The Soother (6 page)

While she didn’t see Krystoff, another scene unfolded and had her smiling. A group of seemingly young and innocent witches had broken away from the crowd, singing — incredibly off-key — and dancing amongst the flowers and wheat fields like magickal little butterflies wanting to spread their newly formed wings. Their naivety could be obliterated before they finished singing their obnoxious song if Riona so wished it.
What to do? What to do?
she thought, drumming her fingers against the telescope.

Excited rustling sounded behind her. Some of her men who had better eyesight than others had already spotted the drifters, and the rest of the group were simply feeding off the feral energy. She turned, took in the beings who made up her dark horde: Strong, virile men, wizards, fae, demons, shifters, and a motley mix of other veiled who had been deemed outcasts by their own. All shapes and sizes. All wrapped in shadows. Mistropa had been their refuge, and now she was their ruler. Though she commanded, expected perfection, she also cherished her people. For without them she would be the ruler of nothing.

Riona shook her head, clearing the fear that pricked at her pride like a venomous snake teasing its prey. That fear had to remain locked away. Anything was better than nothing, and Riona refused to ever be
nothing
again.

“Be still, my people,” she stated clearly, addressing the masses. “We shall bide our time.” Allowing their excitement to build would ultimately lead to a more fulfilling reward. Her horde would be hungry for battle, ready to slaughter and conquer.

Several groans, a couple stomps, before each bowed their head. Even in the dark, she saw the acknowledgment, fed off it like a babe suckling a nipple. Her Mistropans’ obedience had become a drug, and Riona sought that particular poison like a strung-out addict. Power was everything. And her son had the key to unlocking colossal amounts of it. The fact that he’d refused to share his knowledge …

“My queen?” Eron asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She ignored him. Through the telescope, Riona studied the young witches. So carefree, so careless. Hadn’t anyone taught them not to walk amongst the shadows? Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow she would teach them and that lesson would be one they wouldn’t soon forget. Assuming they lived long enough to remember anything.

“Send them back two miles to make camp, and keep the fires low,” she commanded Eron. “But you, my love … ” Riona leaned down and grabbed Eron’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact. His narrowed eyes induced shivers, but not in the way he’d intended. A vision played out in her mind when she caressed the piles of lush blankets and satin pillows inside her chariot. She very nearly purred. “You will sleep in here with me.”

Heavy limbs and satisfied muscles were a stimulating combination. Calliope stretched in her bed, enjoying the feeling of being thoroughly loved. She’d never had such a delicious encounter. Not until she’d met Krystoff. Charmer indeed. He’d somehow finagled his way into her world and refused to leave, going so far as to invade her dreams with his silky words and tantalizing hands. Reaching for the pillow, Calliope envisioned throwing it across her face and hiding from the real world for a day or two. She’d sleep right through Lammas and not have to worry about Carrine and her accusations. So what if they’d been dead on? So what if Carrine had probably marched straight to Ambra Brennan’s home and ratted out Calliope? Calliope owed her reclusive mother a visit anyway.

After Lammas.

She swatted those thoughts away, grasping to reconnect to the euphoria that had all her troubles melting away like a snow angel in spring.

Refusing to open her eyes, she held onto the vestiges of the fantasy, shivering when intimate fingers walked up her arm, across her collarbone and over her cheek before sweeping her hair away from her face. Krystoff’s scent, a mix of night air and magick, filled her with a sense of peace and had her drifting through the dark sky as stars twinkled like fireflies. A low rumble of laughter surrounded her, addicting, infectious. She smiled at Krystoff, who floated effortlessly alongside her.

“Time to wake up, angel.”

That voice. Calliope licked her lips. She’d pay good money for an alarm clock that sounded as melodious as Krystoff did in her dreams. Especially when the words were followed by knuckles grazing her neck with a whisper-soft stroke. “Mmm.”

“You’re gonna miss the party.”

“Don’t care,” she mumbled. “This … ” Calliope moaned as full lips nuzzled her ear. “ … So much better than any party.” She crossed and uncrossed her legs, searching for something that wasn’t there. Frustrating. “Please. More.”

A soft chuckle had her turning and reaching, threading her fingers through her dream man’s hair and pulling him close. Oh, so close. She could smell him, very nearly taste him and she ached to do so. She wet her lips again, enjoying the feel of his weight. “So good.”

