Dreams Made Flesh bj-5 Read online

  He started with her neck and worked down. What his fingers didn't touch, his mouth tasted. By the time he'd licked his way down her spine, she was moaning. By the time his teeth gently scraped her calves, her skin was so sensitized to his touch, he didn't need more than warm breath to excite her.

  Turning her over, he stroked her inner thighs and smiled at the painted toenails. Next round, he was going to have to admire them more closely. But judging by her glazed eyes and flushed skin, she was reaching the point where much more would become too much.

  "Come here, sweetheart." Rolling on his back, he settled her over him, sheathing his cock between her legs before coaxing her to stretch out over him. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her still.

  "Daemon."

  Wildly aroused by the hint of snarl in her voice, he kept his kisses viciously soft.

  "Let me do this, sweetheart," he whispered as he licked her throat. "It would destroy me if I hurt you now, so let me do this."

  "Do what?" She sounded breathless, almost too aroused.

  In answer, he used Craft to create a phantom touch, something he'd never done with her before because he'd wanted to give her his body… and because he'd never used that phantom touch except to hurt someone… especially when he pleasured her. Now he wanted to use everything he was and everything he knew to please Jaenelle, so his hands stroked her back and his tongue kept hers busy while phantom fingers caressed the sweetness between her legs until her body bucked within his gently restraining arms, milking him as he sent her on that last wave of pleasure.

  Limp and quivering, she sprawled over him. "Mother Night," she gasped.

  Brushing his lips against her forehead, Daemon just smiled and used Craft to pull up the covers. It might be spring, but it was still cool during the day, and the nights got cold. He wanted her to stay warm—in every way.

  He waited until her heartbeat and breathing quieted. Still inside her, he was already swelling to fill her again, so he slid his hands down to gently knead her ass while a featherlight phantom touch played with her.

  She finally raised her head. "Would you teach me how to do that?"

  "Do what?" he purred.

  "You know perfectly well what."

  "Oh, you mean this?" He increased the phantom touch enough to have her gasping as pleasure pulsed through her.

  "Ooooohhhh, yes, that."

  "Not yet. We'll save that for dessert. Right now, I don't want you thinking about anything except what I'm doing between your legs."

  He used phantom hands to restrain her movements, but he let her ride him until she took them both over the edge.

  She was sound asleep moments after she stretched out beside him.

  Tucking her against his chest to keep her warm, he breathed out a sigh of pleasure…and slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  4

  Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Roxie shifted on the cab's seat to find a comfortable position while she continued to watch the town house across the street. A few minutes after she'd arrived, another horse-drawn cab had pulled up to the town house, and a woman who looked somewhat like Jaenelle Angelline had gotten out of the cab and entered the SaDiablo residence.

  But it couldn't have been Jaenelle. For one thing, she wasn't supposed to come to Amdarh. For another, she wasn't supposed to be that… healthy. She was supposed to hear the rumors from some well-meaning acquaintance who had scurried to SaDiablo Hall to convey the news, but she wasn't supposed to come here and confront Daemon. What if he managed to talk Jaenelle out of breaking whatever ties remained between the two of them? What if he was doing a lot more than talking to convince Jaenelle to keep him?

  No. Even that beautiful body, hot and ready for sex, wouldn't be enough reason for a woman to forgive a man for breaking faith with her in that way.

  Of course, that didn't mean a woman wouldn't enjoy him before tossing him out of the house.

  Two hours. If it was Jaenelle who had arrived at the town house, she should have left long before now…even if Daemon had tried sex as a distraction from the accusations of infidelity. After all, even a man who'd spent centuries as a pleasure slave couldn't spin out sex for two hours.

  Could he?

  The cab door suddenly opened, tearing her from that intriguing thought. She gasped and pressed herself against the back of the seat before she realized it was the driver standing there and not a member of the SaDiablo family.

  "Day's ended," the driver said roughly, giving her a less-than-friendly look. "If you want me to drop you somewhere on my way home, I'll do that. Otherwise, you can pay me for the time my horse has been standing and step out of my cab."

