Dark as Wine

by Dark As Wine (lit)

  She was embarrassed when she realized she had talked only of herself throughout the meal, but the memories had lightened her spirits and even seemed to have improved Morpheus’ mood.

  When they had finished, he took her for a tour of the castle, telling her nothing, really, of a personal nature, but of the castle and the people who had once lived there. They both fell silent as they reached the battlements at the very top of the castle, gazing up at the beautiful night sky.

  Finally, Adriana nerved herself to ask him to tell her of his life before he became immortal.

  He seemed reluctant at first, but after studying her for several moments, he struggled to dredge the long forgotten memories to the surface of his mind and told her the tale of a man who had lived many millennia ago. He had been an ambitious man, longing for his own lands to rule. He fought many battles, studied with great scholars, but he could never attain his dream. In studies, he came upon the legend of the dream stone, a holy relic, which could grant everlasting sleep encased in stone, or to those most skilled, everlasting power and life.

  “A stone powerful enough to make dreams reality--whatever my heart desired.” He glanced at the grounds. “I found it, here, deep in the bowels of the earth.

  He looked at her, his eyes haunted. “Foolishly, I invoked its power, unprepared. I was trapped, much like a carved statue, aware of all that surrounded me but helpless to change my fate.”

  She made a small gasp, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips. “How did you free yourself.”

  “I traveled the realms of dreams--the only respite open to me in that form. It kept me from going insane.” He moved forward, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Hundreds of years passed before I unlocked the magic to free myself. I’ve never lost control since ….” He left the words hanging in the air as he kissed her tenderly, stoking a slow burning fire in her blood.

  He covered her lips in gentle, nibbling kisses, moving forward only as what little resistance she possessed disappeared of its own accord.

  He closed his arms around her, cradling her against his warm, solid frame, making her warm inside and out.

  Before she knew what had happened, she discovered they were in her bed chamber. Magic sizzled in the air, tickling her nostrils. Caught up in his kisses, she could not spare a thought for it, could only concentrate on him and what he was doing to her.

  Placing gentle kisses along her jaw, he leisurely unlaced her dress until it drooped down her shoulders and dropped to the floor with a soft rustle. Her corset and shift soon followed.

  Her skin finally bare, he feasted, tasting every inch of her flesh until she could no longer bear her own weight beneath his tender onslaught. Sensing her sensual distress, he lowered her to the bed, continuing his ministrations, licking and suckling her breasts, the hollow of her belly. Nipping her hip bones and nuzzling her mound. He laved her thighs and gently probed her cleft, stoking her to a fever pitch until she was begging him to take her.

  He removed his clothing then, settling easily between her thighs, guiding his erection into her slit and penetrating her, slowly. So slowly she thought she’d die if he did not hurry.

  He wouldn’t hasten his movements, rocking his hips with slow deliberation, stroking that most tender part of her until her blood sang through her veins.

  Her sex clutched him, shuddering into climax. He felt the tremors, groaned, shortening his strokes until his own orgasm came.

  “My sweet, sweet, Adriana,” he murmured, kissing her.

  Sadness pierced her to the core. She could never be his. No matter how much she wanted it. She clung to him, overcome by emotion. It welled inside her, making her heart ache, her throat burn, spilling out through the tears in her eyes. “If only,” she sobbed, kissing him back as he rolled and cradled her in his arms. If only it could be.

  * * * *

  Morpheus was horrified. Placing a sleep spell on her, he left abruptly.

  Greatly disturbed, he paced the ramparts restlessly. Peace was slow in coming to him.

  She’d wept!

  He did not know which was more disturbing, that she had, or that he could not understand what had made her weepy.

  Concentrating, he recalled the moments that they had shared, but he could not think of anything that might have disturbed her. He had been very gentle. He had been pleased to discover that it was not nearly as difficult as he had thought it would be.

  She had responded. He had controlled his ardor. He had watched every change in her expression, listened for each sigh of pleasure to make certain that he was pleasing her. And she had been pleased.

  Why, then, had she wept as if her heart was broken?

  Anger and frustration surged through him. “Bah! Mortals!” he growled, pacing as furiously now as he had before he had found a modicum of calm. After a time, he paused at the wall, glaring balefully at the night sky. As beautiful as it was, it brought him no pleasure. Darkness was his world. He had not seen a bright, sunny day in so long he could hardly recall what it had been like to roam the world in the light of day.

  He had not missed it--truly.

  Until she had come into his life, he had been content. He had not been particularly happy, but neither had he felt any of the turmoil he felt now.

  He uttered a sound of irritation, wondering if he should forget the tenderness. She had seemed to respond, but then she had cried. Perhaps it was not what she wanted after all?

  After drumming his fingers impatiently on the stone wall for several moments, searching his mind, a thought emerged from his distant past.

  Gifts! Mortal women were always pleased with gifts.

  Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

  He shook his head. So simple an answer, right before his face, and he had missed it! She had been pleased with the dress. He had been so enthralled with how beautiful she had looked in the color of the gown that he had failed to notice how pleased she was with it.

