Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) (10 page)

Looking inside herself, she found her
emotions in a black ball of discontent. Remembering Anais’
descriptions of what she had experienced when her powers were
unbound, she realized that the same could be applied to her
emotions, because her powers were ultimately tied to them. Allowing
the shield to drop, she resolved to ask Arianna on how to deal with
it. Then she allowed herself the pleasure of watching the horses.
They moved towards a solitary white unicorn, not an uncommon site
in the hollow. The unicorn’s continuous efforts to befriend the
horses were rebuffed. To an outsider, it was obvious that the
unicorn intimidated the horses, and so, they went on the defensive
instead of trying to understand it.
Dieu
! Sophie scrambled
up and began pacing as an unexpected monster of an epiphany hit
her.

Sylvain stood to attention. He’d been
watching Sophie, a picture of grace and serenity in the meadow as
she meditated. It was a vision he found he was content to observe
for an indefinite amount of time. But Sophie sprung up and began
pacing. So now, he observed an agitated vamp wear a path in the
grass under the tress.

“Sophie,” he went up to her, stopping her by
grasping her shoulders. “Are you okay? The training with Arianna is
supposed to help you, not freak you out.”

“You’re the unicorn,” Sophie blurted out.

“Huh?” Sylvain asked, sans eloquence. What
the hell was she carrying on about? Last night he was her savior
and today he was a unicorn. He wondered if there were adverse
effects to empath training and made a mental note to chat with
Arianna. Sylvain sighed. Saying a mental goodbye to the momentary
tranquility, he took the object of his desire by her hand, and led
her to a bench he conjured out of thin air. “Okay,” he said,
pulling her down next to him, “explain.”

“You’re the unicorn,” she repeated, “and I’m
the horses. Well, everyone else is a horse.”

“Sophie,
ma chérie
, you are far from a
horse,” he teased.

“No, you idiot,” she slapped his arm.
“Watching the horses, I realized that I’d been rebuffing you the
way they snub the unicorn because they’re intimidated by it. I know
that many of the supes do that. And those who are not intimidated
by you, take you at face value. They see you as the charming,
mischievous fae prince and nothing more.”

“I intimidate you?” Sylvain asked brows
puzzled. Why the hell would she feel that way? He took pains to not
go all royal on his friends and after millennia of practice. He'd
figured he’d gotten that down pat.

“No, not you,” she said. “Uurgh, I’m making a
mess of this.” Taking a deep breath, she continued more calmly,
“I’ve been intimidated by the feelings I’ve been having for you.
First, you were Sylvain the hot stranger, then Sylvain the Prince
of Fae, followed by Sylvain the man-whore…” Sylvain winced at her
flippancy. “Sorry, it is what I thought at the time,” Sophie said
smiling gently. Sylvain scowled, but waved his hand for her to
continue. “Then,” Sophie said on a short breath, “last night you
were Sylvain the savior and now, well … now, I don’t know who or
what you are.”

“I’m just Sylvain, Sophie,” Sylvain said
sadly. “As Prince of Fae, I’m often measured up or compared to
whatever preconceived notion people might have of me. That’s why I
love being around everyone at the plantation. You treat me no
differently than how you treat others.”

“Yes,” nodded Sophie, "everyone at the
plantation treat you like a regular guy, because we’re all pretty
odd ourselves.” Sophie looked at him as though he was a three year
old not comprehending an instruction. It should have amused him or
irritated him - Sophie again as the school marm. But, damn! It was
a turn on, though. He had to shake his head to get rid of the
images of her dressed in a prim outfit as he divested her of it and
laid her across the desk. Hell, he’d even allow her to put him in
detention and punish him as long as she was the one administering
it.

Sophie stopped talking and poked him in the
ribs, “Sylvain, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why?”

“I don’t know. You got a funny look on your
face and seemed far away.”

“I’m good,” Sylvain draped his arm over her
shoulders casually. Not. A. Smart. Move. The heat level in his
crotch rose astronomically. Seeing a Faerie’s Star glistening
amongst the bed of grass at his feet, he picked the sparkling white
flower as an excuse to get some physical distance from her. He
still had the satisfying pleasure of seeing her eyes light up with
delight when he handed it to her. “You were saying?” he
prompted.

