by P. C. Cast
“It is not much. Only that they were defeated in ancient times and banished over the mountains. And that they dabbled in dark powers and drank the blood of living beings.”
More good news.
“They’re friggin vampires!”
“Vampires?” Alanna and ClanFintan spoke together.
Sigh. Guess they’ve never read Bram Stoker.
“Vampires are creatures that live off the blood of others—usually pretty nasty things.” They both looked blank. “They don’t like to travel during daylight. They can be killed only in certain ways, etc., etc., etc….”
ClanFintan’s blank looked suddenly changed. “Perhaps the Fomorians have weaknesses like these vampires.”
“Sounds good—how do we find out if they do?” The three of us looked at each other. Then the lightbulb over my head lit up. Clearly, we needed a teacher!
“Don’t we have a historian?” I turned to Alanna. “You know, a teacher of ancient ideas and stories.”
“Yes, of course, my Lady.” Curiously, she went all pink. Even her ears blushed.
Wonder what’s up with her?
“Good! Could you please contact the teacher, let her know what she needs to research, and bring her to me tomorrow morning, before I have to bless the people?”
“I will, my Lady.” Her eyes shied away from mine and she plucked nervously at her wineglass. (Note to self: look into whatever the hell was the problem between Alanna and the teacher.)
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”
There was a knock at the door. This time I had the presence of mind to answer for myself.
“Come on in!”
Staci/Tarah-nymph skipped into the room with a big smile on her gorgeous face.
“My Lady, may I have dinner brought in to you?”
I grinned back at her young exuberance. “Yes, I would like that.”
She moved aside and clapped her hands imperiously. Servants began swarming into the room. They were all carrying trays filled to overflowing with delicious-smelling food.
I grinned at Staci/Tarah-nymph. “Good job!”
“You said you were hungry, my Lady!” She was so excited by my approval I thought she would wiggle out of her porcelain skin.
“Yes, I am hungry.” My eyes found ClanFintan’s and we shared a secret smile.
Yep—we certainly were hungry…
As the servants loaded down our plates Alanna took the opportunity to stand and curtsy to me.
“I will tend to that problem of which we spoke, my Lady.” Then she turned her curtsy to ClanFintan. “I wish you a blessed evening, my Lord.”
“Thank you, Alanna.” His voice was warm.
“Yes, thank you…” I paused so that all the eyes in the room were focused on me, then I continued, clearly so that no one in the room could mistake my words, “My friend. As always, you have my love as well as my appreciation for your loyalty.”
To Alanna’s credit she didn’t blush or look shocked at what everyone else must have considered an uncharacteristic outburst from me. She just shot me a grateful look and exited gracefully with her head held high. There was a short space of dead air, and then the confused and silent servants followed her. (Although I did notice that the adorable Staci/Tarah-nymph was grinning like Saks Fifth Avenue Barbie as she led the exit.)
Rhiannon had been such an incredibly hateful bitch.
The door clicked closed.
I was starving (in all senses of the word).
And now that we were alone I felt incredibly nervous. I found myself lavishing intense interest upon the food on my plate.
“Gosh, this looks wonderful.” I enthusiastically stabbed a piece of something that looked like chicken and popped it into my mouth.
“Yes…wonderful.” That husky tone was back in his voice. It sent shivers from my back teeth to my toes. And everywhere in between.
His eyes locked with mine. His elbow was resting on the crest of the chaise lounge. His other hand held his wineglass. He wasn’t even pretending interest in the food.
I swallowed hastily. “Aren’t you hungry?”
His slow smile drew my eyes to his wonderfully full lips. “No. I ate before I came to your chamber.”
“You did!” I sputtered, but at least food didn’t dribble out of my mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have eaten earlier, too.”
“I enjoy watching you eat.” His voice was deep and intriguing. “You do so love your food.”
Well, he had me there.
I still felt uncomfortable. “But I don’t want to eat alone.”
He looked surprised. “But you are not dining alone. I am here.”
“You sure are,” I mumbled through the stuff that tasted like chicken.
He laughed. “You have such an odd way of speaking. I did not know that about you.”
“Well, you learn something new every day.”
“That is true.” He looked enlightened.
Guess clichés worked well in this world.
I chewed my food and studied him. “You don’t look like you’ve been traveling hard, carrying a passenger and going without sleep for the past several days.” Actually he looked strong and refreshed—he looked yummy, to be more precise.
“You were a burden I enjoyed bearing.” His husky voice deepened suggestively. “And my stamina is greater than a human man’s.”
I grabbed a hunk of lobster from an opened tail. It dripped with butter and I sucked it gently into my mouth.
I could hear his breath catch.
Slowly, I licked the liquid from my lips. “So you have mentioned before.”
“Yes, so I have.” I was pleased to notice his reply sounded strained.
“I don’t think I thanked you for following me. It would have been unimaginable without you. Thank you.”
The fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You are very welcome. The next time you feel the need to embark upon a quest, please allow me to accompany you from its inception.”
Before I sucked another piece of buttery lobster into my mouth, I purred, “I wouldn’t think of leaving home without you.” My tongue slid out to catch a drop of butter from my upper lip, and then I sucked the wet white meat into my mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately. I swallowed and licked my lips (again). “I’ll just call you Mr. American Express.”
