Into the Dreaming

Page 29

"Oh, please," Jane breathed. "Be as greedy as you wish. Demand away."
"I will begin small," he said, his eyes sparkling. "We will begin with the pressing of the lips you so favor," he teased.
Jane flung herself at him, and when his arms closed around her, she went wild, touching and kissing and clinging to him.
"Woman, I need you," he growled, slanting his mouth across hers. "Ever since I remembered the things a man knows, all I could think of were the things I ached to do to you."
"Show me," she whimpered.
And he did, taking his sweet time, peeling away her gown until she was naked before him, kissing and suckling and tasting every inch of her.
He experienced no difficulty whatsoever finding her most private heat.
Fifteen
The Unseelie king sensed it the precise moment he lost his Vengeance. Though the mortal Highlander had not yet regained full memory, he loved and was loved in return.
The king's visage changed in a manner most rare for him; the corners of his lips turned up.
Humans, he thought mockingly, so easily manipulated. How infuriated they would be if they knew it had never been about them to begin with, and, indeed, rarely was. His Vengeance had performed precisely as he'd expected, twisting his three nebulous suggestions, and with obstinate human defiance, aiding the king in his aim.
Eons ago, a young Seelie queen for whom he suffered an unending hunger had escaped him before he'd been through with her.
She'd not risked entering his realm again.
His smile grew. If he must stoop to conquer, it was not beneath him.
He swallowed a laugh, tossed his head back, and let loose an enraged roar that resonated throughout the fabric of the universe.
The Seelie queen beard the dark king's cry and permitted herself a small, private smile.
So, she mused, feeling quite lovely, he had lost and she had won. It made her feel positively magnanimous. Sipping the nectar from a splendidly plump dalisonia, she rolled onto her back and stretched languidly.
Perhaps she should offer the dark king her condolences, she mused. After all, they were royalty, and royalty did that sort of thing.
After all, she had won.
She could simply duck in and back out, gloat a bit.
And if he tried to restrain her? Keep her captive in his realm? She laughed softly. She'd beaten him this time. She'd proved that she was stronger than she'd been millennia ago when he'd caged her for a time.
Feeling potent, inebriated on victory, she closed her eyes and envisioned his icy lair…
The iciness of his realm stole her breath away. Then she saw him and inhaled sharply, sucking in great lungfuls of icy air. Her memory had not done him justice. He was even more exotic than she'd recalled. A palpable darkness surrounded him. He was deadly and powerful, and she knew from intimate experience just how inventively, exhaustively erotic he was. A true master of pain, he understood pleasure as no other could.
"My queen," he said, his eyes of night and ice glittering.
Even as powerful as the Seelie queen was, she found it impossible to gaze into his eyes for more than a moment. Some claimed they'd been emptied of matter and pure chaos spooned into the sockets.
She inclined her head, averting her gaze ever so slightly. "It would seem you have lost your Vengeance, dark one," she murmured.
"It would seem I have."
When he rose from his throne of ice, and rose and rose, she caught her breath. Not quite fairy, his blood mixed with the blood of a creature even the Fae hesitated to name. His shadow moved unnaturally as he rose, slithering around him, wont to move independently of its host.
"You seem unperturbed by your defeat, dark one," she probed, determined to savor every drop of her victory. "Care you not that you have lost him? Five centuries of work. Wasted."
"You presume you knew my aim."
The Seelie queen stiffened, staring into his eyes for a moment longer than was wise. "Pretend not that you intended to lose. That I have been manipulated." Her voice dripped ice worthy of his kingdom.
"Loss is a relative thing."
"I won. Admit it," she snapped.
"I doubt you even knew what game we played, young one." His voice deep, silky, and mesmerizing, he mocked, "Did you come to gloat because my defeat made you feel powerful? Did it make you feel safe in seeking me? Careful. A being such as I might be inclined to find you reason to condescend. To sink to my depths."
"I have sunk to nothing," she hissed, feeling suddenly foolish. She was young by his standards, for the king of darkness was ancient—sprung from the loins of an age she'd heard of only in legend.