A female who could look at a male like Casworon Trevanion, and wish, desire, hope.
But never touch.
CHAPTER TWO
Cas leaned into the salty wind as he rode the Cleveland Bay stallion he’d purchased three months ago along the cliff’s edge. It was a daunting path he’d regularly traversed since he was a very young male. While his father had always found the risk, the flash of fire and impulse inside of Cas impressive, his mother had felt the opposite. There was not a day that went by where she didn’t follow him to the stables and beg him not to go or to please take a groom—or even better, stay to the far gentler terrain of the moors. He would smile and assure her of his abilities. He was an Incubus, after all. But that didn’t sway her in the least. For years, Cas believed her worry stemmed from the deep and abiding love of a mother. Then one morning when he was twelve, just as he’d been ready to ride out, she’d allowed him to see her true nature.
“You may be an Incubus, my son,” she’d said, her lip curling as if that was the most detestable of fates. And he would learn later that to her, it was. “Close to immortal. But you are not fully grown. At this tender age, you cannot escape all injury.” Her eyes had moved over him. “Who will want you if you are a scarred male? Broken?” Those eyes had risen to meet his own. “Not one of the royal females, that is certain.”
“What do I care for royal females?” he’d returned hotly, giving his dancing mare a couple of strokes to her long neck.
“How selfish you are, Casworon,” she’d scolded. “Your father almost made such a mistake when I was presented to him, and it near cost him this castle. I won’t let you be so foolish. Your fate is already secured.”
“What does that mean?” he’d demanded, feeling strange and confused as a child does when he starts to understand his parents’ union might not be what he believed it to be.
“Never mind,” his mother had said. “I want you to get down from that animal and come inside.”
But Cas had not been one to obey. Strong-willed, his Incubus blood revving in his veins, he’d ignored her—kicked his mare into a run and headed for the cliffs. The next morning he’d found his mare in her stall, her throat cut. His mother’s wordless punishment, and future threat.
Do as I say, or the things you love will die.
Whatever love he’d had for his mother before that day, it was gone by sundown. Granted, he didn’t stop pushing back, or even disobeying her. But never again did he underestimate her. She wanted her connection to the royals solidified—no matter the cost—and she knew Cas would never put his people, his staff or his animals at risk.
His duty would be done.
The bay picked up speed as he neared a small chasm in the rock. Inexperienced though the stallion might be, he had instinct and drive, and a hunger to soar. Cas leaned forward, his insides tightening up as his outsides relaxed. The bay flew over the gulf, then came thundering down on the other side. Sea spray hit Cas’s face and neck and he growled at the sensation, then licked his upper lip. He loved the salty taste. It reminded him of a female’s heated skin, slick with sweat.
His body stirred. He could hardly wait for tonight. Ten females beneath him, atop him, against him. They would steal the memories of the mating introduction, remind him of what he was. Would continue to be.
An Incubus.
A sex demon.
A male who was not bred, born or destined for something as weak and trivial as love.
His lip lifted to form a sneer just as the cell phone in his pocket started to vibrate. He jerked the stallion to a halt only feet from the cliff’s edge. The sea crashed against the rocks below.
“Trevanion,” he nearly growled into the receiver.
A rumble of deep laughter greeted him. “You sound tense, amico mio?”
Scarus Vipera, Master of the House of Vipera, was a friend, a partner in the unshakable quest to rid their world of Marakel, and a male who had strangely—willingly—given himself over to a female he’d met in the Harem. Cas would never understand the latter move. Unlike himself, Vipera had the choice to remain a solo sex demon and yet… Perhaps something had tainted the water in Italy…
“Shouldn’t you be dreaming of your bella mate-to-be?” Scarus continued, a smile in his tone. “Shouldn’t you sound excited?”
“Why would I be excited?” Cas retorted, wanting to reach through the phone and throttle the male. “Would a hawk be excited to have his wings clipped?”
“I am mated, and I let my Rosamund clip my wings all day and night. It brings a satisfaction I’ve never known before.”
“I cannot imagine this.” Cas’s jaw went tight. “But then again, she is a female of your choosing, is she not?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Scarus amended, “Yes. I apologize, my friend. I forget that your House has this tradition.”
“No apology is necessary,” Cas said on a slight growl. “Now. The sun is descending here. Did you call only to wish me well?”
“I had question. Your mate? She will be Nephilim, si?”
“Yes.” Cas sensed the sudden unspoken tension in Vipera’s voice. “Why?”
Scarus released a weighty breath. “There have been…how you say…rumblings at the temple, about the Nephilim. The Three are unhappy with us, with the Masters, so I wished to see how far their tentacles spread.”
“What does that mean?”
“I—and others—wondered about your ball this evening. If the Nephilim, even those connected to royalty, would still be in attendance.”
Understanding dawned, and a dark frown spread over Cas’s features. Below him the sea grew wilder, hitting the rocks with such force he felt the spray dampen his clothing. “As you have somewhat gathered by now, it is a different world here in Cornwall. The Nephilim in attendance and the one I will be introduced to tonight care naught for the Three. All were raised to respect only the decrees of their mothers, and their Sovereign. And I don’t mean the one we keep asleep and protected.”
