Garden of Light (Dark Gardens Series Book 2)

by Meara Platt

  He didn’t tell her the rest, knowing it would only heighten her fear. It took but the scratch of a soul catcher to mark a human with its poison, a mere scratch to get inside a human body and eat away its soul. Those who managed to survive the infection became senseless beings, demonic creatures of the underworld. Mercifully, most humans died before the soul catchers finished with them.

  Cadeyrn threw off his shirt and quickly removed the last of his clothes. He then turned back to Melody and, nudging her thighs apart, settled himself between them.

  She inhaled sharply.

  “Be calm, sweetheart.” He rested on his elbows and gazed down at her. This first coupling had to be swift and there was little time to ready her. Her life depended on his getting it right, but he’d never coupled before and wasn’t certain what to do next. He’d read about how to mate, had accidently stumbled across humans in the act a time or two. But this was different. This was Melody’s life hanging in the balance. There were no second chances. He couldn’t make mistakes … he couldn’t. She had to believe in him. She had to trust him.

  If necessary, he would apologize later.

  His member was hard, for which he gave silent thanks. In truth, his entire body was responding with an urgency he’d never experienced in all his years, but he didn’t thrust into her right away. Instead, he reached his hand to that dark patch between her thighs and began to stroke her gently there. Melody’s eyes widened and she cast him a despairing look of shame mingled with pain.

  “Trust me, Melody. It must be done this way.” He hoped so.

  She nodded and placed her uninjured arm around his neck to draw him closer.

  He lowered his head to hers and kissed her on the mouth, a slow, languid kiss that started softly at first, but deepened as he felt her shivering body respond to his touch. He knew the moment her fear began to ease, for she grew slick in response to the caress of his fingers between her thighs and, with a soft sigh, arched toward him as a flower might arch toward the sun’s brilliant rays of light.

  Her response gave him pleasure, but he quickly tamped down the unexpected stirrings within his own body, knowing he had to concentrate on healing her. This act of love wasn’t as easy as he’d first believed. The more he excited her, the more excited he became as well, and now his heart was leaping, his blood and skin were unbearably hot, and his loins were tight as cannonballs about to explode.

  On instinct, he knew he had to hold back, though it was sheer torture. He couldn’t think of himself.

  He had to save Melody.

  She wasn’t quite ready for his entry, yet he dared wait no longer.

  “Melody,” he whispered, thrusting inside her tight, moist opening, not once but twice, and pausing not a moment before he pushed inside her again.

  She gasped.

  He swallowed her soft cries with a deep, urgent kiss, knowing he must have hurt her and that his kiss was no apology for it. He felt moisture against his cheek and knew it was the salty wetness of her tears.

  He thrust again, this time more carefully but no less insistently. He needed to embed himself securely inside her. The soul catchers were making fast work of her arm, and their dangerous blue threads would soon weave themselves into the rest of her body. If that happened, she’d be lost forever.

  And he thrust again, shifting his hands to her waist to guide her body’s movements since she didn’t seem to understand that their bodies needed to move as one. She finally caught on and followed his lead, giving herself over to his trust with an innocent sweetness that left him gasping for breath.

  She responded in wonder to each new sensation. He marveled at her beauty, unable to take his gaze from her expressive face as she lay beneath him with her eyes closed and holding nothing back.

  “Cadeyrn,” she whispered, running her tongue along her lightly parted lips.

  He kissed her on the lips.

  They felt warmer now.

  So did the rest of her body.

  In truth, her skin felt hot and slightly damp, and there was something exciting in her scent, the light nectar of a rose unfurling its petals on a perfect summer’s day. A soft, alluring scent, containing a subtle heat that ignited a spark deep within him.

  Is this what humans called passion?

  He lowered his head to one pink-tipped breast and closed his mouth over the tip. “You taste like heaven,” he said, gently cupping her breast in his hand and then flicking his tongue across its tip, surprised but pleased when she wrapped her legs around his waist to take all of him in.

  She let out a softly ragged moan.

  “Does it pain you?” he asked.

  She glanced at her arm, though he was referring to the position of their bodies and the length of him inside her. “Less so,” she said, still staring at her arm.

  He followed her gaze to where the blue webs had been woven and saw that their silky threads were beginning to unravel.

  Cadeyrn thrust into Melody again, kissed her again, tasted her heat—or was it his? He could no longer tell. At the same time, he stroked his thumb over the tip of her breast, keeping his hand under the soft, lush mound that fit the span of his hand perfectly.

  She no longer resisted his invasion, but moved with him in smooth, undulating waves as his hard member plunged in and out of her velvet depths. He liked this feeling of rolling across a rough ocean, dipping and surging, cresting ever higher to an ultimate goal, a feeling still known to humans but lost to the Fae thousands of years ago.

  This was Melody’s first time and she seemed to be enduring it well. This was his first time and he was having a lot more trouble, for these powerful waves of sensation were unfamiliar and far more distracting than he expected. Each surging wave seemed to carry fire, not cooling water, and there was a scorching heat now flowing in his veins. Melody seemed to embrace each surge and ebb, her body floating quite adeptly over these turbulent heights and valleys while his body slammed and crashed against them.

