by Cassie Burns
He broke off the kiss just as she ached for more. “I’ll have you bound in this bed or unbound in our marriage bed, but either way, I’ll have you,” he promised. “You know there’s no escape.”
“I won’t share your marriage bed.”
To her surprise, he grinned. “I like a stubborn wench.” He shifted position, his silvery hair sweeping down her body as he moved, tickling her flesh into thousands of goose bumps. His mouth paused over the juncture of her thighs and she stiffened. She lifted her head and strained to see what he was doing down there. Sapphire eyes blazed back at her for a long moment and then he lowered his head to feast between her legs.
She cried out and ground her buttocks into the mattress as his tongue slid inside her, searching out the stiff little nub buried in the damp folds of her inner flesh. The orgasm took her against her will, sweeping through her in vast, unending waves. When it subsided at last, he raised his head and grinned again.
“You are mine, Calie. With every night and every dream, you become more and more mine.” He positioned himself above her on the bed and pressed his mouth to hers. She tasted the salt and sweet tang of her dew on his lips and felt the hard length of his phallus as he thrust deep into her engorged sheath.
Her second orgasm was even more powerful than the first.
* * * *
Calie turned her head sideways on the pillow and gazed out her bedroom window at a patch of blue sky. Her body felt heavy, languorous. How many orgasms had she experienced during the night?
She closed her eyes, savoring the last vestiges of the dream. The gods knew, she’d used her talents as an untrained dream master to conjure up some potent erotic fantasies in the past, but none like this. Barbose lor de Domatan seemed uncannily real to her. He’d somehow taken on a life of his own, a fascinating life. Soon she’d have to undo her bonds in the dream so she could touch that silky, moonlit hair, run her hands over those broad shoulders and down that massive chest.
Abruptly, she sat up and shook her head. This dream was becoming an obsession. Maybe it was time to move on. She had other concerns, more important concerns, to occupy her thoughts. Today she planned to broach her request to Lord Tromas. Surely she’d proven her skills. And he would gain prestige among the peers of the realm as the patron of a healing center. He would agree; he must agree.
She dressed quickly and stood in front of her cracked mirror to brush her hair into a golden sheen. Binding the heavy tresses up into a single braid down her back, she grabbed her cloak against the morning chill and headed out the door. The streets were quiet, a fact which served her well as she strode along, mumbling her speech to Lord Tromas. She was in the middle of her impassioned plea when she passed the diviner’s door with its bold, red mark.
This time she halted, her heart pounding in her chest. Was this indeed the best time to ask Tromas for this boon? She would have but one chance. Trembling, she lifted her fist and rapped on the door.
She heard only silence for a long minute, then shuffling footsteps accompanied by a faint jingle. The door swung open to reveal an old woman with long, gray braids and pale blue eyes. She was dressed in a colorful blouse and skirt and the heavy gold bracelets at her wrists and on her ankles made the jingling sound Calie’d heard.
“You’ve come, then,” the old woman said with a nod, as if she’d been expecting her. “I imagine you’ll want to be hearing about him.”
“There is no him,” Calie said, edging a step backward. Did Melisa assume she’d come for advice on her love life? Most women probably did. Well, if so, the old hag was a fake.
She’d half turned to go when Melisa spoke again. “Oh, there’s a him all right, but he only lives in your dreams… or so you think.” The woman crackled with laughter, her face breaking up into a thick brown map of wrinkles.
Calie froze, the hot blood rushing into her cheeks. Did this diviner see into her dreams—those fiery, erotic dreams?
“Oh, come in, come in,” Melisa said, catching her breath. “The cards are eager to talk to you today. Yes, they are.”
Calie followed Melisa into her shop. It was only a tiny room, lit by the pale light seeping through a single dusty window. A bare wooden table sat in the center with two chairs and an unlit lantern. A stack of derbali cards lay on the table.
“Sit.” Melisa pointed to one of the chairs.
Calie sat, already regretting her decision to consult the diviner.
“Cut the cards,” the older woman commanded.
Trying to still the shaking in her hands, Calie reached out and cut the deck as ordered. The sooner she got this done, the better. What a waste of good coin this would be.
With an enigmatic smile, Melisa picked up the worn deck and began shuffling. Calie watched as the cards flowed like living things through her fingers. Then the old woman set them down on the table, picked up the top one and threw it out between them.
Calie stared down at the face of a man sitting on a throne. He held a riding whip in one hand and his sapphire eyes glittered. Hair the color of moonlight spilled over his shoulders.
“The king of your dreams,” the old woman crackled. “This is a card of mastery. But he’s not the master of a kingdom, as you think, oh no.”
Calie attempted a nonchalant shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Why, the king of your dreams, of course. But he’s real, don’t you know. He’s a master dreamer like you.”
Calie stiffened, shock blazing down her spine. No one had ever guessed that she was a master dreamer, not even her mother.
She opened her mouth to protest but Melisa ignored her and threw a second card down on the table. A man stood braced against a wind, holding two crossed swords in his hands.
“You face a choice,” Melisa announced. “It’s one you don’t expect. Choose wisely.”
