.
She was acutely aware of her ruffled appearance and the thin fabric of her brown dress acting as a makeshift robe over her very thin rose-colored nightgown. She never felt so naked wearing something before.
Cyr leaned down and nuzzled her cheek with his, making her blush deepen and her eyes widen more as she turned slightly toward his caress.
"Kem." He said softly. "Tell me you're kem'Angela." He demanded softly.
Angela gulped. "I don't even know what that means…" Angela protested breathlessly.
"Kem means 'mine.'" Cyr translated in her ear making her shiver. "Kem'Angela means 'my Angela.'" He brushed his lips against her temple. "I need to know that you know you're mine." He admitted, hating himself for being so insecure.
Angela blinked. "Well, only if this makes you...kem'Cyr?" Angela asked, sure he would say no. "will I ever say I'm―I'm…"
He pulled back, surprising her. "Aiyah," Cyr said in a fierce whisper, eyes beginning to glow amber gold. "I will always be your kem'Cyr, shei'tani."
Angela stared at him. "But that's not how this works." Angela protested, lashing out. Her chest heaving. Nipples brushing against the silken fabric of her nightgown making her shiver and wince at the sensation. Angela's eyes becoming unfocused as she shook her head to clear it. The silken fabric stuck to her rib cage and she could feel the individual fibers settle over her suddenly sensitized flesh.
"What do you mean?" Cyr growled, annoyed. His temper flaring in tandem with the bond-madness.
"You're a lord." Angela pointed out. "I'm just a―a blacksmith's daughter and a disgraced seamstress apprentice at that!" Angela said hotly. "You can't possibly be interested in me. I've no dowry. No future. I've nothing to my name other than my life." And my body. Angela silently admitted. And I'll die before I give that up to anyone!
Her body was the only part of her she ever kept safe. Not her mind. Not her heart. Those had been harmed by the lyrant and her former neighbors.
Cyr took a deep breath. "Angela, I think we're talking at cross-purposes." He managed to say, feeling frustrated and gobsmacked. He could only just manage the bond-madness whispering to him that she is rejecting him and it was all over.
Angela shook her head stubbornly, confused.
Cyr held on to Angela's arms and decided that talking was getting him nowhere.
But neither can I fully kiss her or show her what I mean the way I need to. He thought aggravated. It'll only make her a skittish doe again.
Time for a little tairen ingenuity.
He quickly wove Spirit around them using his heartbeat calming her while Cyr lifted her promptly sat on the settee and situated her on his lap. Angela could only gape at him.
If he was not so frustrated by the day and their situation he would have laughed.
Cyr reached for her mind and opened himself to her. Thinking he would slowly introduce her to feeling a shei'tan's hope, and the gentler feelings she so obviously needed. Maybe then he could explain the shei'tanista bonding to her narrow, Celierian-bred mind.
He had not anticipated her response.
Angela flung her arms around Cyr's arms and shivered as his feelings ranging from fear and frustration all the way to lust and warmth bombarded her senses. It made her arch her back. Her breasts aligned to his face and she instinctively pulled his head into her chest.
«What's happening to me?» Angela cried. She felt the low, wicked pool of fire slowly uncurl in her belly and deeper. Her clothes felt wrong. Her skin feeling two sizes too small.
Cyr sighed in relief as he nuzzled her sensitive breasts with his face. His hands pulled her curls forcing her neck to bare its vulnerability to him as he began to shape her back.
"Kem'shei'tani is hungry for her mate." Cyr answered with a growl. "As gods help me, am I."
He pulled her closer to him and licked the column of soft flesh beckoning at him. Angela cried out, arching more fully as Cyr kissed her neck up to her jaw line. His fingers undoing the laces of her brown dress.
He began crooning to her in Feyan and Celierian.
"You're safe, ajiana." He told her sincerely. "I will not mate with you until you ask of me to do so...but I must attend to my mate's needs." «For I would be a lacking shei'tan.»
Cyr's hands pulled at her brown dress slowly before undoing it completely at the arms with an Earth weave. His hands caressing her back as he listened to her soft cries and pants at the new world of sensation he created for her to feel. Angela squirmed making his job easier at removing her dress down her waist.
He allowed his hands to travel south and remove the skirt part of her dress down to her thighs. He growled low in his throat as he began to caress her thighs having an instant mewling sound he immediately committed to memory. Grinning against Angela's jawline Cyr completely unraveled the remainder of her dress with two Earth weaves. He tugged and ignored it as it fell to the wooden floor.
Now, Angela only had her silken nightgown covering her.
Her eyes clamped shut as she shivered. Cyr softened seeing her innocent expression in fright and confused desire.
«Be not afraid, ajiana» Cyr Spirited her. «I do not know what you've been taught. Or what you've experienced. But mating is beautiful when it's done properly.»
His hands shaped her strong legs and he growled in approval as the silk teased her delighting him as she panted and moaned. So strong, soft and beautiful. His hands continued their mission to shape her from waist to knee and he imagined her without clothes.
Cyr quickly turned his attention to her heart-shaped face with his kisses for he did not want to be further tempted by her tempting flesh when one Spirit weave could easily undo her flimsy nightgown.
He noticed how she instinctively tilted her neck to side for his mouth. Smiling, he found her ear and began to suckle and lick her earlobe making Angela give a wild cry.
Grinning, the Fey warrior turned her head to the side and did the same thing to her other ear causing his shei'tani to moan and shiver. Continuing with his touches and ministrations led to Angela to squirm, gasp, moan and writhe. She ground her buttocks into his thigh and he shivered. His eyes flaring bright amber gold.