“Could be better.”

“Not a chance.” What could be better than this? Krystoff was devastatingly handsome in real life, but in her dreams, he was heart-stopping. Bare caramelized skin, lean muscles, stormy eyes, and a dazzling smile made him completely irresistible. The bonus? His wicked shadows stayed in the background — exactly where they belonged. Yes, nothing could compare to this dream. But why not accept the challenge? “Show me.”

“You sure?”

A splayed hand slid across her naked belly. His chilled skin heated her blood. Calliope arched up, her body asking for more. “So sure.”

Heaviness settled over the lower half of her body. She uncrossed her legs again to allow more contact, getting closer to finding that
something
she so desperately wanted.

“Lie still. I’m going to kiss you now and I want you to feel it.”

“Trust me. I feel it, Charmer.” In her mind, Calliope composed a succinct letter:
Dear Mr. Dream Man, Please get on with it.

Another chuckle. “So you do know it’s me. That pleases me to no end.”

Before Calliope could respond, cool lips covered hers with sweet finesse, chilling, burning. Tingles skated across her skin. Finally. Now the dream would get really good. Wrapping her legs around his, she skimmed her ankle up his calf and wriggled her hips, then mentally high-fived herself when her moves elicited one very sexy moan from her fantasy partner. She parted her lips just enough to tease, but dream Krystoff wasn’t having any of that. He slid his thumb across her lower lip. She nipped at the pad and he pulled his thumb away, instantly replacing it with his velvety tongue. Calliope opened for him and tasted electrifying, dark magick. Dangerous. Toxic. But this was her dream. Nothing, not even shadowed magick or sharp incisors could hurt her here. Opting to release her inhibitions, she latched on to the flavor and drank in his alluring essence.

The erotic dream had Calliope seeing more than stars as they kissed for what seemed like hours, and still it wasn’t nearly long enough. She wanted more. Wanted the real thing. Knowing she couldn’t have it had some of the bliss ebbing away like dawn slowly breaking over the horizon. Perhaps it was. Neither night nor dreams could last forever, no matter how much she wanted them to. Calliope reluctantly pushed dream Krystoff away. “I’ll see you later, Charmer,” she said on a sigh. “Probably tonight.”

Silence.

Calliope finally opened her eyes. Ready to fulfill her daily duties, she swung her feet to the floor, stood and turned to make the bed. “Mother goddess!” she yelled, jumping back and stumbling over her boots. Collecting her balance and composure, she willed her heart to leave her throat and slide back into place. “How long have you been there?” This could not be happening. Except …

Krystoff didn’t need to answer. His lips looked every bit as swollen as hers felt. Shirtless, he laid on his side, his head propped up with two of her pillows, seemingly as pleased as he was aroused if the flush of his skin and the fangy smile on his face were any indication. Mortification stepped into the room and climbed inside Calliope’s body, heating her cheeks. The dream hadn’t been a dream at all.

“Say something,” she demanded while pulling down her tank top. At least she wasn’t naked, though the gleam in his eye as his gaze followed her jerky movements had her feeling utterly and completely exposed. She scanned the room for lurking shadows. Thankfully, like her dream, they hung in the corners.

He patted the mattress. “Come back to bed, Calliope.”

Her given name on his lips pulled her attention back to the nearly naked man lounging on her bed as if he were meant to be there. Such a sweet, sweet sound. She almost did exactly as he asked, stopping only after she’d already put one knee on the mattress. Many vampires possessed the power of persuasion. Did Krystoff? That would explain why she practically salivated over the sound of his voice. Well, she wasn’t an average female anymore than he was an average vamp, and Calliope had more than a few tricks up her tattooed sleeve.

“Give a girl a hand, would ya?” Balancing on the edge of the bed, she reached for Krystoff. His wicked grin widened, exposing a dimple in his left cheek. She hadn’t noticed it before, but then again, he had never given her his full smile until now. Looks like the
dream
had been equally as enjoyable for him as it was for her.

Krystoff clasped her wrist and said, “It would be my pleasure.”

“No, really,” Calliope responded. “The pleasure is all mine.” Then she collected her magick, pushed hard and sent Krystoff tumbling to the floor. He landed with a thud a second before she landed on top of him. Not precisely what she had planned but at least he was off her bed.