Calie swallowed, torn between bewilderment and anger. Melisa seemed to know a lot about her—too much.
The old, gnarled hands moved a third time, plucking another card from the top of the pack and throwing it down on the table.
A naked woman stood, tied to a post, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a cry as a man with a whip advanced toward her.
“This card is a powerful one,” Melisa muttered, giving her a sideways look. “Not all can bear it, but it calls you to experience victory in surrender.”
Calie glanced away. Had she been mad, coming to the shop of a diviner? All her secrets were revealed in these cards scattered across the table top.
“You must choose your final card,” Melisa said.
Fighting down her fear, Calie drew a card from the pack and flipped it over. Again it showed a man, this time in a boat with his back turned, moving out onto a lake. In the foreground, on the beach, eight cups lay overturned.
“You’ve chosen a card of awakening,” Melisa told her. “It’s time for your dream to end. It’s time for you to wake up and realize you’ve been living a dream that no longer satisfies.”
A smug smile appeared on the old woman’s face as she held out her hand for payment.
Jumping to her feet, Calie pulled a coin from her pocket and thrust it at her. “Here. My thanks.” The air in the small room had turned hot although the day had barely begun. Calie staggered toward the door and pushed it open. Light poured in and a cool breeze fanned her cheeks.
Gods, had the old woman somehow seen into her dream—that terrible, erotic dream? Did she know the lustful fantasies that brought Calie to orgasm after orgasm in her lonely bed?
Calie dragged the door shut behind her and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Abandon that dream? Not likely. Not when she could thrill nightly to the domination of her fascinating lover, yet wake each day to live her life as she pleased. No, it was a dream that satisfied her… satisfied her very much indeed. She’d be damned if she would let it go. So much for the talents of diviners.
* * * *
Tears slid out from under Calie’s lashes as she dropped off to sleep. Lord Tr
omas’s refusal still stung. His sharp words had caused her a pain more deep and intense than that of any whip. He’d laughed, as if all she’d done to heal his ills had counted for nothing.
“Healers are as thick on the ground as weeds after a spring rain,” he’d sneered. “You come at my beck and you’re cheap, that’s all. But if you get uppity, there are plenty of others more than eager to take your place.”
Others, yes, it was true. Sarmona held many healers. Sometimes it did seem as if they’d sprung up overnight, like weeds. Healing had become one of the minor talents. Yet perhaps because they were so common, healers clung to their pride. They’d rather scramble for the paying clients while ignoring the poor who suffered from more than their share of ills. Why couldn’t Lord Tromas see that helping her to establish a healing center would bring him renown? If only she were more eloquent. She’d stammered when she’d made her request…
With a sigh, she opened her eyes in her dream world. Perhaps tonight she would change the dream a little. She needed to forget this horrible day. She’d drown her sorrows in the throes of the dark passions that fascinated her. Here, in this dream, where she could control the world as she never could in real life, she was free to explore without fear. It was only a dream, one that would end whenever she pleased.
The royal bedroom solidified around her. She’d imagined every intimate detail by now. What could she add to make this night even more erotic? Her eyes narrowed as she pondered the possibilities.
The door to the bedroom opened and Barbose stood there, dressed in a purple robe. His eyes scanned her, naked and spread open on the bed as always, and she saw that he held something in his right hand. It was an object shaped like a phallus and carved of mahogany. The rich wood glowed in the soft candlelight of the bedroom.
She trembled as Barbose strode toward her, already knowing what he intended to do with it. How could she not know? She was creating this dream within her mind. Her loins dampened as she imagined him thrusting that stiff rod of wood deep inside her.
He loomed over her, his sapphire gaze raking her body. Her nipples peaked and a sexual flush started on her chest and spread over her breasts as she grew aroused beneath his stare. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, showing her the wooden phallus.
“Yes.” Blood pooled in the flesh between her legs and her heart hammered at her ribs. Up close, the thing looked huge, surely bigger than she had imagined.
“It will not be as gentle inside you as I have been,” he said, dropping his voice to a seductive whisper. “If you would be treated as a wife and not a whore, say you’ll marry me now.”
“Never.”
“Then you must be tamed.” Frowning, he reached into his pocket with his free hand and brought out two metal clamps.
Her eyes widened. Where had those come from? Had her dreaming mind produced this twist? She pressed deeper into the bed and took a breath. “What are those?”
“Clamps to hold your nipples upright while they are pierced.”
“Pierced?” She couldn’t believe her ears. “You’d pierce my nipples?”
He crooked his finger and two young women glided into the room. One carried a bowl of steaming water and a towel and the other held two long, bright needles in one hand.
“No,” Calie gasped. Somehow this dream had slipped out of her control. She bit down on her lip as she strove to bring it back on the track she’d planned. Barbose was to tease her with the wooden phallus, then toss it aside and plunge into her himself. That was all. To have him inside her again—that would be enough.
“For you, perhaps.” He spoke as if he read her mind, and her mouth dropped open in surprise.
“I do read your mind in a way,” he said and raised his hand to halt the two women. They stopped at his side, flickered and melted into nothingness.
Barbose’s eyes locked with hers. “It’s time you knew the truth. I am a dream master, too, and I share this dream with you.”
