Dreams Made Flesh bj-5

by Anne Bishop

  He rolled his eyes. "I'll do my best." And if he didn't get them away from here in a hurry, they were both going to be rolling on the floor, laughing like fools.

  After contacting the carriage driver they'd hired for the evening, he strode out of the conservatory…and almost ran into Surreal. The look in her eyes told him she was primed for a fight. She couldn't take him, but he respected her as an adversary…and she'd fight him until he killed her if she thought Jaenelle needed the protection.

  "I'm taking her home," Daemon said. "She's hysterical."

  "I am," Jaenelle bubbled. "I really am." She turned her head to look at Surreal.

  "Yeeesss, I can see that," Surreal said, narrowing her gold-green eyes.

  Because he didn't want Surreal to worry about Jaenelle, he shifted his bundle of witch, drawing her attention to his hands. Then he dropped the sight shield around his wedding ring for a moment.

  Brushing past Surreal, he said, "I'll send the carriage back for you and Lucivar."

  "You do that," Surreal muttered.

  No one else tried to stop him, no one else even dared speak to him as he walked out of the house and settled his Lady in the carriage. Jaenelle might find his fierce and snarly look amusing, but the rest of the Blood at the party finally began to realize he was a male they should fear. And very soon, they would understand why.

  Surreal stood just inside the conservatory, wanting a few moments alone to ponder.

  Had she really seen what she thought she'd seen? Sadi… wearing a wedding ring? He and Jaenelle. Married?

  "Surreal?" Lucivar stepped into the conservatory.

  "He took her home. She was hysterical."

  Grim worry filled Lucivar's eyes. "Hysterical?"

  "She was laughing so hard, I don't know what else to call it."

  The grimness faded but the worry remained.

  Wanting to ease the worry, she said, "So what did Jaenelle say that made you snort wine out your nose?"

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure I should repeat it."

  She tipped her head to one side. "You tell me what she said, and I'll tell you what I just found out."

  So he told her, and when she managed to stop laughing, he growled, "What did you find out?"

  She took his left hand and tapped a finger against the gold band. "Daemon's wearing one of these." She wasn't sure how she expected Lucivar to respond, but she hadn't expected his concern to increase. "What's wrong?"

  He stared over her shoulder. "Do you know the only thing more dangerous than a Warlord Prince? A married Warlord Prince who has someone playing games with his life that could threaten his marriage."

  Suddenly nothing was amusing. Provoked, Daemon was dangerous enough. Pushed to defend something, or someone, who truly mattered to him…

  She shuddered. "What do we do?"

  "I don't know. I really don't know."

  "Let's split up. Maybe we can learn something that will help end this."

  Lucivar shook his head. "Daemon may already have all the information he needs."

  Shit. She had a good idea what that meant. "I'm going to the ladies' lounge and freshen up. I'll meet you at the front door. I think I'd rather wait for the carriage outside."

  He headed back to the ballroom to talk to Rainier, and she headed for the lounge. It had struck her as odd that a private home would have a "lounge" until she discovered the owners often "loaned" out the downstairs rooms for a "monetary gift." She didn't know why they couldn't just say they rented out their ballroom, but the lounge made sense, and right now, she was glad to have the privacy.

  1

  After taking care of personal needs, she sat down on a padded bench and closed her eyes.

  "Are you feeling all right?"

  Damn. She must be more tired than she thought. She hadn't even heard the woman enter.

  She opened her eyes and studied the woman who stood nearby, looking concerned. The face looked vaguely familiar, but she was certain she'd never met the other witch. She was also certain there was something about the woman that wasn't quite… right. Something that put her on edge. Something that made her want to call in a knife.

  She smiled and wrinkled her nose. "Just cramps," she lied. "Sometimes they're wicked mean."

  "I know the feeling. Let me get you something to drink."

  "No, that's all right." She shifted on the bench, prepared to get up and leave.

  "It's no trouble. Really."

  Suppressed excitement in the voice. A feverish glint in the eyes.

  The witch opened the lounge door and whispered something to someone outside. Then she closed the door and leaned against it.

