Stronger Than Magic, page 31
At length, she felt his face move against her hair. An instant later he lifted it. Instinctively she looked up and met his gaze in the flickering firelight. Though there was no telltale dampness on his ashen cheeks, she could see that his eyes were red. It was as if his soul wept and his body had yet to learn how to follow suit. It was terrible to see.
His expression grave, as if he’d just committed an unpardonable act and was shamed by it, he dropped his arms from around her, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Alys. Please forgive me. It was wrong of me to speak of my feelings as I did.”
Alys knew she should rise from his lap then, that she should nod her forgiveness and march directly to her room. But she couldn’t. Heaven help her! She couldn’t. She simply hadn’t the strength to walk away and leave him so crushed and humbled.
Too caught up in his apology to notice her breach, he continued, “I spoke with Charlotte this afternoon. We—”
“I assume she told you the wonderful news?” Alys cut in, eagerly grasping for a happy subject with which to distract him.
He smiled faintly, though there was no real joy in his expression. “Yes, she did. And I’m thrilled for her.” Having expressed that rote sentiment, he let the curled-up corners of his lips flatten back into their previous straight line. “I also told her of my feelings for you and confessed to letting my jealousy get the better of my good judgment this afternoon. She suggested that, under the circumstances, it might be best if you stay with her and Clayton for the remainder of the season. Considering what just happened, I have to agree.”
Something inside her, perhaps the last of her resolve, snapped at the thought of leaving him. Before she could shore up the fierce torrent of emotions that cascaded forth, she blurted out, “No, Lucian! Oh, no! Please don’t send me away. You can’t! I can’t bear to leave you.”
He couldn’t have looked more stunned if she’d come right out and confessed her love. Or more elated. “Are you saying that you share my feelings?” he whispered, his voice breathless with awed wonder.
Never had Alys been as torn as she was at that moment, watching his somber face light with a radiant smile. She knew she ought to deny her love, that she should make an excuse for her hasty words, but she couldn’t. How could she when doing so meant watching the joy drain from his face?
Feeling the weight of her curse more keenly than ever, she dropped her gaze from his, desperately seeking a solution to her quandary. Surely there must be a way out of this without destroying either his heart or their souls?
If there was, she couldn’t find it, though her failure to do so most certainly didn’t stem from a lack of trying. At wit’s end, she gave up. That brought her back to her only possible option: she must break his heart. Perhaps if she was clever, she might compel him to turn to Diana for solace.
As she struggled to reconcile herself to doing so, he gently cupped her chin in his palm and lifted her face. His gaze dark and penetrating, he repeated, “Do you share my feelings?”
Her eyes must have said what her lips dare not, for he moaned once and swept her into his embrace. Slowly inching his face down to hers, he murmured, “I’ve wished and hoped, but never did I truly believe that you could be mine. I’m half afraid that this is all a wondrous dream from which I shall awake at any moment.”
His mouth was close to hers now, so close that his warm breath caressed her lips as he spoke. “Tell me, sweet Alys, are you real? Or are you merely a tantalizing figment of my imagination?” he quizzed, his voice hushed to a black velvet whisper. “Perhaps I should kiss you and find out.” Without waiting for her response, he swooped down and claimed her lips with his.
There was no gentleness in his kiss, none of the courtly reverence with which Lucan had kissed her. There was only passion; a raw, demanding passion beneath whose thrilling assault she was powerless to do anything but surrender. And surrender she did, easily and without so much as a whimper of protest.
Oh, rationally she knew she should struggle, that she should shove him away and flee as fast as her feet could carry her. But—God forgive her!—she hadn’t the fortitude. The temptation to sample his ravishing ardor was simply too irresistible to deny.
One taste, she promised herself, that’s all she’d take. Just one taste to sustain her for the rest of eternity. Surely they wouldn’t be damned for stealing just one brief moment of rapture? Not if she made things right tomorrow.
