Maria Isabel Pita

by As Above, So Below

  “Oh yes.” He smiled and sat up as he began unlacing her bodice.

  She sighed from gentle relief as the slight pressure vanished and her breasts sprang free. At once she felt her nipples respond to the cool kiss of the breeze and the sensation sent an elusively wonderful whisper of something down to the lips between her legs…the tender rift he had once explored with his fingertips in a way that had made her body feel full of promises she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

  “Oh, Mirabel…” he whispered and bent over to capture one of her stiff nipples between his lips.

  She cried out softly and her head fell weakly back against the pillowing moss as his warm tongue swirled around her areola. All of nature seemed to be spiraling around her breast as it suddenly felt like the center of the world. The increasingly hard seed of her nipple was magically germinating in his mouth as it offered her both the warmth of the sun and the flowing nourishment of moisture, so that an exquisite sensation shot down through her body and instantly took root deep between her legs. There was no stopping the growth of the subtle yet luminous feeling his mouth was wordlessly telling her body about and she had absolutely no desire to nip it in the bud by either speaking or moving. She planted her hands against the moss and unconsciously arched her back as his mouth moved hungrily over to her other nipple.

  “Mm!” He shifted his weight onto his knees, cupped both her tender mounds in his rough hands and furiously sucked one stiff rosy peak after another, moving back and forth between them as if he couldn’t decide which he preferred the most.

  “Oh my Lords!” she gasped. “Darmond, please…please!” She had no idea what she was asking him to do. She didn’t know if she wanted him to stop or if she was afraid that if he stopped she would lose the trail of that indefinable but incredible sensation her flesh longed to follow. When he began impatiently tugging on her skirt, she half sat up in instinctive protest, yet what actually happened was that she lifted her hips and helped him get the material out from under her. Her breasts—pushed up by the pressure of her partially unlaced bodice—and her black skirt gathered in a heap around her waist, obscured her view of her exposed legs as Darmond spread them open.

  “Lie still,” he commanded hoarsely.

  She obeyed him because she had grown accustomed to following the rules of the people but astonishment opened her eyes wide when a quick glance confirmed the incredible fact that he had buried his head between her thighs. She could feel the bridge of his nose and then his tongue and his slightly rough chin pushing against the soft lips of her sex as his face burrowed into them with desperate groans.

  “Oh my Lords!” she repeated. “Oh my Lords!” There was undoubtedly a divine spark in the heat smoldering between her thighs. Part of her was nervous because she had seen hunting dogs lapping up table scraps with less ferocity than Darmond was displaying now at the feast of her intensely sensitive and vulnerable sex. But he wasn’t using his teeth—he was treating her nether lips like a succulent fruit, licking them and sucking on them. When he growled very much like a wolf and forced her legs open even wider, fear made her grab hold of his head, yet instead of trying to push him away she was astonished to feel herself using his face as though it belonged to her. She positioned his features in just the right spot for his tongue to burrow into her wet slit while the firm bridge of his nose cradled the warm, beautiful sensation overwhelming her. Mirabel felt as though she had found the secret home of her soul as she selfishly used his features to sustain the feeling, moving his head up and down while he groaned and ravenously strove to reach the trembling, shimmering treasure he had made her aware was buried deep inside her.

  He looked up at her abruptly, his lips shining with her juices. “Remember when you stripped in front of me, Mirabel? Just like a snake shedding its skin! Do you really expect me to believe you’re still an innocent virgin?”

  “What you believe is of no consequence,” a deeper male voice replied. “What’s true is true and it’s true that unless you move away from her right now something extremely unpleasant is going to happen to you.”

  “My lord!” she cried as Darmond leapt to his feet and whipped out a knife in one lithe motion.

  Looking as invulnerable as the night itself—like a doorway into its starlit power in his black leather garb gleaming in the sunlight—the Prince of Visioncrest regarded the younger man with the sober patience he bestowed upon misbehaving children.

  She quickly smoothed her skirt down over her legs but her hands were trembling and she couldn’t coordinate lacing her bodice closed.

  “Don’t bother, Mirabel,” the prince said mildly. “It’s a very pleasant sight.”

  Darmond glanced back at her. “You’re his all right!” he spat. “Why the pretense?” He directed his question at the prince. “You probably had her right then and there on the horse!”

  “Lies leave a very bad taste in the Lords’ mouths, young man. Do I need to send them your tongue to burn?”

  “My apologies.” The merchant abruptly sheathed his blade. “I thought you might have tired of her by now. Please forgive me. I had no idea you hadn’t even sampled the merchandise yet. But you’re the fool, not me. Good day to you both.” Bowing as low as the first time she had seen him perform the motion, Darmond strode away down the stream, its banks reflecting the mingled relief and disappointment between which her blood was flowing. Without thinking she scrambled to her feet, ran to the prince, slipped her arms around his neck and planted her soft lips against his hard mouth.

  He gripped her wrists and peeled her arms from around him, yet his lips responded to hers for a glorious instant before she felt his will seal them closed and his mouth become the tomb in which the passionate longing inside her was buried alive.

