Although some Elves had stronger magic, Dorovan knew he had only such as all Elves were born with, the strength and resilience of his body, the empathy of their race, the ability to create Elven lights in the darkness, and a trace of Healing. His own truest magic was in his skill with his swords, in his ability to pass those skills on to others. Like Ailith. He had no ability to foresee…and yet… Now he delighted in Delae’s body, in the pleasure she took from him and what he took from her, in her quick responsiveness, in the way her body trembled and quivered. He loved the taste and the feel of her. The feel of his long silky hair brushing over her stomach as his mouth did wonderful things to her drove all thought from Delae’s mind as heat built within her and her breath came short. Her body went limp, twitching helplessly at the touch of his tongue, his warm mouth on her. Her hands fell away as her body quivered. Dorovan surged up, impaling her on him and she cried out, locking around him as she trembled wildly, her body closing around him, stroking him.
