Frost and Fyr Read online

  "Gel, Mari, Narila and Mishka. This is Princess Fehniel of Hickom."

  The ladies bobbed acknowledgement as their names were spoken. Mari gave Fen an unfriendly glare, but the elemental ignored it. That was par for the course when a new female stepped into an existing society. The fact that she was almost a foot shorter than the giantesses didn't make them feel more secure.

  "Greetings, ladies."

  Gel was the eldest, she smiled. "Greetings, Princess. I am the housekeeper and Narila will be your personal maid while you are here. Mari and Mishka do the cleaning and make the beds."

  Fen nodded as each woman was introduced in more detail.

  "I will show her to her room, Narila, if you could join us in a few minutes to assist her in dressing for dinner?"

  "Yes, my lord. Of course." The woman had been gilded with frost, her hair was kissed with silver, her eyes were stormy grey and her long, belted tunic was also grey with silver accents. There was no particular livery to the household and that made Fen heave a sigh of relief. Uniforms were not necessary unless one was trying to prove an equality or rank. The fact that they were not used here was soothing. All were on relatively equal footing in this household.

  Fen let herself be whisked through glittering halls and she let her senses keep her oriented in the large space.

  "I have to ask you. Why is Jotunheim such a sparsely populated planet?"

  He walked her past studies, libraries and game rooms. "We have a zero population growth. Originally, these lands were ripped from the surface of other worlds and delivered here in a great storm of Alliance ships. To keep our people from gathering in separate societies, those towns, villages and enclaves were torn into small chunks and mixed on the surface of Jotunheim. Forced to find matches from other giant species proved undesirable for many and our population began to shrink."

  "Don't any of the couples have multiple children?"

  "Yes, but not enough to make up for all those who do not. We are a dying race." He stopped in front of two large doors. "These are the guest rooms. Consider them yours while you are here."

  He swung the doors open and she whistled softly as she walked in. A com centre, desk and a huge bed were arranged precisely in the crystal blue room. She enjoyed the sparse simplicity right down to the low couch in a rich burgundy that sat in a reading nook near the window. Natural light was everywhere and she quickly had the room up to her preferred temperature with a slight exertion of her talent.

  Tynir was waiting in the doorway. "It meets with your approval?"

  "It does."

  "Good. Gel will have dinner for us in an hour. The bathing room is to your left and the personal library is to your right."

  She cocked her head. "Why do you have so many libraries?"

  "It gets very cold here and we tend to stay indoors when we can." He grinned and bowed his head. "I will see you for dinner."

  He left her bag on a table next to the doors and closed them behind him.

  Narila's timid knock came as Fen was unpacking her bag and lining the gowns up in a wardrobe. "Come in."

  The young woman peeked around the corner before she took a rush of steps toward Fen, "Oh, Princess. You should not be doing that. It is my job."

  "Calm, Narila. It is my clothing and my job. Now, how do I work the shower? I have tried everything I can think of."

  The young woman showed her the trick to starting the faucets--a firm pressure to the centre of the taps. Fen wallowed in a hot shower while Narila completed the unpacking.

  She cheated and fluffed her hair with heat. It was bad for it, but it did dry her faster than any towel ever developed. She wrapped her body in the linen and padded out to the bedroom.

  Narila was waiting next to the wardrobe. "What will you wear to dinner, Princess?"

  "Please, call me Fehniel, or Lady Fehniel if you must. My world is far away as is my birth title." Fen looked through her selections and drew out a midnight blue Hickom gown with the matching sash.

  "The gown goes over my head and the cincher is wound around and around over my breasts and to the top of my hips. Are you up for the challenge?"

  Narila's eyes lit up with anticipation. "I am indeed, Lady Fehniel. The silk felt wonderfully soft when I was hanging it up."

  "Then let's get this show on the road, as my mother would say." She slid the gown over her head and settled it into place. She lifted the sleeves and held them free so that the wrapping could begin.

  It took five minutes to get the wrap settled, but eventually she was confined from breast to hip. "Wonderful. Thank you."

  The maid was sweating lightly. Tying the cincher was not for the faint of heart. "That is a fascinating piece of clothing. I noticed you don't wear undergarments under it."

  "It does not really allow for it. If you can help me into sandals, that would be appreciated. I should have put them on before I got dressed."

  "Point them out and step in. I will do the rest."

  With only a minor amount of teetering, she was ready for dinner.

  Narila was almost giddy with excitement. She showed her room after room as they made their way to the dining hall. The hall had a few banquet tables and Tynir was sitting at the head table with a pensive look on his face. As Narila cleared her throat, he looked up and his expression changed from internal concentration to something darker, hotter.

  "Fehniel, you look good enough to eat."

  Chapter Three

  Dinner was excellent, Gel was proud as a few young men brought course after course. Some foods didn't agree with Fen's Hickom sensibilities. Her senses were keen and she only took a small bite of the dishes that her enhanced senses told her that she wouldn't like. Most of the time, her senses were dead right.

  Conversation was light, Tynir kept flicking his gaze at her gown and finally he made a comment. "Is that… traditional?"