Tomorrow … yes, tomorrow, she pledged, the last of her lingering qualms melting beneath his kisses. Tomorrow she would find a way to undo the damage she did tonight. Tomorrow she would redouble her efforts to match him to Diana. But tonight …
Alys twined her arms around Lucian’s neck and recklessly met his passion with hers. Kiss for ravenous kiss she matched him, thrilling to every responsive move of his mouth. Never had she known such desire, never had she felt such urgency as she did in that instant as she sampled the forbidden sweetness of his lips.
Groaning her name, he pressed her yet nearer, holding her so close that her soft curves molded to the hard contours of his body. His mouth fiercely possessive, he claimed her savage passion, taming it with a mastery that sent shivers of pleasure shooting along her nerve endings.
Over and over again they kissed, his every sensual nip and brush intensifying the humming excitement in her blood. Driven by her ripening need, she parted her lips, beckoning him to taste the honeyed warmth beyond.
Half sobbing, half moaning his own desire, he eagerly answered her brazen summons. His strokes aggressive and insistent, he thrust his tongue between her lips, probing and plundering with a boldness that sent heavy jolts of sensation streaking through her body.
In a frenzy of heated response she clung to his neck, melding her mouth to his, matching his tongue stroke for inflammatory stroke. Sometimes they plunged deeply, others they teased each other with shallow little licks; every time his touch sent electrifying sparks shooting through her veins. So hot was their passion that Alys swore she could feel steam rising from their lips.
As their long denied hunger flared and exploded, Lucian pressed his chest hard against hers, forcing her back until she arched over his arms. Growling in a way that gave voice to his desire, he ravished her mouth one last time, then pulled away. His breath coming in ragged pants, he gazed down at her face, his expression one of such seductive tenderness that she was left with no doubt as to the depth of his feelings.
Overcome with her own burgeoning emotions, she reached up and gently stroked his cheek. Once. Twice. Three times she caressed it, memorizing the texture of his skin, engraving it upon her heart. It felt even nicer than she’d imagined, satiny smooth with just a hint of stubbly beard.
Cheek to brow, brow to eyes, eyes to nose, nose to mouth, she traced each exquisite feature, committing them to memory. As her fingers drifted downward to acquaint themselves with the strong angle of his jaw, he turned his head and pressed his lips to her palm.
For a brief instant their gazes met over the top of her hand; his, smoldering with unslaked desire; hers, slightly unfocused with kiss-drugged passion. Then he released a hoarse cry and buried his face against her throat. His mouth hot and urgent he worshiped her arched neck, erotically nibbling here, kissing there, stopping only when he reached the prim neckline of her dressing gown.
Growling his impatience, he ripped the frog fastenings from their loops and flung the garment open, revealing the gentle slope of her bosom above the low frilled neck of her nightdress. For a long moment his gaze roved over her exposed flesh, lust raging visibly on his face. Then he tipped his head forward and resumed his amorous odyssey.
Down he kissed, across her collarbone and over her cleavage, the moist heat of his mouth sending shiver after delicious shiver racing through her. Softly moaning her pleasure, she surged against his lips, greedily urging them lower. Her breasts felt heavy, aching for his touch. Maddened with a need that was as frightening as it was exhilarating; she dragged his arms from around her and guided his hands upward to cup her breasts.
With a strangled groan, he accepted her offering, crushing the hard evidence of his own desire against her as he did so. His touch gentle yet persuasive, he fondled her through the thin fabric of her gown, teasing and tweaking her sensitized nipples until she was certain she’d die if he didn’t continue.
Never, not even in her most heated fantasies, had she dreamed that loving him would be so exquisite. She’d guessed it would be pleasurable, even rapturous … but ah! Imagining sensations as heady as these went far beyond the scope of her untried fancies. Suddenly greedy to discover all of love’s torrid secrets, those held by his body as well as hers, she tugged loose the tie at his waist and feverishly thrust open his robe.
As with everything else in her dreams of Lucian, the reality of his bare torso was far more splendid than that of her imaginings. With his hard-sculpted chest and lean, sinewy waist, he was sheer perfection.
