Bride by Midnight (15 page)

As she ran into the room, Blade sat up sharply, then stood in a smooth, graceful motion. And damned if he wasn’t naked again.

“What’s wrong?” Behind him the last of the fire burned gently. She could not see his face—or anything else—with the light behind him, but she was heartened just to be in the same room with him.

“Eyes,” she said, knowing as she spoke that her single word made no sense. “Red eyes, like fire. She laughed, and she said... she said...” She couldn’t repeat the words, didn’t even want to think of them.

“She?”

“That demon who lives on Level Two of the palace.”

He relaxed. She saw it in the shift of his shoulders, heard it in his voice as he said, “It was just a dream, Lyssa.”

She walked toward him. “I can’t be alone. I can’t sleep in that room without you in the bed beside me. I won’t... I won’t ask for anything else, but please, Blade.” She was close now, just a couple of feet away. “I am stronger with you than I am without you. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but... you’re stronger with me, too. Separately we’re a scared girl who jumps at shadows and a man willing to die for revenge. Together we’re...”

“Together we’re what?” Blade snapped.

“More,” Lyssa said, and as the word left her mouth she knew to her very soul that it was true.

***

Princess stood at the window and smiled into the night. She was here, in her room in the palace, and she was also there. The worry that such a pathetic creature could threaten her and her kind was ridiculous. The Ksanas’ shared fear of the witch and the blade, the knowing from the universe that had come to each of them as their gifts manifested and grew, could not be correct. Lyssa Tempest was not a monster who could ruin a promising future, she was a mouse. Just to be safe, Princess would make sure she would soon be a dead mouse, but she was not afraid. Not of a witch, not of anyone.

Lyssa’s magic made it possible for a connection to be made from a distance. Princess had attempted to reach for the husband as well, to slip into his head, his thoughts, but he was kept from her. Physical distance and his lack of magic protected him, in this one matter. Nothing would protect him from death, when the time came.

She was hungry now. Appearing in Lyssa’s room had drained her, just as attempting to strangle the girl several nights before had. When she did not use her powers she could go for weeks, months even, without feeding.

If Father expected to see this done, he had better provide her with the appropriate nourishment.

Her sisters were sleeping as she silently walked to the door. She knocked once. Someone was always just outside the door. She hated being locked in, but she knew it wouldn’t last. She and her sisters—and there were many more sisters than the two who shared this room with her—would soon be free. And no one would be able to stop them.

A guard opened the door. He was loyal to Father, but did not know the reason for his current duty. He had not been warned, or else he had not been well informed. If he had, he would never have opened the door. Father fed her drunks and wanderers, and other men who would not be missed, but as Princess looked at the guard, she was taken by his strength and his beauty. He would feed her well.

She smiled. Her smile was irresistible, she knew. “I cannot sleep,” she whispered, “and I don’t want to disturb the others. Can I step into the hall and talk to you for a while? I’m so lonely.”

Princess knew what the guard saw. A small, young female, pretty to a fault, too overtly sensuous for her age. When she caught his eyes with hers she knew he was lost. In her blue eyes he saw no threat. None at all.

“Of course,” he said, and he opened the door wider for her. He glanced behind her and saw that she’d been telling the truth. Her sisters were asleep.

Princess stepped into the hallway, glancing to her right and then to her left. No one else was wandering the hallways on this level of the palace at the moment, though there were more demons in rooms off other hallways. They were close by, imprisoned as she had been imprisoned. But she wasn’t imprisoned now. She was free.
Almost
free.

It occurred to her that she could run after she fed. Down the hall, down the stairs, into the night. No one would stop her, and it would be morning before anyone realized she had gone. But then what? Her opportunities for power were here, in her Father’s hands. It would be foolish to escape now.

“Why can’t you sleep?” the guard asked, once the door was gently closed behind her. They were alone in the long hallway. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“I did,” she said. “I dreamed that there were fiery red eyes floating above my head, and the person behind those eyes wanted me dead.”

