Prince of Luster (30 page)

He knew every curve of the arched, white marble of the roof over his bed. The walls were made of the same, sparkling substance.

Dark green curtains, ever the color of the Starlaw men, billowed into the room along with warm breezes.

There was someone standing in the starlight. The silhouette was sylph-like, dainty and so wonderfully beautiful. Long, golden strands of loose curls shimmered in the otherworldly light. They shifted up and down with each new draft of air.

If he’d been accompanied by some waif-like angel into the next life, nothing could have been lovelier.

In slow motion, she turned.

He heard his name called softly, but the syllables also rang in his head as coming out too slowly. His sylph bolted toward him. And when her hair lifted, he saw the pointed tips of her ears and truly knew he’d been blessed with a companion of fae legend.

As she came closer, his eyesight adjusted. The face of his sweet vision was familiar. Her eyes were the most luscious shade of amethyst, he’d ever seen. She wore a dressing gown of pale lavender. Even in the dim light, the colors were astonishing. The most intricate details would forever haunt his memory, like the bejeweled belt cinching her ridiculously small waist, and the lovely, graceful hands reaching for him.

He felt her warmth as she touched him and smiled so brilliantly that all the suns in the universe going nova at once couldn’t reproduce the brightness.

Nova!

Of course. He knew her. He loved her. But the scars were missing. She’d either died with him, and they’d been healed and joined in the afterlife, or the miracle of being home again,
with
her
, was real.

He felt her wrap her arms around his shoulders. Her tear-filled voice was soft but imbued with joy. She kept speaking to him over and over. As she did, syllables turned to words. And words ran into sentences he eventually understood. Then he remembered Darius rescuing them.

Floodgates opened as memory suddenly returned.

He tried to push himself off the bed to hold her, but she pressed him back and softly begged him to rest.

It took everything he had to open his mouth and get out a sound. When he did, it was hoarse and made no sense.

She gently helped him into a position to enjoy cool, clean water from a green glass tumbler. One sip wasn’t enough. He drank more and more.

With dryness of tongue assuaged, he croaked out what he most wanted to say.

“I … l-love … y-you.”

She pushed his long hair back off his shoulders, kissed him hard, and then held him again.

Dead or alive. Let this go on. Let it go on forever.

• • •

Many weeks later, Marcos stood on the balcony of his new residence. With training and hard work, his strength had returned and so had his physique. Instead of sharing it with women who cared little for the soul within the shell, however, he now shared his intense arousal with only one. Nova was all he needed.

The Autumnal Repast, to celebrate the changing of the seasons and the bounty produced from the summer, would soon begin. The love of his life was dressing in the next suite, but he decided they had plenty of time to travel to the castle and join beloved family and friends.

The decision to make love to her all over again was cemented when she walked toward him wearing a sparkling, halter-top gown of gold. Her soft, golden hair was piled on top of her head, leaving the pointed tips of her ears exposed. Her pert breasts were pushed high; the creamy skin above them was perfect. She smelled of flowers and fresh air. His lover looked like some kind of moon goddess.

He dropped his uniform gauntlets and pulled her into his embrace.

“We’ll be late …
again
,” she softly teased.

“I’ll make excuses,” he said as he began kissing her shoulder, then her neck.

“What will the king say when one of the princes doesn’t show up on time?” she saucily asked as she helped him unbutton his dress uniform tunic.

“If he and mother want grandchildren from us, they’ll have to get used to it.”

She smiled coyly. “If we have a little time, will you do that thing you did the other night?”

He nuzzled his nose against hers. “Are you speaking of what we did in the large bathing tub? Is that the thing you’re talking about, love?”

She slowly nodded.

“If we go that far, we won’t get to the party at all. You know that, don’t you?” he hopefully asked.

“My … that’s too bad. What a shame. Stuff happens. I guess
I’ll
have to make the excuses,” Nova jokingly murmured as she walked backward toward the bathing area, pulling him with her.

The new love in his life was giving him ideas that’d last until late the next morning. But with a full life before them, and all traces of sadness and pain gone, there’d be plenty of time for enforcer parties, ambassadorial soirees, and formal dedications.

