by Jaide Fox
His hand made to pull away from hers, but she kept her fingers clenched tightly about his.
“If it is in your blood, then there is naught I can do. Your blood is your enemy if that is the case. The very imprint of your being is your illness. Injuries, pain, aches, these are things I can cure. I cannot change the very imprint of your soul.”
“It is not of my blood. I was created.”
“The dream?” she breathed.
He nodded curtly.
The men in black robes had killed his parents and taken him away.
“Those men...were they not Milesians?”
Another curt nod. “Yes, but these were sicker than most. They...they had other children such as me and ran experiments on us. I was once as you were. A sidhe of the light. They experimented upon the boundaries of our magic and attempted to change us. In my case, I was fortunate. I did not die.”
“What did they do to change you?”
“Kept me away from the sun for two full years. By the time, I'd calculated a way to escape, a way to return to this place, it was too late.”
Isabeau felt sympathy and a desire, nay, a need to help flood her soul.
“What happened to your parents?” she asked quietly.
“My parents were of the Sidhe and met at a ball in London. Where my father fell heart and soul in love with my mother, the feeling was not reciprocated. My father was not a man to be beaten. He was older than mother, by fifteen years and although his family, my family, had ancestral wealth, his business acumen had almost trebled it. My mother's parents were not so intelligent in the field of business. Effectively, he purchased her and paid off her parents' debts.
“During the first years of their marriage, they lived in London and were safe from the Milesians, as they led a life centered about the ton. When I was conceived, they came here for her confinement and they stayed. Like your own, that was their downfall. A child...should...be taught of the Sidhe ways from childbirth, that was one of their reasons for staying, of the little I know, that is the truth.”
“I'm so sorry, Wolfe,” she whispered huskily.
His head shot up and spying the crystal drops at the corner of her eyes, he half-smiled. “We have formed a bond, you and I. It is unexpected. I never imagined it would occur, but we have...” Holding up a hand to stall any interruptions, he continued, “I think the ring helped create to build upon something that was already there. Have you ever seen into someone else's dream before?”
She shook her head.
“That's promising.” He slipped his other hand atop her shoulder and traced the curve of throat with his fingers.
“I-I have to be honest, Wolfe. I wouldn't even know how to go about curing you. It's not that I wouldn't be willing to try...it's just I-I have no idea about the depths of my power. I truly don't.”
“Remember that legend I told you about? The one about your ring...?”
She nodded and gulped a little.
The sensation of his callused fingers against her sensitive skin had her stomach quivering madly. How could such a simple touch mesmerize her so? Perhaps there was something behind his words. Perhaps there was actually a bond between them. He was correct that a bond had been forged between the two of them.
The repercussions of such a bond were...well, with her brain already weighed down by his recent revelations, adding this to the mixture was just constipating her thought processes!
“There is an addendum to it.” He closed his eyes and she could tell he was about to verse something verbatim.
“The midnight ring belongs to the vivacity of light.
The light can only be held by one whose heart is pure.
Magic lies and twists. Corrupts.
One luminescent soul who can yield the Cimmerian power and purify it.
Cleanse it of misdeed.
Can hope for those dwellers of the shadows bring.
Love brings freedom.
Love turns the black of dark to the shining gold of light.
One pure soul, one pure heart, one pure love fuses another life and shall darkness turn.
Til light becomes haven and dark the peaceful harbinger of sleep.”
“What does that mean?” she asked huskily. While she'd understood the words, the meaning behind them was far too complicated for her addled wits to comprehend.
His eyes opened slowly and she was blasted with his stormy gaze.
“A child of our union would cleanse my spirit and powers.”
“A child?” she gasped, her voice hoarse. “But what of the legend's mention of love? Does that count for naught?”
He shook his head. “Many people seek you, Isabeau. You have the capability to bring those like me who long for the pure gold of light and dwell in the shadows. Love...in the legend, is in the physical sense. Your soul, your heart and your physical love can fuse another life and darkness turn. I beg of you, Isabeau, help me.”
Her mouth was slightly agape as she watched this strong man debase himself before her. The prospect of carrying his child was no evil. It was more of a temptation than anything else. Fear simmered inside, because with that child, with physical love came a heartfelt love and she was already on the verge of tumbling into something that had no cure.
But what could she do? Say no?
How could she?