He looked hypnotized and vaguely confused.
“American Express? Who is that?”
The lobster was gone so I picked up a sugared strawberry and took it delicately between my teeth. Nipping the end of it gently, I watched him watch me.
“It is someone who allows me to have exactly what I desire.” I sucked the strawberry juice off my middle finger. “Mmm, that is good.”
“Yes, it was.” My, my, my—I didn’t think he was talking about the berry.
We sipped our wine. I attempted to look demure. (I said attempted.) And we studied each other. I could feel the wine bubbling in my head—it had (obviously) already begun to loosen my inhibitions. Okay, let’s face it, I’ve never really had an inhibition problem. But the horse/man issue had seemed a little daunting at first.
And that was it! He had ceased to be a horse/man thing to me. I felt my lips turn up into what I sincerely hoped was a seductive smile. I suddenly understood what Beauty must have felt as she had fallen in love with her Beast. He was my husband, and I wanted him. All I had to do was reach out and touch him.
I put my wineglass down and leaned forward. His right arm was still resting on the curve of the chaise. Slowly, I reached across the short space that separated us and ran my fingers in a caress that moved from the swell of his bicep, down his forearm, and ended at his palm. His hot fingers closed over my hand. He didn’t pull me over to him, like a human man would have. Instead, he stroked my wrist and waited, allowing me to decide when, or if, I wanted to come to him.
And that was a damn easy decision.
I stood and moved around to the other side of
his chaise. He shifted his body so that he was facing me. As I might have mentioned before, he’s a big guy. With me standing and him reclining, our heads were still not even, but at least this way he didn’t tower over me. I stepped close to him and was immediately submerged in the inexplicable heat he radiated. Without conscious thought, I lifted my arms and rested my hands on his shoulders. Then, carefully, I slid my hands toward each other, at first loving the soft texture of his vest, then reveling in the springy feel of his chest hair as I found the opening in his vest. I raised my eyes to meet his. He was watching me with liquid intensity.
“I love touching you,” I whispered.
“I am glad of it.”
That voice—I don’t think I had ever experienced any sound as seductive. It was a verbal caress. It ignited flames all over my already sensitized body.
My hands slipped inside the vest and traveled over his broad chest, finally moving downward until I traced the lines of his muscular stomach, lingering on the firm ridges and enjoying the way he quivered under my touch.
Down to where his human body met horse. And my hands stilled.
My hands refused to explore farther; unexpectedly I felt shackled by fear of the unknown. My eyes shot back up to his.
“There is something you must believe.” He spoke with controlled intensity into the silence that had frozen between us. “I would never harm you. You must never fear me.”
“This is all so new to me.” My chin dipped down and I had to look away from him. If only he knew how alien this whole world was to me.
He took my chin in his hand and tilted it up so that our eyes met again. “You have my oath that I will do nothing that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Do you want me?” My voice trembled and I wondered fleetingly if it was from anticipation of a yes, or of a no, as his answer.
“More than I could possibly make you understand.” The erotic velvet had disappeared from his voice, and had been replaced by sad resignation. His hand slid slowly from my chin, and without actually touching my skin, he followed the outline of my shoulder and arm, down to where my hand had stilled against his waist, then he sighed and his hand came to rest against his own side. The heat of that touchless caress made goosebumps rise up and down my body.
The quiet resignation of his reply chased away the last vestiges of my fear. I felt like a diver getting ready to leap from the side of a cliff.
I held my breath and asked, “Would you take off your vest?”
His serious expression shifted into a smile, and he cocked one eyebrow, watching me closely as he pulled off the vest and dropped it to the floor beside us (just like a guy).
He was gorgeous, all bronzed muscles and chiseled lines. My hands found his chest again and I used my fingertips to circle his nipples. He snorted a quick laugh and grabbed my hands.
“Are you ticklish?”
“Just there.” It struck us as funny and we laughed together.
I felt both of us relaxing, and after only a momentary pause I continued my exploration down his chest, back to his rippled stomach, and still farther downward. When my fingertips met his thick coat I glanced up at him. His expression was open and warm; an encouraging smile played on his sexy lips. I looked back down to my hands. His waist was tapered and strong, gracefully merging into sensuous equine lines. Without any further hesitation my hand traveled over his coat.
“You’re beautiful.” I stepped closer to him and my arms slid up around his neck. I finished speaking the thought into his lips. “All of you.”
With a moan, his arms went around me and he drew me against his bare chest. Our lips met and I felt immersed in the familiar taste and heat of him.
I am a serious advocate of long, intimate kissing. There’s something unbelievably erotic about taking a man’s tongue into my mouth, and then exploring his mouth in turn, that makes me begin to feel all tingly just thinking about it. So I took my time. ClanFintan didn’t seem to mind.
