Ensnared by the Dream Lord (Dark Lords) (6 page)

“Hello?  Cerise?  Is anyone there?”

No one answered.

She went back inside and uncovered the platter, revealing a succulent, aromatic array of sliced meat, cheese, fruit and bread.  Never one to overindulge at first light, she nibbled at the delicious food until she felt comfortably satisfied, then set out to find her sister.

She didn’t think she could rest easy until she beheld a familiar face.

The door swept open with ease, and she ventured out into the hall.  No tell-tale signs showed the way to the main hall, so she went right, hoping to find a stair that would eventually lead her down, or some passing servant.

Despite being carved of stone, the narrow hall was strangely quiet.  Even her footsteps seemed swallowed by the stone, sounding hollow.  There was no echo to betray her movement.  In fact, there was no sound to be heard anywhere … at all.  She wondered if the ancient build had something to do with the strange acoustics.

She soon found a winding staircase at the end of the hall, most likely used mainly by the servants, but at this point she didn’t care.  Descending, she found herself in a narrow hallway that seemed to bear up her suspicions of before.  Regardless, the servants would have to have access to the living areas as well as servants’ quarters, she knew, and she chose a direction and moved quickly along it. 

The great room she found at the end was plainly the kitchen.  Sighing in irritation, she turned and retraced her steps, passing the stairway again and hurrying on until she came at last to the room she had sought, the main hall.

To her consternation, however, it appeared as empty as the rest of the castle.  Wondering a little uneasily if she was caught up in a dream, she moved into the room and looked around.  “Cerise?  Is anyone there?” she called.

“There is no one here but you and I.”

His deep voice resonated through her like a physical caress as it had from the first. A thrill went through her, but it was followed so quickly with dread that it made her feel lightheaded even before she whirled to face him.

She knew him, and yet she scarcely recognized the man she saw.  Before, night had veiled him, or her dreams.  He was far more handsome than she had realized, so handsome it made her ache for his touch only to look at him. 

Hair the color of night fell across his brow and framed his angular features, the swarthiness of his flesh emphasizing the intensity of his deep blue eyes. 

He seemed taller, more massively built than she had thought as he stood before her now, his legs braced wide, his powerful arms folded across his chest.  His sheer size and the hard, bulging muscles of his body should have made her weak with fear.  Instead, it made her weak with need.

“I am—dreaming?” she asked uneasily.

“Nay.  I brought you here.”

Adriana swallowed with some difficulty against the knot of dread that threatened to close her throat.  “You should not have done that!” she cried, without thinking. 

He frowned, his lips tightening with anger.  It glittered in his eyes, but puzzlement dwelt there, as well.  “I am Morpheus.  I do as it pleases me,” he ground out.

Misery and fear—for him—threatened to deprive her completely of her wit.  “I don’t—understand,” she said finally.  “I did not summon you.”

That comment seemed to anger him more than the last.  He tilted his head quizzically.  “Is it possible that you believe that you control me?” he asked, his voice quiet with carefully controlled anger.

Dismay filled her.  “The legend—I only wished to be freed from my imprisonment.  Drago Kadar rescued me.”

Before she could say more, she found herself imprisoned against the cold stone wall of the main hall—though how he had managed it she had no clue—with Morpheus’ body pressing tightly against her own.  Rage seethed in his eyes as he gazed down at her.  “So you used your beauty to enthrall him, as well?” he asked, his voice a dark rumble of dangerous emotions.  “You are very accomplished, my dear, otherwise he would not so lightly have dismissed my wrath.”

As distraught as she was, it was clear enough that he believed she had seduced Drago into helping her.  It pained her that he would so easily believe that of her, but she realized she could tell him no different.  He would not believe her in his anger and it would be best if he didn’t. 

He desired her.  There could be no other explanation for what he had done, but she knew that there was danger to him in it, even if he didn’t realize it himself, even if he believed his immortality would protect him.  She had desired him and succumbed to love.  It could be the same for him—and it would mean his death. 

She could not live with herself if she found that she was the woman of legend, the woman who would bring him love—and death. 

But how was she to turn him away, now?

The answer made her feel vaguely ill.  “He is—quite handsome,” she responded simply.  “When he came, I knew at once that he was my heart’s desire.”

Pain and fury twisted Morpheus’ features and Adriana ached to think that she had caused it.  It took an effort to remind herself that it was far better to cause a little wound than his death.  “Fickle maiden,” he growled.

“I can not help it,” she said weakly.

His eyes narrowed.  “Nor your desire for me,” he responded evenly, leaning closer and dragging in a deep breath, as if he could smell the yearning she hid from herself. 

Despite everything, it took no more than that to make her body burgeon with need.  She fought it, tried to close her mind to it.  Slowly, he released his tight hold on her wrists and slid his hands along her arms, cupping her breasts in his hands and tweaking her engorged nipples through the fabric with his thumb and forefinger.

Her heart thundered, threatening to suffocate her.  “I don’t—desire you,” she lied, hoping he would simply accept and release her from his spell.

“Every word from your lovely lips a lie,” he murmured harshly, tracing the line of her jaw with nibbling kisses.

Need clawed inside her belly.  Blood thundered through her veins.  She should have been frightened by his aggression.  Instead, she was desperate for his kiss.  She’d longed for it, dreamt of his caresses until she was feverish.  She tried to remain aloof, defiant, told herself she was stronger than this, that she could and would resist him, no matter what he did to her body….

She barely registered his intent when he closed over her mouth, kissing her so hungrily it snatched the strength from her knees.  His lips slanted, forcing her mouth open, for her to accept his invasion.  A hand tangled into her hair, holding her still for his mouth.  She whimpered, gasping at his ferocity, and his tongue, rough voracious, plunged past her lips to tangle with her own.  His mouth was hot, hard.  She tasted the anger in his kiss, like a ravaging storm.  He caged her, his tongue spearing into her mouth, leaving no crevice unexplored, allowing her no chance for retreat, no opportunity to escape.  She bucked against him, wanting to be free, but his taste and touch drove her need to dizzying heights.