  Bitch. Surreal felt fairly certain she'd just met the source of Daemon's problems, but considering Daemon's mood and Lucivar's worry about Daemon's mood, she'd prefer being absolutely certain before she said anything to either of them. And there was still the question of why anyone would be foolish enough to play with a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

  It didn't take long before someone knocked on the door. The witch opened it, and another Dhemlan witch Surreal didn't recognize slipped into the room, carrying a glass.

  Same suppressed excitement. Same feverish glint in the eyes.

  The first witch took the glass from her companion, then handed it to Surreal. "Drink this. You'll feel better in no time."

  Yeah. Cramps aren't a problem when you're dead, Surreal thought. As soon as the other woman let go of the glass, she used Craft to probe the liquid and the glass itself. No poisons. But there was something in the sparkling wine. She didn't recognize the drug, but she could sense its presence. Probably meant to knock her out for a while. But why knock her out?

  Obvious. They wanted her out of the way for some reason. Of course, if she was unconscious, she wouldn't be hard to kill.

  Refuse the drink and put these two bitches on alert…maybe make them nervous enough to bolt…or drink it and hope she wasn't doing something stupid? Because if they did end up killing her, Lucivar would help her make the transition to demon-dead just so he could spend a decade or two yelling at her, and the High Lord… Uncle Saetan would be sooo pissed.

  She studied the two women and saw a kernel of suspicion in the eyes of the witch who had first approached her. So she took a sip, figuring she could get enough of a sense of what the drug was without it disabling her.

  She figured wrong. That one sip made the room lift and drop with stomach-churning speed. Her fingers went numb. The glass dropped to the floor. Her vision faded.

  She made one attempt to contact Lucivar on a psychic thread, but even that was already beyond her ability.

  "Ah, shit," she muttered before she tumbled off the bench.

  Lektra suppressed the urge to give her rival a hard kick in the ribs. Or in the face. After all, she'd promised Tavey he could have the whore for a while, so it wasn't fair to damage the bitch beforehand. And it was possible that the SaDiablo family would be upset if anything… permanent… happened to Surreal. But they could hardly complain about a whore spreading her legs for one more man. Besides, it wasn't like Tavey would be paying for the sex.

  "Let's get her out of here," Lektra said.

  Roxie opened the lounge door, peeked out, then signaled. A moment later, a Sapphire-Jeweled Warlord slipped into the room.

  Lektra didn't like the man. Rough manners, rough temper. Roxie had found him somewhere, and the payment that had been promised had been enough to make him put aside any qualms about being an "escort" for an unwilling witch.

  "Take her to the country house as arranged, and keep her there until I say otherwise," Lektra said.

  "Gets boring in the country," he growled.

  "I'm sure you'll find something to do," she replied, glancing pointedly at Surreal.

  He smiled…and she sincerely hoped she'd never see him again. Of course, once she and Daemon were married, she'd never have to worry about men like him.

  She watched him pull Surreal up off the floor. A moment late
r, he left the lounge, wrapped in a sight shield to avoid anyone inquiring about his presence at an aristo party…or about the woman slung over his shoulder.

  "We'd better leave," Lektra said. "Have you seen Tavey?"

  "Not since earlier this evening, when he left the ballroom," Roxie replied.

  Tavey should have come back to report Daemon's reaction to their conversation. She'd seen her beautiful love carry that pale bitch out of the party. She hadn't liked that. He should have asked his brother to take her home. No matter. He wouldn't have to cater to Jaenelle Angelline much longer.

  "If we don't meet up with him on our way out, Tavey will have to make his own way home," Lektra said.

  With Roxie discreetly staying in the background, Lektra made her way to the front door, slipping into the ballroom and making a point of being seen talking to Lady Zhara, who had arrived late…and also giving herself and Roxie a reason to avoid walking past Lucivar Yaslana on the chance that he might recognize Roxie by her psychic scent, despite the illusion spell.

  As soon as he strode away from the front door, they hurried out and went home.

