Free Dark Confluence by Rosemary Fryth, Frankie Sutton Page B

her again, this time his fingers moved from her hands to roam across her body.
     
    “No,” she breathed, half-heartedly attempting to break away from him. “You are not to be trusted.”
     
    He smiled at her protestations and slid his hand beneath her shirt. She gasped and felt an unfamiliar hot and rushing heat flood her body.
     
    “You want me too,” he whispered against her mouth. “Why deny what your body demands?”
     
    “No!” she half slid off the rock to face him. Her face was flushed and her clothes in disarray. “You are not human, how can I trust one who...”
     
    He smiled gently at her, “How many times, my Jenny, do I have to tell you that I wish you no ill.”
     
    Jen closed her eyes to his leaf-green gaze and tried to ignore the overpowering sexual pull of the man half lying upon the rocks.
     
    She shook her head and turned away, ignoring the cry of her own body, a body so long denied pleasure and love. “I cannot trust one as you.” Even to her own ears, her pleas sounded hollow.
     
    She heard him slide off the rock, and she felt, not heard him come behind her enfolding her again in his arms.
     
    “I will have you, Jenny of the old lands,” he whispered against her hair. “If not now, then another time, it is fated you see. We will come together, you and I. Your body sings to me and I am in its thrall.”
     
    She pulled away again, shaking her head. “Please leave me be.”
     
    “I cannot,” he admitted. “However, I will honour your wishes.” He turned her to face him and his face was strangely serious, “Although, you deny yourself pleasure, my Jenny, my express purpose was to give you warning this day.”
     
    She stepped back out of his arms, giving herself space to breathe and collect her shattered senses.
     
    “I need no warning now, your presence is warning enough,” she muttered darkly.
     
    “No, you misunderstand...I am a herald, a messenger, for the great powers who come after me.”
     
    She stared at him, her knees trembling again at the perfection of his face. She saw that he was in a state of arousal and her face grew scarlet. She looked away, anywhere but at the fairy-man with his imploring, beautiful face and pleading hands.
     
    “My message to you comes from the powers that are the two great Courts of the Fae. Their message is that you must stop what is being done here,” he said to her, his words oddly formal, his face a study of seriousness and lust.
     
    Jen stared at him. “Courts? What courts? Stop what is being done?” She shook her head in confusion, “I don’t understand.” She took another step back, “No! Why should I do what you want? You have given me no reason to trust you, or your word.”
     
    His eyes flashed green, “I may be of the Sidhe, but I am still a man of my word.”
     
    “You are no man,” Jen breathed.
     
    He grinned suddenly at that, then he too stepped back, “Very well, I shall leave you in peace, Jenny. My message has been given and you will see no more of me.”
     
    “No more,” she whispered, her heart breaking. Against her will, she desperately longed for his touch, to taste him again on her lips.
     
    He smiled suddenly and his hands lifted as if to reach for her again. “See, your body cannot be deceived, yet my word stands. I will not come until you call me by my true name, and when I come, I will not be denied again. It is your choice, my Jenny.”
     
    Turning away Jen firmed her resolve. “I will not need your true name!” Jen declared, against the wishes of her own longings.
     
    “Yet I will still give it to you,” and on the breeze a word was given, whispering. Against her will, she remembered it. She heard him sigh, and knew instantly that it was a binding thing, this giving of true names. Desperately, she tried to forget it, yet insistently it clung to her memory. She turned to protest, but he was gone, and the morning dulled in the absence of his presence.
     
    Jen sank to the grassy