Prince of Forever

by Gena Showalter

  The answer hit him, and he jolted. Zirra. Somehow, she had forced him to remember scenes from their time together.

  He bit back a violent curse. She hoped to remind him that she was out there, searching for a way to steal him from Julia, didn’t she? He bit back a curse.

  Bit by bit, he pried open his eyelids. Julia was crouched in the open car door at his side, her lovely face inches from his. To the left, cars whizzed past the driver side window.

  “Are you allowed to park here?” he questioned hoarsely.

  A sob burst from her throat, half laugh, half desperate cry. “That’s all you have to say after going catatonic for the past ten minutes?”

  “Aye.” He massaged the back of his neck.

  “Well, the answer is yes. This is the side of the road. Now tell me what the heck was wrong with you.”

  “I was dreaming of the past,” he forced out.

  “Nope. Try again.” She shook her head. “That wasn’t just a dream. You were in some sort of trance.”

  Perceptive female. “I was relieving my past with Zirra. Vividly.”

  “Ohhhh. So you were experiencing PTSD?”

  He had no idea what PTSD was, but he nodded, anyway, certain it had something to do with the rising tide of self-hate, disgust and sickness.

  Though her expression remained unconvinced, she did soften. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  He rested his head against the seat buckle, his energy quickly deserting him. He felt himself sinking into sleep. “Take me home, Julia.”

  She hurried back to the wheel. When they reached the house, she acted as a crutch, helping him to the couch. Then she locked his box inside the plant stand, and raced to the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water. He drained the liquid with one gulp and set the glass aside, then stretched out his long legs. When she snuggled up beside him, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and tried to get the rest of his mind out of the past.

  * * *

  JULIA HAD NEVER witnessed anything like what she’d seen in the car today. Tristan had been deathly still, barely breathing, alternating between ice cold and fiery hot.

  Thank the Lord he’d awakened on his own. She didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t.

  Yet, as her eyes had met his, she’d almost wished he would sink back into the trance—anything to hide the horror and pain written all over his face.

  What memories had caused such a look? What had he suffered?

  Toying with the fine hair on his arm, she breathed, “Tristan?”

  He didn’t stir, didn’t face her. “Aye, Julia?”

  “Please tell me what happened. That isn’t an order but a request. I would give anything to help you.”

  Silence greeted her pronouncement. Silence so thick an oppressive fog descended all around them.

  “Speaking about what you endured might help ease your inner pain. And I promise I won’t judge you or laugh. I’ll simply listen.”

  Several more minutes of silence. And then he spoke hesitantly at first.

  “Zirra kept me for several seasons. She was a cruel mistress, demanding my devotion, my affection, and when I wouldn’t freely give them to her, she punished me.”

  He continued on, telling her more about Zirra, as well as all the other guan rens who had emotionally scarred him. He described horrors such as she’d never imagined, terrors done to this strong, proud man whose only mistake was bedding the evil sorceress. Julia listened to his every word, trying, hoping, to absorb some of his pain into herself.

  “In the end,” he said, “I lost my will to fight. I simply expected and accepted what was done to me.”

  “You are not a pleasure slave with me,” she said softly. “You are a man, Julia’s man, and I am your woman. You’ve said so!”

  “Julia—” he said, his tone laced with regret.

  “No. Don’t deny the words or tell me that you are only what Zirra made you, or that what we have can’t last. I know differently.”

  “We can take measures to prevent the box from being stolen, but we cannot prevent time from passing. I will never age, never die. And you will, Julia. You will.”

  Ohhhh. She hadn’t thought about that. “What if—what if you fell in love with me? The spell would be broken and you would be mortal. Just like me.”

  “Oh, that I could, sweet draga. But you must remember I will return to Imperia. So I do not and I will not love you.”

  She fought back an ocean of tears. “You think I’d rather you stay here as a captive than return home as a free man, even if I will be miserable without you?”

  “Nay,” he said fiercely, taking her hand in his and bringing her knuckles to his lips for a kiss. “Think you I would rather return home a free man than spend a lifetime with you? Nay! I will not lose you.”

  Such vehemence. He might already love me; he just doesn’t know it. The knowledge only made her want to cry harder.

  Of all the things he’d had to endure, losing someone he loved might be the worst. No wonder he refused to give his heart. Love and lose. He would be free, but alone.

  Wasn’t that better, though, than an eternity spent as a slave?

  She couldn’t, wouldn’t, keep him. No matter how badly she would hurt when they parted.

  To save him, she would have to give him up.

  The realization ripped inside her, tearing through her heart. She would do whatever it took to make him admit his feelings for her, finally winning his freedom. Without him, she would suffer, but her overwhelming love for him would help her endure. So would knowing he walked free.

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT, JULIA lay beside Tristan in bed. They were both naked. He didn’t want clothes between them while they slept, and to be honest, neither did she. She toyed with a lock of his hair, running the midnight strands between her fingers.

  He didn’t wake to hear the clamor of her heart echoing in the quiet of the room. “Tristan,” she whispered. Even she heard the undercurrent of desire and determination in her voice. “Wake up. I have a present for you.”