An icy shiver of fear snaked down Calie’s spine. Melisa had said something like that. Had the old woman’s words created this nightmare? Was her imagination now out of control? “How can that be?”
“Do you think you can come to the dream world and create as you please and go unnoticed? It was inevitable that another master would catch your scent sooner or later—especially when the erotic vibrations you emit have set the ether to burning. I’ve watched your dreams for some time now, my Calie, and when you began to weave this dream where you were a captured queen, I decided to enter it and get to know you as your conquering king.”
“But you’re not real. I created you.” She strained against her bonds, willing them to dissolve, but they held firm.
“On the contrary. I’m very real. You see me as I am. In fact, my name is even Barbose, for I’m the one who put that name within your mind. Your dreams are in my control, Calie. They have been for some time.”
Was that true? She shook her head and willed herself to wake up. Nothing happened. The dream room where she’d toyed with her fantasies of sexual submission remained solid. Barbose gazed at her, an amused smile on his face.
“You see, I’m the master after all. There is only one way for you to take back control of your dream.”
She lowered her lashes, trying to think. She was naked, bound, helpless, and she had no one to blame but herself. She’d created this scenario. “What’s that?”
“You must become a dream master, too.”
She laughed. Impossible! Not even in a dream. “No. Never. I’m a healer. I would have to give that up to become a dream master, and I don’t want to.”
“You are foolish, then. A dream master works with time and space, altering reality. For our reality is born of our dreams. As a master, you can heal the world.”
She thrust out her chin. She’d heard whispers that the dream masters wielded such control over reality but it seemed impossible. Barbose must be boasting, trying to impress her.
“I don’t want to heal the world. I want to heal the poor who can’t afford a healer. They are the ones who go on hurting while you masters spin webs for the powerful of the world. If I enter the Temple of Remoru as a dream master, I must obey the priests and serve them. My own dreams will be forgotten.”
“Will they?” His smile was gentle. “There is much about us you do not know, Calie. First you must trust me and agree to enter the temple. Only then can I reveal our mysteries to you.”
She swallowed, touched by the imploring look on his face. His sapphire eyes gazed into hers with tender concern and his moon-bright hair fell in a tangled mass over his shoulders. An incredible longing to yield to his desires swept through her, but she resisted. “I cannot.”
“I could force you, torture you until you agree. You lay bound before me, after all. But sexual play is one thing and true pain is another. I can’t hurt you.” He made a quick gesture with his right hand and her bonds dissolved.
Calie blinked up at him, stunned. Then she sat up. The bed felt solid and try as she might, she could not make the room vanish.
With a chuckle, he sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “This bedchamber will stay real as long as I will it to stay real. I won’t force you, Calie, but I’ve come to love you. You’re young, beautiful, bold, full of noble dreams, gifted in healing.” He paused and smiled, glancing down at her nakedness. “And open to all the ways of love. I especially enjoy the unusual erotic desires we’ve shared in this dream.”
Heat flamed on her cheeks, pooled in her loins as she met his brazen stare. “You tricked me. I thought you were a dream lover, not a real one.”
His arms tightened around her, drawing her close. She gasped as his lips claimed hers. His kiss was masterful, ravishing her mouth. When he released her, she saw laughter in his eyes. “Real lovers are better. We could share a lifetime together as dream masters.”
She licked her lips, tasting him, wanting more. “I can’t. My gifts are needed elsewhere.”
“That’s where y
ou are wrong, my sweet.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw, slipped down her neck, rode the ridge of her collarbone, and then dipped lower to trace circles around the globes of her breasts. “You can do much more good for your poor as a dream master than you ever could as a healer.”
She struggled to control her trembling as his fingers neared the rosy tips of her breasts. Her nipples stiffened in anticipation of his touch. “How?” she half-cried. The pounding of blood in her temples made it almost impossible to think. His nearness, his scent, his warmth, the weight of his fingers on her flesh—it all overwhelmed her. How had she ever thought he was a dream?
“You can change reality, dream cures to their diseases. You can help them all, not just a few.”
Was it possible? Could he be telling her the truth? Was the idea that she could make her dreams into reality any more incredible than the thought that this man sitting beside her, teasing her nipples with his fingers, was real?
She squeezed her thighs together, aware of a mounting ache in her tender inner flesh.
“So.” He gave her a challenging look. “Have you tried to take back control of this dream?”
She squirmed under that look, her nipples throbbing from his touch. “You know I have.”
“And failed.”
“You know that, too.”
“Whenever you sleep—and sleep you must—I’ll enter your dreams and it will be like tonight. I’ll be the one in control.” Smiling, he laid a hand on her thigh, brushing his fingers over her flesh. They danced down the smooth skin between her legs, parting them. He pushed her shoulder with his other hand and she fell back on the bed. With a rush of fierce desire, she knew she would yield to him, even without the bonds, even knowing it was more than a dream.
One finger slid inside her moist opening. “This will continue until you agree to enter the Temple. I will woo you with love, night after night, until you surrender.”
Suddenly Calie heard Melisa’s voice in her memory. “You face a choice. Choose wisely.”