Lord of the Dark

by Dawn Thompson

  “I don’t swim underwater well,” Rhiannon confessed.

  “Take my hand,” Gideon said. She did as he bade her, and together they plunged into the rock pool.

  Gideon groaned as the steamy mineral water cascaded over his wings. He remembered that submerging himself in the warm water of just such a pool, or standing under a waterfall, or swimming off the shores of Simeon’s Pavilion had soothed and relaxed him. But that was before his fall from grace, before the gods turned his own body against him and made it an instrument of sexual torture.

  Rhiannon clung to him, and he stiffened as her hands came too close to those recreant appendages for comfort. “Do not touch my wings!” he cautioned. “I need all my wits about me now. Let your body become accustomed to the water temperature. When you’re ready, take a deep breath, and hold on to me.”

  Moments later, they were moving underwater. His wings were like lead weights, the surge to sexual readiness almost more than Gideon could bear. He could feel her fear. He could also feel her trust, and he held her closer, sifting through the phosphorescent glitter in the water with narrowed eyes searching for the opening Marius described. It seemed like an eternity, but it was only a moment before he saw it, like a burst of ethereal light, and he streaked upward through the water to the underwater cave.

  Defused light from anonymous chinks in the rock formation above showed him the labyrinth with air pockets supplied by the same source. The air smelled strongly of pine, rosemary, and cress. The water was only waist deep as they began treading toward a glimmer of daylight at the far end of the cave, but the constant laving of his wings had taken its toll, and Gideon loosened the crotch of his eel-skin suit and soothed his aching penis.

  Rhiannon took him in her arms. “Is it…Am I worth all this?” she murmured, searching his eyes in the half-light.

  Gideon could no longer mask the pain and the desire that lived in his shuttered gaze. He hesitated. Of course she was worth it, but did he have the right to risk putting her in harm’s way?

  “Worth it?” he breathed. “My love, you are worth any torment the gods can hurl at me, but nothing is worth putting you in danger; this is what troubles me.”

  Rhiannon laid her soft hand against his cheek. “Several times you have asked me never to leave you,” she murmured. “Now I ask the same of you. Whatever comes, we face it together.”

  He found her lips with a hungry mouth and pulled her against his anxious hardness. Her body heat excited him as hot steam rose around them from the mineral springs that fed the corridor they traveled. His wet wings shuddered, unfurling halfway, and his breath caught as her pleasure moan resonated through his body.

  Taking his penis in her hand, she guided it between her thighs until it glided the length of her slit, riding her wetness, a different wetness than the water that rushed to lave their genitals. It was as if his cock had been ensconced in musky hot silk and at long last found its home.

  “Do you remember how it was the first time we met…in the pool in your cave?” she asked. “You did this to me then. I was a virgin, and you were so masterful, trying to frighten me.”

  “I was trying to warn you away.”

  “Yes, well, you will never know what an opposite effect it had upon me, how often I dreamed of what it would be like to have such as this inside me.” She undulated against the unsuspecting penis trapped between her thighs. It was enough—more than enough.

  Gideon seized her, and in one thrust plunged into her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he backed her against the smooth wall of the cave in a mindless explosion of carnal oblivion. His need was unstoppable, his passion inexhaustible, fed by the fuel of her breathless moans. The climax was swift and riveting, like cannon fire, paralyzing them both.

  Finding her lips, he took them eagerly, and she melted against him. How soft and fragrant she was. Hers was a palpable passion. He could feel it in the eager abandon of her response. He could taste it in the desperation of her kiss, as if it was their last. It was then that he realized not all of the drive, the unstoppable frenzy of desire, was due to the curse that left him in a perpetual state of some level of arousal. He didn’t feel this way relieving himself in the wood nymphs, or in the siren Muriel, or in the shape-shifting rune caster. Those occasions were mere bodily functions, desperate acts performed to relieve the pressure the curse brought to bear. This was different. He had never felt this way before—not even when it all began. The remotest possibility that this embrace could be their last had opened his eyes to a poignant truth: He had come back from the others, when they were taken away, but he would not come back from Rhiannon. He had found his soul mate, and he would keep her no matter the cost.

