Halcyon Rising (8 page)

She lifted the fabric a few inches more. The insides of her thighs were chafed raw. “The salt water dried on my suit. Every step I took rubbed the fabric against my skin.”

He swallowed. The mere thought of touching that pale, soft skin made him shudder with desire. A glimpse of the rosy, silky undergarment he had discovered earlier made the decision for him. He could not do this. He did not trust himself not to give in to the need clamoring within him.

“Perhaps you should finish.” He thrust the vial into her hands, then pushed off the bed and strode to the other side of the room. His breath hitched in his chest as he stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the thought of her touching herself so intimately.

The moments stretched. Agony twisted within him until he heard her set the salve aside. “I feel almost human again. Thank you for everything you’ve done, Sebastian.”

“’Twas nothing. I am glad to have helped.” He turned, expecting her to be tucked safely under the quilts, only to find her sitting cross-legged on top of the bed, her gaze fastened speculatively on his blatant erection.

“You could have taken advantage of my vulnerability just now.” She lowered her head, her cheeks burning with color. “I may have even let you.”

Equally embarrassed and aroused, he moved to put the bulk of his desk between them, shielding his weakness from view. Her words cracked something deep inside him, the wall he had erected around his heart to keep the world at bay. The fissure terrified him, because he doubted his fragile control could withstand the break.

“You are under my protection,” he told her, his voice tinged with desperation. “I am doing my best to maintain my honor.”

She frowned, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging herself tightly. “You’re making it difficult for me to hate you, Sebastian.”

He forced himself to meet her pensive gaze, wishing things could be different. If only she were not his hostage; if only he were not so damaged. “Try a little harder then, my lady. For both our sakes.”

Rhoswen was relieved when Sebastian didn’t tie her hands that night. Instead, he built himself a pallet of furs in front of the chamber door, effectively blocking any escape on her part, while giving her the chance to sleep comfortably.

She supposed she should be grateful for what appeared to be yet one more kindness. Instead, she stared up at the ceiling long after the fire had burnt low, listening to the sound of his gentle breathing and battling her confusion and frustration.

She couldn't quit remembering his gentle touch, nor the way he'd turned away from her, even though he'd been hard with need. Even in her world, it was rare for a man to have such control over his desires. She'd never known one to deny himself something he wanted out of any chivalrous notion.

What had gotten into her? She'd stared at him, practically dared him to return to the bed and put that long, thick erection to good use.

In fact, she'd been terribly disappointed when he'd remained strong and aloof.

She admired so many things about her beautiful jailer. He defied her every preconceived notion, set himself apart from everyone she'd ever known. The more time she spent with him, the more she was inclined to believe he really wanted to help her.

There was one way to know for certain, but she hesitated to attempt such drastic measures. She’d never used her gift of mind-delving on someone from the Surface. If he slept, she might be able to enter his mind without his knowledge, but if he was still awake, he’d immediately sense the intrusion, and then he’d look upon her as a witch or worse.

Dare she try it?

Time slipped slowly by and still he did not move. Tension coursed through her as she considered her dwindling options. It would be dawn in a matter of hours. If she didn’t delve his mind now, she might never get another chance.

Deciding she had nothing to lose, but much to gain, she reached out with her thoughts, tentatively brushing the foreign territory that was Sebastian. A plethora of images and emotions buffeted her, and she reeled back, stunned and dismayed.

She’d never encountered such a maelstrom. On the rare occasions when she’d delved the mind of one of her people, she’d found the same sort of order and control that ruled their days. Every thought and feeling compartmentalized in its proper spot, the whole as easy to read and interpret as Halcyon’s massive libraries.

Sebastian was anything but compartmentalized. She hugged her knees to her chest, wondering if she should try again.

Was it even possible to read such a primitive mind?

Perhaps, if she could bear the storm for a few moments longer, she could at least manage to discern whether or not he had lied about his motives for helping her.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she reached out again.

This time she was better prepared, and the assault of memory and emotion did not surprise her. She let it wash over her, trying to isolate the things she needed to know. But his mind did not work as hers did; the constant barrage of information confused and frightened her. Glimpses of past pain and horror flashed before her, but it was like staring into the sun, she couldn’t bear to look long enough to get a clear view.

Frustrated, she prepared to sever the link between them, but before she could, she found herself standing beside him in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by blood and death, feeling his agony as though it was her own.

The images were so real, so different from her usual experience — she knew she had somehow slipped from his memories into his dreams. He was having a nightmare about the terrible slaughter, and she’d managed to join him there.

Unable to resist the urge to offer him comfort, she went to his side, taking his arm and trying to lead him away from the battle.

He resisted, holding out his bloodstained hands. “I cannot wash the blood away. I will never be able to wash it away.”

“Come with me. I’ll help you.”

He lifted his anguished green gaze. “You are not supposed to be here. Is it not enough that you fill my waking mind? Must you invade my dreams as well?”

She blinked away a sudden rush of tears, both saddened and thrilled by his words. This thing between them was more powerful than she’d ever imagined, yet she could see no happy ending for them, only sorrow and regret.

“I’ve come to ease your pain. I only want to help you the way you helped me.”

“I do not even know your name,” he answered, though he allowed her to turn him away from the battle.

“My name is Rhoswen.” The reality of the dream made her heedless of the need for caution. Her name seemed important to him, and deep down she had to admit she’d been dying to hear the sound of it on his lips.

“Rhoswen,” he breathed, reverence filling his tone. “’Tis a beautiful name.”

With the smooth switch of time and place that characterized dreams, she suddenly appeared in the shower of her apartment back in Halcyon. Sebastian stood beside her, gloriously naked, the steaming water pouring over his broad chest and shoulders.