Awestruck by his beauty, she reached out and reverently traced the muscular contours of his chest, thrilling at the feel of him. He felt as good as he looked, like granite sheathed in silk, with a sprinkling of dark hair that tickled sensuously against her fingers with every caress. So tantalizing was he to her touch, that she let her fingers drift lower, eager to experience every magnificent inch of him.
Down they meandered, down over his strong ribs and tapering waist; down across his flat, rippling belly until they were halted by the edge of his trousers. Yearning to touch that which lay sheathed within, yet too shy to do so, she wistfully traced the line where flesh met fabric.
Gasping and moaning in turns, he writhed beneath her sensual ministrations, time and again butting his arousal against her backside. Just the feel of him, so hard and rampant, made her throb with the need for greater intimacy. Issuing a soft sound from the back of her throat, she ground against his thrusting hardness, brazenly tendering a wanton invitation.
She didn’t have to ask twice. Hoarsely whispering words of love, Lucian slipped his hand beneath her gown. Up her thigh, over her hip, and across her belly it brushed, leaving tiny ripples of delight everywhere it went. For one sensually charged moment he tickled her navel, then his fingers snaked lower to tease her secret curls.
Her body taut and expectant, she rubbed against his hand, gasping his name. Breathlessly moaning his own need, he dipped lower, grazing the pulsating bud of her desire. She shrieked, startled at the intensity of the resulting sensation. Claiming her lips once again with his, he deepened the intimacy of his caress, masterfully rubbing, stroking, and parting her flesh.
Time and again she cried into his mouth, her body jerking and writhing as hot, shivery sensations streaked through her belly. When she was certain she could bear the erotic torment no longer, his fingers stilled and he pulled from their kiss.
His eyes glistening pools of desire, he rested his forehead against hers, demanding in a fierce whisper, “Say that you love me, poppet. Promise me that you’ll be mine forever.”
She emitted a soft moue and gyrated against his motionless hand, desperately seeking to relieve the ache between her legs.
Grinning in a way that was nothing short of wicked, he stroked her inflamed flesh once, then drew his fingers away again. “Say it,” he directed again.
Too dazed by desire for prudence, she twined her arms around his neck and confessed between kisses, “I love you, Lucian Warre. Now and forever!”
The instant the words left her mouth, she felt an all-too-familiar force pulling at her body. Before her eyes, Lucian’s smiling face wavered, rippling and distorting like a reflection in a windswept pond. Then it exploded into a hundred fragments of colored light and she was hurled into a vortex of endless darkness.
Screaming Lucian’s name, she kicked and clawed at the nothingness, desperately seeking to halt her descent. In the next instant, she was struck by a blinding flash of pure white light.
Thud! She landed in an ignoble heap at Allura’s feet.
Chapter 18
Too stunned to speak, Alys simply lay there, staring up at Allura. The fairy looked every bit as surprised as Alys felt, an expression that she found distinctly unsettling. If Allura hadn’t transported her back to the otherworld, then Aengus had. And if Aengus was responsible, she was in serious trouble.
With dread slithering up her spine, she peered fearfully around Allura’s office, expecting the wrathful fairy king to materialize at any moment and condemn her as he had the night of Lucan’s death. And like that night, what could she possibly say in her own defense? Now, as had been the case then, she was guilty of wronging his son. This time, however, it was tragically possible that she might have sealed his doom. Forever.
As happened with disturbing frequency, Allura seemed to read her mind. “Aengus isn’t here,” she murmured, her musical voice shattering the leaden silence. “He’s been on a sojourn since you went up to the mortal world.”
“Not here?” Alys echoed. “Then who …?” She gestured to her surroundings in bewilderment.
“Oh, you’re correct in believing Aengus responsible for transferring you back here, though it was through no conscious act on his part. You’re here because of the codicil he added to the spell he used to send you above … a safeguard, if you will.”
