by Sakwa, Kim
Greylen grinned. “I’d not thought of it, and the idea has merit. But just so you know, I’d have wed you,” he offered with a squeeze. “Father Michael was to come at dawn.”
“See, now I know it’s true. I really am in the hospital. I never imagined unconsciousness would be like this,” she said, waving her hand about the room. “You must be the doctor who’s caring for me, and I guess you’re taking me off life support in the morning.”
Greylen froze in place. Whatever Gwen was working out in her mind, he’d not let her assume she was somewhere else and under someone else’s care. And he sure as hell wouldn’t let her think what he thought she implied. “Explain yourself, Gwendolyn.”
“He’s coming to give me my last rites. I’m going to die tomorrow. That’s why the priest is coming. I hope I remember you, Greylen. I hope I can find you next time…before it’s too late.”
“Ah, Gwendolyn, I swear to you—you’re not going to die in the morning. And Father Michael is coming to see us wed, love. Not to give you last rites.” He made the assurance as he placed her back on the bed and tucked her beneath the covers.
“Oh my God.” Gwen started laughing hysterically. “I’m really dying.”
“I just told you, you’re not dying.” At his words, she became very quiet. Her fingers worked furiously at the bedcovers. Good God, what was going on in that mind of hers now?
“Greylen, can I ask you something?”
“Aye,” he answered, wondering what foolishness she’d come up with.
“Last night, when I was dreaming…it was you, wasn’t it? I mean, I know I’m dreaming, but in my dream, the one I’m in now, you kissed me. You really kissed me, didn’t you?”
“Aye, Gwen, I kissed you.”
“Will you do it again…please?”
She was doing it again. Tempting him back to the gates of hell. Thank God she was beneath the covers. He cursed as she threw them aside…and again as she crawled over to him. He cursed the very same litany as before. Didn’t she know he could see down her shirt? She found her way to his lap…and straddled him!
Open the gates, he was a dead man.
Her hands tangled in his hair and she whispered, “I’m probably going to hell for this, Greylen, but right now, hell’s looking pretty frigging good.”
Greylen’s arms snaked behind her, tightening until she was pressed fully against him, and his hand gripped her head. “It appears to be frigging Eden, Gwen,” he agreed, using her word.
Then he kissed her.
No niceties this night. No slow explorations. He fed off of her like she were his last morsel. Holding her as if she were his lifeline in the world. And he could not get enough. No matter how he tried, it simply was not enough.
He tugged Gwen’s chin, deepening their kiss when she opened for him. His tongue swept inside, and he swallowed the sound she made, returning it with a growl as she joined him. Good God, she kissed him back with such abandon, pressed so hard to his body, he felt her every measure. He continued his feeding, his need of her such that he’d never experienced. Her legs tightened around his waist as her hands moved through his hair, urging him deeper. Then he was standing, with Gwen in his arms and her long, bare legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She seemed not to notice as he laid her upon the mattress, never breaking their kiss. He lay completely atop her, supporting his weight with his arms, feeling her entire body beneath his.
’Twas as close to heaven as he’d ever been. And he was going to hell when he was done.
Greylen felt Gwen’s hands move across his back, pressing him closer. Her hips moved against him and he growled in response. He tried not to move with her, but ’twas beyond his control. He was lost. Lost in an intense haze as he settled between her thighs. Then they were moving together. A slow, torturous grind he could not stop. His hand ran down the length of her body, and as he brushed past her waist, ’twas only bare skin that he felt…bare skin from her hip down to her foot.
He was going to take her.
His hand wrapped around the underside of her thigh. He growled as his fingertips glanced warm, moist heat. He tugged on her lips with his teeth…scraping past her chin…her long, delicate neck.
His face brushed the swell of her breast through the material of the shirt. Then he covered her with his mouth. She gasped, her body tensing as she tangled her hands in his hair. His teeth closed over her nipple, gently tugging…then his mouth covered her again. Closing with infinite slowness as teeth scraped—
“Oh God…Greylen…take them off. Please, help me take them off.”