  Swearing under his breath, Lucivar headed for the ladies' lounge. Hell's fire! How long did it take a woman to piss anyway?

  He flung the door open and walked in, not caring if he walked in on a woman pulling down her pants or pulling them up. But the lounge area was empty, and the toilet wasn't occupied.

  Damn her. Where did she…

  Turning to leave, he spotted the glass on the floor near a padded bench. Crouching, he studied it. Most of the liquid had seeped into the carpet, but the few drops left in the glass were enough.

  *Surreal!* His temper flared. *Surreal*

  No answer. Not even an irritable flicker that would have helped him pinpoint a direction.

  *Rainier.*

  *Yaslana?*

  *Have you seen Surreal?*

  *Not since I danced with her earlier. Is there a problem?*

  *I'm not sure yet. See if you can find her. I'm going out to widen the search.*

  Rainier hesitated. *Are you going to contact Prince Sadi?*

  Now Lucivar hesitated. *No. Not yet.*

  He left the party and spent hours soaring over Amdarh, searching, hunting, calling.

  No answer. No way to find her.

  As night gave way to the first hint of dawn, he flew back to the family town house. Daemon knew Surreal better than the rest of them. It was time to call him into the hunt.

  Thirteen

  1

  A roar of fury and frustration that sounded like Lucivar in a mood rattled Surreal's mind, jolting her awake. Her head pounded, and her stomach felt queasy. And that pissed her off.

  Moving slowly, she rolled to her side and opened her eyes. The soft predawn light revealed enough to confirm she was in an unfamiliar room. A pillow under her head and a sheet beneath her hand told her she was in a bed. And her psychic senses told her she wasn't alone.

  Pushing herself upright, she swung her legs over the side of the bed… and swore silently as the bed seemed to lift and dip under her. Apparently, her body hadn't worked through all the effects of the drug, which was still playing nasty games with her sense of balance.

  A chair creaked. A large body moved to a lamp on the table near the window. The sudden flare of light as he used Craft to engage the candlelights made her squint.

  "They said you wouldn't wake up until sometime this afternoon," he said, giving her a mean smile. "Glad that's not the case. It was getting boring, just watching you sleep."

  Since the skirt of her gown was shoved up to the tops of her thighs, she figured his self-restraint had more to do with not wanting to soil his cock with moon's blood than using an unconscious woman for sex.

  She knew his type, had seen enough men like him when she was a child living in the meanest streets of a city in Terreille, whoring to earn enough to buy a day's food and, maybe, some shelter for the night.

  "Just so you don't go getting any ideas, Greenie, there's a Sapphire shield around this room and a Sapphire lock on the door. So you don't go anywhere unless I say you can."

  Greenie? She'd never advertised she wore the Gray when she'd worked in the Red Moon houses in Terreille, and while she hadn't made it a secret since coming to Kaeleer, there weren't many of the Blood beyond those who had been in Jaenelle's First Circle and the ones who lived in Ebon Rih who knew she wore a Jewel darker than her Birthright Green.

  Which meant there might be a few other things the bitch who arranged this didn't know about her.

  "What… What do you know about me?" she asked. The shakiness in her voice was due to the drug her body was still shaking off, but it made her sound afraid and, right now, that suited her just fine.

  "I know you're a Green-Jeweled witch who's caused some trouble for a fine aristo Lady, who paid me a generous sum to make sure you don't cause her any more trouble. And I've heard you were an expensive whore who only worked out of the best Red Moon houses until you came to Kaeleer and managed to talk yourself into an influential family." He stared at her mouth and leered. "Or maybe you did something besides talk to convince them you'd be handy to have around."

  Bastard. Her legs wobbled when she stood up, but she steadied quickly as the last of the drug, meant to subdue a Green-Jeweled witch, was burned off by a body that was a vessel for the Gray.

  She walked up to him, keeping her gait unsteady. "What do you want?"

  His big hands clamped on her shoulders, pulling her against him. "You be good to me, and I'll be good to you."

  "I can be good." Her right hand curled in preparation for calling in her stiletto. "Sugar? There's one thing your Lady forgot to mention."