This man, this poor, poor man, had been tortured. A man of her own race had been irreversibly altered. But there were many more out there like him, he had said. Would she want to carry their children as well?
Inwardly, she shook her head.
Because it was Wolfe, she could do it.
Because it was he, she would free him if it was within her power.
And by the time she carried the babe and he was cast free from his curse, then she could leave. Before loving him and not receiving that emotion in kind turned her heart to ashes and she had naught but his child for comfort.
Chapter Seven
Isabeau faced Wolfe with quavering lips and anguished eyes.
“Who is this Jaegar? Why does he seek me? Am I in danger from him?” she asked quietly, but there was no fear in her voice.
At first, she had intended to inform him that she could not say no to him. But for that moment in time, the words had stuck fast in her throat.
“There were many children taken from their Sidhe parents. Many deaths.” He closed his eyes. “Far too many. For such a small bunch of maniacs to create such misery is incredible.” He pushed out a rough breath. “Jaegar, is one of them. He was taken like I was and he sent the thief.”
She watched as his jaw tensed and she knew he was holding something back from her.
“What?” she asked quietly. “What is the matter?”
He looked up and her eyes were caught on his clenched fists and stone hard jaw.
“He is my older brother.”
Her brows rose. “Your older brother?”
“Yes. We're not close.” He laughed, but it was a harsh sound. Not filled with the glee it should have been. “To say that we're not is simply an understatement.”
“Does he want me for the same reason as you then?” she asked, her voice quivering as she spoke.
“Yes. My father divorced his first wife. And although the similarities in appearance between us and our father belie this, he disowned Jaegar, claiming that he did not believe that he was of his flesh, but of one of his wife's paramours.”
“That must have made him very bitter.”
Another harsh, almost scornful laugh. “Bitter? Again, an understatement. I was fortunate, when Jaegar realized who I was, he did not set against me immediately. But together we planned to escape. And we did. We were some of the few who managed to flee. But afterwards, almost as though we were joined by a common enemy, he turned and ever since, has hated me. I can understand.” He lifted his hands. “This entire property and my father's wealth should have been his. But it was entailed to me. I can't share it. It's not mine to give. Father tied the wealth into a trust s
o tight that even had he wanted to do so at a point in the future, had he not died, he would have been unable to hand out funds for Jaegar. Although, I doubt that would ever have occurred. My mother seemed to take all of my father's attentions. There was no way any thoughts of his other wife would have intruded. My father was obsessed. Through her, he became obsessed with ensuring that I was of the right caliber to take his title and lands.”
“And Jaegar wants the ring for exactly the same reason as you? Because of the legend?”
Wolfe nodded. “A child fused from both light and dark...it is found in one of our most ancient of texts. The resultant babe will neutralize all difficulties for their parents. For example, I know that during the night you can heal yourself...tonight is a case in point. But during the daylight, is your power not stronger?”
Hesitantly, she murmured, “Yes, that's true. Tomorrow, I shall need to sit in the sun for a while to recharge myself. I-I, earlier on, I fell from rather a high floor and I know that it almost killed me. I can only thank God for the ring, because had I not had that on my finger, I would have died. Then I had to use the healing power a few times more and I could tell that it had almost dissipated entirely. At nighttime, I can hold the most basic of disguises.”
“Tis not a disguise. Tis simply glamor.”
“Glamor? That sounds very Sidhe,” she replied with a faint smile.
“Tis what you are, Isabeau. You have more powers that you have yet to explore. We're all talented in certain areas. I, for example, can control animals. I can communicate with the magical beasts, such as the griffin that took a fancy to you but I cannot control him. I can also, rather frustratingly, command light. The lights that bob around the castle are fueled by my power. There are myriad other talents in my arsenal. But they are at their peak strength, during the night. At day, I must sleep. It is the same for you, only in the reverse.”
“Why was it vital that I'm untouched?”
“I suppose it is following the legend of pure soul and heart to the letter.”
“And it did not matter to you?”
He laughed roughly. “That is one of those questions, Isabeau, that damns me however I answer.” He hesitated and then spread his hands out as though weighing his response. When he eventually replied, Wolfe's voice was hoarse. “I have reached the stage, Isabeau, where desperation rides me. To be born like you, of the glorious light...” he sighed and bowed his head. “...To be made into the dark, is a torturous and painful process. One that attacks me every night of the week. I find that I'm willing to do anything to cure myself of something that was forced upon me. I'm apologetic that it affects you, but all I can do is promise that I do you no harm and that I will eventually care for you and the babe.”