“I see,” Scarus said, sounding pensive. “You will inform me if that is not the case?”
“Of course.”
“Then I bid you good luck, amico mio.”
“I appreciate that, my friend.”
Cas ended the call, replaced his phone back in his pocket, and after one brief glance at the wild and unrelenting sea below, kicked the bay into a run toward the castle.
~
The sea’s salty water had, over the many years, found its way to the edges of Trevanion Castle property, creating two large pools. They were deep and lush with greenery and flora. In the summer months, each was frequented by the staff and even some members of the household. But in spring, fall and winter, most stayed away, as the water was far too cold.
Not for Lia, however.
For Lia, it was perfect.
Not just because it offered her privacy, but because it quelled the ache in her damaged leg like nothing else. After her leg was crushed so thoroughly in the fierce attack of the rogue Blade, the cold salt water both soothed and numbed her muscles and skin. Truly, she could stay in for hours. Today, unfortunately, she didn’t have that option. The sun was setting, and she didn’t want to be traveling the road as the guests arrived for the ball.
His ball.
The Master’s ball.
Her mind started to wander as she swam toward the edge of the pool. I wonder what he’s doing right now. Getting ready? Is he in his private bath, naked, the shower spray pummeling his muscular body? Is he excited? Ready to meet his mate? Watch her descend into the ballroom, his eyes taking in every graceful step?
“The way Casworon Trevanion will never see you,” she said to herself as she stepped slowly out of the water, her limp not nearly as pronounced as it had been two hours ago. Nude and drenched, she came to stand at the rock that had her robe draped across it.
“Is that what you want?” came a voice. “For the Master to see you?”
On a gasp, Lia whirled. Despite t
he pain that would surely follow, she crouched, ready for battle. Looking around, eyes narrowed, she searched the brush and trees. But saw nothing. “Who’s there?” she demanded caustically. “Who are you? Show yourself.”
“Please,” came the voice again. Then a man stepped out of the shadow of a large Eldertree. He wasn’t wearing the traditional garb of a Trevanion House laborer, but she knew he worked for the Master. She’d seen him before. He was a Watchman called Pennice.
“I mean you no harm,” he stated, hands in the air as if she held a gun in her hands and not a thick, white robe.
Pain lanced through her thigh and shot downward. She hissed through her teeth. “It is you who should be worried. State your business here, Watchman, or I will be doing the harm.”
Dark eyes flickered with sudden satisfaction and the male lowered his hands. “I knew you were no ordinary servant.” One brow lifted in question. “Blade or Temple Blade?”
A thread of unease moved through her. Had this male been watching her? Having others watch her? For how long? And why? Since coming here, she’d made it a point not to be noticed. Head down, work focused, no friends, no interactions.
Only fantasies.
Her eyes were fierce as she stared at him, and slipped on her robe. “What do you want from me?”
“I’d like to help,” he said simply.
Lia smiled darkly. “In what exactly? Bathing? Dressing? Both are already taken care of, I assure you.”
His face paled as if this idea appalled him. “You misunderstand me.”
It was amazing. For a few seconds, she’d actually forgotten about how she appeared to others. The limp, the scar. Of course this male was not interested in accosting her. “Then what is it that has you lurking around my bathing pool, Watchman?”
“I have been tasked to gather ten females for the Master tonight.” He let this information sink in, then locked eyes with her and added, “I have only nine.”
“What does that have to do with me?” she asked, trying not to imagine Master Casworon entangled in eighteen sets of long, smooth, eager limbs. “Are you looking for someone to round up suitable candidates for you?”
The male actually smiled. “No.”
“Then I don’t know what—”
“I believe the tenth female is standing right before me. In white robe and fierce expression.” He inclined his head. “It is you I wish to bring to the Master.”
Lia stared at the male. Unblinking. Stunned. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Either that, or he was playing a very hideous joke.
As if sensing her disbelief, Pennice quickly stated, “I am very much serious.”
She sniffed, nearly laughed.
But the male didn’t. He held her gaze, his eyes clear and true.
“But…” she began, shaking her head. “Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why me? There are females in town or in his own household who would be more than honored—”
“You are strong and intelligent and I think he would be very pleased with you,” the Watchman said. “And I wish only to please the Master.”
Warning bells were going off inside her. What he suggested was madness. Strong and intelligent didn’t attract an Incubi. She knew it, and she believed this male knew it too. Whatever he was doing, playing at, she wanted no part of it. “You saw me come out of the water—brazen and disrespectful as it was.”
He nodded. “I apologize for that.”
She continued undaunted, “You saw how I moved. Or rather how I limped.” She fairly growled the last word. She pointed to her face. “You see the scar that runs from my mouth to my temple. I am no female to enter his bedchamber.”
No matter how much I wish it. No matter how many times I have dreamt of it.
Pennice stared at her, his eyes like shining obsidian in the reigning dusk. “I don’t agree. You have a rare beauty that comes from more than appearance. More than intelligence and strength even.” His brow lifted. “Shall I prove it to you?”