  "What's that?" he asked as one hand groped her breast.

  The stiletto was in her hand and through his ribs before he realized she'd moved. His eyes widened.

  Surreal bared her teeth in a smile. "I earned more as an assassin than I ever made as a whore." She rammed the stiletto into him up to the hilt, piercing his heart.

  He hit the floor with a hard thud.

  Surreal yanked the blade out of him, cleaned it on his shirt, then vanished it. Her "housekeeping" completed, she studied him.

  "I think it takes a few hours to make the transition to demon-dead, but it would be best to make sure you don't wander off before we have a little chat," she told him. Not that he could hear her. Yet.

  Calling in her Gray Jewels, she broke his Sapphire shield and lock, replaced them with Gray, and left the bedroom to see if she could find the tool she needed.

  2

  *Daemon.*

  Daemon stirred, then snuggled closer to Jaenelle.

  *Come on, Bastard. Wake up.*

  Lucivar. Hell's fire. Just because the man was usually up before the sun didn't mean everyone wanted to be.

  But he got out of bed, pulled on a robe, and slipped into the hallway. "What is it?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep. Then he noticed that Lucivar looked furious and exhausted. That woke up all his fighting instincts. "What is it?"

  Lucivar raked his fingers through his hair. "Surreal is missing."

  The three of them sat at one end of the dining table, the remains of a small, hastily made breakfast in front of them.

  "If she was drugged, we'll find her as soon as she wakes," Jaenelle said after Lucivar related his search…and his failure to find Surreal.

  "If they didn't kill her," Lucivar snarled.

  "Then we'd better start looking."

  "No," Daemon said. He poured them all more coffee. "I want you to go back to the Hall."

  A feral anger that excited and chilled him came into Jaenelle's eyes.

  "She's my family, too," Jaenelle said in a voice that warned him he was close to crossing a line he might never be able to cross back over.

  He laid a hand over hers, needing her to understand. "I know she is, but they've already tried to hurt you, and if they're confident they're strong enough to take on a Gray-Jeweled witch, they aren
't going to hesitate to go after you."

  "They?" Jaenelle asked too softly.

  "I know who's behind this. I'll take care of it."

  "Alone."

  "Yes. Alone. This began with an obsession with me, so it's mine to deal with. But I need to know you're safe. I need that, Jaenelle. Please."

  She stared at him a long time. Then she drew her hand away from his and pushed her chair back. "Very well, Prince. I'll go back to the Hall, and you do what you have to do. But once that's done, you and I will talk." She walked away from the table.

  "Jaenelle." He waited until she turned to face him. "This has nothing to do with the Jewels you wear."

  "If I still wore Ebony, would you ask me to go back to the Hall?"

  "Yes. Because this is mine to do."

  "We'll talk, Prince," she said after giving him a long, thoughtful look. Then she left the dining room.

  Lucivar winced. "She's never cheerful in the morning. You know that."

  "I know." He also knew that this "talk" would determine whether or not he still wore a wedding ring.

  Lucivar cleared his throat. "So. When were you going to tell me that you and Jaenelle were already married?"

  He suddenly felt awkward, and that surprised him. So he kept his eyes on his cup. "We just wanted to get married."

  "I understand that. The celebration coming is more for everyone else than the two of you." Lucivar paused. "But if you'd asked, I would have been there."

  "For Jaenelle," Daemon said.

  "For Jaenelle," Lucivar agreed. "And for you."

  Daemon looked up and met Lucivar's eyes…and saw things he hadn't been sure he'd ever see again. Love. Understanding. Acceptance.

  And for you. Those three words healed the last of the rift between them.

  "Thank you," Daemon said, his voice husky.

  Lucivar reached across the table. Daemon locked hands with his brother. They didn't say anything. They didn't need to.

  Finally, reluctantly, Daemon eased back. "I'd like you to take Jaenelle to the Hall. I'll ask Father to come to the Hall to free you up in case there's more than one battlefield. I don't think it will come to that, but…"