Slowly, Isabeau nodded and murmured, “All right, Wolfe. I shall help you.”
The change that overcame his face was miraculous to behold and she sighed as she realized it was a saddening mixture of relief, hope and desperation. Never had she seen something so emotive on a man's face and to see it now, on a man that she could easily love, one who was strong enough to tame her, was almost heartbreaking. When before, she'd been hidden behind her safety nets, this one emotive expression had tumbled her one step closer to the very edge of falling for him.
Quietly, he said formally, “I thank you, Isabeau.”
His fingers twiddled with the lobe of his ear as he spoke and it seemed to suggest that he was almost disbelieving of her affirmative response.
Unsure of how to reply, of what would be appropriate for her to say, she quietly answered, “You're welcome.” Nervously, Isabeau added, “You may kiss me if you want.”
His head shot up but she diverted her eyes anxiously from his. “Something that surprises me about this entire situation and...I suppose I should not even mention it, but it is the truth. And that is one thing that I seem to be able to provide you with...But I find you very attractive Isabeau. The Sidhe are a beautiful race, it is a part of our make up. But in this case, you are genuinely a beauty.”
“You do not need to compliment me, Wolfe.”
“I know. But I suppose I'm just inferring that I shall enjoy what happens between us and I shall endeavor to please you. That I promise, Isabeau.”
The words made her smile a little. “I shall hold you to that promise, Wolfe.”
“I'm surprised that you can laugh about this. I'm about to rob you of your maidenhood. Does that not cause you fear?”
Isabeau laughed scornfully and raised her arms from the armrests on the club chairs and wrapped them about her waist. “Although I did not see their bodies, I watched my parents' home being razed to the ground. I watched as everything I had ever known...love, security, trust, comfort, affection...suddenly disappeared and overnight, my entire life, the entire structure of my life, shifted on its axis.
“If there is one thing I have learned, it is that I live to my own dictates and not to those of society. Had I been a regular debutante, although my parents would never have forced this kind of marriage upon me, countless other young ladies will have had no decision in their future spouse. They might be bound by the laws of matrimony, but it is rape nonetheless. This is not rape, Wolfe. I-I want you and I hope that you want me.” She ducked her head at that last sally.
“May I show you how much I want you?” he asked gruffly
Slowly, she raised her head and laughed a little. “You may,” she allowed, with a soft smile.
He stood and held out a hand, and when she gripped her fingers about his, he bowed low over it. She laughed a little as Wolfe then tugged her to her feet and when she was standing, she curtsied as her mama had taught her.
With a small smile on his face, he led her out of his mother's salon and returned them to her bedroom. Perhaps she should have felt fearful, or frightened, but she didn't. She felt almost as though she were in control here. If these Milesians and this Jaegar were after her, then she would at least prefer to lose her virginity here, to a man that she at least found attractive than to the ogre that Jaegar might be. Or the hideous entities that were the Milesians. Simply losing her maidenhood to one of they would have entirely stuck in her craw. There was no way she could bed any member who belonged with the group of people who had killed her parents.
He opened the door for her and she stepped into the bedroom and calmly walked over to the bed. She perched behind there and waited for him to step forward. Although there was anxiety in the air, it wasn't fraught with the nerves a woman more than likely experienced on her wedding night. It was different. She supposed it was simply the tension that came from an overactive brain!
As he strode towards her, she admired his masculine beauty and the perfection of his form. It would be no hardship to revel in his body and have him, revel in her own.
Licking her lips, she imagined removing that shirt and exploring the flesh beneath. Soon, she would not have to imagine, it would be reality.
Huskily and with a confidence that she did not truly feel, she ordered, “Take off your jacket and shirt.”
He cocked an eyebrow and did not obey her dictate. Instead, he stopped just before her bed and then complied. Slowly, he shrugged out of the tightly fitted jacket and then, unraveled his cravat. When he lifted the linen shift over his head and she saw the expanse of skin beneath, her heart shuddered. With hesitant hands, she lifted them and rested them on his belly. Inspired, when his muscles tensed, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the central line of muscle that were gathered there.