  "It is the formal wear for a high-ranking female of Hickom. I rarely get to dress up, so I took the opportunity tonight."

  "It is very striking."

  "Thank you." She grinned. "Your formal tunic and vest are very nice as well. Who does your embroidery?"

  "My mother. She does it just to annoy my father." He was smiling as he ran his long fingers over the stars and snowflakes etched into leather in silver.

  "My mother has similar habits. Stuff that drives him nuts."

  A young woman played the harp softly and the hall went silent. They listened to the music swelling and swirling through the air and when Fen looked down, her hand was holding Tynir's.

  The impromptu concert continued as the evening darkened the walls. The harp was replaced by a lute. The lute by an instrument that was struck with small wooden sticks. When the trio played together for a final piece, the room burst into applause.

  Some folks brought out board games and started to throw dice, a few sets of worn cards were flourished. Fen smiled. "Is it like this every night?"

  "Whenever I am home. Would you care to see the view from the top of the towers?"

  She smiled. "That would be lovely."

  "You can see Raven's Rest from here. It glows blue in the darkness." Still holding her hand, he pulled her to her feet and escorted her to one of the towers. They climbed upward in silence, each step bringing a light draft of cool air to her face.

  His hand was warm in hers, but icy air was also coming through his dark belted tunic. Fen's lips twitched as she realised that he was nervous. This was new to him as well and here she was, in his home and her father knew where she was.

  The climb took far less time than Fen had hoped. She wanted this camaraderie to last forever. Her body running hot, his running cold and their hands entwined. When he stopped at the top of the stairs and threw open the door to the roof of the tower, she gasped in surprise.

  Beneath her, the ground seemed a thousand miles away. Small lights dotted the area nearby, but as Fen looked out and around, the rest of the mountains and fields were dark, leaving the bright glow of the stars overhead.
/>   The stars were so close she could almost touch them. Raven's Rest was indeed huge, glowing blue in the sky.

  Fehniel walked to the edge of the crenulated tower and looked up at the stars, seeking Hickom in the vastness.

  Tynir came up behind her and wrapped an arm around the tight binding around her waist, pulling her against him. He raised her arm and lifted her fingers out until she was pointing to the skies. "Hickom is there."

  She sighed and leaned back against him. "My home."

  "Not for long, I hope. I do truly wish that you find your home here."

  His wishes seemed wrapped up with some other interest. His erection was prodding insistently against her lower back as he spoke. His voice rumbled through his chest and sent sensory reactions through her skin. Her nipples, in particular, were pushing against her bindings and a quick glance relieved her worry that they were visible.

  She sighed and leaned back into his embrace, his scent filling her nostrils with the crisp air of the mountains and the underlying muskiness of male. She exhaled through her mouth and her breath coalesced in front of her before drifting through the night toward the ground. They stood together in silence and as Fen thought about finding a warm bed in the keep below, a star streaked across the sky.

  She immediately held her breath and made a wish.

  Warm breath caressed her ear, "What are you doing?"

  "Making a wish on a falling star. It is a tradition my mother taught me." Fen smiled as she thought of her temperamental mother and the Terran traditions that she instilled in her children.

  "What did you wish?"

  "I can't tell you that. It would ruin the power of the wish." She shivered and he tightened his hold, rubbing her arms with his hands. Fen kept her head down to hide her smile. She could warm herself whenever she wished, especially after a large meal. This was simply for his benefit.

  "Fehniel, you are cold. Let's go inside. The stars will be out tomorrow."

  She allowed him to escort her back into the relative warmth of the stairwell. Just that moment outside woke her senses. Fen breathed deeply and memorized his scent. It seemed to tick every box on her inner animal's checklist. Her skin tingled, her stomach was flipping and there was a pulse in areas that didn't usually make themselves known.

  Her thighs were starting to slip together as she walked down the stairs, her own nose wrinkled at the scent of her heat and she hoped his senses were not as keen as hers.

  Their hands held tightly to each other as they descended back into the keep. The small contact was having a riotous effect on her senses, but she didn't pull away. Back on Hickom, few if any men had dared to show an interest in her. She knew it wasn't flattering that his interest was merely the interpretation of a seer's prediction. Still, he did send her head spinning in the most fascinating way.

  Tynir escorted her back to her rooms. As he reached out to open her door, she lunged at him, knocking him back against the far wall. Fen pulled his head down and met his lips with her own in a ravaging kiss that soon had him growling. He turned her and held her against the wall, lifting her and pinning her pelvis into place with his own.

  She moaned as he rocked against her and she shivered as he broke their kiss and gave her a look of blazing white heat. "Are you sure?"

  "Sure that I want to stay here? No. Sure that I want you? Yes."

  He gave her a feral grin, "Good enough for me."

  Tynir lifted her and wrapped her legs around his hips as he walked quickly to his rooms. The doors opened at his touch and he locked them behind them, striding swiftly to the bed. "How do I get you out of this?"

  His hands were caressing her body through the wrapping. She stood where he placed her and tugged the wrap loose. "The rest unravels." Her voice was so husky that she had difficulty recognizing her own words.

