by Opal Carew
“Lucinda, I’m going to--”
She nodded vigorously, clearly encouraging him. He relaxed into it, feeling the burning liquid stream through him, exploding into her waiting warmth, on his long, guttural groan.
It pulsed and pulsed, helped by the feel of her hands curled around his balls and her mouth squeezing his cock. Finally, his load emptied, he fell back on the bed. Lucinda followed suit and curled up beside him, a very satisfied grin on her face.
“Did you like that?”
“Absolutely.” He hugged her to his side.
She sighed deeply.
“I guess I should let you rest now.”
“Why do you say that?”
Her fingers curled around his limp member and she lifted it sadly, stroking it like a sick puppy.
“It looks a bit tired.”
He shifted his body so he lay fully on the bed, then he lifted her onto him, sitting her across his thighs.
“It won’t take much encouragement from you.”
He willed energy through his body, magnifying the effect of her hands stroking his cock. It rose before her eyes, reaching full height within seconds. He caressed her soft breasts, watching the nipples pucker. Sliding his hands down her sides, over the curve of her hips, then over her thighs, he reveled in the silkiness of her skin. He slipped his hand under her body and dipped into her moist opening.
“Mmm.” She shifted forward, allowing him to flick across her clit. She moaned.
She lifted her hips and he positioned his rod under her, then she lowered herself onto it, her hot moistness surrounding him with intense pleasure. How had he survived so long without her? Their physical joining had finally completed the link between them and he had never known such euphoria.
Love. He’d only known a shadow of the emotion before. The completeness of it filled his being with all the colors of the rainbow.
She leaned forward, offering her breast. He lapped the tip with his tongue, the pebble hardness exciting him to the straining point. She smiled and moved her hips in a circle, squeezing his cock inside her. She plucked at his nipples and turbulent spirals of need built in him. She lifted up, then eased down slowly and moaned softly. The sound of her pleasure nearly shot him to the edge. She lifted and lowered again, contracting tightly around him, causing magnificent friction along his ultra sensitive shaft. Her rhythm steadily increased until she pounded down on him in quick thrusts. He knew he wouldn’t survive a moment longer. At the next thrust, he exploded, erupting into her, the sweet agony of release augmented by the sound of his name on her lips in a long moan of pleasure as she joined him in orgasm.
Afterward, he held her against him, stroking her hair. His heart swelled with overwhelming emotion. Nothing had ever felt as sweet as holding this woman in his arms.
“Lucinda, I don’t know how I ever lived without you.”
Lucinda stiffened slightly, confusion swirling through her. His words, so closely echoing her own sentiments, disturbed her.
She had actually formed a Love Bond with Nyte, but he was not her mentor. A bond between them should not be possible.
Unless he was right about him being her mentor, not Rand.
It could be possible. He’d already shown himself to have superior powers to her. That thought, however, curled through her belly and tightened around her gut. She didn’t want him to be more powerful than her. She didn’t want him to be able to control her. Especially if they were bonded.
And what about Clarissa, the woman Rand told her Nyte had already bonded with?
The confusion of thoughts rebounding through her head like a ping-pong ball was starting to give her a headache. She pulled herself to a sitting position, materialized a robe around herself, then stood up.
It was time to get some answers.
“Nyte, since you have your memory back, I’d like you to explain a few things.”
His smile waned. “What do you want to know?”
She clasped her hands together and paced across the room.
“For one thing, I’d like to know about Clarissa.”
He pushed himself up against the pillows, his expression wary. “Clarissa? What did Rand tell you about her?”
“He told me you two were lovers.”
He folded his arms over the blanket. “I see. What else did he tell you?”
She averted her gaze from his. She couldn’t ask him about Rand’s accusation that he’d killed Clarissa.
She shrugged. “Not much.”
He pushed the covers aside and stood up. As he approached her, she felt her body stiffen. He placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Lucinda, don’t be jealous of my relationship with Clarissa. That was a long time ago. It’s over between us.”
His searching gaze threatened her composure.
She pushed his hands aside. “How can it be over? If she’s a wizard, she lives forever.”
Unless he’d killed her. Rand said he was powerful enough to kill other wizards, but she didn’t want to believe he would kill anyone, let alone someone he loved.
Trembling inside, she drew in a deep breath and shot out the question she knew she had to ask. “Where is she now?”
Pain clouded his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about that. You’ll just have to believe me when I tell you she will never be a part of my life again.”
Numbness crept through her. His disturbing words made her wonder if Rand was right after all. Had Nyte killed Clarissa?
If so, she knew something must have happened to push Nyte over the edge, such that he hadn’t been in control of his actions. Something that would make him strike out in blind rage.
Like finding out Rand had been having an affair with her.
“Nyte,” she started, but her throat--clenched too tightly--barely released the word. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Nyte, tell me what happened between you and Rand. Why do you hate him so?”
He stared at her for a long moment. She barely breathed as she sensed a dark conflict playing out within him.