  “Tonight, Mirabel!” His whispered promise blended with the quiet rushing of the water. “If you truly feel you’re ready, for you’ve no idea what you’re getting yourself into with me.” He stepped back, lifted the delicate branch of a young tree out of his way and disappeared amidst its flowering arms.

  Chapter Five

  The roar of sound coming from behind the blood-red doors was always the same. Just because the prince had chosen to dine alone in his chambers this evening didn’t mean his nobles weren’t enjoying themselves as usual. However, their daughters were looking a bit wilted where they sat at their long table. After reigning for nearly twenty years, Visioncrest’s lord was still without a wife and this fact had dishonored more than one generation of maidens. It had become the keep’s unsung battle, one every nobly born girl joined the moment she began to bleed—to win the prince’s heart.

  Mirabel dearly wished there was some other route to the prince’s chamber that didn’t take her through the great hall. Unfortunately, from the bowels of the keep where she lived and worked there was no other way to ascend into his presence. She kept to the shadows at the edges of the vast room, following a flock of serving girls and willing no one to notice her. But of course they would. She wore the royal colors, and everyone knew who the prince had invited to dine with him.

  She passed quickly through the second set of double doors, pulled open by two young men of the Brown who stared at her with nothing worse than appreciative curiosity. The corridor beyond was wide and eternally dark despite the oil lamps burning in recessed niches every few paces. The walls, the ceiling and the floor were all made of the black stone she loved so much because of the way it reflected light on its polished surface even while drowning it in its depths. The spirits of the living flames followed her down the long hallway, her leather sandals making an intimate whispering sound in the silence, enhanced by the noise of the great hall as she gradually left it far behind. She knew the keep’s dark stone had been excavated in the surrounding mountains and that its six towers had consumed it all.

  She encountered only more young men of the Brown at the corridor’s end. Six of them were lounging on the rim of a fountain that adorned the center of the circular space, the curving wall broken by s
ix narrow archways leading up into the noble towers.

  “Good evening!” they all greeted her at once, yet they remained placidly seated on the fountain’s rim.

  “Good evening,” she responded shyly, avoiding their eyes.

  “Well, do you think our prince will ever marry?” one of them asked his companions.

  The casual question felt like a knife thrust into her back as she walked around them. She braced herself for the cruel twist as she quickly made her way to the central arch.

  “What, and spoil his pleasures? Why should he?”

  Laughter propelled her up the stairwell. It was steep and dark and a cold draft inevitably blew out some of the oil lamps that flickered at every landing. It was a long, winding way to the top where the prince lived alone and it gave her too much time to think. Megran’s assistants had long preceded her and she had waited until they returned from delivering their lord’s meal, which tonight would also be hers, before making her way to his rooms.

  Her heart was pounding in her breast when she finally reached the final landing and not only from the physical exertion of the climb. She paused to rest for a moment and to enjoy the beauty of the prince’s bedroom doors. The polished golden wood was divided into sixteen panels composed of a slightly darker grain and each was painted with exquisitely detailed flowers, all of which Mirabel was proud to recognize. The doors were set deep into the black stone and bordered by what she had at first believed to be a living vine until closer inspection revealed the leaves and blossoms shone as if wet with dew because they were carved from precious and semi-precious stones.

  The narrow stairwell was the only way up to the prince’s quarters. There was no need for him to post more guards at his door. He had told her time and time again not to bother knocking when he was expecting her. She had learned a great deal about life in the kingdom from him but she still felt no closer to understanding what exactly made her so different from everyone else that no one seemed to like her.

  Taking a deep breath, she grasped the gilded handle and let herself in.

  “Welcome, Mirabel.” He turned toward her, holding a slender black bottle in one hand. “There’s nothing like a hard day of sacred rites to give a man an appetite.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Not to mention saving innocent virgins from lusty merchants.” He held up the sinister-looking bottle. “I’ve been saving this for a very long time, a prize vintage from Starpoint.” His eyes were the dark silver of the horizon just before a storm and she experienced strange hot flashes of sensation in her belly whenever she was the subject of his scrutiny.

  “I am honored, my lord,” was all she could think to say.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know my first name, Mirabel? You’ve never asked.”

  “No,” she replied quickly.

  He set the wine bottle down on a low table without taking his eyes off her. “And why is that?”

  “Because I…because I like you the way you are now, my lord.”

  He was so still his arms resembled carved marble in the lamplight as he said quietly, “So that’s how it is with you.”

  “I don’t understand…” The black floor was the frozen surface of a lake on a moonless night and she had already slipped by saying the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, my lord. I would like to know your name.”

  “Liar.” He smiled again. “Come, let’s eat.”

  Dinner was laid out on two knee-high silver tables curved like crescent moons joined at one end, a twilight river of pale blue and green cushions swelling between them.

  “I’m sure there are many things you’re dying to ask me, Mirabel, and tonight you may. I promise I will give you no more quizzes on life in the kingdom. You’ve learned your lessons like a good girl. Come here.” He sat back on the cushions, wearing only tight black leather pants and boots.