  "I'm not ready to leave," Roxie said, putting the kind of aristo haughtiness in her voice that usually made merchants and other kinds of tradesmen back down.

  "I am." The driver held out his hand and stared her down. "Of course, I could always go across the street and knock on the door of that town house you've been watching. Someone there might be interested in knowing that a witch has been keeping watch of who comes and goes."

  Before she could rail at him for threatening her, a horse-drawn cab pulled up in front of the town house. When it went on, Surreal SaDiablo stood on the sidewalk, looking at the cab Roxie occupied.

  The whore didn't worry her, but it was more attention than she wanted today. "Very well," she said as she called in her leather wallet and named a place that was close to the dining house where she was meeting Lektra.

  She was outraged when the driver told her his fee, but that bitch Surreal was still watching them, and it would take so little effort for the driver to cause trouble. She handed over the marks.

  The driver looked at the marks, then at her before he vanished his fee and climbed up to the driver's seat.

  Roxie breathed a sigh of relief as the cab headed for the theater district. Thank the Darkness she'd used the illusion spell today and looked like a thousand other Dhemlan witches. While she wasn't the only fair-skinned witch in Amdarh, the driver had studied the illusion's face a little too long for comfort, so it was good he couldn't tell anyone who had really been watching the town house.

  As she watched the cab drive away, Surreal rolled her shoulders to release the tension. She couldn't say why seeing the driver talking to his passenger had caught her attention…or why it had made her uneasy.

  Shaking her head, she climbed the steps to the front door and walked into the town house. She'd barely gotten far enough into the entrance-way to close the door before Helton rushed up, blocking her.

  Hell's fire. If the servants had heard the rumors…and believed them… things were going to get nasty.

  "Lady Surreal," Helton said. "The Prince and the Lady are not at home this evening."

  "Really?" Since she could feel Daemon's presence, why the lie? Then she noticed the gleam in Helton's eyes. "Ah. Where did they dine while they weren't at home?"

  "The Prince has not yet requested that dinner be sent up, Lady."

  "I see." She looked at the staircase and grinned. Oh, she hoped it meant what she thought it meant.

  She called in the small trunk she'd brought from the Hall. "When Lady Angelline is available, please see that she gets that trunk. It has the new clothes she purchased today. I think she'll need them." Her grin widened. "Eventually."

  Helton returned the grin before regaining his professional demeanor. "I'll see to it personally."

  Dancing down the steps, she stood on the sidewalk, not sure what to do with herself. Standing in the middle of the street dancing and whooping would be fun but would require an explanation she didn't want to give.

  So she turned around with the intention of heading back to her rented suite for an indulgent dinner…and stifled a shriek as a large shape moved toward her.

  Lucivar studied her for a moment, then shook his head. "If you're not going to pay attention to your surroundings to the point where you don't sense someone standing this close to you, you damn well better shield to p
rotect yourself from an attack."

  "I'm not likely to be attacked in Amdarh," Surreal snapped. But she glanced across the street to where that cab had stood. She shook off the hint of uneasiness and focused on the Warlord Prince in front of her. "What brings you to Amdarh?"

  "Figured I'd better talk to Daemon," Lucivar replied, moving toward the town house's steps.

  Surreal jumped in front of him. "Trust me, sugar. You don't want to do that. Not tonight. Daemon isn't interested in talking to anyone tonight."

  Lucivar studied the town house door. "Where's Jaenelle? Aren't you doing some female thing today?"

  "We were. We did. Now…" Surreal looked pointedly at the town house. "Jaenelle's not interested in talking to anyone either."

  "You're telling me it'll be worth my balls if I walk in there and interrupt something?"

  "At the very least."

  Lucivar grinned. Then he looked at her. "So where are you staying tonight?"

  "Jaenelle and I had a suite at the female place, but it looks like I'll have it to myself tonight."

  "They have any rooms there where you can get something to eat?"

  Oh, shit. "They do, but the place is really… female."

