Prince of Fire (21 page)

"Don't make me wait any longer, Joryn," she said breathlessly. "In my dreams it has always been you ... always you, before we met, before we formed our union in fact. Reality is so much more wonderful than my dreams and visions, I don't know how I will ever again be satisfied with anything less." Her eyes glowed, and her hips rocked against his.

Joryn's entire body shook. He wanted this woman in a way that went beyond anything he had ever known. His body was drawn to hers in an explosive and undeniable way, and at this moment he could almost believe that she was his mate. His lifelong, bonded by the soul,
mate.

He reached out and cupped her breast, and she trembled. His band raked up to her check and he caressed her there. And then his hand slid to her neck, and he pinched her in a soft and vulnerable spot where he had pinched her once before.

She realized what he was going to do a split second before he pressed the proper nerve; he saw that knowledge in her eyes. And then she was limp and motionless. Sleeping, for all intents and purposes.

For how long? Normally she would be unconscious for several hours, but would her condition affect the length of her oblivion?

At least he could be honest with her while she was out. He spoke to her bare, limp body while he grabbed up her gown and began to tear strips from the hem. "You would be satisfied to know that I am in great pain, and that this is a tremendous sacrifice for me. I swear, Keetia, you make me question everything I have ever believed to be true. You make me wonder if it isn't possible that there is a lifelong mate for me, and... and if perhaps it isn't you." He took her hands in his, crossed her wrists, and bound them securely together. His fingers brushed the silver bracelet she always wore, the bracelet which had once been his. He liked seeing it on her; he got some odd satisfaction from looking at the ancient silver against her pale flesh. "I have never known a woman like you, but then I have never known an Anwyn female, or a Queen, for that matter."

He bound her ankles together as well, but tried not to make the bonds too tight. She had incredible strength to call upon, so he had to be careful to restrain her well without hurting her.

He did not want to hurt her.

When she was well bound and still sleeping, he settled down beside her, wondering if he'd pass the next three days in pain. He could relieve himself in a solitary manner, and probably would before the night was over, but he had a feeling that sad release would be a temporary fix which would not last, no better than Keelia's visions.

Visions of him, she said. Visions she'd had long before they met.

Any man might wonder whether or not everything he'd ever believed might be wrong, when confronted with a vision like the Anwyn Queen in her fertile time. She was meant to be incredibly desirable. She was intended to be irresistible. There was probably some sort of Anwyn magic at work here.

But in truth, he'd begun to doubt his beliefs long before her heat had begun.

"Sometimes, when I allow my mind to wander, it does seem that you are entirely mine." Anwyn or not, Queen or not...

A ridiculous notion for a man who would most likely not live to see the rise of the next full moon.

* * * * *

Sitting in the massive chair in his main room in this series of caves, Maccus closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. She moved closer, his Queen. She was drawn to him as he had known she would be. All was coming together just as he had been promised.

She would be here soon, well before the full moon by his reckoning. When he took a deep breath, he could almost smell her. It had been suggested that he wait for special conditions before making her his own, but Maccus had never been patient. He had never been good at waiting. A few
of
his servants would make certain that the Red Queen came to him more quickly than she might on her own. There was no need to take the chance that she might not arrive in time.

A stream of blackness, a sliver of a dark cloud, rose _ up out of the rock a few feet away. It was in this way that the Isen Demon always appeared to him. When the time was right, they would be one, as was intended, but for now they operated in concert rather than in perfect unity. That unity would come, as the demon grew stronger and as Maccus himself grew in strength.

The Red Queen would give him that strength.

The demon had no voice, and still Maccus heard the censuring words. In his mind, they echoed.

She is to be bathed in the blood of her lover when you wed her.

"Yes, I remember that instruction."
The wedding must happen beneath the full moon,
when she draws the power of the animal into her blood. Do not touch her until that moment. Do not touch her!

Damned demon had been reading his mind again. It was more than annoying when that happened, but he imagined that when they were joined, it would be even more so. Such was the price for a power beyond all imagining.

"I will wait as you command," Maccus promised. "I will be ... patient."

See that you do.
With that, the wisp of black smoke was sucked into the earth once again.