He sighed, then stepped to the window as though seeking a retreat. As he slid open the glass, the salty tang of the ocean seeped in with the breeze. As Nyte stared outside, the curtains fluttered lightly and sunshine billowed into the room. Lucinda could hear the gentle ocean waves breaking onto the beach below.
The air around her felt lighter, as though he had beckoned the ocean breeze to clear out the stagnant energy from the past and allow it to flow and change.
“I never said I hated him.”
“You didn’t have to. Every time you two are in the same room I expect a major explosion--literally. I’m surprised you haven’t thrown a fireball at him.”
His long fingers curled around the white gauze curtains.
“Don’t do this, Lucinda. You’re dredging up memories I’d rather leave dormant.”
She clenched her fists in frustration. “But I need to know.” She stepped closer. “Rand has always been the most important person in my life.”
His back stiffened. Of course, he didn’t like hearing that. She placed her hand on his forearm, resisting the temptation to stroke the taut muscles to relieve his tension.
“Until now.”
He turned to face her, his gleaming, dark eyes focused on her. The intensity of his stare burned through her.
“I need to understand why the two men in my life are so at odds,” she insisted.
His continuing silence and the way he stared at her with that unreadable expression made her uncomfortable. Her stomach churned and she slowly withdrew her hand.
He caught it and drew it into the warmth of his own. “You might not like what I have to tell you.”
A crimp formed in her heart.
“I’ve held off telling you because... .” He seemed to carefully consider what he was about to say as he traced paths across the back of her hand with his fingertip.
“Because what?” she prompted.
He released her hand and scowled. The fierc
eness of it startled her. “Because, believe it or not, I didn’t want to destroy your image of him. You obviously have him on some kind of pedestal. To you, he’s the great, the wonderful, Randalph.”
He paced a few steps, then turned back to face her.
“When I see the admiration in your eyes, directed at him... .” His voice softened to a rough whisper. “I should have been your mentor. If it hadn’t been for... .” He clamped his eyes closed. “Damn!”
He spun away, turning his broad back toward her. As he walked to the window again with his long-legged stride, Lucinda couldn’t help noticing how much alike he and Rand were. The same stature, the same quality of movement, the same explosive arrogance. It must be something about the era that had shaped their youth. The two men had so many similarities. How could they possibly have wound up hating each other?
Dragging back the curtains, he stared at the horizon. Dark blue and hazy in the distance, it looked a million miles away. Lucinda could hear the gulls outside, like wounded creatures screeching in pain.
“Rand and I were very close once, did you know that? As close as you and he are now.”
She stepped to his side, sensing he needed her closeness.
“In fact, we shared a trust that surpassed the mentor-student relationship.” He gripped the curtain so tightly, she feared he would pull it down. “Or so I thought.”
“What happened, Nyte?” she asked softly. She couldn’t imagine anything that would destroy a trust as powerful as that.
Nyte turned to look at the little, blonde angel watching him. Her appearance, so much like a fairy tale creature, took a concerted effort to ignore. It would be so easy to misjudge her, to underestimate her fierce independence and keen intelligence.
Looking at her now, seeing her wide-eyed impatience to hear his tale, he wondered how he could possibly go on. No matter how much he would like to draw her from Randalph’s influence, he could not bear to break her heart. And hearing of Randalph’s capacity for treachery would do just that.
He strode away from the window. “No, it’s better that you don’t know.”
He felt her fingers dig into his arm as she grabbed him. “Oh, no, you don’t. I want to know exactly what happened.”
He turned on her then, his voice harsh. “Do you?”
Her eyes flared wide in surprise.
“Are you very sure about that?” He walked toward her at a steady pace and she backed away. “Do you really think you can handle it?”
Suddenly, she flattened her hands on his chest, stopping his forward motion. Determination lined her features. “Yes, I do.”
Damn. His cutting words had been directed more at Fate than her, but now he’d challenged her strength, the last thing he’d intended. He had been so worried about hurting her that he had almost done just that.
She held her ground, glaring at him, like a kitten facing a snarling wolf. A surge of admiration spiked through him. She certainly was a small package of fireworks, his Lucinda.
In this world, his power was unsurpassed. He had never faced a challenge he could not conquer. If he ever did, would he handle it with anywhere near the same courage as this woman?
“All right. I’ll tell you.” He settled down on the edge of the bed and sighed. The telling would not be easy. He closed his eyes and willed the winds of time to reverse and whisk his thoughts back thirteen centuries hence--yet less than a fortnight to his time-strewn brain. In the image that flared inside his head, Randalph’s eyes blazed brilliant blue. The same image emerged every time Nyte closed his eyes. Agony crept around him, scouring the edges of his consciousness, as his mind drew back into the past.
Randalph appeared behind him. Nyte spun around and saw the hellish anger on his face. At that moment, Nyte knew what Randalph intended, if not why. But no matter how his inner sense insisted, he could not believe it. Their gazes met and Randalph hesitated an instant.
The feel of Lucinda’s delicate fingers grazing his arm tore him from the memory. He opened his eyes and met her insistent gaze. She gripped his wrist tightly.