  “There’s only one thing I wish to ask you, my lord.” She started toward him slowly, afraid of his reaction.

  “It must be some question.” His eyes moved from her face to her breasts and from there traveled down to her hips as if tumbling down a hill, a hint of that strange anger she had seen in Darmond’s expression sharpening his features. “Well?” He looked up into her eyes again.

  She knelt before him on the floor, too shy to share the cushions with him yet. “Will you help me…will you help me explore myself, my lord?”

  He sat up and took her face in his hands. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” he said very seriously.

  “Yes, I know but…” She felt herself falling into the slate-gray depths of his stare, so close to him she was unable to hold on to her thoughts, much less the words needed to express them.

  “What?” he whispered urgently as his hands slipped gently down around her neck.

  “Oh, yes, my lord, like that!”

  “Sit beside me,” he commanded.

  She quickly stood up and sank to her knees on the cushions.

  He reached for a bronze goblet. “I would love to help you explore yourself in that sense, Mirabel,” he poured a dark-red wine into his glass, “but your father might not like it.”

  “You know my father?” Somehow she wasn’t surprised, only hurt that he had not mentioned it before.

  “I don’t know him personally, no.” He sipped the vintage he had been saving for so long.

  “But you believe in him?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “I would like some wine, please.” Infinitely excited, she snatched up her own heavy chalice. “Why do you suddenly look so sad, my lord?”

  He poured the wine for her. “I am sad, Mirabel, because the two worlds can never be one.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it’s not possible.”

  “Nothing is impossible.” She couldn’t believe she had to tell this to the Master of Visioncrest. “He took my mother away with him.”

  He smiled for an instant then sampled one of the half-dozen gourmet dishes Megran had prepared for them. “Our life here, this whole world, is only a dream, Mirabel. How do you like that?”

  Her lips parted in wonder at this revelation.

  He gently shoved a morsel of spiced lamb between them.

  She looked away from him while she chewed. “It’s delicious,” she murmured.

  “What your father did was considered such a grave crime because it was inconceivable, a term which quite literally applies to you. He made love to his creation and lo and behold you were born.” Gently, he thrust a pearly baby onion into her mouth then he soaked some of the lamb’s juices up in a cloudy mass of bread and fed her that as well.

  She finished her wine. “May I have some more, please?”

  “Of course.” He refilled her glass and then drained the bottle into his own. “It goes so quickly,” he observed wistfully. “But where was I? Oh, yes…let me see if I can put this in a way you’ll understand. You spend most of your time in the gardens, so I’ll tell you that we are the thought-seeds of the Lords’ spirits. Our beautiful kingdom was sown by them. Traveling between the stars, they came upon this world and discovered that their ideas and feelings interacted with its energies just as seeds do with soil and they set about conceiving an ideal realm. Their beliefs founded the Nine Keeps and their desires gave birth to us.”

  “We are the Lords’ plants?” She could barely contain her joy at the concept.

  He laughed then abruptly gripped her chin in one hand to stare intently down into her eyes. “You like that idea?”

  “Yes, my lord!”

  “It doesn’t bother you that our flesh is as fragile and evanescent as a flower’s petals?”

  She was falling helplessly up into his eyes again. She couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying.

  “You don’t mind that from the Lords’ point of view we’re not real, not as they are?”

  “But my father took my mother—”

  “Yes, he entered his creation, for which he was punished. But you tell me he came for her again, which means he somehow either raised her to
his own level or he killed her.”

  “He would never hurt her!” she exclaimed, tossing her head free of his grasp.

  “And yet her powers could never match his own. The range of her being is limited.”

  “Why, if you say she came from inside him?”

  He didn’t reply. Instead he turned his attention to Megran’s delicious offerings again. “You’re a dream come true, Mirabel, in more ways than one. There’s no telling how much of your father is in you and how much of your mother.”

  “Father said I was a whole new world in myself and to never forget it. I don’t know what it means but I won’t forget it. Do you think he took my mother to one of the stars in the sky?”

  “I don’t know, my love.” He picked up an unrecognizable sugary concoction but then set it back down on the platter.

  “Your love?” she whispered, grasping his arm. “Do you love me? I don’t care what Father thinks. I know I’m ready, my lord.” What she was ready for she had no idea. She only knew it involved getting as close to him as possible. She wanted to ask him how he knew all this about her father but words only felt like weeds growing in their way.

  “It’s my duty to protect you, Mirabel, and to help you develop in whatever direction your mysterious nature leans.” He took a deep breath as she leaned into him and began hungrily caressing his bare chest. As if he had been resisting the urge for a long time, he suddenly pulled her roughly over onto his lap. He supported her with one arm while his other arm slipped beneath her knees and when he spoke again his face was so close to hers his breath warmed her lips. “Do you know how the keeps choose their princes?”

  Cradled in his arms, she felt so mysteriously at peace she shook her head slightly, incapable of speech.