The March Warden

For a split second, you are awake again. You hear people talking in hushed voices.

“You like her, brother, admit it,” a voice says.

“I like her as I do any elf in my bed,” a voice snaps. It’s the man who saved you. You wonder why his brother and he are talking about you when you’re in hearing range.

“That’s not true. I saw the way you looked at you, the way you touched her. She’s different from the others. Did you hear the Voice when you saw her-“

“Silence.” He pauses, probably to look at you, before saying; “I feel nothing for her. Keep whatever fantasies you’ve entertained in your romantic mind to yourself. I don’t love, I fuck. After that,” another pause, “I prefer my solitude.”

The rest of the conversation is lost on you. You are yet again sucked into the void. As you fall asleep, you wonder about the Voice. You realize he never denied hearing it.

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You wake from a peaceful, sleepless, painless dream. You groan. Why did the pain have to be back? You close your eyes and will yourself to sleep again. Instead, your mind scoffs that you had plenty of sleep and need to figure out where you’re at and what the hell is going on.

Stupid douche. Right now you can’t think of any reason why someone would want a mind. You have a feeling it’s a good reason, but right now you’re not thinking past your pain and how to get rid of it.

Speaking of pain, where’s that guy who sewed you up? You look around and see you’re by yourself in the strange, dark infirmary.

At least, you think you are until you hear someone’s light snore. The man who saved your life is fast asleep. He’s in an uncomfortable looking chair and his head is resting on your bed as he sleeps. His beautiful hair fans around him. When you look closer, you realize his cheeks are slightly pink.

You sigh. You guess you can forgive the man for the lack of sedation since 1) he saved you and 2) he’s so handsome you doubt you could stay mad at him even if you wanted to.

What you’re having trouble with now is resisting the urge to stroke his hair.

You snort. To hell with keeping your hands to yourself. He saw you nearly naked, so it’s only fair you get to play with his hair. Besides, you’ll stop before he wakes.

His hair is thick and surprisingly soft. ‘Like silk,’ you muse as you stroke his locks. He sighs, but remains asleep.

You don’t know how long you lay there, stroking the stranger’s hair. All you know is when you scratch his scalp, he moans. It’s not a soft one either. It’s a deep moan that wakes feelings in you you didn’t realize existed.

‘All right, that’s enough,’ you think. ‘If I keep doing this, I’m going to get in trouble.’

Instead of stopping, you continue scratching his head. His breathing becomes short and the way he’s moving his hips captivates you. When your fingers accidentally brush against the tip of one of his ears, he jerks awake.

His hands grab yours. With dark eyes, he lustfully looks you over.

You gasp; surprised he’s bluntly showing what he’s thinking.

He grins, causing your heart to melt. He tries to close the distance between you.

Instead of accepting the kiss like the good horny girl you are, you put your hands up so he kisses your palm. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I wanted to see if your hair was as soft as it looked.”

He stares at you in disbelief. It’s almost as if he expected you to strip off your undergarments, spread your legs, and beg him to take you.

‘As if,’ you think. ‘I have more respect for myself than that.’

He gets over his initial shock. “It’s all right. Though I must warn you, it’s not always good to be curious about me. I’m not used to stopping what I start,” he purrs.

Your mouth goes dry. You’re tempted to touch his ear again to see if he’ll make good on his words. ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss,’ your hormones scream.

Instead, you pull your covers so they’re up to your neck. “I’ll remember that,” you say. “Now, who and what are you?”

He chuckles at your shyness. He leans back in his chair and studies you. “My name is Haldir. As for what I am, I am the same species you are.”

Same species you are. What kind of answer is that? Humans don’t have pointed ears like that. You remember the burning sensations you had felt earlier. You hesitate before lightly touching your ears.

You swallow. They’re pointed like his.

“Well. . .” you clear your throat as you refuse to meet his piercing gaze. “What exactly am I?”

He raises an eyebrow. The action causes you to laugh because it almost seems like he practices those looks in the mirror. You imagine him spending hour after tedious hour trying to get that eyebrow to go up just right. Laughing only causes his eyebrow to go higher.

‘Way to go, Cat,’ your mind says. ‘You’ve finally lost it.’

“You’re an elf,” he says.

You are tempted to viciously fight against the accusation. You want to scream and rant until they sedate you and let you go back to the painless, carefree darkness you crave.

‘It’s the only thing that makes sense,’ your mind reasons. ‘Those burning feelings, the whole change in scenery. It even explains why he had a bow and arrow. Who in the hell would carry a bow and arrow around in the 21st century?’