She scrambled away only to be pulled back. Off kilter, she tipped forward. He hissed, then froze. Calliope felt his breath on her skin and realized her neck had connected with his lips. Unlike his skin, his breath was hot, almost steamy. Refusing to panic, she weighed her options: Flee and risk being chased, or play it casual while hoping he had his cravings under control? One what-if scenario after another trickled through her mind. Would allowing him to have just one tiny taste of her blood be so bad? Yes, was the definitive answer to that question. She could never let that happen. Vampires rarely knew when to stop and Krystoff wasn’t really a vampire. A wizard. Half-breed, according to him. His magickal abilities were much more evident than any vampirism. Still, he couldn’t be trusted. And she couldn’t forget his soul no longer resided in his body.

Maybe he had zero control. Maybe he’d drain her. No amount of pleasure was worth death.

“You need to go. Unless, of course, you’re ready to offer a sample.”

His words had been nearly inaudible. His body was tense and rock-hard. The self-control she’d hoped for didn’t exist within these four walls. Krystoff had been kind enough to issue a warning — one she planned to heed. Calliope jumped up, ran through his shadows and out the bedroom door, kicked it closed and flashed away from the house.

She hid in the woods. A whistle sounded behind her. Calliope swirled, catching her sleeve in a patch of briars. She pulled away from the prickly thorns with a yelp. A splotch of red seeped through the fabric and every creature in the woods seemed to gasp, as if they knew a shadowed blood-craver was on the prowl. Covering the stain with her hand, she flashed again. The whistle faded away along with the music of the forest. No crickets, no wind, no rustling. Nothing.

Calliope held her breath and waited. How long would it take Krystoff to squelch his need and regain control? What if he didn’t? The chill bumps covering her flesh were definitely not from any visuals her mind was creating; her back arched, Krystoff bent over her, nicking, lapping, suckling, her eyes fluttering closed as pleasure consumed every cell of her being. No. Surely her physical reaction was based solely on fear. Calliope nodded. Yes. Fear. Absolutely.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against a masculine wall. “I’d smell your blood from a million miles away.”

• • •

With his eyes closed and his lips firmly clamped, Krystoff inhaled slowly, stretching the seconds into minutes as his mind buzzed with a heady mix of hunger-induced delirium. Minutes in which his entire body ached to the point he worried his skin would split open and his magick would spill to the ground. The loss of his wizardry would be worse than the loss of his soul.

His enticing hostage hadn’t uttered a word. He could practically hear her thinking. Krystoff, in turn, considered his options. The need to consume blood had never been this strong, not even on the day he’d initially dabbled with blood magick and accidentally altered his chemical make-up to mirror that of a vampire. A curse full of perks.

Calliope’s blood, so potent and deliciously pure, sang to him like a siren luring a sailor into her enchanting clutches. His fangs extended, his cheeks hollowed, and he bowed his head, his mouth now nearly touching her exquisite porcelain neck. He was but a breath away from ecstasy.

“You don’t want to do this.”

Ah, now she spoke. Though the words were only a whisper they wrapped around him like a spider’s web — leaving no way to escape. Assuming he wanted to escape, which he did not. Hard to tell if the pleading tone of her voice stemmed from want or fear. Leaving his mouth exactly where it was, Krystoff said, “Oh, but I do. I desperately want this to happen.” Truer words had never been spoken. Not from his lips anyway.

“Let me at least look at you then,” she bit out.

He’d had the same thought. The nectar would be that much sweeter if he could gaze into the angel’s eyes just before he pierced her skin. Krystoff turned Calliope in his arms, taking extra pains to assure her soft body stayed flush to his harder one. Whether it was her power or her femininity, she soothed, though his cravings didn’t diminish. If anything, his desire to taste her on his tongue doubled and then tripled when she stared up at him with wide eyes the color of the sea on the brightest of days.

A tentative smile, a flutter of dark lashes, and then, “You’re better than this.”

Krystoff blinked, barely restraining a brutal laugh. “You mean to talk me down? No need. I am well aware of what I’m doing.” Sliding his hand all the way up her back, silky tendrils of her hair teased his fingers as he gently wrapped his hand around the base of her neck. “My motives may not be entirely clear to me, and certainly not to you … nonetheless, I want what I want, and right now, that’s you. No matter the cost.”