“That
is
scary,” he admitted. “But it was just a dream.”

“Was it?” She took a step closer to him. “Can you be sure? There’s magic all around us. Some of that magic is dark. What if...” She batted her lashes. “What if some dark witch is trying to kill me?”

The guard laid a hand on her shoulder, an offered comfort. “Minister Volker has gone to great lengths to protect you and your sisters from those who would do you harm, though I am not of a high enough rank to be told the details of your situation. But I am here to protect you, and you have nothing to fear.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she said, and then she laid her head on his chest and sighed. For a moment the sentinel held his breath. He was confused, conflicted. And he wanted her, even though he knew he should not.

For a moment Princess wondered if she would ever be able to lie with a man. A kiss was all it took to empty a man of his essence, but if she took him into her body, if she were to lie beneath him... perhaps, one day, but she suspected she would never know that particular pleasure. Her body was poison inside. Perhaps she would be forever a virgin. A virginal demon; a woman and not a woman.

“My lady, you should not...” The sentinel choked on his words.

Princess lifted her head and looked up at him. He saw a vulnerable, confused, desirable girl. She saw beauty and power and nourishment. “Would you kiss me? I feel so alone here, so lost.”

“I should not,” he protested without conviction.

“Just a kiss. A kiss will make me feel so much better.” Princess looked him in the eye and captured him. The guard was physically superior, but his mind was malleable. And he was already hers.

Her lips met his, and for a moment—a very short moment—it was nothing more than a kiss. It was pleasurable, stirring. And then it began. She felt his essence pouring into her, filling her mouth and her throat and then her entire being. He felt it, too, but he was powerless to move away. The strength was all hers now. She had the power; she was in control. Her tongue thrust into his mouth as she attempted to lick away all he had.

Princess closed her eyes because she did not wish to see such a handsome man waste away to nothing. She didn’t want to watch him shrivel and shrink. There was nothing to be done for what she felt of his decline, but she did not wish to see. Soon they sank—together—to the floor, as he could no longer stand. His lips were dry, and he no longer fought. He did not have the strength to fight. When the last of his life force left his body she broke the connection, opened her eyes, and watched him turn to dust and bones.

She stood, and with her hands brushed away the dust that clung to her nightgown. She felt so much better, so much stronger! It was a shame the sentinel had to die, but there was nothing to be done for it. His sacrifice would serve them all well.

She suspected that before Lyssa Tempest and her man died, many more sentinels would be called upon to make the same sacrifice. It would take a lot of power to do what had to be done.

***

Blade turned away from Lyssa. He had not been able to talk her into returning to bed unaccompanied. When he’d tried to order her to bed she’d stubbornly lain down on the floor beside him and refused to move. When he’d scooted away, she’d scooted with him. When he sat up, she sat up, too, and leaned into him. He’d finally decided that if she was going to insist on sleeping with him, they might as well do it in a bed. He
could
resist her. He
could
sleep with her without indulging in a husband’s pleasure.

Resisting her wouldn’t be easy, but...

It didn’t help when they settled down into the bed and she pressed her chest against his back, wrapping an arm around him, fitting her body to his. If he hadn’t felt her body trembling he would have shaken her off, but doing so would be a waste of time, he convinced himself. She would follow; she would not let go. She was truly scared.

So was he. The words she’d spoken with so much fear and confidence scared him to his bones.
Together we are more
.

He didn’t want to be more, didn’t
need
to be more. His life was simple; his
goal
was simple. The end was in sight, and he could not allow Lyssa to distract him from it.

“I don’t understand why you felt the need to put on pants before coming to bed,” she whispered. “You would be more comfortable naked, I’m sure, since that is how you usually sleep.”

“It seemed like the thing to do.”

She apparently could not let the matter go. Did she ever let anything go? From his limited experience, he would have to say no.

