Page 14 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

Put your hands together—Castien’s on top and Shalendra’s on the bottom. Press my stone between the palms of your hands and open your mind to mine. Hurry! He’s almost here!

Neither questioned Ashia’s demand and did as she said. Shalendra blocked everything from her mind except the ethereal black-haired woman she had met earlier. Fixating on Ashia's beautiful face, the incredible bloodstone blocked the evil presence. A nearby cell door slammed shut, followed by several more, making her jump with each impact.

You are both safe.

Shalendra removed her hand from Castien’s tight grip. He straightened one leg and slipped the stone into his pant pocket, and the soft light disappeared. “Did you feel that? It felt so evil.”

“I did.”

“What do you think it wanted?”

“I’m not sure, but Ashia shielded us, so whatever it was couldn’t sense anything but an empty cell. It’s how I’ve stayed safe for so long in these dungeons. Most prisoners are dead after a day or two. For some reason, I don’t think it wanted us, though. At least, not completely. Through Ashia, I sensed that it searched for someone specific, but there was a hesitation, almost as if it didn’t know who it was looking for.”

“It was looking for the female,” a deep male voice said inside their cell.

“Who are you?” Castien rested his hand on Shalendra’s arm with a gentle squeeze. She pressed her lips together to keep from saying anything and waited for the person to respond.

“My name is Cyran. Cyran Daralei.”

A hard shiver slammed through her body, and her hair stood on end. The sensation was sensual as it slid through her. His voice was so deep and sultry... She willed him to speak again.

“I was sent here to rescue you.”

Laughter burst from her like a cannon. Neither male spoke as she forced herself to stop, a few stray snickers escaping from behind her hand as she tried to regain some composure. “I’m sorry, but that was priceless. I mean no disrespect, whoever you are, but you need to find a new profession. Rescues don’t seem to be working out for you since you’re now imprisoned like we are.”

“Oh, but am I?”

A shimmery light flickered in front of her and formed into the shape of a man. Lifting her face, she realized he was tall and exceptionally well built. She and Castien scrambled to their feet and faced him as his body solidified.

“How did you do that?” Castien moved his head to one side, trying to peer around the newcomer as Ashia's faint blue glow highlighted his face. “The door is still closed and locked. How did you get in here?”

“Magic,” the man said.

She couldn’t pull her gaze away from the stranger’s shadowed face. She could not make out the small details, such as his hair color or eyes, but she saw enough of everything else. He was as tall but stockier and thicker in the chest, arms, and legs than most elves.

Her pulse kicked up a notch as her gaze roamed back up his luscious body, and her vision seemed to sharpen. She could now make out more details, like how his black pants hugged his legs and the tightness of his black shirt, every tiny movement emphasizing the defined muscles underneath. Her best friend, Soliana, would describe him as yummy.

His hair reminded her of a toasted caramel shade. It parted in the middle and then again, centered with the middle of each brow and pulled back in long braids. The lower portion remained loose with several long strands draped over one shoulder. His brows were a shade darker than his hair, and his skin wasn't as pale as most elves, showing a life lived in the sun. He was so very handsome, but his blue-green eyes held her captive. They were magnificent.

“Who are you—really?” she asked.

He raised one brow. “I told you. My name is Cyran Daralei. Lamruil and Ailuin sent me to rescue you and your friend. I will say it was relatively easy getting in here. The trick will be how to get you out. There’s an all-out war going on in the castle.”

“Probably has something to do with the new demon on the block impersonating the king who’s MIA.” Castien grinned. “Always a good day when things are topsy turvy.”

Cyran frowned at him. “And you are?”

Shalendra moved closer to Castien and threaded her arm through his. “This is my friend, Castien Bloodminer.”

“Bloodminer—any relation to Voron Bloodminer?” Cyran asked.

Castien nodded. “My grandfather. My father didn’t favor mining for gems and, instead, created jewelry.”

“If I remember, Voron was very talented at finding opals and a few earth minerals.”

Castien smiled. “Okay, Cyran, how did you know my grandfather?”

“I knew of him through my stepfather. He would come once a month, like clockwork, for a pain spell to help when he had to go deep underground. Evidently, it’s hard work?”

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