The heat of his body was incredibly seductive. As I nibbled on his lips and sucked at his tongue, I could feel him reining in his passion as his breathing grew deeper and his muscles continued to bunch and quiver under my roaming hands. He kept his hands still, resting low on my back, as he allowed me to become comfortable with touching him. The misinformed might think that his reticence would work against his original intention (which, I assumed—as would any American female—was to get into my panties). In truth, this style of seduction, perhaps we should call it the Non-Octopus Technique, was seriously working for him. By way of proof, let me offer the fact that in no time I was rubbing my body against his chest and, well, eventually I found myself reaching down, taking his hand off my waist, and putting it smack onto my boob.
I’m telling you, this guy could go on a lecture/training circuit and make a fortune teaching the Non-Octopus Technique to semi-bald, divorced, middle-aged men.
The heat from his hand and the roughness of his palm made my nipple harden, which was very obvious through the filmy material of my dress. His hand teased my nipple for a while, then his mouth made a hot trail down the side of my neck, lingered for a moment on the crevice of my neck bone, and then he began kissing his way slowly over the swell of my breast until his lips found my nipple. The fact that I was still clothed didn’t cause him to hesitate and he ran his tongue over my nipple. Through the thin silk of my bodice, the warmth and wetness of his mouth brought my breath rushing out of my mouth in a moan. Then he opened his lips and drew the nipple, and the material that covered it, into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently.
“Oh, that feels good.” I arched against his mouth. I felt like my body was melting into him.
“Mmm.” He raised his head and pressed his lips to mine. His arms wrapped all the way around me and he pulled me firmly against him. I reciprocated. Big-time.
Just when the top of my head was beginning to spin he broke the kiss, but he didn’t loose his hold on me. Our eyes met. I know I was flushed and my lips felt delightfully bruised and wet.
“Is your fear gone?”
There was no hesitation in my answer. “Yes.”
I moved half a step back from him. He looked at me curiously, but let me escape from his arms. Still holding his eyes with mine, I reached up and unpinned the brooch that kept my dress in place. I shrugged one shoulder and the material fell away to expose my breasts. A simple tug on an end of the fabric around my waist, and I was standing in a pool of silky material, wearing only a thong, sexy sandals and a smile.
I sucked in my stomach (not that I needed to, but, well, you know) and let him look, truly enjoying the ravenous expression on his face.
Then he reached out and crushed me against him—
Abruptly he stood up, lifting me off my feet. He slipped an arm under my butt and strode purposefully in the direction of my big bed. (It was very Gone with the Wind–esque.)
When we reached the bed he changed my positioning, causing my body to slide against his until I was sitting on the bed. Slowly, he untied my sandals, kissing the arch of each foot. After he removed my shoes, he lifted me by the waist till I was standing near the edge of the bed, my hands resting on his shoulders for balance. His hands glided down my body until they found the top of my thong, then they kept gliding down, but they took the filmy piece of material with them. I stepped out of it and he picked me up again, cradling me in his arms and kissing me softly. Then he leaned down and lay me on the bed, reluctantly releasing me before he took several steps backward.
“This will not take long, but I must ask you not to speak to me until the Change is complete.”
Intrigued, I nodded.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head. His lips began to move as if he was speaking quickly and intently to himself. At first I couldn’t hear his words, but within a few moments his voice became louder and the already quick tempo of his litany increased. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, his head slowly began to rise—with it he brought his arms away from his sides in an upward movement
so that his head and arms were moving in tandem.
The volume and tempo of his voice kept increasing. I couldn’t understand the words, but they sounded mysterious and ancient, and several of them were repeated over and over. His head kept moving up, as did his arms, until they were directly over him, and his face was pointed up to the ceiling. He was not shouting, but the intensity of the words was incredible and I felt the hair at the back of my neck and my forearms rise.
Then a shimmering began all over his body. At first it was like he was glowing, but the glow was moving. And then I realized it wasn’t the glow that was moving—it was his skin. His skin was rippling and his muscles appeared to liquefy. My eyes shot to his face. His expression was one of intense pain. I wanted to scream at him to stop, but his warning about silence froze the words in my throat.
Then everything happened very quickly. His body exploded in a shower of light particles like the transporter on Star Trek as it beamed a person aboard the Enterprise. The light became so intense I had to hold my hand in front of my eyes and squint. A wordless shriek of pain echoed against the walls of the chamber.
Then the light disappeared. The room seemed dark in comparison and it took a moment for my eyes to refocus. As my vision returned, a figure took form. It was a human man. He was kneeling in the exact place ClanFintan had stood. His head was bowed and a thick blanket of familiar dark hair shielded his face. One hand rested on the ground and the other was still raised above him. He was breathing hard—his body was slick with a film of moisture, as if he’d been running a marathon.
He raised his head and shook the hair back out of his face. Our eyes met. The effects of pain lingered and deepened the lines of his face, causing him to look older and uncharacteristically vulnerable. Then he smiled at me.
His voice sounded raspy. “I probably should have—” he cleared his throat “—warned you about the light.”
“The light!” That was all he’d thought he needed to warn me about! I scooted to the edge of the bed, but stopped there, afraid to get too close to him, not wanting to cause him any harm. “Are you okay?”
He took a deep breath and stood. His first step toward me was shaky, but as he got closer I could see the tremors in his legs still, and by the time he stood in front of me he looked strong and in control once more.