Lia swallowed hard. What did that mean? What was he saying? Prove it to her? This was a joke. It had to be. And yet she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “How?”
A slow smile spread across his features. “Do you wish to go to the ball tonight?”
She started to laugh. Such a suggestion—
He cut her off with a look. “I mean what I say.”
She gave him a look. “Even if that were possible, I would never allow him or anyone else in attendance to see me as I am. Now, stop making fun of a poor house worker and be on your way.” She started past him, wishing she’d brought a stick to help her. Her leg was paining her again, stinging her, and she would have to travel the moors instead of the road.
“I’m not making fun of you, Lia,” the Watchman called after her.
She stopped at that and glanced over her shoulder. “How do you know my name?”
Eyes bright, soft smile on his lips, the Watchman reached into his coat and took out what appeared to be a wand. It was cherry wood and highly polished. “You will go to the ball tonight, dance and laugh and have a wonderful time with the Master—then at midnight you will retire to his cottage and join the other females.”
Breath stalled inside her lungs, Lia could only stare blankly at him. This male was insane. Had to be— Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as the male circled his wand slowly and green sparks of light exited the tip.
“You…” she breathed. “You have magic?”
He smiled. “My Cornish family’s legacy. Quite useful on everything but human hearts.” His eyes connected with hers. “If you wish it, if you say yes, you will go to the ball, and to the Master’s bed, as the female you once were. No limp. No scar.”
The wind of the sea whipped her wet hair about her face, cooling her hot cheeks. How did she answer this, answer him? No and she would return to the house, to her work—her dreams, her pain, her anonymity—without knowing, and possibly with regret. Yes and she was engaging with someone who would never see her after this night. Would never care for her. Would never truly know her.
And yet…what an experience.
Her gaze slid to the wand. Every few seconds, green sparks erupted from the tip. If Master Trevanion wouldn’t even know it was her, a mere servant in his household, then what was truly the harm?
In jumping?
She turned around, faced the Watchman. “I don’t know why you offer this, Pennice. Not really. But I will take it. I fear I must take it.”
The Watchman’s smile was broad as he nodded. Up went his wand, and as Lia stood there in the salty air and coming night, the male started to speak, low and quickly, chanting, eyes opening and closing. At first, she felt nothing at all. She nearly laughed at the sight before her. Not in a cruel way, but bitterly, because she wished it so much now. Was too hopeful.
And then…
Something happened. Started to happen. Within her. A warm, liquid feeling, moving through her veins like a snake. Healing her, piecing her back together, it seemed.
Before her, Pennice wielded his wand; flashes of green fire erupted and crackled. Lia gasped, her breath suddenly gone from her lungs. Fear blasted through her and she dropped to the ground.
Then everything stopped. The air, the sound of sea—the heart beating in her chest. And just as quickly started back up again. For several seconds, Lia wasn’t sure where she was or what had happened to her. Then the past fifteen minutes came rushing back and she started to rise. Every inch of her felt whole and strong and light. She touched her face. Smooth. She waited for the pain as she stood. None. She glanced down at her robe.
Gone.
She gasped. Yards of the most beautiful white and green and gold fabric met her gaze. And shoes…extraordinary shoes. Glass and gold. She glanced up. Pennice was staring at her like he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“You’re perfect,” he breathed. “The Master will not be able to resist you. In fact, I’ll wager he won’t even see the other nin
e.”
Her waist was drawn in, her breasts jutted out. What a dress. And her hair…her curls…loose and flowing and glossy. Besides the absence of pain and her scar, she felt so different. So alive. Hungry as she hadn’t been in years. Tears pricked at her eyes for the loss, but she swiped them away. She’d made this bargain. She wasn’t going to waste it in grief.
“You need one last thing,” Pennice said before whipping up his wand once again.
Lia watched as this time golden sparks erupted from the wand tip. And in seconds, a beautiful white mare in golden tack stood before her.
She laughed, then turned back to the Watchman. “This can’t be real.”
“I assure you it is,” he said, placing his wand back inside his jacket pocket. “But Lia, please note that this spell will last only until dawn.”
A sobering feeling moved through her. Of course it wouldn’t last. She nodded. “I understand.”
He helped her mount, then gestured toward the road in the distance. “Go now,” he urged. “Enter with the other guests.”
She found his gaze and for the first time, smiled with true and genuine warmth. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Go.”
And with that, she turned the mare around and headed for the road that led to the castle.
CHAPTER THREE
Music trilled through the ballroom, drinks on silver platters were being offered to the beautiful people milling about, gold banners with the Trevanion House sigil of two crossed swords swayed in the breeze from the open windows, and the lights from the seven ancient chandeliers burned bright. It was a glorious, sumptuous, sensuous sight. And yet Casworon Trevanion could barely force a smile as he sat back on his father’s black velvet throne and surveyed the room. This was no party to be savored and enjoyed. This was his end. The only thing getting him through it being the promise of ten naked, wet and ready females awaiting him in the cottage.
The demon inside him expanded at the thought, would’ve been allowed to roam free if Cas’s mother hadn’t come to stand at his side.
Masters of Seduction Volume 2: Books 5-8: Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 14