When his worst fear comes true, Asgard's Dark Prince will stop at nothing to rescue his pregnant consort. Yet, not even the threat of Asgard's forces looming in the skies over Alfheim can force the Unseelie Winter Realm Elves to produce Shannon when...
It started as a wisp of fog. The silver-grey substance danced like the flickering of a flame in a breeze. Gaining strength, it swirled and thickened, becoming a dense column that suddenly burst outward. In the heart of the disturbance, a darker sphere appeared, pulsed and expanded into an eerie, blue shimmering haze that filled the space within the ancient stone ring.
Hidden within its dense cloaking cover of silver-grey fog, a tall gaunt shape took form. Covered in shades of grey and black, he blended with the washed out colours of the night. As he stepped through the border of the stone ring, the mist encompassed him, moving with him, and the blue shimmering haze winked out.
Making his way through the quiet of the night with no more sound than the fog creeping along the ground, he stalked the nearby town. Locked doors were no impediment to his entry. With a flick of long, bony fingers, each gave way to the push of air on deadbolt or tumblers. Like a demonic wraith, he prowled silently through each home, making note of those that met the sacrificial criteria.
First-born children, but only if they were still untouched by adult desires, were added to his list for harvest. Destroying their innocence made the blood sacrifice that much more powerful, more effective in harvesting energies the Unseelie realm needed to function. King Cernunnos and Queen Mene preferred to corrupt the young for the quarterly ritual.
But not him. No, Crom Cruach relished the dual sacrifice of innocence and fertility in a dark perversion of his former fertility god powers. Pregnant women were his favourite ritual prey. The flavour of power he got from them when the energies were absorbed made him shiver with an unholy lust. Anticipation surged at the thought of what awaited him on the upcoming Lughnasadh hunt.
Home after home he invaded, desecrating every mortal residence in the area with his foul presence throughout the long night. Every victim was left with a wisp of unnatural fog clinging invisibly to him or her, marking them so the Wild Hunt could harvest their prey when the time came.
As the sun rose on the sleepy English town, he made his way back towards the stone circle. Yet, some instinct had him detouring to pass through the nearby hills. Hidden within his cloak of mists and blending with the natural fog that clung to the hilltops, he spotted three women.
A curly redhead, bright hair shining in the sunlight, fought with a pair of short swords against a curvaceous sprite with blue hair swaying in a high ponytail, wielding a longsword and dagger. The speed and skill of the women made him curl his lip in a sneer. Damn Asgardians. He'd fought enough Valkyrie to know their style of combat anywhere. It was the other woman that held him transfixed. Being with the other two, she was clearly an immortal, but her skills were not as polished as she practiced some kind of elemental magic. Even with her back towards him, he could hear her curse when she made a mistake. He'd never seen an adult immortal that hadn't yet mastered their skills.
A sadistic grin stretched his lips. She must be a new immortal, or younger than she appeared. It was the only explanation. If they could get her away from the Valkyrie, she'd make a better sacrifice than any of the mortals. She turned, looking into the hills towards him, and he sucked in a gasp.
She was pregnant!
Blood surged hotly within him and he tried to fight the shuddering arousal that inflamed his senses, almost blinding him to his surroundings. A weak, pregnant immortal. He couldn't wait to take her. She was worth more than all the other prey combined.
Oh, how he would enjoy her!
He'd make her torture last many long months. Her eventual ritual sacrifice when she was finally used up would provide energy for years. She would be utterly delicious. The thought of her screams as she fought and clawed had him groaning and spilling his seed on the rocky hilltop, his eyes fixed on his unwitting prey down in the valley.
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