She gently reached out and took his hands, washing his bloody knuckles with a bar of lavender-scented soap. “It wasn’t your fault. You tried to save your friends. You fought fiercely.”

“They haunt me. I should have been lost, rather than my kinsmen.” The crimson stain flowed off his fingertips and down the drain, disappearing in a thin red stream. He glanced down at her, his dark lashes sparkling with water, his emerald eyes filled with the yearning need he usually kept buried so deep.

“Poor man. You’ve been so alone, haven’t you?”

As she admired his superb physique, she realized once again that this was just a dream. It wasn’t real. Perhaps she could ease him just a little bit. What could it hurt? In his dream she could touch him the way she’d not yet had the courage to do in real life.

Before her thoughts could go any further, he muttered her name and enveloped her in his arms, crushing her against his chest. Their bare skin connected with wet heat as his lips found hers. She gasped as he kissed her hungrily, his tongue a sweet, plundering flame.

Trevelan’s kisses had never felt this way; she’d never even imagined such seething heat and desire.

Swept up, she gasped into his mouth as his broad palm covered her breast, teasing and kneading her aching nipple. Magical hands. A true sorcerer in the art of love.

The hot water poured over them, creating a cloud of steam. His large, throbbing erection leapt against her belly, and her womb twinged emptily, as though to protest the fact that he wasn’t buried deep inside her. She clung to his broad shoulders, afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her.

With a moan, he broke the kiss and leaned back against the glass wall, watching her through hot, hooded eyes. “Touch me, Rhoswen. Please, touch me.”

Unable to resist, she finally gave in to the urge to caress his beautiful body. Biting her lip, she reached out and trailed her fingertips across his shoulders and then down his muscled, quivering abdomen. At last she brushed her thumb across the tip of his heavy shaft, biting her lip in sheer pleasure when she realized how much control she had over him. He was at her mercy, in her thrall.

Desire overwhelmed her, shattering the tenuous thread of connection between them.

Back in her own mind once again, she hugged her knees to her chest, trembling all over, unsure which parts of the dream had been her doing and which had been his. She risked a glance in his direction, expecting him to still be sound asleep, only to find him staring back at her.

Their gazes locked, and he flinched, obviously seeing the truth in her eyes. “You were in my dream…. Bloody hell! How did you get in my dream?”

She shook her head, trying to deny it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do not lie to me, Rhoswen!” He rose from his pallet with predatory grace and crossed the room to her side, staring down at her in mingled fear and dismay. “Tell me you did not touch me. Tell me you did not pleasure me some fanciful rain box.”

“You were in so much pain. I only wanted to help.”

He gave a harsh laugh and scrubbed his hand over his face, his big body trembling. “Do not mistake me — I enjoyed every moment of it. It is merely that… if you were in my mind, what did you see? Jesu Christ, what did you see?”

She reached for his free hand, wanting to reconnect with him in some way. “I saw nothing but good, Sebastian.”

He shook his head, but closed his fingers around hers, holding on so tight her hand ached. “How did you do it? How did you enter my mind?”

“I have a gift. Even among my people, it’s rare. And I don’t use it often. I just needed to know if I could trust you. I meant to slip in quickly, unnoticed.”

He stared at her, obviously wondering what to believe. His reaction surprised her. He didn’t seem horrified by her ability, just embarrassed and ashamed that she’d picked through his memories.

“Who are you?” he whispered. “And from what fey kingdom did you come?”

* * *

Sebastian stared down at the lovely witch in his bed, wondering if he still dreamed. Her pale, moon-spun hair flowed around her shoulders in wild disarray, and her deep blue eyes held fathomless secrets.

He could not shake the image of her nude, lithe body, or the way it had felt, dream or nay, when she had smoothed those small hands over his bare skin. No woman had ever stroked him with such blatant sensuality.

“I can’t tell you where I come from,” she whispered. “But I did not come here to harm you or your people. I wish only to observe.”

“For what purpose?” Agitation laced his voice. If he were wise, he would give her back to his brother and wipe his hands of the entire matter. He had kept himself apart from humanity for far too long to let this lovely siren lure him under her spell.

She sighed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear with a delicate motion of her slim wrist. “Sit down beside me,” she coaxed. “We have much to discuss.”

He hesitated, unwilling to do as she asked when arousal still pulsed so heavily within him. For so long, he had kept his passions under tight rein, but she made him far too aware of everything missing in his life. His books and experiments could never replace simple companionship.

“Please. Sit with me.”

With an inward groan, he allowed her to draw him down on the bed beside her. He sank down on the furs, facing her, one knee drawn up in an effort to hide the fact that he still ached with need.

She gave him a weak smile. “Don’t worry. You were dreaming. You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. We both created those moments in the shower. I wanted you every bit as much as you wanted me.”

That was supposed to soothe him? He burned to press her down in the soft furs and continue what they had started in their minds. Hearing that she wanted it as well nearly snapped the last thread of his tenuous control.

He cleared his dry throat. “Dream or nay, I cannot get the feel of you out of my thoughts.”

“I’ve never felt that way before.” She bowed her head with apparent shyness. “I never knew such passion existed.”

Unable to resist, he put a fingertip beneath her chin and tilted her lovely face toward his. Her eyes flared with heat, and her tongue traced her bottom lip, leaving it wet and succulent. With a tortured groan he gave in, lowering his mouth to hers, kissing her with a hunger borne of years of loneliness and despair.

She responded in kind, moaning deep in her throat as she pressed against him. The soft swells of her breasts crushed against his chest, and her slim thighs straddled his own.

The moment she settled upon him, the pleasure disappeared, replaced by the nightmare of his past. Panic surged within him, and he wrenched his lips from hers, setting her roughly aside.