Heat snaked through her.  He claimed her with lips and tongue.  Nibbling, gently biting, his hand holding her possessively.

Her jerky, weak struggles seemed to strengthen his resolve, heighten his own lust.  He dragged his hands down her body, eliciting her excited moans.  He swallowed her protest, grasped the edges of her bodice, snatching it open.  Cloth ripped, sounding harsh and alien compared to their all too primitive moaning.  He pushed her dress down her shoulders, freeing her breasts to his rough, massaging hands.

He continued his feast down her neck, burying his face in the valley of her breasts.  She grabbed his massive shoulders, trying to steady herself.  The stone behind her offered no support compared to the rioting weakness he created in her.  She felt that any minute her legs would give out.

Before she could so much as gasp, he was plucking one nipple with his lips, teeth scraping, tongue scorching and teasing the hard tip.  He rolled her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, allowing her no respite from the onslaught of sensation.

He hiked her skirts up with his free hand, found the slit in her pantalettes and tugged, ripping a wide hole in the garment that let cool air touch her feverish skin as he caressed her.

He made a rumbling sound of satisfaction as his fingers slipped through her creamy seam, delving into her tight hole.  She writhed helplessly, thighs clamping on his hand, chest heaving with ragged intake.

She was free of any impediment now save the turmoil of her mind, and he paid it no heed.

He straightened from his stoop and kissed her, crowding her against the cool stone.  Her body reacted to the pressure of his rigid, muscled flesh with violence—a torrent of emotion saturated her insides.  Desire flooded her sex, betraying her mind.  Her pulse thundered like a stampede of horses, galloping desperately in terror and excitement.

He dragged his rough hands down her sides, taking her gown with him until it bunched around her waist, fingers touching her as if reveling in her submission.  She trembled, whimpering as he yanked her skirts high and found her hips, curling around her buttocks with a possessive grip.

He bent his legs, pushing a knee between her clamped thighs until they parted around him.  He lifted her, until the crux of her thighs cradled his hot, hard erection.  It took him only a minute to free it and return his hands to her cheeks, cupping her, hauling her closer.

His proximity seared her naked nether lips.  The mouth of her womb watered in hunger, desperate for sustenance.

He broke from her mouth, covering her jaw and neck in ravenous kisses, threatening to eat her alive, devour her with his passion.  She wanted to beg him to stop. Knew it was useless.

Her mind wailed at her submission.  Her body cried for him to ravish her.

She couldn’t control the creep of her arms as they encircled his back, couldn’t control the tightening of her fingers at his shoulder blades.

He groaned at her surrender, ground his hips against her.  Pleasure erupted from her clit, making her belly spasm.  She moaned, mindlessly rubbing herself against him, wanting that thick length deep inside her.

He tensed, gripping her buttocks tightly, rocking his hips until his cock seared her entrance.  He clenched his jaw, his breath harshly expelling past gritted teeth.

She went rigid, moaning at the invasion.  “Morpheus!” she gasped.

Her breathy plea provoked him.  He thrust inside her, rending asunder virginal flesh.  He reacted by going deathly still.

She screamed in pain, pleasure fleeing, scarcely noticing the halt of his movement.  It was too late.  He’d ruined her body, destroyed whatever pleasure she’d derived from him before.  She squirmed in agony, impaled on his rod, great shudders wracking her body.

Morpheus ground out a curse, kissing her lips.  She sobbed against him.  He shuddered, running his fingers delicately along her sides.  Magic, like sparks of lightning, sizzled across her bare skin.  The pain vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only the tight stretch of her muscles around his incredible girth.

She tensed around him, ecstasy blooming like a fragile blossom.  Impatience hastened his actions.  He thrust deep inside her, yanking her flush against him, bearing her against the wall.

The thick head and fleshly column stretched her to an overflowing, burning her.  Exciting her beyond ken.  He groaned her name against her lips, her cheek, kissing all over her face as he worked a driving momentum into her womb.  Her inner muscles clutched him with desperation, agonizing pleasure building with each powerful stroke.

He was pounding her, mindless to the bliss hovering just out of reach.  She could ignore it no longer.

His ragged breath seared her neck and ear, his savage groans making her shiver with excitement.  Her sex screamed for release, nerves stretched taut, focused on attaining orgasm.

She cried out his name, clinging to him as he ground his hips against her pelvis, so rough, so exquisite.  Her clit throbbed until it was like a second heart beat between her legs.  She tingled everywhere, her arms, legs, even her hair seemed electrified.  Her teeth ached from the clench of her jaw, lungs burned to compete with the rigor of his loving and her excited breathing.

Pleasure bloomed, radiating from her center until every muscle went rigid.  She bucked against him, digging her nails into his shoulders.  He arched his back, groaning as his cock jerked violently and semen burst inside her, coating her womb, his jerky movements setting off a chain reaction of climaxes erupting through her sex.

Adriana couldn’t fight the feeling, so hard won, bliss so brutal to her mind.  She should’ve fought him more, shouldn’t have enjoyed herself.  The orgasm seeped into her every nerve, leaving her weak as it spiraled out of control.

Only the pin of his body held her aloft now.  She was spent.  Achy.  Bruised by rapture.

Chapter Seven

Morpheus found no relief in the sweetness of her body.  As soon as his lust was quenched, his body and mind warred with each other, setting his soul into turmoil.

He’d hurt her.

It hadn’t occurred to him before that pure in body meant a barrier.  He’d been too long without the company of mortals to remember the intricacies of virginal female flesh.