  Light trickling in at the end of the tunnel had grown brighter. The sun had risen. There was no more time. How much help evading the watchers of the gods Lord Vane could offer remained to be seen. The relentless creatures stalking him with their lightning bolt seemed set upon his destruction this time, and the gods had closed their ears to his pleas for mercy.

  Pulling Rhiannon close in his arms, he tilted her face toward his. “I won’t lie to you,” he murmured. “This has never occurred before, Rhiannon. I have always had a refuge, a place of sanctuary; no more. We are fugitives, and my greatest fear is that the gods will try to get to me through you. It is not too late for me to carry you to the mainland. For all we know, Rolf is long gone by now aboard another vessel. I must offer you the option. There are places there where you could easily blend in. It would be impossible for me, but you—”

  Her finger across his lips silenced him. “I will never leave you, Gideon,” she said with passion.

  He crushed her close and offered up a prayer he prayed hadn’t fallen on deaf ears like all the others, and led her toward the glimmer of light in the distance. “Come,” he said. “Lord Vane already knows of our coming. Marius will have seen to that. He will be waiting. You have nothing to fear in him. He is not the ogre you expect. He is, I think, the most tragic of us all.”

  The cave opened onto the foot of a towering volcano. A lone figure stood at the base of it raking volcanic coals onto what looked like a litter drawn by an enormous black draft horse, its white feathered feet pawing the steamy ground. It whinnied at their approach, and the figure straightened up, his eyes like molten amber taking their measure.

  Rhiannon’s breath caught in her throat. How striking he was, tall and well muscled, his hair a thick mass of chestnut waves tinged with copper and gold in the sun curling about his earlobes and combed by the wind across his brow. He was naked but for a scant leather loin cloth, the sunlight gleaming off his sweat-slicked biceps, roped torso, and corded thighs. He was ruddy complexioned, but Rhiannon couldn’t tell if that was a natural phenomenon or due to the exertion of his chore. He threw down the rake and strode toward them. Gideon was right. Nothing in the Fire Lord’s demeanor fostered fear, there was something rather tragic in it.

  “Well met, Gideon,” he said, sketching a bow, and turned toward Rhiannon, “and Gideon’s lady,” he said. “You will forgive me if I do not shake your hand, my dear. I am sure Gideon has told you that would not be…wise.”

  Rhiannon offered a nod.

  “What the deuce are you about with that?” Gideon asked, gesturing toward the litter and the nervous draft horse prancing in place.

  “Something that can wait,” Vane replied. “Let me get you two inside. It isn’t safe to linger here. The watchers have been flitting about since sunup.” He turned to the horse, stroking its neck and withers. “Hold, Eli,” he whispered to the animal. “Do not move from the spot….” The horse whipped its head around, gave the Fire Lord a playful nip on the shoulder, and bobbed its head, spreading its silky mane.

  “One might think that beast understands you,” Gideon observed.

  “Oh, he does,” Vane returned. “He will stand thus until I return. First, I get you inside, out of the watchers’ view, while Marius draws their fire. Then, I will return and bring the lava rocks I’ve
collected to your chamber for your bath. You shall stay in my spare rooms. They are seldom used, since I rarely entertain, and the rocks will heat the pool there. Meanwhile, everything will look quite natural, to the watchers’ spying eyes. Come…”

  “We shan’t stay, Vane,” Gideon said. “We will not bring the watchers’ wrath down upon you. It’s bad enough that Marius is involved. We just need time to form a plan and slip past the watchers. If we can manage that—”

  Lord Vane threw his handsome head back and loosed a mighty guffaw. “Look around you!” he warbled. “What harm do you suppose the watchers’ missiles could inflict upon me here, hm?” He swept his arm wide. “What damage do you think their piddling lightning bolts could do against this sleeping volcano of mine?”

  “They could wake it!” Gideon pronounced in his inimitable manner, scanning the sky for any sign of the watchers.

