by Karey Brown
“And now, in this life, I am half human and half Lumynari, as Aurelia—“
“Aurelia was half Elven and half Lumynari.”
“Oh.” She looked to Inzyr. “You said my mother wasn’t exactly human.”
He shook his head. “As I am not pure Lumynari.”
If Dezenial hadn’t been right in front of her, Emily would have slid from her chair.
“It is not a detail for today’s discussion.” Inzyr’s tone brooked no argument from her.
She could only nod.
Inzyr’s grin was a bit lopsided. “Close your mouth, Just Emily.”
She obeyed. Then found her voice. And jabbed Dezenial’s shoulder several times.
“I’ve seen humans here. Trading, conversing, even sharing a drink or two in open cantinas,” her hand was confiscated, the Lumynari obviously not appreciating her poking him with each word. “ . . . we passed when traveling through your oh-so-friendly city.”
“I command there to be a tolerance of all beings, in my kingdom. It makes for better goods in trade; expands our network of spies. One can never have enough spies.” Dezenial seemed very pleased with himself.
“Is that how you came to have this weird strip of gold? Your very own bazaar?”
“It will twine around your arm of its own accord as I speak words foreign to you.”
“Will it come off?” She glanced her father who currently took a bite of something that made her quickly look back at Dezenial’s beautiful face. She would not concentrate on what resembled tentacles currently satisfying her sire’s appetite.
“Unless you remove your arm, no, it will remain.”
She arched a brow. “There’s permanent, and then there’s Lumynari-Permanent.”
“This has nothing to do with Lumynari magicks,” her father said.
Dezenial moved closer. “It will create a unique design, signifying to all that you belong to me.”
“Slavery. How utterly thoughtful.”
“Wife, in your world, Life-Mate in mine. Whatever you choose to call it. Slaves wear bands of ownership around their necks, insignia brands on their backs, lest they think to wander or find themselves stolen.”
“Do me a favor. Don’t use the word wife or marriage. They resonate something I never qualified for and remind me of my failings. Now, won’t this band make me a target even more so than I already am?”
If it took him forever, Dezenial swore to himself, he was going to repair her troubled spirit, wrap her in his love, and give her soul-strength until she came to realize how special she was to him. “None will dare. To harm my mate would be to forfeit their life, and any connected with them.” The two Lumynaries shared a look.
“What?”
“I would wipe out their entire lineage,” Inzyr avowed, “as before, when you were his lover.” His smile was feral. “But this time, you are my daughter. I would make sure to have their suffering last many, many of your months before they finally breathed their last tortured breath. Their entire genealogy would cease to exist.” He shrugged and stood, collecting his dishes. “Only once have I allowed death to be swift.” Feral grin widened, fangs lengthening. She’d not noticed them before. “In the case of that woman daring scorch you when you branded Dezenial’s mark onto your back.”
“And you remain stunned by my temper.” Subconsciously, she twined the ends of Dezenial’s hair around her fingers while watching her father. “When do I inherit your fangs?”
“Never, well, unless you—“
She didn’t see Dezenial gave a curt shake of his head, though she felt him clutch her hand and kiss her fingers.
“I’m hardly surprised by your temper,” Inzyr continued. “You’re as bloodthirsty as your mother was. She was softhearted, kind, and forever taking in strays, seeing the beauty in all things. But she was quick with blade if she felt slighted, worse if she thought the slight directed towards me.”
“Drew a blade on you a time or two, eh?”
“Daily.”
Emily laughed. “I was comparing myself to your temper, father, not hers.”
He turned and looked at her for long moments. “In private, daughter. She respected my position. Never force me to show you what I am capable of, should you decide to ever challenge me publicly.” His amber eyes ignited. “You will not be granted the dalliance of slander against my person, jeopardizing my life, or the few I find worthy enough to protect.”
“As if I’m some sort of idiot.” Still, her heartbeat skipped a few times before returning to normal. Emily lifted her arm slightly, allowing Dezenial to wrap the gold strip just below her shoulder. Inzyr returned from clearing the table, folded his arms and proceeded to watch along with her as the band curled and twisted in tempo to whatever mumbo-jumbo Dezenial currently muttered. Designs of loops and swirls formed.
“Flex.”
Feeling silly, she complied. Then bared her teeth and did her best rendition of The Hulk.
Both males laughed.
The band moved with her arm. Gingerly, she touched it, tracing the intricate design. The band encompassed her entire puny bicep.
“How is your wrist?” Dezenial inquired.
“Fine, now that you mention it.” She rotated it a few times. “Nope, no pain.”
He nodded. She assumed more of his woo-hoo magicks had been used for her healing. “It’s beautiful,” she said, still fingering the gold band. “It looks like Arabian, or something.”
“An ancient land,” Inzyr muttered wistfully.
Emily looked up at him, thinking he’d elaborate.
“Your gowns and tunics will be fashioned to keep this portion of your arm bare.”
“I hate dresses. Can’t I just wear my jeans, a good pair of hiking—“
“Not surprising. Kendra did as well. You may have her tunics and leggings,” Inzyr offered.
“You kept them?”