  The time had come. One way or another, she would get the admission out of him. Why wait? The longer it took, the more difficult it would be to say goodbye.

  Very slowly, he shook off slumber and smiled drowsily. “A present? For me?”

  A pang consumed her chest. “A sexual one. Tell me something you want and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”

  Before she could inhale another breath, he dragged her atop his chest. The juncture of her thighs rested against his growing erection. He cupped her bottom. “I need…you, sweet draga. Only you.” His husky voice deepened with every word.

  “Then you’re gonna get me.” Inch by inch she moved down the length of his body, stopping at the object of her fascination. She took him into her mouth. Over and over she sucked him up and down from base to tip, savoring the thickness, the heat. She cupped his heavy sac in her hand.

  “Julia,” Tristan said hoarsely. “Julia.”

  She paused long enough to moan, “Yes?”

  “Kiss me.” He grabbed her underneath the shoulders and wrenched her up. He captured her lips then, at the same time thrusting upward, entering her in one long, swift thrust. Fierce and growling, he bit the hollow of her neck, too, then licked away the sting.

  Almost coming, Julia closed her eyes. She arched her back, sending him deeper inside. Softness met hardness in one glorious burst of sensation.

  Bliss! She moved up and down his rigid length, keeping the desperate pace he set. But she wanted to prolong this moment, to make it last forever. If she got his admission, this was the last time she’d ever see him. So when she slid downward, she stopped. He groaned. Gradually she raised herself up. Down. Up. So slowly.

  Tristan gripped her hips, urging her on. He was sweating. “This is the sweetest torture I have ever endured. But if I do not have you, all of you, I will die. I swear it.”

  “As I will die without your love,” she whispered. “Because I l
ove you, Tristan. I’ve fallen for you in every way.”

  He stilled and stared up at her, his mouth agape.

  She cupped his jaw in her hands. “I want you to love me, too. I’m not saying this as a command, but as another request. Will you admit that you love me? I know you do.”

  He rolled her to her back, pinning her against the softness of the silk sheets while remaining inside her. His shoulders were taut, the lines of his face drawn.

  “I will not love you,” he grated.

  “I don’t believe that. I think you already do, that you just haven’t admitted it to yourself.”

  “Nay.” He shook his head. “Do you not understand, Julia? If I admit such a thing, I will lose you. Do you want to lose me?”

  Yes! And it’s killing me! His eternal safety came before her temporary heartbreak. “But I need the words, Tristan.” Truth. “I need them.”

  Torment flashed in the depths of his violet eyes, giving her a glimpse of his inner struggle. “Tell me again that you love me,” he said raggedly, beginning to pump inside her once again. Hard. Harder.

  “I do,” she said between panting breaths. “I love you so much.”

  She waited for him to offer the same avowal, but he merely slipped his hand between their bodies and pressed against the core of her desire. She gasped in pleasure, in exquisite pain.

  “You love me, but you are willing to lose me?” he demanded, slamming into her.

  The headboard rocked. “Yes,” she croaked. “I love you and I am willing to lose you, so I can set you free.”

  He paused again to study her face. “Then perhaps, my little draga, I will have to convince you otherwise.” His voice was a husky ripple purring against her skin, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight.

  “What—what do you mean to do?” she asked, growing nervous.

  He flexed and surged inside her at the same moment his fingers circled her clitoris. “Oh… Tristan…Oh!” Her breath grew ragged as he slammed inside again and again.

  “That is right, Julia. Your body needs mine. Your body will forever need mine. Can you feel yourself tighten around me? Can you feel how your body cries out for mine?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes.”

  “You know what your body is telling you, now listen to your heart. Tell me you want me for the rest of your days.”

  Whimpering, she clutched the silk beneath her. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Do you love me back, Tristan?”

  He hesitated. A pain so great it was almost physical again lit his eyes, making his lavender irises swirl with the force of a storm. “Nay. I love you not.” He plunged into her so deeply she felt him in her every cell. “However, I will be with you for the rest of your life. I am willing to do whatever is needed to convince you of that fact.”

  He was a man of his word.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Imperia

  ROMULIS PACED THE white sands of Druinn, the four suns heating his skin. But those warm rays in no way compared with his fury. “Evil bitch,” he growled. “I do not need her.”

  “Need who?” one of the elders asked him.

  Multiple sorcerers stood along the sea’s edge. Some even hovered in the air, but all watched him with weary eyes.

  He refused to speak or acknowledge the question with a response. He continued to pace, the rage inside him growing, soon consuming him. He knew Zirra had worked to regain her magic without his aid, determined to have Tristan and end her association with Romulis. And he should be happy about it.

  Zirra was his life-mate, the one woman meant for him, yet still she hungered for another. Always she hungered for Tristan. A male she’d enslaved and tortured, yet Romulis couldn’t live without the bitch? Why was life so unfair?

  The fury blended with pain and desperation, vibrating inside him. I will win her, and I will punish her. I will bring her to heel as I would a wild animal.