  “You have a point, my friend,” Vane said. “Follow me…”

  He walked ahead then, motioning Gideon and Rhiannon to follow, and skirted the foot of the volcano, their feet crunching in the slag that wreathed it below the hot lava rocks Vane had been collecting. Waves of heat rising from the slag gave the volcano a dizzying aura. The air was steamy hot, which was why Lord Vane’s burnished bronze and all but naked body glistened with sweat. So this was how the Lord of the Fire passed the time on his volcanic isle, mining lava rocks and laboring beneath the hot Arcan sun. It must be like living in hell, Rhiannon opined.

  Judging from the evenness of his tan, the Fire Lord labored thus scantly clad regularly. His bronzed skin showed no lines of demarcation from his neck to the heels of his bare feet. He walked with a graceful swagger, the sun beaming off the round, firm globes of his bare buttocks and muscular shoulders, defining his waist and arrow-straight spine.

  Why was the legendary Lord of the Fire doing manual labor? Were there no lackeys to take on such chores? Were there no other inhabitants on the isle, come to that? She hadn’t seen any since they’d arrived. Questions flooded her mind. Things were definitely not as they seemed, but there was no time to address that then. Gideon’s eyes were trained skyward, and she’d had enough experience with watchers to know that just because one didn’t see them didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  Outcroppings of lava rock jutting from the base of the volcano were flung like a casual arm eastward into a stand of scrub pine. Poor dwarfed-looking things, Rhiannon thought.

  “Do spirits live in these pines as well?” she asked of neither of them in particular.

  It was Gideon who replied. “No,” he said, “those who once occupied these trees are…gone now.”

  Both Gideon and Vane stopped in their tracks. Rhiannon didn’t miss the strange sidelong glance that passed between them. She had evidently touched on a topic that was forbidden, and she said no more.

  After a moment, they resumed their pace and came upon a rock formation that at first look seemed like something an eruption had left there. Following Vane through an opening that was virtually invisible to the untrained eye, they found themselves inside a well-appointed chamber.

  “Rest here,” Vane said. “I shall go and bring the lava rocks I was gathering when you arrived. They are to warm your pool.” He gestured toward a small archway. “It’s through there. This dwelling is separate from the rest, and therefore not fed by the volcano directly. I repair here often. It’s cooler. The lava rocks will heat it pleasantly. Remain inside during the day. I will join you later with food and we will see what’s to be done.”

  “You are too kind, my friend,” Gideon said, “but we cannot stay here. We shan’t put you to the hazard. The watchers are relentless this time. I haven’t seen them like this since they destroyed my keep. I won’t have you suffer reprisals for helping us. We will leave when the sun sets.”

  Vane nodded. “As you wish,” he said. “Meanwhile, whatever I can do, consider it done.”

  Lord Vane left them then, and Gideon took her in his arms. “I can battle the watchers on my own easily,” he said. “I’ve been doing it for eons. It is your safety that troubles me. I would leave you here. You would be perfectly safe with Vane, but I also left you in Marius’s keeping and look what occurred.”

  “You mustn’t fault Marius. I should have stayed where I was safe. I shan’t make that mistake again, but I don’t want you to leave me, Gideon—not for moment. If they separate us and play to our weaknesses, they could win. Whatever we are facing, we need to stay together.”

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured against her hair. “It started out as the curse that has damned me to perpetual lust and turned my own body against me, but now, oh, now…it’s not that at all. Every breath I take is for love of you, Rhiannon, and I fear only that I could well be putting you in danger because of it.”

  Rhiannon silenced him with a finger across his lips. He drew it into his mouth, and she moaned as he laved it with his tongue. The sound of his wings rustling riddled her with expectant fire in anticipation of ecstasy to come. The magnificent appendages had unfurled halfway, just as they always did when he was aroused, and when he pulled her close, the bruising pressure of his hardness leaned heavily against her belly. The soreness would linger long after they made love, reminding her of the power of his passion and the magnificence of his member.

  All at once, she stiffened in his arms. “Wait…” she murmured. “I heard something…”

  Gideon hesitated, his ears pricked, listening. “I don’t hear anything,” he said, pulling her close again.