“Nyte, please. Tell me what happened.”
What happened? If Nyte had chosen to strike out at that moment of hesitation, things would have been different. But doing so without thought would have meant killing Randalph. Nyte could not have done that, even knowing how Randalph had turned on him.
He touched her cheek and felt the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He didn’t want to shatter her image of Randalph, but her need to know shimmered in the depths of her eyes. He drew on the memory to give him strength.
Suddenly, he felt himself engulfed in flames. His body melted and his mind fragmented. His thoughts and memories sizzled from the broken shell and quivered, then exploded, ricocheting through time and space.
“Nyte, what’s wrong?”
A woman’s insistent words and the feel of gentle hands clutching his shoulders gave him an anchor in the here and now. He opened his eyelids and leaned against the cold metal bedpost for support. Moisture beaded his forehead and clung to his chest. It took a moment to realize where he was, and with whom.
“My God, you look so pale.” Lucinda stroked his cheek. The feel of her soft fingers revived him a little.
He’d come so close to experiencing the same trauma, to losing himself again. He focused on Lucinda’s features, drawn tight in concern, and drew in a deep breath.
“Lucinda, Randalph murdered me.”
Chapter 14
“Rand? Killed you?”
The words seemed to sit on the outer edges of Lucinda’s brain, refusing to soak in. She stood staring at Nyte, her eyes wide.
First, Rand had told her Nyte killed Clarissa. Now, Nyte told her Rand killed him. Yet she couldn’t believe either of the two men she cared for so much would kill anyone.
“He threw a fireball at me, intent on destroying my body,” Nyte explained. “I call that murder.”
Nyte stood before her, alive and well now, but if Rand had done what Nyte claimed, before they knew wizards were immortal, his intent would have been murder.
She couldn’t imagine Rand, her mentor--the man who had taught her the strong ethical code by which she ran her life--taking any human life, let alone that of a friend.
“No, he couldn’t have.”
He took her hand and drew her close. “Lucinda, I wouldn’t lie to you.”
With him seated on the bed and her standing facing him, she looked down at his clear, onyx gaze. She couldn’t deny what she saw there.
Nyte would not lie to her.
The conclusion skittered across her nerve endings, sending her stomach into anxious flutters. Rand must have tried to kill Nyte. She sank onto the bed beside him.
“Why would he do such a thing?” Her words came out a hoarse whisper.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that many times since my memory returned.”
She stared at him, certain she hadn’t heard him right.
“You don’t know?” She pushed herself to her feet and paced. “You mean, he just showed up one day and killed you?”
“That’s right. I have no idea what triggered his attack.”
He had no idea? She couldn’t imagine Rand striking out at Nyte without making him painfully aware of the reason. Rand had always been very forthcoming. Rand must have assumed Nyte did know.
And Clarissa must have been the reason.
She turned toward him. “Could it have... something to do with... Clarissa?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask that?”
“Well, Rand told me... .” She hesitated. How could she possibly tell Nyte about Rand’s awful accusation?
He stood up and approached her. “He told you what, Lucinda?”
At her hesitation, he clasped his hands on her shoulders in a gentle but firm hold. “I really need to know.”
She nodded, then exhaled deeply. “He told me you killed Clarissa.”
His eyebrows arched upward. �
�What? That’s crazy.”
Lucinda’s comment stunned Nyte. Why would Randalph think such a thing? He knew how close Nyte and Clarissa had been.
Or had Randalph lied to Lucinda in a further attempt to turn her against him? He had certainly been doing his best to do so ever since Nyte had arrived. His fists clenched at his sides. But why? Why did Randalph hate him so?
A driving need to find Randalph tore through him. He needed answers to the disturbing questions pummeling his insides.
“Lucinda, I must go.” He strode toward the door and yanked it open.
She scurried after him. “Are you going to confront Rand?”
“I’m going to talk to him.”
He took the stairs two at a time and she did her best to keep up with him. In the living room, he conjured himself into some clothes--a black outfit with high boots and a long cape. He then zapped a fire in the fireplace and materialized a tray with a full breakfast of bacon and eggs plus all the trimmings on the round, glass coffee table.
She noticed the strips of bacon were crisp, but not black like the first breakfast she had cooked him. She raised her eyebrows. I guess he didn’t really believe I like it that way.
He took her elbow and guided her to the couch but she crossed her arms and refused to sit down.
“You’ll be comfortable here until I get back.”
He spun away, the long black cape he wore swirling around his legs, and strode toward the open space in front of the window.
“I’m going with you,” she said in a tight voice.
He turned back to face her. “No, you’re not.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to leave you and Rand together alone. I’m coming.”
His gaze turned dark and uncompromising. “And I said you’re not.”
He swirled his arm and disappeared. She raced upstairs and dragged on her clothes, then concentrated on Rand’s living room. She summoned her energy and pushed through space.
Or, at least, tried to. But nothing happened.
A sinking feeling washed through her, but she tried again.