  Crossing his arms, he tapped his chin thoughtfully with one long forefinger. Simple gifts? Or should it be only the very finest and most rare of gifts? He frowned. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain what would please her best. He decided finally that he would try both, the more the better. He would shower her with gifts and then he would see happiness in her face when she looked at him. And he would be a tender lover, because he was fairly certain, even though she had cried, that she had liked that.

  If that didn’t work, then he would ravish her again, for he found it very tiresome to have to rein his desire in and proceed slowly.

  Chapter Ten

  The scent of flowers tickled at her nose, dragging Adriana from sleep. Yawning, she stretched and finally opened her eyes a crack. A smile curled her lips when she saw that she hadn’t imagined the smell. A table had appeared beside her bed, and on it was a vase filled with flowers of every imaginable color.

  Morpheus had brought her flowers!

  Happiness swelled inside of her in spite of all that she could do to contain it. Throwing her coverlet off, she scooted off of the bed to examine the flowers more thoroughly, closing her eyes and drinking in their sweet scent. When she lifted her head at last and turned to the wash stand to perform her morning ablutions, she discovered another vase had been left beside the bowl and pitcher. This vase was filled with roses, deep, blood red roses.

  For love! She thought, feeling a thrill go through her.

  A pang hit her almost immediately. Not love! He could not love her! That would not do at all. As much as she yearned for it, she could not bear to think of what might happen to him if he fell in love with her as she had fallen in love with him.

  She moved to the roses anyway, lightly touching the satiny petals, breathing in their beautiful scent.

  He would not know that red was for love, she realized finally, glancing back at the vase beside the bed, filled with many colors. As her gaze spanned the distance, she saw more flowers on the other side of the bed. That vase was filled with forget-me-nots.

  Smiling n
ow, she turned in a slow circle.

  The room was filled with flowers! Small wonder that she had awakened to their perfume! Chuckling, she moved from one arrangement to another, examining the flowers happily and enjoying their scent.

  It was … magical. Despite her anxieties she couldn’t help but feel more lighthearted than she had felt in a very long time. Impatient to find Morpheus and thank him for the gifts, she hurried back to the washstand to wash up and dress.

  She found him in the main hall. Seated in his throne, he was staring pensively out one window, his chin propped in one hand. It took an effort not to skip across to him. She was glad she had restrained herself to more decorous behavior, however, for he turned to watch her approach. “The flowers are beautiful!” she said ecstatically, feeling suddenly shy. “Thank you, my lord!”

  Slowly, a smile curled his lips. “I am glad they pleased you,” he responded, rising from his chair and closing the distance between them. “Will you walk in the garden with me?”

  Adriana was a little disconcerted, and disappointed, when they reached the gardens and she discovered that it was dark and there was barely enough light to make out the pathways. She dismissed it, however, and found that she enjoyed the stroll anyway, because she was with Morpheus.

  Later, when he carried her to her bed and made love to her, despite her anxiety of what might come of it, she found it impossible to resist the temptation to caress him as he caressed her. Touching him thrilled and saddened her all at once. How long would this last until she was rescued, or escaped? When they lay together afterwards, sated, enjoying the closeness of two lovers who had thoroughly pleased one another, the sadness stole over her again that it was not to be. She would have liked nothing better than to lie in Morpheus’ arms forever.

  His tenderness was almost more than she could bear, for it only accentuated her fears that he might fall in love her. So long as he had been passionate but had shown little gentleness, she had been able to convince herself that it was merely lust, that it could not bring disaster down upon them. She could enjoy it to her heart’s content.

  As the days passed, however, and each new day he showered her with gifts more beautiful and wonderful than the day before, she became more and more anxious to leave him, knowing that it was already far too late for her.

  She had known that she loved him before he had brought her to his castle. She had cared so much for him that she had not been able to bring herself to risk his life. Now, she loved him far more than she had thought possible and each day it became more difficult for her to go on pretending that she didn’t love him.

  * * * *

  Doubt invaded Morpheus’ mind as he stroked the dark, glossy coat of the gift he had captured and tamed for Adriana. The winged mare did not have the speed that his own night-mare was capable of, but she was every bit as fine an animal, spirited without being mean.

  His doubts did not concern the mare itself, nor Adriana’s pleasure in it. He could not believe she would be less than thrilled with the gift.

  His concern was that he was not entirely convinced that she would stay if she had a way to go. She smiled often. She even laughed at times, but a great sadness still lingered in her eyes that nothing seemed to eradicate.

  He could not fathom it.

  He had wooed her as any mortal lover would have, he knew. Each day he had filled her bed chamber with the flowers that seemed to give her so much joy. Each night he had caressed her with great care, striving to do all the things that gave her the utmost pleasure. He had given her gifts, treated her as a princess, and still he could see that something troubled her deeply. As hard as he had tried, he had found nothing that seemed to give her peace, contentment.

  Sighing irritably, he returned his attention to grooming the mare. If this gift did not chase her sadness, he could not think of anything else to try. It was a sense of desperation that had driven him to offering it.