Tonight was theirs. And he wasn’t wasting one more second of time. Let it not ever be said that a prince of Luster kept his lady waiting.

Candace Sams (aka C.S. Chatterly)
graduated from Texas A&M University with a BS in Agriculture, worked as a police officer with the State of Texas, did a brief stint with the Texas Department of Public Safety Undercover Narcotics Task force, and was also with the San Diego Police Department. She taught for the San Diego County Sheriff's Department and worked in law enforcement in Alabama.

She currently trains as the senior woman on the US Kung Fu Team (working on her fourth black belt), and has been awarded the Medal of Putien from China and the Statue of Tao for her work in martial arts. She is the holder of several international martial arts titles. In 2000, she was one of a fifteen-member team—authorized by act of Senate—to represent this country as a martial arts ambassador to mainland China. Her experiences in law enforcement and martial arts (Shaolin Kung Fu) are frequently used in her career as an author—she is known for writing fight scenes into her fictional works. As an added note, Ms. Sams is also a Master Gardener and loves working outdoors.

After publishing more than sixty titles in the fantasy, science fiction, paranormal, and action-adventure genres, she’s received more than thirty awards from various organizations, including five National Readers’ Choice Awards and a
USA Today
Best Book nomination. Her
Tales of The Order™
series, as well as several other works, are now being vetted for movie options.

Hailing from Texas, Candace loves the country life. She and her husband of more than twenty-five years live in a rural area of the US. A plethora of dogs and cats have adopted them. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted through her website at
www.candacesams.com
. Candace also writes erotica as C.S. Chatterly and can be contacted from
www.cschatterly.com
.

“Christ … it’s frickin’ eerie out here,” Cory Martinez whispered.

“And colder than it was supposed to be,” Laurel Blake added.

Along with what was normally on their belts, such as side arms, flashlights, extra ammo, and handcuffs, they had special radio equipment that only allowed certain shift members—including the dispatch supervisor—to hear what was going on. Besides all that, she and Cory were dressed in navy-blue jumpsuits with matching PD jackets and baseball caps. They’d added black gloves and combat boots to easily move through the park undergrowth. At the moment, their radios were silent, indicating the undercover detective pretending to be asleep in a clearing was all right so far. He was posing as a homeless man in order catch someone who’d been murdering them and literally draining their blood for the past three weeks.

“So where’s the bachelorette party?” Cory asked as he nudged her.

“Why the hell are you asking about that? Pay attention, butt-munch!”

Cory grinned and ignored the reprimand. “Come on. Maria won’t tell me.”

“That’s because she doesn’t want you to know.”

“But you’ll tell your partner, right?” Cory prompted as he nudged her several more times.

Laurel pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “I might be your partner but I’m
her
best friend and the maid of honor. And she asked me to keep my big mouth shut. So chew on that and keep your mind on the job.”

“That’s not fair. You guys know where I’m having my bachelor party—”

“That’s because there’s not a single man at the station who could keep his lips zipped. I swear … when it comes to gossip male cops are worse than any woman I’ve ever known.”

“Laurel—”

“No! Shut up and pay attention.”

She saw his scowl even in the dim light filtering through the trees.

“She didn’t hire those male strippers, did she? You know … the ones who jerk their junk while movin’ around in skimpy costumes and letting women stuff twenties down their G-strings?”

She simply smiled back, deciding to let him sweat the answer.

“Oh man … that’s not right!” he groused.

“What’s not right? The overstuffed G-strings, or a lot of turned-on women having a good time while tossing back enough tequila to go toxic?” she teased.

He moved closer. “Did you say tequila? Maria gets crazy when she drinks tequila. She gets horny as hell and doesn’t remember anything—”

“Okay … that’s enough information,” Laurel advised as she held up one hand to stop him. “You need to talk to her, not me. And we need to keep our mouths shut …
really
,” she insisted as she pulled the collar of her jacket higher.

They sat in mutual silence for another fifteen minutes. Cory finally broke it again with more commiserations concerning his upcoming nuptials.

“I hate the invitations. They suck.”

“Then why didn’t you help her pick ’em out?”