“I have kept all of her things, both for myself and to one day gift you so you would have something of hers to call your own.”
Emily didn’t know what to say.
“In our chambers,” Dezenial said, “you may enjoy your sweaters. Never traipse with your arm covered, not while down here, in Balkore. The band is large for a reason. And, when you chill, it will radiate heat.”
“Am I still to be ignored by everyone?” She studied the gold band’s twisting design. They were hiding something about this gold encircling her arm. A big something. Because, if she didn’t know better, she could almost swear it pulsated as if . . . alive. She gave her arm a shake. Nothing. But if it had growled . . .
“Some have permission to begin speaking to you.”
“Am I to hide you’re my father? And, how come I didn’t get your Spock ears or fangs.” She jabbed Dezenial. “Fangs would have been uber cool.”
“Females are the dominate gene. Spock?”
“All these books, and you’ve never heard of Star Trek?” She retrieved her coffee, realized it was probably cold ick by now, and set the cup back down. “Never mind.”
Inzyr departed for the galley, salvaged a fresh mug and came back to the table where he poured her hot, fresh coffee. She smiled her gratitude as he continued enlightening her.
“Shadow’s cities are ruled by females. Those, you will never enter, for they are drenched in chaos. Evil not for the likes of your mind, Emily. Lord Dezenial’s kingdom is smaller, but more able to substantiate control, if ever attacked.” He and Dezenial shared a look, then a short laugh. “None dare.”
“I think I resent your opposition regarding female rulers.”
“Of course. But considering your temper, would you rule a city?”
“One full of cutthroats and killers? Eh-eh. No way. Always having to look over my shoulder isn’t how I want to live. Like you said, with my temper, I’d have probably leveled it on day one.”
Her father registered surprise. “Honesty. Refreshing. Not normal for humans, Lumynari, or females.”
“Would you like to sample my temp
er now? We are, after all, in private. One would assume you to quake with the jeopardy you place yourself in by mocking me.”
Inzyr laughed outright. “You impudent sorceress.”
Dezenial quickly spoke to Inzyr in his language. Emily noted his voice suddenly husky.
“You don’t have to speak in your language if you don’t want me knowing what you’re talking about. I can go into the room. Dying for a shower anyway.” She made to stand, but Dezenial cupped her thigh. His thumb brushed against the most intimate part of her body, forcing her to remain sitting . . . very similar to one of their sessions last night. Her tongue darted out, moistening her bottom lip. Flurries rippled from where his hand rested, her breathing coming out in little bursts. Inzyr stood, returned his chair closer to the table—almost comical, watching a Lumynari practice manners. Her mental laugh choked with his next statement.
“I will leave, but after this, you may return to your own chambers.” He was at the door, doing the strange command of metallic spiders before Emily dared look into the azure eyes of her mate. Only . . . his eyes were flames of red, and his fangs were fully elongated.
“What are you up to?” she whispered with some effort, her voice not cooperating.
“Last night was merely a taste. I’m hardly finished.”
Her eyes widened. “But . . . we spent . . . hours. You did . . . everything.” To her horror, her father began laughing as he stepped out into a darkened corridor, the door whooshing back into place.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“I’m going to hold you at knife point. I’m starving.”
Dezenial’s laugh caused her to grin impishly. “Yes, you humans are like baby birds with your constant need for nourishment.”
She smacked his chest close to where her head lay upon it, resting. Lazily, he traced invisible designs on her shoulder. “I’m part Lumynari, so you can’t really make that claim.”
“I love you, Keer’dra.”
She looked up at him. “Not something Shadow Masters usually say, eh?” His smoldering eyes rushed heat to her face.
“Love isn’t something we bother with.”
“Shows weakness or something?”
“We aren’t interested in the attachment.”
She resumed her place on his chest, attune to the way her head was a perfect fit into the crook of his shoulder. Running her fingers over the six-pack of his abdomen, grinning commenced. She’d fulfilled her longing by sufficiently licking his chest. His flesh had tasted warm and masculine. A giggle escaped, hearing the memory of his booming laughter. She sobered when his last sentence hit her. “Apparently, where I’m concerned, the attachment isn’t something most want to concern themselves with.” She gave him a pat and made to move away.
In one fluid motion, she found herself lying beneath him. Possessively, he gazed down at her, his long brilliant white hair blanketing her bared breasts. They responded like dutiful soldiers, saluting. As if magnetic, his large dark hand cupped one, massaging.
“I’ve seen into your mind, the story it tells. I am not Peter. A fool he was. A priest awaits us, sent for during our . . .” He studied her mouth, a lopsided grin turning her innards into mush.
“Perv.”
“Your oaths, I will take and then, you will take mine.” Ignoring her astonished gasp, he cupped her face. “You belong to me. Never question it. I am above worrying what any would think regarding my claim. I have lived far longer than these fools attempting to practice ways of old. Those traditions are for a dying breed some are hesitant to part with. If we wish to survive, the Lumynari will need to change, to accept other races—I digress. Forgive me. I love you, Keer’dra. Say what you need for me to bind you with the security of that knowledge, supplanting your doubt, and I will heed your request.”
He loved her.
Wow! Uber wow! And, he said it aloud.