Sophie cleared her throat, clearly touched by
the gesture. “Yes. Well…” she stumbled over her words. His charm
and gallantry was disarming at the moment. Taking a breath, she
tried again, “The point is that there are so many facets to you
that I feel as though I don’t really know you and so I don’t know
what to do about those feelings.”

“I’ve lived for four thousand years,” Sylvain
responded. “The experiences I’ve had, have blessed and cursed me
with many faces. I’m not a simple man, Sophie.”

Sophie looked at him and nodded. She agreed
with his reasoning, but her gut told her that it wasn’t quite the
reason for the many masks of Sylvain.

Taking her quietness as acceptance, Sylvain
sought to change the subject. “You mentioned feelings for me. Could
you share what those are?”

Belatedly realizing just how deeply she’d put
her foot in her mouth. It was also uncharacteristic for her. “Drat
the empath training,” Sophie blushed. “One minute I’m practicing
the skills Arianna taught me and the next minute I’m rambling on.”
Unsure of his reception, Sophie peeked at him through the canopy
provided by her lashes.

Enchanted by her sudden shyness, Sylvain ran
the back of his hand along her flushed cheek. “Ah,” he said gently,
through curved lips, “those kinds of feelings.” He had wanted to
tease her, and yet, he found the simple act of touching her face
baited his crotch. Goddess, if this is what such a simple touch
did, what would full skin on skin contact do?! It seemed that
around her his mind was destined to be permanently in the gutter.
Maybe, he acknowledged, he was not such a complex man after all.
“I’m having some of those feelings too,” he grinned. “I agree with
you,
ma chérie
, we need to get to know each other better to
deal with these feelings.”

He stroked the side of her face while
speaking, and then gently, barely touching her, traced the sides of
her arms and captured her hands in his. Enraptured by the desire he
saw in her eyes, he moved towards her, and gently nibbled her
already parted lips. Jolts of awareness shot through them. It felt
as though they’d both been hit with a Taser.

“
Dieu
,” Sophie exclaimed. “What was
that?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvain replied, “but, I
think we need to do that again and find out.”

“Your majesty,” a young fae warrior
hesitantly interrupted them. “Apologies for disturbing you sire.
You asked that you be informed immediately when we received the
response from the Unseelie Court.”

“I did indeed,” Sylvain said sardonically.
“I’ll be right there.” Dismissed, the warrior left them. Sylvain
looked at Sophie, regretting the interruption, but knowing that the
delay would make future intimacy so much sweeter. “I’m sorry
Sophie, court matters call.”

Sophie waved his apology away dismissively.
“That’s fine. You go ahead. You’re speaking to your sister?”

“Yes,” Sylvain replied, gravely. Gone was the
prince of boyish charm.

Both curious and concerned, Sophie observed,
“I sense a reticence to speak to her. I presume it is about the
trickster incident.”

“It’s complicated,” Sylvain shrugged, feeling
uncomfortable.

“I’m an empath, Sylvain,” Sophie reminded
him. “I can sense your trepidation. I know you’re not scared of
her, but you’re guarding your heart.”

Sylvain scowled. The kiss, an electric shock
of pure bliss, had jolted him to the extent that he’d let go of his
shield. “I’ll be okay,” he said, turning towards her and stroking
her cheek again. Sophie instinctively leaned towards his touch and
Sylvain dipped his head to place a soft, quick kiss on her lips.
“Thank you for caring enough to ask,
ma chérie
. Now, I must
go. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Yes,” Sophie nodded and watched him walk
away. She sat and looked at the horses and unicorn for a while and
realized, yet again, that this past moment with Sylvain had been a
defining one. The course of her life would be changing. Whether it
was for the better or not, with or without Sylvain, she had no
idea, but the change would be significant.

xxx

Sylvain stepped into a room in which he
hadn’t been for three thousand years. It was unchanged. Colors of
light and brightness melded together perfectly with dark. The
entire room was a juxtaposition of things that shouldn’t go
together, but did. The one side of the cavernous space was an
illustration of all things Seelie, the shining court. It was
bright, beautiful, and fantastical and made one sigh in
contentment. The other side was a physical manifestation of the
darker, baser Unseelie fae. Whereas the Seelie side depicted murals
of meadows, beaches, and creatures that children read about in
fairytales, the Unseelie side showed the darker side of the fae -
blood, danger, and creatures that made kids crawl under their
covers. Strangely enough, the joining of the two sides in the
middle was neither light nor dark. Instead, it was the colors of
the Goddess, the colors of magick in its rainbow hue of shades
unknown to humankind. It was pure, sparkling, and bright. And in
the middle was armor to fight with and beds to love in. Again, both
sides of the coin melding together seamlessly to illustrate the
balance the Goddess so often orated.