  “If you were referring to me, I have never claimed to be anything different.”

  The voice came from behind him, familiar, adding kindling to the fires of his fury. Romulis spun and came face to face with Zirra. The traitorous suns’ rays paid her tribute, caressing her cheeks, making her cerulean eyes sparkle. Even now, he craved her hands on his flesh, her screams of pleasure in his ears.

  “Leave us,” he told the sorcerers still brave or foolish enough to linger.

  The rustle of their footsteps echoed in his ears.

  “What do you here?” he demanded.

  Her chin rose haughtily. “I’ve come to tell you that I’ve decided to hold you to your vow to help me acquire Tristan. I expect you to do so—and I expect to have him back permanently. While some of my powers have already returned, I still need yours.”

  His stomach twisted, the pain so sharp he nearly cried out. Just then something broke inside him. Mayhap it was his patience. Mayhap it was his goodwill. Whatever it was, he’d decided to tame the evil bitch, so he would. No longer would he tolerate her defiance or her obsession for another man.

  “I have watched you pant for Tristan all these many cycles, waiting for you to see me,” Romulis growled, backing her into a cold, silver stone that circled the sands. “I am done waiting. You are mine. And by the time I’m done with you—and that time will come—you’ll be a well-behaved and respected member of society.”

  Her eyes widened with fear and mayhap a bit of arousal, but he hardened his heart against her. She had pushed him past the point of his endurance, and now she would assuage him.

  Never again would he assuage her. “Come with me. Your taming begins.”

  * * *

  TRISTAN SAT AT the kitchen table, silent and scowling, as he ate his breakfast. A veritable feast of pancakes, fried eggs, bacon, biscuits and sausage gravy, French toast, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. His mind remained fixated on one thought.

  Julia tried to make me leave her.

  She had tried to gain a confession of love from him, right after offering her own.

  Shock still coursed through him. If she truly loved him, how could she even consider parting with him forever?

  He didn’t doubt that she did in fact love him. She had uttered the words so many times they were branded inside his mind. And she had meant them each and every time. The truth had shone in her eyes, as obvious as the color of her irises.

  His chest clenched as he remembered. When you loved something, you kept it, so you could protect you. You didn’t set it free so—

  Free. The word echoed in his mind. She planned to free him, so no other mistress could harm him. Realization. She loved him more than her dream of having a family.

  Lo—like for her bloomed through his heart, warm and comforting.

  He lo—liked her enough to remain bound to the box, so he could spend the rest of her life by her side.

  After her death—his heart twisted—a new guan ren would enter his life, he had no doubt, but he could survive anything, as long as he had a lifetime of memories with Julia.

  “I want to close the shop and spend the day with you,” Julia said. She sat across from him, not really eating. Just pushing her food around her plate.

  “Why do you want to do this?” She’d almost always protested the loss of income. But then, he already suspected the answer. She planned to win a declaration of love from him.

  “I love you, and I want to make memories with you.” She said this so easily.

  This woman deserves children.

  The thought slithered into his mind, sank its fangs in, and remained attached. She had saved two rooms for her children, dreaming of the day she would become a mother. This woman who gave so freely of herself deserved to have her greatest dream come true.

  How can I not love her?

  He almost gave her his declaration just then, but managed to stop himself in time. But when it came to Julia, he was finding he was a selfish man. He’d given so much to so many for so long, he was ready to take. What if they adopted? Or provided a home for orphaned children
?

  And what if your next mistress demands you harm one of those children?

  Acid trickled into his stomach. He mentioned none of his thoughts to Julia. “What would you like to do?” Her wish, his command. They would absolutely make memories together. He would give her what he’d never given to another: a full-on boyfriend experience.

  “We can go to a movie or…I don’t know, play miniature golf or something. We could even…” Her words tapered to quiet. Frowning, she tilted her head to the side to study…what?

  Just in front of her, air began to swirl, as if someone had opened a door allowing a turbulent wind inside. That swirling air thickened and liquefied. Next, a silver mist rose from the floor, curling all the way to the ceiling.

  Withdrawing his daggers, Tristan pushed to his feet. That wind…that mist…

  Magic.

  He stiffened. Where there was magic, there was Zirra.

  * * *

  HEART POUNDING against Julia’s ribs, she jumped back. She blinked. What am I even seeing?

  The mist spread and billowed throughout the entire kitchen. When it thinned, her jaw went slack. Zirra stood next to the same very large, very angry-looking man who’d been with her before.

  Julia focused on Zirra. The woman who had cursed Tristan, attempting to break his pride and his spirit, ensuring he suffered for all of eternity.

  Not interested in considering the repercussions of what she planned, Julia jolted forward, fist clenched, and punched the sorceress in the mouth with every ounce of her strength. Zirra’s head whipped to the side. Before she could recover, Julia punched her again.

  “You deserve a lifetime of suffering,” Julia ground out. “And I’m ready to give it to you.”

  Tristan latched onto Julia’s arm and yanked her behind him. His body shook with the force of his…fear for their safety? Anticipation of violence?