  "No males there at all?"

  Remembering all the looks and whispers she'd endured that day, she gave in to the urge to be pure bitch. "Yeah, there are males. We can get dinner there if you want. And since Jaenelle won't be using it, you're welcome to the other bedroom." She paused. "Besides, we need to talk. There's some trouble here."

  "Fine. Let's go."

  "We'll probably have to walk to the corner to find a cab," Surreal said, walking past him.

  His snort of laughter warned her, but before she could react, he clamped one arm around her waist and launched them skyward. Since her back was pressed to his chest, she didn't have many places to grab while he flew way too close to the treetops, so she settled for swearing as creatively as possible.

  "Shut up," Lucivar said, "or you'll end up with bugs in your teeth."

  "What?"

  Roaring with laughter, he spun them a few times before gliding down to the sidewalk and backwinging to land lightly in front of the "female place."

  "You son of a whoring bitch," Surreal snarled. The sidewalk tilted, and she grabbed the arm he offered. "Just for that, I hope being in this place a few hours makes your balls shrivel up."

  He just snorted and escorted her to the registration desk.

  "Am I supposed to sign in or something?" he asked.

  "You can do whatever you want." Surreal grabbed the desk. The atrium wasn't moving, but she still didn't quite trust her legs. The same little prick who had signed her and Jaenelle in that morning was still on duty…and eyeing Lucivar.

  "We do request that any… company… visiting with our guests sign in," he said, setting a leather-bound guest book on the desk and offering a pen.

  Taking the pen, Lucivar dipped it in the inkwell and signed his name. "I'm not company, I'm family."

  It was the man's sneer, there and gone in a moment, that pricked Surreal's temper.

  "What would you do if someone misinterpreted the reason for you being here?" she asked Lucivar.

  He studied her. "I'm here to have dinner with a member of my family, and since your suite has a spare bedroom and I need a place to sleep tonight, I'm staying there. What's there to misinterpret? That's simple enough."

  "Not everyone sees what's obvious… or true."

  His gold eyes narrowed. Then he shrugged. "That's easy enough to deal with. If people turn my spending an evening with my cousin into something it's not, I'll just rip out their lying tongues."

  Her jaw dropped, and she was very glad she was holding on to the desk. "Don't you mean you'd cut out their tongues?"

  "No, I said what I meant."

  She thought about the difference…and shuddered.

  His hand closed over her arm. Then he led her toward one of the archways that provided access to the rest of the establishment.

  "So where do we find dinner?" Lucivar asked.

  "That way." She noticed her hand was trembling. Hell's fire. She was a Gray-Jeweled witch and an assassin. But he was… "You're family, and I love you, but I gotta tell you, Lucivar, sometimes you are a scary son of a bitch."

  "Yes, I am." He stopped at the doorway of one of the dining rooms. "But if what went on back there has anything to do with the trouble you want to tell me about, then there's something the Blood in Amdarh haven't learned yet."

  "What's that?"

  Lucivar studied her long enough to make her stomach tighten. Then he said softly, "That I'm not the Warlord Prince they should be afraid of."

  Nine

  1

  Daemon woke slowly, gradually becoming aware that his hand rested on a soft, smooth thigh, and someone's fingers were gently combing through his hair.

  "You're so beautiful."

  He opened his eyes and smiled at Jaenelle, who was sitting up in bed, watching him. Feeling more content than he'd felt in a long time, he caressed her thigh before lifting his hand to brush across her ribs and continue on to her back.

  "You can thank my father for that. I didn't have anything to do with it," he replied.

  She didn't smile, didn't respond. Just watched him.

  Remembering what they still had to talk about, uneasiness began coiling around his contentment.

  "What do you want, Daemon?" Jaenelle asked.

  ""You. Just you."

  Her sapphire eyes changed. Became haunted, ancient. He hadn't seen that look in almost a year… since the day he'd gone to Hayll to play out a vicious game to keep Dorothea and Hekatah distracted while Jaenelle prepared to unleash her immense power to cleanse the taint of those two bitches out of the Blood. His heart beat painfully as he looked into those haunted eyes, knowing it was no longer Jaenelle who watched him.