  “There! I heard it again…a rustling sound.”

  Gideon smiled. “Field mice, no doubt,” he said. “It’s too soon for Vane to be returning with the lava rocks, but not if we waste it.” He reached for her lips, but she resisted still.

  “Is there a rear entrance to this place?” she said. “The noise I heard sounded like it was coming from beyond that arch, where Lord Vane said the pool was.”

  “I am not certain,” Gideon responded. “He’s virtually alone here, though. Few will risk the threat of an erupting volcano, or the company of one whose touch could turn them into a human torch.”

  Rhiannon gasped. She’d heard the legends, but she’d never had it explained so vividly before. “His touch did not set that horse on fire,” she pointed out.

  “No, but if he had been aroused or in a rage, it would have, along with anything or anyone he touched.”

  “Well, I doubt he was aroused or in a rage when we met. Why did he refuse to take my hand?”

  Gideon laughed. “Your innocence delights me,” he said. “For all your loss of sexual naïveté, you have not lost that wide-eyed childlike innocence that so often is lost with it. Silly goose, the Lord of the Fire is a man after all, and the mere sight of you—especially as you are now, in that flimsy veil that hides nothing—is enough to make a dead man’s member rise! He was merely being cautious, and well he ought. Now, enough of Vane! I am on fire for you. Let us deal with that.”

  He began sliding the frock down over her shoulders, but again Rhiannon hesitated. “Shouldn’t we wait?” she asked. “What if he comes back and catches us?”

  “Trust that such a thing shan’t happen,” Gideon said, circling one hard nipple with the tip of his finger and then his tongue as he sucked it through the spider silk frock. The sensual wetness remained, pebbling her areola, laving and scraping her nipple through the gauze long after he lifted his lips. She had never felt the like. “Lord Vane has given us this time together,” he went on, nipping at the other hardened bud. Besides, worry over that happening should heighten our pleasure. There is something very erotic about being caught in the act, as it were.”

  She melted against him, no longer able to resist the pull of the fiery sexual tether crackling between them. It seemed enhanced since they arrived on the Isle of Fire, with its visible heat and sultry atmosphere. The whole isle seemed to pulsate like a living, breathing entity, its steamy pink breath rising from the volcano looming above. The very air smelled
of brimstone and felt hot to breathe, like the heat of a scorching day in summer, when no breath of a breeze is stirring and there was no relief in sight. It was the kind of heat that scorched the nostrils inside and out, paralyzed the senses, and ignited sexual desire. It had consumed them both with its magical fire.

  All thoughts of rustling sounds, of watchers, and of the peril they were in melted in the blistering heat of that moment. Her gown floated to the floor and puddled at her feet. Gideon had opened the front of his eel skin. Driving her to her knees, he offered his aroused sex. Rhiannon took it in her hands and guided it into her mouth.

  Gideon groaned as she laved his shaft from root to tip. Rhiannon felt it harden like steel beneath her tongue, felt his blood pumping through the distended veins. They were standing out in bold relief through the silken skin as she took him deeply in a swift, spiraling motion that brought his wings fully open, stirring in the steamy air.

  She had avoided the sensitive tip of his penis as she sucked. Tasting the salt of his pre-come, she slowed her rhythm. She could feel the pulse beat of his passion through the tip of her tongue as it circled the rim of the head of his sex. The anxious rhythm of his desire vibrated through her body and soul.

  Groaning again, Gideon took back his penis and raised her to her feet. Seizing the globes of her buttocks, he hoisted her up and plunged into her to the base of his shaft, grinding himself against her, undulating from side to side as he raised and lowered her in an unstoppable frenzy of carnal oblivion.

  Rhiannon cried out as she clung to him. The root of his sex was grinding against her clitoris. As he pistoned into her, the curve of his shaft found that innermost spot—that hidden mystery of succulent sensation that opened her to him like the petals of a rose. One layer at a time, his passion peeled away the layers until, full blown, the flower of her sex, wet with the juices of her climax, exploded in wave upon wave of orgasmic fire.