“A safeguard?” Alys’s brow knitted at the peculiarity of Aengus doing such a thing. “I don’t understand.”
“No, of course you don’t. But before I attempt to explain, let me ask you a question; Are you in love with Lucian Warre?”
Feeling more wretched than she’d have ever believed possible, she nodded her guilt.
“And did you confess, or perhaps demonstrate your feelings?” By the way the fairy was eyeing her disheveled state, it was clear that she suspected the latter.
Thus reminded of her wanton disarray, Alys shoved herself up into a sitting position and self-consciously tugged her dressing gown closed. Seeing no need to elaborate on the obvious, she merely nodded again.
Allura sighed. “Aengus was afraid this would happen.” In the blink of an eye, the fairy was perched upon the purple and gold striped sofa against the far wall. Patting the cushion beside her, she bid, “Come. Sit, and I shall explain as best I can.”
Though it took Alys a good deal longer than a blink to do so, she did as she was directed. As she settled herself, Allura began, “You see, Alys, despite the ill manner in which you used his son, Aengus believes that you genuinely loved Lucan. Granted, it was a shallow, prideful sort of love, not at all the kind he needed to save his soul, but it was love nonetheless. And when people love to any degree, be it the loyalty between friends, the devotion of a child to his parents, or the passion between man and woman, their souls are connected for all of eternity.”
“Then that’s why I was so attracted to Lucian, even in the beginning when he behaved in a singularly unattractive manner,” Alys mused.
The fairy nodded. “Aengus feared that you might feel so, just as he feared that his son’s soul might recognize yours and mistake it for that of his destined true love. Therefore, when he wove the spell to send you back up into the world, he did so on the condition that you be transported back here should his foreboding prove prophetic.”
“And it did,” Alys whispered, bitter tears of anguish stinging her eyes. “Oh, Allura! Whatever am I to do? I love Lucian so!”
The fairy shook her head, her expression bleak.
“But there must be a way to make things right … a way to save him! There has to be. If Aengus suspected that this might happen, he surely devised a plan to mend the resulting damage. Please, Allura—” A sob escaped her as she desperately latched on to the fairy’s arm. “Please, I’m begging you. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything to save him. Anything! No matter the cost to myself. Just give me the chance to make things right.”
Allura met her gaze then, and Alys could have sworn that she saw something akin to human compassion in the fairy’s normally soulless eyes. “I’m sorry, Alys, truly I am. But it’s not in my power to grant you another chance. Only Aengus can do so.”
“Then summon Aengus and let me appeal to him myself,” she implored, her grip tightening a fraction in her urgency.
The fairy sighed, dropping her gaze as she did so. “I would if I could, but I don’t know where he is. Nobody does.”
“Then send somebody to find him,” she flung back wildly.
“It would do no good. Aengus cannot be found unless he so wishes. You should know that after all your centuries in the otherworld.”
“But how can you be so certain that he won’t wish to be found? Especially in this instance?” she argued. “Surely he’ll want to be informed of his son’s peril.”
There was an ominous beat of silence, then Allura lifted her gaze back to Alys’s. Staring into her eyes in a way that chilled her to her core, she replied, “Why would he wish to be informed when doing so will serve only to cause him torment?”
Alys made an impatient noise. “So he can help save his son,” she retorted, wondering when the fairy had become so beef-witted. “Why else?”
The fairy looked at her as if she were the beef-witted one. “The onus of saving Lucian Warre’s soul is yours, and only yours. As such, Aengus cannot aid you in any way.”
“But why?” She more wailed than asked the question.
Allura sighed. “Didn’t you listen to a word I said before I sent you above?”
When Alys merely stared at her, too stricken to even try to remember, she sighed again and elaborated, “I explained then that since it was you who broke Lucan’s chain of destiny, that it is you who must mend it. That is why Aengus left as he did. He couldn’t bear to stand helplessly by and watch his son die again should you fail in your task. He’s to stay away until the dawn of June twenty-fifth, when he’ll appear to either reward your success or to punish you for your failure.”