  "What do you want?" Witch asked.

  Daemon swallowed the lump in his throat. "A wedding ring," he said, his voice roughened by longing…and a fear that he might still lose the one person who meant everything to him. "I want the wedding ring you promised I'd wear after I got back from Hayll."

  She went so still he wasn't sure she was still breathing. Then her eyes changed again.

  "I'm not the same as I was when that promise was made," Jaenelle said.

  He couldn't stop himself from looking at the Jewel she now wore. Twilight's Dawn was a Jewel unlike any other, which made it extraordinary. But it wasn't the Ebony Jewel she used to wear. It wasn't the Black that had been her Birthright. As unique and mysterious as Twilight's Dawn was, it still represented a loss of the power she once wielded. And that did make her different, but…

  He sat up to face her. Brushed his fingertips over her face. "No, you're not the same…except in the ways that truly matter."

  "Do you really believe that, Daemon?"

  Can you accept the difference? That was the question under the question.

  "Yes, I really believe that." And I can accept the difference.

  A sheen of tears brightened her eyes as she smiled. "Then let's do it. Let's get married. Today."

  Now! Excitement, fierce in its intensity, flooded through him before common sense intervened. He rested his forehead against hers and forced himself to consider the ramifications of following desire.

  "We can't." He pulled back enough to see the uncertainty, and a hint of hurt, on her face. "Sweetheart, there's nothing I'd like better than to marry you today, but we can't."

  "Why not?"

  He sighed. "For one thing, the coven and the boyos would never forgive me if they weren't invited to your wedding." Her wedding. Things were still too shaky between him and the rest of the humans who had made up her First Circle that they would give a damn whether or not they came to his wedding. "If we're going to avoid hurt feelings, we have to have a formal wedding. That means sending out invitations, talking to Mrs. Beale about preparing a wedding feast for the guests. It will take a few weeks." And the
Darkness only knew what other rumors might be spread about him in that time.

  Jaenelle echoed his sigh. "You're right. But…"

  The look on her face made him giddy… and a bit terrified.

  "We could have a private wedding today, just for us, and then have a formal wedding in a few weeks," she said.

  "You mean a secret wedding?" Yes! But common sense, which he was really beginning to resent, intruded once more. "There isn't a Priestess in Kaeleer who would be willing to marry us in secret and risk the wrath of the Queens who rule Kaeleer…not to mention Lucivar and Saetan."

  She took his face in her hands. "Daemon," she said, her voice full of laughter, "I've just discovered something about you. As much as you know and as much as you've experienced, you can still be naive about some things."

  His mouth hung open, and no brilliantly phrased words came out.

  After giving him a smacking kiss on the forehead, Jaenelle got out of bed and headed for the adjoining bathroom. "If we leave within the hour, we can get there by this afternoon."

  "Where?"

  "Since we'll have to rent a Coach here in Amdarh to ride the Winds to the Hall, contact Ladvarian and tell him to have one of our private Coaches ready so we aren't home long enough for anyone to ask questions. And tell him not to bring anyone except Kaelas."

  "Why do we have to bring him?" Daemon grumbled as he got out of bed and slipped on a robe.

  Jaenelle paused at the bathroom door. "Daemon? Where are you planning to sleep for the next decade?"

  Hell's fire. "Fine. All right. I'll tell the Sceltie to bring the cat."

  She just smiled and closed the bathroom door.

  Great. Wonderful, Daemon thought as he left their room to use the bathroom down the hall. She had a point about placating those two. If Ladvarian's feelings were hurt by being excluded, the Sceltie could make his life very difficult. And Kaelas had a few points of his own. They were called teeth and claws. Pissing off an Arcerian cat who was a Red-Jeweled Warlord Prince and who already resented that a human male was claiming a piece of Jaenelle's bed wasn't the best way to begin his new position as a husband.