Sylvain looked towards the end of the room to
where two thrones sat. She was already there and by the familiar
scowl on her face, she was irritated by having to wait.

“Vérène,” he said, by way of greeting. His
voice echoed off the bejeweled and mural covered walls made of
faerie silver, marble, and gold. The booming quality of his voice
was not due to the emptiness of the space they occupied, but rather
that he was home. Truly home. This room, the throne room of all
things fae, found in a space neither on earth or in the heavens and
hells, was where the fae resided up until three thousand years ago.
This was the first time he and his sister had entered it. The power
surging through his veins with each step he took yelled at him that
it had been too long. His self-imposed starvation had had a greater
impact than he’d thought or was willing to admit.

Vérène quirked a brow at him, “You feel it,
too?”

“Yes,” Sylvain replied, careful to keep his
voice neutral.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” she spat out. “We
haven’t seen or spoken to each other in three thousand years, and
you can’t crack a fucking smile. And, you keep me waiting! You know
I hate that.”

“My apologies, sister,” Sylvain said, meaning
it. “I was unavoidably detained.”

“Of course,” Vérène stated, sarcastically,
“picking flowers and singing to trees keep you Seelie incredibly
busy. Such important work!”

Sylvain sighed inwardly. Evidently, three
thousand years had not erased his sister’s penchant for sarcasm.
Opting to ignore her instead of taking the bait, he sat down on his
throne next to hers. Sylvain nearly groaned in pleasure. It felt
right and good to sit in it again. It wasn’t an ego thing. The
throne was made with metal from the heavens and carved entirely by
the purest and most ancient magick - that of his ancestors, the
first fae that had come into being.

His sister regarded him. “Yes, I see that you
do feel it,” she observed, shrugging nonchalantly. It was an old
mannerism she employed when she wanted to change the topic without
having to ‘talk things out’ or apologize when she acted bitchy.
Vérène was never wrong, at least in her own mind. Sylvain looked at
his sister. She was still as beautiful as ever with hair as black
as his was blonde and dark eyes where the knowledge of all things
dark, all things Unseelie swirled beneath the surface. It was those
eyes that had captivated countless men- both human and magickal -
even though they were part of a perfectly formed face. Fair of skin
and petite of form, those fragile qualities belied his sister’s
immense power. She wasn’t more powerful than he. In fact, as much
as they differed in looks and personality, his twin was his equal
in every other way possible. They were equally powerful, equally
magickal, and equally intelligent. If anything epitomized the
‘ying-yang’ philosophy, it was them.

“I’ve heard of your reasons why we had to
meet, but I don’t buy it,” Vérène stated, matter-of-factly. “There
have been incidences in the past where Unseelie have crept out of
the hole we’d been buried…”

“I’d hardly call the Dark Palace a hole,”
Sylvain interjected, irritably. He knew she was goading him. If
anyone could push his button, it was her. The Unseelie court was
far from the hole she described. Yes, it was darker, headier and
literally in the plane between the day and night’s sky, but it was
not a hole. It resembled the Rio Carnival at night, the New Orleans
Mardi Gras in the Quarter, the lust-filled bordellos of an older
Europe. It was not the refreshing calmness of the Seelie, but it
was far from unpleasant. He knew that his sister tired of the
hedonism though and that she might long for a bit of the Seelie
world at times, however, that was her punishment and her cross to
bear. “But you hadn’t asked to meet then,” Vérène carried on as if
he hadn’t spoken. “Why now? It’s either the Goddess, a woman, or
both.” She eyed her brother. To anyone else he would look calm and
considering. But, she knew him better than anyone else and detected
a tell-tale twitch in the corner of his eye. It lasted only a
millisecond, but it was enough.