He would never
forget the first
time he saw her.

Illuminated by
flashes of light
within the foggy
waters, she
seemed a goddess
of night. Her
thick mane of
liquid mahogany
poured down her
breasts and
shoulders too
beautiful to be
real. He imagined
it felt even
smoother than his
cloak. The tips
of her pointed
ears poked out,
which made this
all the more
taboo.

He shouldn’t
look. If someone
caught him, he’d
lose all
possibility of a
treaty with the
Western River
Elves. He
couldn’t prove
that lousy
fortune reading
true.

But her fair skin
glistened
brighter than the
Old Moon above,
drawing his gaze.
Droplets dripped
down the dramatic
angles of her
face, where he’d
touch her, given
the chance. His
fingers would
slip all over.
Oh, she’d slide
so perfectly
against him while
the warm water
lapped and
swirled.

Holt grinned and
leaned against a
mossy tree, arms
across his chest
as he inhaled the
earthy scent.
Surprisingly
comfortable. Lush
elven moss
cushioned just
about everything
in this moist
land. A perfect
bed. He could
sleep right here
on the mossy bank
of rocks but he’d
rather do
something else.

Only twenty feet
away, she stroked
the nearly hidden
surface of the
lake. Mist rolled
away, giving him
a clearer view of
her body. Slender
yet firm. The way
she held herself
exuded strength.
Jaw parallel to
the water, sloped
shoulders back,
long neck taut.

He loved that.
Strong women
always offered a
greater
challenge. A
thrill that not
even battle could
match.

Holt unclasped
the elven-silk
cloak at his
throat. The
protective
garment would
have made a
whispering sound,
if not for the
thunder of a
rocky waterfall
behind his nymph
blocking it out.
Foamy white
curled and
swelled down the
rough cliff and
crashed into the
lake. It looked
more like cloud
than water.

What better
medium? Magic
sparked
throughout. Like
the magic he’d
feel in her. His
heart quickened
at the thought.
He’d never been
with an elf
before.

He couldn’t
unbutton his
shirt fast
enough. One of
the tricky little
bits of plastic
popped off and
disappeared into
the mist that
buried his shins
and feet.

“What are you
doing? She’ll
kill you,” Warren
warned, head
tipped down to
Holt’s ear.

The old man
appeared beside
Holt as he always
did, like a
conscience.

“Not if I phrase
it right.” Anyone
could be
convinced of
anything. This
just might take
several tries,
considering the
stigma against
interracial
relations.

“Elves aren’t
like dwarves and
wizards. She
won’t just slap
you.”

Holt laughed,
head cocked. He’d
been slapped
quite a few
times, especially
by dwarven women,
but that had
never dissuaded
his pursuit
before. Lost
battles in
victorious wars.
Eventually they
softened, given
enough
compliments and
persistence. He
always won in the
end.

Besides, how
could he pass up
this opportunity?
How many human
men ever ventured
this deep into
elven land
without elven ash
arrows flying at
them? Add to that
being accompanied
by a beautiful,
nude elven woman
and the odds were
staggering.

“Go on ahead and
I’ll catch up,”
Holt said despite
Warren’s
tightening grip
on his shoulder.
He shrugged off
the old man’s
hold along with
his shirt. Warm
mists crept up
Holt’s bare skin
like seductive
fingers. Strange.
It tingled his
skin and left
behind an ache