Greylen lifted his head. Gwen was reaching for the bindings covering her eyes. Something was amiss.
“Help me, damn it,” she snapped.
Sanity was like a full-frontal blow when he wished to be witless. But he said a silent prayer that Gwen had brought him to his senses. He reached for her hands and wrapped them behind her back. Then he could do little more than rest his head on her chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Have a care, Gwen. I need a moment.”
“You need a moment? Take off the damn bandages. Now,” she demanded, trying to break free.
“Nay.” He sighed. He leaned back, taking Gwen with him. She sat on her knees, and he wrapped his legs around her, adjusting the shirt to cover her from his view.
“Nay,” she mimicked in a shout, poking a finger at his chest. “I’m going to die in the morning and you’re depriving me of my last wish?” She didn’t wait for a reply and reached for the edge of the binding.
Greylen cursed again and covered her hands. “You are not going to die.” Good God, the woman had a thick skull. “And I’ve already said, you’ll not remove them. I promised.”
Gwen snatched her hands back, then pushed against his chest with both of them. “Break it.”
“I never break my word, Gwen,” Greylen replied.
“Oh my God…you don’t want me.” As Gwen whispered those words, she realized she’d never been more humiliated in her life. Too many firsts and his rejection was the worst of them. Tears filled her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to leave. Dream or not, she was out of there. She began scooting backward, feeling for the edge of the bed with her feet.
“Where are you going?” Greylen asked in a chiding tone.
“Don’t touch me. I’m leaving.”
“You’ll go nowhere.”
“This is my dream. I can do whatever the hell I want,” she shouted as she slid from the bed and moved along the side. Truthfully, she had no idea where she was going, but she couldn’t stay any longer. And she would not cry in front of him. She would not. But then his hands were on her.
“Don’t push me away, Gwendolyn—ever.” His warning came with a squeeze to her shoulders.
“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re the one who stopped, Greylen. Excuse me for feeling rejected, but I was.”
He pulled her closer. “I did not reject you. How could you even think such a thing?”
“How—how?” She pushed him away again. “If you didn’t notice, we were moving from appetizers to the main course, you giant idiot,” she snapped. “But you obviously don’t want me.”
He grabbed her again, his voice angered. “I want you so much ’tis killing me.” He brought her closer to his body. “For more years than I care to remember, I’ve wanted nothing more, Gwendolyn. But when I take you, I’ll have the pleasure of looking in your eyes. Which leads us back to my promise. I gave my word, Gwen. Once given, ’tis a solemn vow—I will not break it. Understand.”
Oh this was priceless. The man who rejected her, humiliated her, and made her feel like a fool, wanted her to accept his word. She wished she could stare him down. Instead, she made a sweeping motion with her hands and broke his hold.
“Listen, Greylen, whatever your name is. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your word. And I sure as hell
don’t have to stand here taking your sanctimonious bullshit. The message was loud and clear, buddy, now hear mine.” She paused, feeling for his chest. Finding her mark, she used her finger and nailed his center with it every few words. “Dream or not, I would’ve made love to you tonight. Do you know why? Don’t answer that,” she hissed in his face. “It was rhetorical.” She qualified it all the same. “You made me feel things tonight, things I’ve only dreamed about—with you, I might add. And, maybe, before I died, I wanted to believe that I did belong somewhere.” Tears of frustration ran down her cheeks now, but she had to finish. She, unlike some, did not run away. “I’d have taken it, Greylen. I’d have unabashedly reveled in those feelings,” she confessed, mortified that her words caught on a sob before she could continue, “even for one night.”