“I have seen you naked several times, and we have fucked more than once, so—”

“Lyssa!”

“I know it is a vulgar word, but you have heard me say it before, so I don’t understand why I should demur now.”

“Go to sleep,” he said gruffly.

She sighed. “I will try, but it won’t be easy.”

Easy? Was anything to do with Lyssa ever
easy
?

She didn’t drift off to sleep, and neither did he. She squirmed, moved about as if trying to get comfortable while holding onto him. Every motion, no matter how small, brought her closer, rubbed her skin again his, made him want her more. Perhaps if he slept she would follow, but his mind was spinning. Tension shot through his entire body, until he felt as if his nerves were on fire. Sleep was not coming. At the moment he felt as if he would never sleep again.

He should not have married her. He should have ignored her cries for help and let Gnarly Red have her. She would be another man’s problem then.

No. The idea of any man hurting her made his chest tight. The thought of another man having her in his bed was... impossible. But he could have—and should have —refused her marriage proposal and escorted her home. She was not a part of his plan; he could not afford to care about her. He couldn’t even afford to like her, not if she was going to get in the way of a plan four years in the making.

After a while she whispered, her breath warm against his back, her lips
right there
, “How did you get the scar on your chest?”

“It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t. I feel like a clock that’s been too tightly wound.”

Blade groaned. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was hard more often than not these days. As if he didn’t throb when she told him what she wanted—directly or not so directly. He knew how to unwind her clock, but every time he was inside her he felt himself shift a little bit. Lyssa said she was changing, and though he could never tell her so, she was not alone. She made him question everything... and that was a risk he could not take. He had to remain focused on revenge. No, not revenge, justice. Justice for Runa, at any cost.

More
. He could not afford to be more than he was. Could not afford to push his plans back. His hate faded when he was with Lyssa, when she smiled at him, when she chattered on about nothing. Life threatened to become
more
.

She squirmed, shifted, pressed her body against his while her arm encircled him and her gentle hand brushed against his bare chest. Since she’d asked about the scar Volker had given him, she apparently wanted to touch it. Caress it with the soft tips of her fingers.

Finally he rolled over, threw her onto her back and glared down at her. He could barely see her face, but he knew exactly what she would look like at this moment. Hopeful, lips parted, green eyes dancing. So pretty and soft and... kind.

He could not be kind to her in return. If kindness was what she wanted, she should have married someone else. “I know how to make you be still.” He threw the coverlet to the end of the bed and with rough hands pulled the hem of her nightdress up. She assisted, lifting her hips, wiggling to position herself and open her thighs. She thought he was going to give her exactly what she wanted, but she was wrong.

“There’s more than one way to ease your suffering, wife,” he said as he placed one hand between her legs.

“I didn’t say I was suff—oh!” Her hips lurched as he found the nub at her entrance and circled his thumb there.

“Don’t talk, just lie there and feel.”

“It does feel...” She didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to. Her hips moved in a gentle rhythm against his hand, and her breathing changed. She sighed and moaned and made small, maddening noises deep in her throat. Had she really been a virgin a week ago? Was she really, truly his wife?

No, he could not let his mind go there, could not pretend that this marriage was real. The rhythm of her hips grew faster, harder. He thrust two fingers inside her and she crested, huskily calling his name as her body spasmed. And then she drifted into the mattress with a satisfied sigh.

“That was... lovely, and very unexpected, I must say. But... but what about you?”

Blade removed his hand from her before saying, as coldly as possible, “I don’t want you.”

Another woman would have cried or kicked him out of the bed. Another woman would have railed at him for being so cruel. But Lyssa didn’t hesitate. She simply reached out and placed a hand on his painfully hard length as she whispered, “Liar.”

He turned his back to her, ignoring his wife once more. Or trying to. She snuggled against his back again and even placed a gentle kiss on his spine. And right before she fell asleep she whispered once more, “
Such
a liar.”