  But he continued to thrust in and out … slam and crash … in and out. His body was a mix of opposites, of fire and ice, the fire burning away the thick layers of ice that had sheltered all Fae since the days of the ancients and elevated them to a higher realm, protected them from these torments of the body.

  What sweet torment!

  Melody … Melody … his heart began to pound in heightened rhythm to the ever-increasing dips and crests of each wave, pounding … pounding … rolling, deeper and higher. Deeper. Higher.

  Slam.

  Crash.

  She felt so good against his body.

  So soft, and hot, and willing.

  Melody’s release had to come first.

  Deeper. Higher. His body slammed against more violent waves and then soared upward in another crest that warned he was almost there, his body about to be swept away and ready to … he’d read of this sensation in the ancient texts.

  “Don’t stop,” Melody said in a moaning whisper.

  He let out a gruff laugh, knowing he had neither the desire nor the power to resist what was about to happen. He’d lost control and was helpless to fight the inevitable. He would lose this battle and was glad of it, for the need to touch Melody, to run his hands along her silken body, to kiss her lips and suckle the beautiful buds of her breasts was overwhelming and unbearable.

  “Oh, oh!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, no longer in pain but feeling only pleasure. She felt sweet and warm, incredibly inviting.

  He had her flat on her back, and was still thrusting and rocking inside her.

  The blue webs were unraveled now, disappearing … almost gone. Within a few more thrusts they would be gone.

  He touched Melody’s arm … warm silk against his palms.

  She let out a light, breathy sigh.

  He kissed her on the lips again, his mouth gently crushing hers, and his tongue delving and probing her exquisite, silken depths.

  “Oh! Something’s happening to me.” She clutched his shoulders and buried her cries of p
assion against his neck, cries soon followed by a string of aching moans and shudders of pleasure. Her long legs were now tight against his waist and her back was in a graceful swan arch as he continued to thrust inside her—pushing, coaxing, igniting her fire relentlessly until her pleasure exploded with a euphoric, groaning ache and she softly screamed his name.

  An ocean crest more powerful than any he’d ever experienced lifted his body to a height he’d never reached before, not even when battling dragons. It held him up there and tossed him higher and higher until he was … too damn high … and knew he was about to crash in a fiery burst against her sweet shore. He had to resist … had to before … aah … grunt … aah, aah!

  He felt the stream of his essence flow into her in one thunderously pounding surge after another, claiming her as no other man had ever claimed her, in endless swells that drained his strength, yet left him feeling as though he could conquer all worlds.

  He gazed at Melody, kissed her parted lips, and as his own grunting shudders subsided, he collapsed atop her in a hot, breathless release.

  By what folly had the Fae given up this ritual?

  Never in his wildest imaginings had he expected anything like this.

  The sensation was as frightening as it was glorious. When had he—a Fae king—ever soared so high or howled like a rutting boar in boasting, conquering pleasure? The act of making love had left him utterly helpless to control his mind or body.

  He rolled off Melody, realizing he must be heavy atop her, and drew her into the circle of his arms. His heart still thrummed in wild beats as he traced his fingers along her skin where the thin, blue lines of webbing had once been. That Melody did not flinch meant she was healed. He looked closer and saw they were completely gone. So was the ugly gash on her skin that had served as a passageway for Brihann’s soul catchers.

  “Melody,” he whispered, now studying her face.

  Her eyes were closed and he could not make out her expression, which was a rare thing, for the girl was never able to hide her thoughts from him. She was doing a good job of hiding them now, or perhaps she did not know her own thoughts yet, which explained why he could not read them. “How do you feel?”

  She opened her eyes and stared at him a long moment, and then her gaze turned anguished and she let out a heartbreaking sob. “Never better.”

  *

  Melody saw the twitch of Cadeyrn’s mouth and the slight crinkle of the laugh lines beside his eyes and knew he was struggling not to grin.

  “Never better?” He gave a slight shake of his head. “Then why the tears, sweetheart?”

  She wiped them away as best she could by running the back of her hand against her cheek. “Why do you call me that? Am I your sweetheart, or is this an attempt to make me feel less miserable?”

  He sighed and eased back, but did not release her. Nor did she really wish to be out of his arms. She liked the strength of his body, the rippling planes of his chest, the hard warmth of his arms as he held her.

  Their legs were entwined, her thighs pressing against the taut muscles of his long legs, and she felt the liquid traces of his seed against her thighs. Her skin felt hot and damp, as did the air around them. She took a breath and inhaled his scent, a mix of male exertion sweetened by the subtle scent of honeysuckle, a Fae scent … sweet nectar, but with a conquering bite.

  “Sweetheart,” he repeated in a murmur, shifting onto his side and propping himself on his bent elbow to gaze at her. He reached out his other hand and ran his thumb along her cheek to wipe away a laggard tear. “I thought you needed to hear it. I did not know that our coupling would occur this way, that you would come to me out of fear for your life and not out of,” he paused to arch his eyebrow, “an overwhelming desire to possess my body.”