Greylen didn’t say a word, in fact, it seemed the man was utterly still. Well, bully for you. But then he grabbed her and she must have been only inches from his face. “First, that move you used to disarm me was brilliant. ’Tis pride which fills me that you used it.” He must’ve been done complimenting her, because he squeezed her and brought her even closer. “Now let me make myself clear…Gwendolyn, whatever your name is. I don’t give a rat’s ass, as you’ve said, what you believed before, and I sure as hell didn’t feed you sanctimonious bullshit. And by the way, who in the hell taught you to speak such filth?” he yelled. “Nay, don’t answer that,” he warned her when she opened her mouth. “’Twas rhetorical.” She could only imagine his great satisfaction in the fact she remained silent. “Mouth and temper aside, I’ll have you, Gwendolyn, I swear I will,” he hissed. “And when I swear to anything, you’d better believe I make good on it. Do you understand?” He seemed to wait for her to respond, and when she didn’t, he gave her a squeeze. “Answer, Gwendolyn. Now.” Even with bandages covering her eyes, she knew they were in the midst of a staring match.
And it was vicious.
“Let me tell you something else, since you’re being so very receptive, Gwen-do-lyn. This is no dream,” he shouted. “At dawn your bandages will be removed, and I will see your eyes for the first time. And when I’ve had my fill, and only when I’ve had my fill, we will say our vows. You will be wed to me. You will carry my name, you will bear my children, and I swear to you and God above, you will live here with me—FOREVER.”
Her hair blew back from his tirade. Gimme a break, Mr. I’m Your Ruler. Like she was scared, ha. She wasn’t scared at all. In fact, now she knew the truth. She crossed her arms over her chest and remained silent. With deliberate nerve, she stuck her chin out, purposely instigating him. Well it was her dream, wasn’t it?
“You’ve one more chance to answer me, lass. And trust me, you’ll not want to push me that far.”
Gwen heard the change in his voice. It was the most chilling tone she’d ever heard. She meant to placate him, but she got carried away again. “Well, Greylen, you’ve only proved one thing, so your little tirade doesn’t scare me in the least. This is a dream, so pinch me, you big oaf. Better yet—bite me.”
Gwen couldn’t see the look on his face, obviously, but she sensed something had changed. Like all the air in the room had been sucked away and all that was left was this malevolent energy, which unfortunately, she had helped to create. She was about to make a run for it when Greylen pulled her against him with such force, he took her breath away. He kissed her—and took her challenge. He bit her.
“I taste blood. Oh my God, I taste blood,” Gwen yelled, hitting his chest. “Greylen, this isn’t a dream.” For a moment, she was so excited she started jumping around on the bed. That dance that you do when you just can’t help yourself.
“I told you ’tis not. Damn it, Gwendolyn, cease your antics—I just bit you,” he snapped. “I lost control. I’ve never done so before, yet you’re acting as though ’tis a cause for celebration.” He lifted her chin as if inspecting the damage. Her lips, already swollen from earlier kisses, were more so now, and as he gently pulled upon her bottom lip, he obviously saw blood. “Sweet Jesus, forgive me,” he pleaded.
What’s a little love bite? Besides she knew she’d purposely provoked him. And truthfully, he hadn’t hurt her. The man just had to touch her and all thinking went out the door. Which led to another mortifying thought. She was not dreaming. Which meant…she’d consciously behaved like a…like a…what? Cat in heat, woman on the edge, slut? Oh my God, she was a slut. Gwendolyn Reynolds was a bona fide slut. Could you be a slut without having sex? Hmm…oh God, you could.
Greylen grabbed her. “Whatever you’re thinking, cease. Your mind works in the strangest ways.”
“I…I acted shamelessly, Greylen. I’m not like this, I’m really not.” In her desperation to make him believe her, she ran her fingers through the hair on the side of his head. “It’s the drugs, and I…I thought I was dreaming.” She stopped, as if another thought might be more disturbing. “Why did you say those things to me, Greylen?” she asked in a strangled whisper.
“You’ve not forgiven me, Gwen. I can hardly offer an explanation—”
“Big deal, so you bit me.” She shrugged. “You didn’t hurt me, Greylen.” Then she whispered with a grin, “Don’t tell anyone, but I kind of like the way you throw me around.”