“I did. Her mother overrode my opinion. She wanted red roses all over everything. I can’t stand red roses.”

Laurel finally turned to look at him. “What in hell did you choose?”

He grinned. “Daisies.”

She pressed her lips together. “In all the years we’ve known each other … I’ve never thought of you as a daisy kind of guy.”

“Everybody does roses. I read in
Weddings
Today
magazine that it’s the most used flower in the world where weddings are concerned. I wanted something bright. Something uncommon. Something yellow and ‘camera friendly in darkened churches,’ like the magazine says.”

“Which is why your wedding colors are burgundy and black,” she responded while shaking her head in mirth.

The idea of Cory perusing a wedding magazine was too much. But he was all about marrying the girl he’d loved since high school. In the end it wouldn’t matter
how
he got Maria down the aisle as long as he got her there.

“My future mother-in-law took every opinion I had and tossed it right in the crapper, like my ideas don’t matter.” He snorted in derision then let out a few curses in Spanish. “She and I are gonna have a long talk after the wedding. There’s not gonna be any of that shit where she tells us how to live our lives, what to name our kids, and how to decorate our house.”

“Says the man who likes daisies.”

“Excuse me … daisies symbolize love, patience, purity, and simplicity. They’re perfect for weddings,” he insisted.

A scrambled message over their earpieces made them both sit up at the same time.

“Did you make that out?” he asked as he gently tapped his earpiece.

“Say again,” Laurel requested as she keyed the microphone hanging from her jacket epaulet.

There was no sound.

Cory made a second attempt. “210 Adam from 115 King … say again … over.”

“
For the love of God … help.
”

Laurel and Cory stared at each other when the clear but panic-stricken voice of one of their comrades sounded through their earpieces.

Without waiting one second longer, Laurel relayed their need for backup as she stood and ran to their comrade’s aid.

As she bolted forward, she put her hand on her weapon and mentally plotted the shortest distance between their spot and the assigned location of the caller.

Cory pounded through the brush behind her. She knew he had her back as she picked up the pace.

Through her earpiece, she heard orders being issued from the nearest officers including the dispatch supervisor. It didn’t matter if the perp heard them coming now. If a cop was in need, scaring away an attacker might save a life.

Tonight’s assignment should have been simple.

Moments later they crashed through the undergrowth into a nearby clearing.

Laurel stopped in her tracks as she saw a tall figure straighten. He’d been bending over someone lying on the ground.

The light wasn’t that good but she knew damned well the man in the dirt was one of
theirs
. The old, patched clothing was the same as what he’d been wearing when tonight’s assignment had been issued.

She pulled her weapon at the same time Cory did. Despite the cold of the night and the breeze blowing through the trees, sweat broke out on her forehead.

“Police! Put your hands on your head. Interlace your fingers and don’t move,” she loudly ordered as Cory repeated the message in Spanish.

The language repetition was something they did any time there was a chance for misunderstanding. It wasn’t required by standard operating procedure, but it’d saved them a lot of trouble on numerous occasions. She simply waited to see if the man in front of them would comply whether he understood in English
or
Spanish. Her concern was less for his safety, more about the downed cop’s injuries.

When the stranger slowly did as she ordered while turning toward them, Cory switched on his flashlight. Laurel gasped and felt her pounding heart lurch. Both of them backed away as Cory spit out a low, feral curse.

The illuminated figure before them was the most grotesque thing she’d ever seen. As Cory’s flashlight kept their suspect clearly visible, the man gazing at them then presented a fanged grin. Blood dripped from his mouth as if he’d just cannibalized something. His face bore an unholy resemblance to a movie vampire. His body and even his skull seemed emaciated beyond explanation. There was no reason for how anyone could survive and look so horribly gaunt. His angular face personified evil. There was a wickedly hollow gleam spilling from his eyes. But if the man was insane and an escapee from some facility, he was at least cogent enough to know he’d be shot if he moved. He glared back at her and her blood almost ran cold. The savagery in his expression was palpable and the long, leather-looking duster he wore augmented his thin, tall appearance. Her brain reasoned he couldn’t possibly look as bad in daylight.