“You do not have something to say to me?” He asked.
“Uh . . . nice ass?” She reached around and smacked him on his derrière for emphasis.
He roared. Scuttling her further under his naked body, he growled down at her. “Keer’dra?”
She batted her eyes.
“I know that look. Rapid blinking equates darkness slithering across your mind. Last time, it was after smacking your skull against my mouth.”
“Got you good.”
“Never will the event occur again.”
“Smacked your pride around a bit, huh?”
He bit into her neck, tasting droplets of blood upon his fangs.
She giggled, squirming until released. “Okay! I love you!” Without warning, she clutched his Adam’s apple and gritted her teeth. “Betray me, have this be an elaborate scheme, and no matter the strength you think you possess . . . I-will-break-you.” A soft glow eclipsed her eyes. “And next time you wish to taste blood, ask.” She swiped her essence from his bottom lip. “You really have a priest? What priest would come down here?”
“One who studies exorcisms.”
He smothered her laughter, kissing her tenderly, belying savagery he could muster during lovemaking. Flutters surged through her, making her body arch with moans of erotic pleasure his touch promised. Viciously, she twined her hand in his long white hair and dominated his mouth.
“You are ready again?” The lout was grinning against her mouth.
“If you would rather make the bed, and cook something to—“
Her words whisked away to nonexistence as he entered her again. Her eyes shuttered closed, her neck arching for his fangs to sink into, her thighs wrapping tight around his waist, pulling him deeper. A large strong hand clasped tight around her breast, squeezing before moving down to grasp her bottom. He pulled her to him, thrusting harder.
“Tell me,” he breathlessly commanded.
She shook her head. In the span of one night, it had become a game between them. A game of power. “You have not earned the right.” She could barely get the words out. Pleasure made her insane. Fire course through her. He retracted, plunging harder, faster, deeper.
“Tell me!” Fangs were razor sharp.
“Suffer.” She crooked her neck, refusing access to her artery.
“As prince, my youth was spent enjoying lessons in the art of sex, hellcat.”
His fingers found a vortex just below where he was plundering, fondling, caressing, entering, his teeth grazing a nipple. The pleasure was pure explosive. Her neck arched of its own craving. But instead, his fangs grazed the soft tissue surrounding her breast, nipping as he pounded furiously, his finger keeping the same tempo.
She raked his back. Hard.
He arched, bellowed, then looked down at her, his eyes burning a savage fire. “Tell me, or I stop. You are female. You will never dominate me in sex. He stilled, emphasizing his point.
She gasped. Tried to thrust upward, only to scream when he pulled back more.
“I am yours.”
“I can’t hear you.”
“I am yours, damn you!”
He plunged. She screamed, convulsing in her climax, again, slicing his back with her nails. With a final savage roar, he pushed deeply into her, warmth filling her.
“May it find your womb, Keer’dra.” He held tightly, quivering within her, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, refusing her escape as he made sure his seed buried deeply.
“You . . . you wish me to carry your child?” Her body convulsed again.
“I would be honored to have you mother my children.”
Never had someone said something of such magnitude to her. Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked several times, hoping to diffuse them. Instead, they flooded the sides of her face and tickled her ears. And splashed powerful arms still holding her. He raised, searching her face, his beautiful hair wild from their lovemaking.
“I have hurt you.”
She blushed. “No. I can handle what you do.”
“Your tears?”
“Your words.”
“You would be pleased to
carry my seed?”
“Ye’ think?”
He grinned.
“Will you still do this?”
“Why would I not?”
“Some get a woman pregnant and feel they have done their duty.”
“My duty lays in protecting my people. This is pleasure.”
“I think Lumynari very much enjoy pleasure.”
“Your sire did mention something about you being a canvas.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Feeling the need to paint?”
“I think I just created a masterpiece,” he stated so awed, she laughed and laughed.
“Your mirth has pushed me out.”
“Well, I’m sure with what I felt surging, I’ve conceived triplets.”
His buoyant expression earned a smack to his shoulder.
“I have never been this happy, this free to laugh, Keer’dra.”
Words failed her.
“I will bathe you, then you will eat. Inzyr will return.”
“Could we do food then bathe?”
“No. You are covered with the scent of sex. It crazes me.”
She giggled, pulling his head to her breast, thrusting it into his mouth. She arched as his tongue flicked, his fangs nipping. He released her so quickly, she thought she’d faint. He smacked her thigh. “Up with you, vixen.”
“Why aren’t your fangs retracting? Do you need to drink?”
He looked her over seductively. She ran her hand the length of her tight abdomen, then swirled her breasts. Impossibly, his fangs lengthened. “I cannot. Not until I claim you as life-mate.” He swallowed painfully. “You will not survive the next time I bite into you otherwise.”
“Then don’t be greedy.”
“It is not your blood I drink.”
“Huh?”
“It’s your soul.”
“Oh, is that all?” She sat up. The room tilted. She grabbed him as if to hang on. “I don’t think I can move yet.” She pressed fingers to her temple. “Dizzy. You’re drinking . . . my soul? The room . . . like being on a . . . boat. Why would I not survive your . . . final bite?”