  "Excellent." His hands spun her loose and she was so dizzy when she finished twirling that only his hands were steady as her head spun. She moaned as his hands now cupped her breasts through the soft silk of her gown. His thumbs stroked her nipples and she looked up to see him watching her intently.

  Nervous, she licked her lip and his face went from observing to intense, the skin darkening on his cheeks and his jaw clenching. Tynir licked the lip where her tongue had recently appeared, stroking his way along the seam of her lips until she parted them on a moan.

  He took her mouth slowly and as they explored with their kiss, his hands caressed her curves, cupping her hips, stroking her back and pressing her against his chest, abs and aroused flesh.

  The thin gown was no defence against his touch, the pressure of her wrap only served to sensitize all the skin between breast and hip. The traditional clothing suddenly made sense to her in a way it never had before.

  The lightest touch on her sides made her shiver, the strokes down her spine made her moan and the pressure of his cock against the soft skin beneath her navel had her shaking with something she knew but was afraid to name.

  He gathered the silk and started to haul it upward. He broke their kiss only long enough to whisk the fabric over her head. Tynir groaned as her body was exposed completely.

  "Get on the bed." His voice was so guttural as to be almost inhuman, but she complied.

  His boots flew to either side, his tunic and vest were whipped off over his head and finally, his trousers were opened and shoved down with only minor snagging when he had to pry his erection free of the leather. Naked and aroused, every inch of him was hard muscle and pulsing skin. A drop of precum welled and threatened to drip off the tip of his cock.

  Fen scooted back on the bed to make room for him, but he gripped her ankles and pulled her toward him. His kiss was more devastating now that her hands touched flesh and not leather and fabric. High-pitched sighs came from her throat and as he moved from her mouth to the side of her neck, her hips responded by arching against him.

  Each touch started a tension in her that built to a high pitch and when his mouth settled on her breast and he parted her folds with his fingers, the tension snapped, stealing her breath and twisting her against him.

  Tynir continued his exploration of her opening, sliding two fingers into her, drawing out the juices that her release had produced.

  Despite her lack of experience, she was not physically a virgin. Hickom women routinely had their hymens removed just after puberty to ease the trauma of the first time. Blood had an unfortunate effect on males and females of her race, so minimizing physical trauma was a common practice.

  Thoughts of her lack of a hymen fled as he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his mouth. His tongue lapped slowly and deliberately and she felt his smile against her when she tangled her fingers in his hair.

  Tynir was dedicated to his purpose and with his tongue lapping, plunging and fluttering from her opening to her clit, she was soon at the edge of release again.

  He surged up and pressed the weeping head of his cock against her opening, pressing lightly until her untried flesh yielded to his. Helpless beneath him, her gaze clashed with his as he worked into her inch by inch.

  Just when Fen thought there couldn't be any more of him, he eased forward a little more. She hadn't realized that she had that much room inside her, but his slow entry was enough to keep her senses high while her body adapted to his.

  Sweat beaded on his back and as her hands slipped and slid across his skin, she tentatively arched her hips into him. His breathing was hard, as if he was running a race she couldn't see.

  Tynir closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, she saw a determination that sent a thrill of nerves down her spine and up into her channel where he was fully seated. Her body clasped him and it snapped something in his self-control, because he immediately withdrew and then slid back into her.

  He set a hard rhythm, his body flexing and bunching, the head of his cock dragging within her, waking nerves never before touched.

  Wanting him deeper, she wrapped her legs around his hips, tilting her pelvis until he
was stroking something inside her that started breathless cries in her throat.

  He timed his thrusts to increase the speed of her cries and when she came this time, her nails dug into his rock-hard buttocks, pulling him into her as hard as she could.

  His groan of satisfaction followed her and he fought her grip to withdraw and thrust until she felt an icy jet inside her body. He pulled out and then thrust back in, jerking in short bursts as more cold cum was spilled.

  Tynir collapsed next to her and pulled her against him. His breath ruffled her hair and he snuggled against her as he fell asleep.

  Fen was energized. She had enough energy running through her body to cause a fine tremor in her muscles. She waited with impatience in every fibre of her being and finally she rolled away.

  She dropped her gown over her head, gathered her wrap and tiptoed out without finding her sandals. In all the intensity, she lost track of them.

  Moving as silently as possible, she snaked down the hallway to her room and opened the door. The gas that exploded in her face was confusing, but the darkness that surged up to swallow her was all too familiar.

  Chapter Four

  Cold. Everything was cold. Fehniel yanked on her wrists and heard a shackle rattle.

  A hard female voice broke into her analysis. "So, Princess. How do you like frost giant hospitality?"

  Fen focussed bleary eyes on the maid from Tynir's household. "Mari? What is this all about?"

  "You off-worlders coming here and stealing the men. Do you know how hard it is for a woman on Jotunheim to find a good man? And you take the one I selected for myself." Mari paced back and forth at the exit to the room carved in the ice that surrounded them.

  There was another sort of tension in the maid's face. The gas was still in Fen's system and it made her thinking difficult. "That isn't all of it, is it?"

  "Morgarn is slated to rule, but our tradition states that the fittest male or a direct heir is the only one to be selected for that position. With you here, we will ransom you for Morgarn's abdication."