“Gwendolyn,” he whispered against her forehead. “If I live to be a thousand, I’ll never be able to repay the liberty you just bestowed upon me. Nor will I ever fathom the way your mind works,” he muttered.
“Hey.” She pinched him. “That’s not nice.”
She could sense his smile as he sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her on his lap. “My pardon, once more, fair lady.”
Gwen sat quietly for a moment. The way he spoke to her—it was like she was his lady and he, her knight. She sighed, then asked again the question he hadn’t answered. “Why did you say those things to me?”
“I’ve said a lot tonight. Which things do you refer to?”
“You know, those things—about us.” She couldn’t repeat them herself, and maybe she hadn’t heard him correctly. Maybe she had imagined it all, because he said nothing and instead, began to kiss her, gently brushing his lips against hers. She pulled away. “Dreaming or drugs? Was it all in my head?”
“Nay, love.” He nudged her lips again. “I said your bandages would be removed in the morn.” He nuzzled her again as if he enjoyed the feel of her skin against his own. “I said we’ll be wed.” Another kiss. “I said you’re going to carry my name and have my children.” Kiss. “And I said you’ll remain here”—kiss—“with me”—kiss—“forever.”
Gwen pushed away as he tried to kiss her again. She couldn’t think when he touched her like that. Nuzzling was as good as kissing, especially the way he rubbed his nose and lips against her. “Why, Greylen? You don’t even know me.”
“’Tis no simple answer, Gwen.”
“Tell me, please.”
Greylen let out a long sigh, then he shifted his body and took her with him as he settled back. “There was a prophecy, an enchantment, I’ve been aware of for years. Its writings told of two souls who’d been born apart.” He paused as if trying to gauge her reaction, but she was busy tracing circles upon his chest while she listened. Before he could continue, she asked a question.
“Like, you were born in Scotland, and I was born in the States?”
“Mayhap,” he offered. “The prophecy foretold these souls would find each other one day. And once they touched, they’d be joined forever, soothing the male’s lonely heart—”
“Do you have a lonely heart?”
“Nay, love.” He placed his hand over hers. “No more.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry. Will you finish now?”
Greylen continued as Gwen went back to tracing upon his chest. “’Twas written the prophecy’s culmination would occur during the midst of a terrible storm—a storm on the eve of their shared birthdays.”
“Greylen,” Gwen whispered.
“Aye, Gwendolyn?”
“Was yesterday your birthday?”
“Aye, and yours as well.”
Gwen couldn’t answer, her throat had closed and her eyes filled with tears again. Could what he said possibly be true? A prophecy? About them?
“Gwendolyn?” She’d stopped tracing, and he obviously could tell she was troubled.
“Is this some sort of trick you’re playing on me? I’m still on drugs, you know.”
“I’d not trick you…ever.”
“You really think this prophecy was about us?”
“I know it to be.”
“And you’re going to marry me, just because you found me in the storm and we have the same birthday?”
“I’m going to wed you so our children have the right of legitimacy.”
“But what if we don’t have children?”
“Since I plan to have you first of the morrow—repeatedly—and every morrow after, ’tis a very safe assumption.”
“But what if you don’t like me?” Gwen argued. “What if you think I’m hideous once you see my entire face?”
Greylen laughed. “You’re beautiful, and I do like you.”
“What about…” Gwen bit her bottom lip before she continued. “About…well, Sara seems to think I have a slight problem with my temper,” she said in a rush.
“Slight? Slight?” he repeated. “Love, ’tis no slight problem you have. Your affliction’s quite severe.”
“It’s not that bad,” she muttered defensively.
“Not bad?” He laughed. “You’ve the temper of a wild boar…stuck in a mud trap…starved for days…about to die.”
By the time he finished, she was laughing so hard, her face was buried in her hands.
“Tell me your family name, Gwen?” he asked when they became quiet again.
“Reynolds,” she supplied quickly. Gwen waited for Greylen to say something. He didn’t. Finally, she reached out to him. “Are we in the twilight zone again, Greylen? Greylen?”