One hand raised, he gently cupped her breast. Angela gasped, eyes wide open and her mouth forming a perfect 'O.'
Cyr immediately tilted her face to him and looked her in the eye.
"Kem'Angela," He said softly. His hair sticking in different directions from her hands still remaining in his scalp. "Kem'shei'tani. Kem'ajiana."
He kissed her sweetly along her face. Using his heartbeat from the Spirit weave to assist in calming her racing heart against his hand he carefully moved his hand from one breast to the other and began to kiss her neck and collarbone. His other hand caressing her hair and holding her head in place.
Angela shallow breaths and gasps became quicker as Cyr's kisses overwhelmed her senses and his hand returned and held her literal heart. Her eyes rolled back as her temperature remained heated. Cyr removed his hand from her breast and picked her up. Leading them to their bed.
He kissed her forehead, and gently laid her down. Cyr walked while stretching, taking a towel with him to bathe and wipe the day from his body.
Angela shivered. Her hands going to her face then covering her breasts as she curled her knees to the side. She trembled. Her heart beating rapidly and her face flushed the reddest she had ever been to date. Angela had no idea that her very ears would cause such a noise from her. Angela ached and gave a low moan. She remained like that for a few chimes utterly confused by her desire.
Is this some sort of―of Fey trick? She wondered. I thought mating was only a necessity to bring boys into the world with a few daughters. Nothing enjoyable. But this...this felt…
Angela focused on how gentle Cyr was despite her flailing vulnerability and her complete inexperience. Cyr pleasured her and took nothing of himself. She carefully cupped her breasts thinking the very air made them oversensitive and promptly bit her lip. She felt so achy and strange and it seemed nothing would calm her down. Nothing except Cyr. She thought unnerved.
Angela wondered if she needed to do any favors for him. After all, many Norban wives complained how they had to 'perform for their husbands' when their husbands wanted to be 'especially pleased.'
Angela had no idea what those 'favors' entailed and her mother promptly told her not to listen to anyone regarding it. At the time, Angela dutifully did just that and now she began to wonder if she ought to have pushed for the knowledge. If only to not feel so...inept to her. She gulped. I suppose Cyr is my betrothed? Angela still did not fully grasp the purpose of a shei'tani and what her duties were.
Cyr bathed and grinned, pleased at how his day ended. Wiping himself off and putting on his pyjamas the young Fey frowned at the doubt he was feeling emanating from Angela.
He walked toward Angela and noticed her innocent confusion. He noted where her hands were and decided not to say anything or look too interested. He slowly got into bed and approached Angela.
"Ajiana?" Cyr asked concerned. "Talk to me, teska. Did I not please you?"
Angela actually raised herself up at that. She saw how he did not approach her anymore. "Yes! I just...were you supposed to please me?" Angela blurted. Her hand hesitantly reached across the bed for his, and she bit her lip uncertainly. Her face on fire. Her other hand curled protectively around her throat.
Cyr relaxed and smiled at her. He slowly pulled Angela into his arms. "Aiyah, ajiana." Cyr said gently, kissing her brow. "A shei'tan makes certain his shei'tani is well and happy." He said slowly, his amber eyes solemnly regarding her. "Kem'Angela is beautiful and desirable." He noted how she blushed to her roots and she looked away from him. He frowned.
"Why do you not think you're beautiful?" Cyr asked. Or desirable? Which does she fear worse?
"Because I look too much like my real father…" Angela muttered, tensing. "Mama said he was a very handsome man and Papa said it's better for girls to be ugly so they're not easy targets."
Cyr counted to 10 before he said anything. He knew precisely what her 'Papa' was telling her. She was not his daughter and clearly the stupid krekk belittled his Angela. He figured the krekk was insecure about his own appearance among other things he did not like about her backwards Norban culture.
"Do you know who your real father is?" Cyr asked quietly. Angela practically shrunk into herself.
OK, Cyr thought grimacing. Definitely a sore topic. I'm surprised she told me at all.
He pressed his lips against her forehead. "I don't care what anyone says, Angela. You're the most beautiful woman to me."
Angela gulped. It was the first time someone actually referred to her as a woman and not some slip of a girl or Feral Spinster or some other derogatory term. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she snuggled closer to Cyr.
"Beylah vo for being so brave today." Cyr continued. "I noticed every step when you rushed into helping me," he chuckled lightly. "Scared me half to death when I thought you were injured." He shook himself and snuggled her back. "Or just now...being honest with...Shei'tani, there's not a moment that goes by when all I want to do is hold you or touch you or kiss you, Angela." He admitted. Angela looked up at him. His Fey skin glowing faintly in their nightfallen room. His eyes tenderly and knowingly looking at her beneath his long, straight lashes.
"I meant what I said, Angela." Cyr said soberly. "You're in control of how far, how fast, how often we can be intimate. It's just the two of us who can decide that." He chastely kissed her forehead and sighed as he fell asleep from his fatiguing day.
Angela remained awake turning over what he said in her head. And remembering everything they had done.
She would try to ignore her upbringing...because she wanted to be with Cyr. She wanted to be sure of him, though. They were not wed in a church and he tempted her. What if she gave in and he left? She has no claims to him, otherwise.
For now, Angela lifted herself and pulled Cyr against her silken bosom and held him close. Sighing in relief when he was against her before closing her eyes.