Maccus could—and had—defied many more powerful than himself and succeeded, but he was not foolish enough to deny the demon. Promises had been made; a pact had been formed. There was no turning back now... not that he was at all tempted to do so.

With the demon absent, Maccus closed his eyes again and reached out for his Queen.
His
Red Queen.

10

Keelia's sleep was deep, and for the most part all was black and quiet. Now and then she drifted toward consciousness and heard a familiar voice. Joryn's voice. He said things Joryn would not say, so she decided the words were part of a dream. Odd, since she had not dreamed at all the last time Joryn had rendered her unconscious. Not that she remembered, in any case.

She woke slowly, gradually coming to understand that she was being carried. Not gently, as you might imagine a Queen would be borne, but draped over Joryn's shoulder like a sack of meal and horribly jostled as he walked and climbed at a quick pace. A moment later, she realized that she was naked, and that her hands and feet were bound.

Her insides fluttered insistently.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to make her voice cold, and failing miserably.

"Don't pretend you don't remember exactly what happened, Your Persistent and Very Naked Majesty."

She'd wanted Joryn desperately, and she'd done her best to get him. The priestesses who'd seen to her training since the age of fifteen had told her she would be irresistible when she set her mind on seduction, but apparently that was not the case. In this way, as in so many others, she was a failure as Anwyn Queen. She was different from all those who had come before her. For as long as she could remember, she'd been told that she was special and powerful and unique. She would give anything to be more like the women who had come before her; women who had not failed in the simplest of tasks.

She wanted Joryn now, but did not find herself in the best position for another attempt at seduction. Just as well, since that attempt would likely also fail.

That didn't mean she wanted him any less. Joryn's skin against hers was wonderfully seductive. Always, but especially now. Draped over him as she was, she felt him everywhere, and her insides fluttered again. His skin was so close, she could not help but inhale his arousing scent. That scent alone was enough to make her quiver deeply.

She pressed her bound hands against his bare back in order to steady herself, and to feel his wonderful skin. All she wore was the silvei bracelet he had given her, and it brushed against his nicely muscled back just as her fingers and palms did. Her thumbs raked against a particularly attractive muscle; the tips of her fingers swayed.

The heat of her fertile time had always been strong, but now that she knew what it was like to have a true lover, now that she understood the depth of the sensations of making love, the heat was beyond strong. It was dazzling. It was unstoppable. She closed her eyes, and imagined Joryn pushing inside her, again and again.

Her hands balled into fists, and she moaned. Her body lurched slightly.

Joryn sighed. "Not again."

"Yes,
again,"
Keelia snapped, forcing her mind away from the fantasies of love. "How long was I unconscious?"

"All last night and through the morning. The sun is high in the sky at this hour."

Less than a full day. Two more full days, plus a little more, before this need eased into something more manageable.

"Stop for a moment."

Joryn's answer was a harsh burst of laughter.

"Please," she said softly. 'This is a very uncomfortable position. I only wish to stretch my aching limbs."

"Your commands didn't work, so now you're going to try begging?"

"I did not beg!" Keelia insisted. "I simply said please. It's not the same as
begging."
No matter how desperate she felt, she would not be reduced to pleading for relief of any sort.

Joryn did stop, and he very gently placed her on her feet. She could barely move at all, since her hands and feet were bound, but that didn't stop her body from reacting when she looked at her lover. Small insistent explosions throughout her body demanded that she take what she needed from this man. She had survived many fertile times without feeling quite this way. She'd meditated, and dreamed, and visited her own unreal world, but she had never been tempted to demand that a man ease the pain for her. Even now, she did not want anyone else to lie with her. True, no one else was
here,
but even if she had her pick of any brawny Anwyn or this Caradon, there would be no choice at all. Joryn was hers.

"We could make love, and right before you—"

"No," Joryn interrupted. Then he laughed again, with that harsh bark. "Keelia, I want you to listen to me very carefully."

"Of all the things I want to do to you, listening is very low on the list," she said honestly.

He took her by the shoulders and made her look him in the eye. "Do you remember how the one beast who held on to^his soul fought for it? Do you remember how he battled for what was right, for what was his?"