No one. That’s who.

You shrug. It’s not the worst thing that could happen. “Fine,” you say. “Where am I?”

“Lothlorien,” he answers.

‘Holy shit!’ you think. ‘I’m in a world created by an old white guy.’ You force yourself not to panic as you take everything in. Somehow, you’ve been thrown into a world you were convinced didn’t exist. Oh, and you were changed into an elf. None of this makes sense, but you doubt there’s any explanation for the occurrence. Even if there was, you doubt you could handle it.

Haldir won’t stop giving you the Look. The one that makes you feel transparent and vulnerable. It’s almost as if he knows you’re not from this world.

“Would you stop looking at me like that,” you snap.

The outburst makes his grin. He moves closer to you until you’re nose to nose. His eyes never leave yours. “And what look would that be?” he teases.

You growl. You push him away and roll over.

He takes in a sharp breath as he gets a generous view on your backside.

‘Great,’ you think as you quickly cover yourself. ‘First he got a view of my front, and now my back. Maybe I should just strip and twirl around for him just to make sure he got his fill.’

When he realizes you aren’t going to talk, he asks; “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

“Cat,” you mumble. He still hears you.

“Cat,” he purrs.

You shiver.

You feel the bed dip. His strong arms wrap around you as his head rests on yours. “Cat as in, curious as a cat?”

It’s then you decide everything about Haldir is a sin. His deep sex voice is a sin. His long eyelashes and x-ray eyes are a sin. His hands. Oh God, his hands are the biggest sin of all.

You can barely think as his hands lightly rub your fingertips. The heated touch causes sensations to race across your body.

“That’s the one,” you say. You close your eyes. You try to ignore the fact that his hands are slowly moving up your arms and you are enjoying every bit of it. “Is this really necessary?”

“I’m just making sure your wounds are healing probably,” he says smoothly.

“Healing my ass. You aren’t even looking at them,” you say without thinking. You blush.

He chuckles. The heat brushes against your ear. You bite your lip.

“I can check them if you’d like,” he says. His hands travel down your collarbone.

You stop them before they can reach their goal. “I’d prefer someone else to check them,” you say coldly. “I’d rather deal with someone who doesn’t see me as another notch in their belt.”

He stiffens. “You know nothing about me,” he reminds me with just as much ice.

“I do know that you’re good at what you do,” you retort. “To good to come close to being a bumbling virgin. You take what you want, and I have no doubt you give back just as much pleasure. But I’m not that kind of woman. I won’t be another nameless elf in your bed.”

“Strong words for someone who doesn’t know me.”

“You’re the one who gave me the idea as to who you are.” You wrench from his arms and stand. You tilt your chin up proudly and cross your arms. You don’t care about the lack of clothes, or the fact his hands curl as he stares at your breasts. “After all, you’re the one who told your brother all you wanted from an elf was a good fuck.”

His eyes widen as they fly up to meet yours. He opens his mouth several times to speak, but thinks better of it and remains silent.

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Go. Find that elf. Fuck her. Leave her. I don’t care.” You glare at him. “Just leave me out of your one-night seductions. I won’t be a part of them.”

Slowly. Very slowly. He rises from the bed. The movements remind you of a lion. You nearly snort at the metaphor. Figures his graceful, possessive walk reminds you of an arrogant creature known as the king of its territory.

You want to back up, but are too proud to let him know you’d take even one step back from intimidation.

He towers over you. You tilt your head back to see him glaring at you, his nostrils flaring. He grabs you and pulls you against him.

You gasp when you feel his hard erection press against you.

“What if it wasn’t just for one night?” he asks.

“Wow. Do you consider me good enough to be a two-nighter?” you ask sarcastically. “I should feel so special.” His grip on you tightens. You breasts crush against his chest. You can feel nearly every part of your front touching his. You nipples harden and you suddenly feel lightheaded. You try to twist out of his grip, but he refuses to release you. “Let me go!”

“You never answered my question,” Haldir says. He leans down, his nose touching yours. You barely resist the urge to close the distance as he practically speaks on your lips. “What if it wasn’t just for one night?”

You turn your head from him, his lips brush against your cheek. The touch causes you lower regions to flare. This isn’t fair. An elf like him shouldn’t turn you on so much. You want one who will love you, marry you, and have children with you. All Haldir wants to do is fuck you and leave you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say. You meet his eyes to get your point across. “An elf like you won’t change.”

He releases you so quickly, you nearly fall. He storms from the room. As he leaves, you almost swear you heard him say; “We’ll see about that.”

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