  “What happens next?” she asked, overlooking his small attempt at humor. They had coupled and she was now considering the possible consequences. Was it physically possible for her to bear his child?

  He responded as though she’d spoken the question aloud. “It is possible, for I planted my seed in you. But I do not believe you will conceive from this mating.”

  “Why not?”

  He took a moment to consider the remark. “The Prophecy does not mention a child.”

  “I see.” She was inexplicably sad and relieved at the same time. The thought of carrying Cadeyrn’s child filled her with a deep longing, a desire for fulfillment in a way she had never expected. At the same time, she had no wish to bring a child into the world knowing that this innocent life would be hunted from birth by Lord Brihann and his demons. “What happens next?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Doesn’t your prophecy provide guidance? Are we to stumble our way through these dragon attacks on our own?”

  “Prophecies never provide clear instructions. None of us can pretend to understand what they reveal. However, I hope the Draloch Prophecy will take a lifetime to unfold.”

  Since the battles between Fae and underworld demons seemed to revolve around this prophecy, Cadeyrn’s apparent reluctance to see them end struck her as curious. “Your Fae life or my human one? I know we mark time differently.”

  “The Prophecy is connected to your life.” He caressed her cheek again. “And that during your life, you will love me … a boundless love, so it is written.”

  “What of your love for me?”

  “You’ve asked me that question before. I cannot answer it yet. The Prophecy speaks only of your love for me.”

  “It doesn’t seem right that I must love you so deeply, yet receive nothing in return. I will never give my heart to you on those terms, Your Majesty.” She refused to believe these strong feelings she harbored for Cadeyrn were love, and though love was not something one could negotiate—it just happened—she would not give her heart free rein to soar. How could she, knowing it would be bestowed on a man incapable of loving her? Only a fool would agree to such a hopeless love. Only a fool would settle for unhappiness.

  “Cadeyrn,” he corrected. “You need never address me formally unless we are in the company of others. But in intimate moments such as this, I give you permission to use my name or any term of endearment for me that you desire. I liked the sound of my name on your lips as you cried out in ecstasy.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  “You did, repeatedly,” he said, casting her an indulgent grin. “As I cried out your name in my moment. We were quite a noisy pair.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or rage in frustration that he should have such control over her body, that he was so easily able to make her feel … but he had also felt something wondrous, by his own admission, and didn’t seem rattled by it even though Fae were not used to these sensations.

  “You have yet to tell me your secret,” she said, changing the topic, which had taken an uncomfortable turn. “You promised you would.”

  “I keep my promises.” He sat up and drew her up beside him.

  She gathered the sheet about her body, somehow feeling more naked sitting up than she did while lying alongside him. He seemed not at all concerned about his own body. Well, he had no reason to be, for every muscular bit of him was perfect.

  He rose and gathered his clothes, donning them more for her sake than for his own. “You need something to wear,” he mused, glancing at the gown and undergarments he’d sliced to ribbons when saving her from those hideous soul catchers. “I’ll ask Edain. You’re about her size and—”

  “No! I’ll have my own clothes.” She was not about to accept a hand-me-down from a faerie who so obviously disliked her. She wasn’t jealous of Edain, of her beauty or obvious friendship with Cadeyrn. No, not at all. Nor did she care that Cadeyrn had an obvious fondness for her.

  Cadeyrn sighed. “Very well. Tell me what you’d like me to bring back.”

  She quickly described the gown she wanted, a demure, dove gray that seemed quite modest after what had just happened.

  Heat rose in her cheeks.

  Goodne
ss!

  Still, she felt no regret for what they had done.

  Or that she had done it with Cadeyrn.

  “I’ll also need …” She went on to list certain unmentionables that he required her to describe in detail, for Fae women never wore undergarments, he explained.

  “I won’t be long. Don’t leave my bedchamber,” he warned.

  She nodded, the thought of wandering about his castle in her present state of undress never having entered her mind. She tightened her grip on the sheet that she’d now secured about her body. The sheet was of white silk and quite beautiful.

  It could be sewn into a fetching gown.

  Cadeyrn paused a moment and cast her an appealing smile. “Melody, you look nice in my bed. I’m sorry for how you came to be there, but I’m not sorry it was you that I—”

  “Please, Cadeyrn! Get my clothes.”

  He disappeared through an unseen portal, leaving her alone in the massive canopied bed in the center of his enormous bedchamber. The bed’s exquisite blue canopy was made of a shimmering fabric she did not recognize. The delicate threads appeared to be a blend of velvet, silk, and starlight. A large blue and gold-patterned carpet stretched across the entire expanse of the floor, the threads also shimmering as though shot through with actual gold.

  She sighed. They probably were.

  Across the chamber stood a massive fireplace with an intricately carved mantel that appeared to be mahogany wood. Melody once again gathered the sheet about her body and, slipping off the bed, walked to the fireplace in order to better study the carvings. She reached out and then hastily drew back upon realizing what those carvings represented. Dragons! One etched into each side of the mantel, broad-winged, sharp-taloned, and breathing fire. “I thought they were your enemies,” she whispered, “but they’re also connected to you.”