“No!” She was just as horrified as the White Lord, whose eyes pleaded with her. He was conveniently forgetting he had just threatened and abused her, for he now saw in her his only hope of compassion. “It was me he attacked, Dur. I should decide what his punishment will be.”
“Very well, but you had better make it good or I won’t be satisfied.” He released his prisoner and slipped an arm around her waist, holding her close against him. His legs in black leather pants were almost invisible in the dark room but she could clearly see the dark red scarf around his neck that flowed like blood down his chest along the open folds of his luminous shirt. He had manifested more easily than ever. She’d scarcely had to make an effort to bring him into the world. She had sensed him inside her as intensely as ever, the knowledge that he was coming filling her with reassuring warmth, but the only struggle she had been conscious of was the one with the White Lord. Dur and his companions had entered her and slipped into form as naturally as she breathed.
The White Lord tried to run, of course, only to discover that Dur held him just as easily with his eyes. He could not move and was humiliatingly forced to meet Mirabel’s triumphant glance.
Caressing Dur’s warm chest, thawing her cold fingers beneath his shirt, she said, “It’s too bad he can’t be raped and threatened and fear for his life.”
“I think we can arrange that.”
She recognized Rhode’s pleasantly lilted voice just before she saw his silhouette standing before a window over which the lavender curtain had been drawn. Then, in a heartbeat, Tain was there beside him.
“So one man wasn’t good enough for you.” The White Lord made a brave effort to sound disgusted but it was obvious all he felt now was terror.
“Observe.” Rhode’s smile was visible even in the shadows. He glanced at Tain, who nodded. What they did to her assailant then Mirabel was almost ashamed to watch even as she couldn’t resist. Tain held the White Lord down with one black boot while Rhode had his way with him. She was torn between Tain’s fiercely ardent expression and the cruelly arousing vision of a Lord fucking a mortal man.
“What now?” Dur asked, sounding satisfied with the punishment that had been meted out.
His companions looked as sleek as felines who had finished with an entertaining rodent as they left their victim sprawled across the floor behind them. The expression in Rhode’s eyes—an indifferently triumphant glint—was one she had often seen in her cat’s.
“Everything’s gone wrong,” she told them, even though at the moment she was feeling perversely content.
“You think so?” Tain smiled at her.
She was silent, hypnotized by his stormy eyes, and as they stared at each other, a thin, bluish serpent of light hissed between them that made her gasp and attempt to cling to Dur but he strode away from her abruptly. “It’s time to go down,” he announced.
The White Lord had gotten shakily to his feet and recovered his belt.
Dur lifted his hand in passing, as if bidding the nobleman farewell, but his elegant gesture had the effect of a blow. Mirabel gasped as her utterly defeated assailant spun around and fell back across the bed with a harmless thud. It was fortunate for him that he landed on thousands of bird feathers and not the hard floor.
Rhode followed Dur out of the bedroom as Tain offered her his arm. “What is he planning?” she asked him anxiously as they followed. She forced herself not to look behind her at the intimate space she had shared with Loric for over four years, or at the White Lord lying where only a short while ago her “dead” body had reposed. Dur wasn’t giving her time to look back and she appreciated his urgency.
She was with the Lords but it was not peace she felt as she kept her eyes fixed on the embodied mist of Dur’s shirt before her. She would see Loric again, she promised herself. She was not leaving him forever. He understood why she had to do this. It was essential she believe this. Somehow she knew Dur had struck the White Lord hard enough to ensure he would be discovered lying half unclothed across her deathbed. The mysterious disappearance of her body would be blamed on him. It didn’t matter that no one would understand what had happened—his position would be incriminating enough to restore Loric to his rightful position as Prince of Visioncrest.
Speculation on the matter would run stimulatingly high for the rest of the winter, and since she had always been different, people might even consider the possibility that the Lords had taken her away themselves. But all that mattered was that Loric would be restored to power and that everyone would do everything they could to try to comfort him. She had been given into his care when she was still essentially a child at heart. He had been her best friend and she would always love him. She could only hope that despite his pain he also understood her need to nurture the divine seed of who she was even if it meant burying the wonderful life she had known with him.
She saw Dur turn and wait for her at the entrance to the stairwell.
The floor bracingly cold against her bare feet, she ran toward him.
He caught her to him and then held her at arm’s length. “This world is ours now, Mirabel. Are you ready to truly enjoy yourself?”
“As long as we don’t hurt anyone.”
“That’s impossible,” Tain declared with a beautifully wicked smile.
“We’ll break hearts but that’s only natural,” Rhode reassured her. “If we leave a trail of bodies behind us, they won’t be dead ones. It might take them a while to recover but…” He shrugged.
Dur’s hands slipped slowly down her arms into hers. “The flame is not responsible for the burned moth, Mirabel.”
“But what will we do?” Up until that moment she had not been able to consider such solid questions but now they began weighing her spirits down dangerously.
“Feast on our senses!” Tain said passionately.
“We’ve laid down the swords of our power for a time to relax in the sensual arms of manifestation.” Keeping one of her hands in his, Dur turned and began the steep descent, leading her down behind him. “We want to feel everything there is to feel. We want to look into the mirror of these dimensions and focus ourselves in such a way that we can experience the amazing wonder not just of existing forever but of being alive in a way unique to this world and no other.”
“I understand!” she breathed.
“I know you do.”
“But how long…?”
“Does it matter, as long as we’re always in love with the mystery we are to each other?”
“No!” she replied fervently.
“Then don’t worry about what’s going to happen next.” He smiled back at her. “We’ve made it this far, my lady.”
The End
About the Author
Maria Isabel Pita is the critically acclaimed and award-winning author of over ten books, including BDSM romances, historical erotic stories, paranormal erotic romances and two non-fiction erotic memoirs. Maria has been writing since she was six years old. In search of excitement, happiness and her soul mate (not necessarily in that order), she has traveled extensively and lived in Chicago, London, Boston, Atlanta, Miami, Virginia and Louisiana. She lives now with the man of her dreams, and an assortment of plant and animal life, on five wooded enchanted acres.
The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Maria Isabel Pita
Crook & Flail
Faith in the Flesh
Whips and Whispers
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As Above, So Below, Maria Isabel Pita
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