  He knew that it was risky, but he had finally decided that he must know one way or the other if he had convinced her to stay with him. He could keep her a prisoner as her father had--forever if the whim struck him, but he had finally realized that part of his own dissatisfaction was knowing that she did not stay of her own free will, that she stayed because he held her captive.

  Dismissing his misgivings finally, he placed a spell upon the little mare that would allow her to roam the pasture but no further and returned to the castle to devise the best way to present his gift to Adriana.

  * * * *

  Adriana studied the riding dress that had been laid out for her with a strange mixture of emotions she found difficult, at first, to identify. Dread, she finally realized, was uppermost. The riding dress could only mean that Morpheus meant to take her riding. It might mean nothing more than that he intended to take her upon Despair’s back, but it could mean that he intended to take her home.

  Perhaps, as she had thought, he had wearied of her?

  That thought made her feel like crying but at the same time there was a measure of relief in it. She had told herself from the first, after all, that Morpheus felt only lust for her and lust without love could not last. Eventually, no matter how bright the flame, it would consume itself.

  It would be easier when she was away from him, for she would not have to pretend any longer than she did not love him.

  It was for the best--for him.

  She could not bear to think what life would be without him anymore than she could bring herself to think of his death. She would endure, though. In time, she knew it would cease to hurt so much. Perhaps, in time she would even be able to look back upon the time that they had been together with pleasure in the memories.

  She didn’t really believe that, but it was possible she supposed.

  Morpheus was grinning broadly when she reached the main hall, waiting for her near the entrance. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she gazed at his handsome face, more handsome now, youthful in his excitement.

  He produced a scarf.

  Disconcerted, Adriana smiled anyway. “Why! It’s lovely! Thank you!”

  He chuckled, grabbing her and turning her so that her back was to him. “This is not the gift, little goose!” he murmured huskily as he leaned near her ear.

  “It isn’t?”

  He placed the scarf carefully over her eyes and tied it snugly behind her head. “No.”

  Adriana’s heart sped as it occurred to her that it was a lover’s game. Before she could get too breathless with excitement, he caught her hand, leading her. Nervous, Adriana waved her free arm before her. He pulled her close. “I will not allow you to hurt yourself, sweeting. Trust me.”

  Adriana swallowed with an effort, but nodded. She was comforted by his nearness and curious now of what he meant to show her. For it seemed that he walked with her a very long way before he halted at last and whipped the scarf from her eyes.

  Blinking to focus, Adriana stared hard in astonishment for many moments, struck speechless. She glanced at Morpheus. “It’s … a winged horse.”

  He chuckled, tapping her chin lightly. “It is your winged mare.”

  “Mine?” Adriana gasped, turning to look at the beautiful black horse again. “Oh, but--Morpheus! I can’t…. You shouldn’t have!”

  He grasped her around the waist, lifting her from her feet and twirling in a tight circle with her. “You can and you must. She has spirit, but I have gentled her for you. You need have no fear of her.”

  When he had set her on her feet once more, she moved to the mare and cautiously traced the white blaze on the mare’s forehead that was the only spot that was not inky black, for even the mare’s mane and tail were dark. “What is she called?” Adriana asked abruptly.

  He tilted his head. “She is yours. You must give her a name.”

  Adriana’s lips curled up in a smile. “Morpheus. I will name her Morpheus.”

  His brows drew together. “It is a mare. That is not a fitting name.”

  Adriana chuckled at his expressi
on. “I was only teasing you,” she said, smiling up at him as he caught her around the waist and pulled her close. Without even thinking about it, she lifted her arms and encircled his neck.

  “That is a dangerous game--teasing the Lord of the Night.”

  Her smile wavered. She knew he was teasing her as she had teased him, but the reminder brought her crashing back to Earth. “Then what do you think I should name her?”

  He shook his head. “Think on it while we ride,” he said, lifting her to the mare’s back. She settled a little uneasily, for she had not ridden in quite some time, and never upon the back of a winged horse.

  Morpheus whistled for his own steed, who answered the summons in an angry rush that caused Adriana’s mare to shift nervously. The mare quieted at her soothing touch, though, and Adriana was reassured. If the night-mare had not frightened the little winged horse into bolting, she was mild mannered indeed.

  Soaring so high above the ground was unnerving at first, but also exhilarating. Before long, Adriana found herself relaxing and enjoying herself as she and Morpheus put both horses through their paces. After a time, Morpheus guided both mares earthward and Adriana found that they had landed in a meadow near a babbling brook.

  A picnic awaited them.

  When they had eaten their fill and washed up in the little brook, Adriana sat beside Morpheus, who’d stretched out on the cloth, staring up at the sky. When she was settled, he shifted, using her lap for a pillow.

  She found she couldn’t resist the temptation to play with his dark hair, stroking her fingers through the silky strands.

  “That feels … good,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed.

  “Does it?” Adriana asked, smiling down at him and yielding to the temptation to caress his face, his strong square jaw, and soft lips.