Ensnared by the Dream Lord (Dark Lords)

by Jaide Fox

  He was gone, but there was no comfort in that. She saw when she turned to look at the bed beside her that the impression of his head still dented the pillow beside hers.

  She had not dreamed it, she thought with a sense of hopelessness. Morpheus had come for her and, despite her love and fear for him, she had not been able to resist him.

  Her body protested with pain when she climbed from the bed, telling its own tale.

  That part had not merely been dream either.

  He had crossed the boundary of her dreams and taken her in the physical world.

  Real fear clenched at her belly then. Was that worse? Or no worse than succumbing to him in his own realm of dreams would have been?

  She did not know, truly. She knew almost nothing about the world of magical things, but the certainty grew in her that it was a very bad thing.

  Like an unkindness of ravens, her anxieties circled her again, but a solution to her problem did not immediately present itself to her.

  She found the proof of their doings on her thighs. Dried blood coated her tender lips and the insides of her thighs. She was a virgin no more.

  The knowledge that he’d taken it made her insides go soft. She flushed with remembered pleasure and fleeting pain.

  When she had bathed and dressed in the ragged remains of her gown, she found food awaited her as it had the day before. Her stomach cramped with the need to assuage her hunger and she realized that she had not eaten at all the day before except to break her fast.

  And Morpheus had made love to her over and over again, she thought, more than a little embarrassed to recall how gladly she had welcomed him, how easily he’d conquered her resistance. How many hours had they made love? All day? All night? The thrust of his body and the blinding pleasure were a blur to her.

  Small wonder she was starving!

  Small wonder, she added as she settled on the edge of the bed to eat, that she could not convince him to take her to her sister.

  She frowned at that thought, realizing that she hadn’t actually asked him to. Mayhap it would take no more than that, she thought a little hopefully? After all, it was her pleas that had summoned him to begin with. He had been compelled to respond to her. Wouldn’t he be compelled to give her the boon she asked of him?

  It was not her heart’s desire, she realized almost at once. Would he sense that?

  Maybe he already had sensed her heart’s desire and that was why she was here, she thought glumly.

  Would there truly be harm in it, she wondered? He desired her, but she could see no sign of softness in his caresses, nothing that spoke of love. Lust and love might always go hand in hand—one could not feel love without desire—but it did not necessarily follow that one could not feel lust without also feeling love.

  Was there substance to her reasoning? Or was it, as she suspected, the sort of thing one told oneself to justify yielding to one’s desires against better judgment?

  She thought most likely that was the case. She wanted so badly to believe that it would be alright if she gave in to her own yearning that she was willing to ignore the possibility that it could bring harm to him.

  Could she truly love him and allow harm to come to him only to satisfy her own needs?

  She sighed. Her love weakened her when it should have given her strength. She would have to find it within herself—for his sake. It might well be that she was torturing herself for no good reason. She could be right and he might feel nothing more than lust—ever, but she cared too much to take the chance.

  She must try to reason with him, she decided, leaving the little food that remained on the plate and rising purposefully.

  That sense of purposefulness began to wane as she searched the castle for him and found only one empty room after another. When she had climbed to the top of the castle and walked the battlements, staring out at the fog shrouded grounds of his realm and still seen nothing of him, she stopped to rest and consider the matter.

  It occurred to her after a time that he was Lord of the Night. Perhaps he was forced to seek his rest during the day?

  Her heart seemed to turn over in her chest at the implications of that thought.

  Did it mean he held no sway over her except at night? Was it possible that she could flee, now, escape from him and hide herself in the woods?

  The thought of it scared her. She had no idea how to find her way to either of her sisters. She could be lost in the Hellsing wood until she found her own death.

  She shook that thought off. She was looking for excuses again. Drago Kadar would know that she had been taken, and by whom. He might well be searching for her even now. He might have gone back to enlist the aid of Daegon Erlansson, her sister’s husband. For that matter, her father would know by now that she had been taken. He would almost certainly look first in Hellsing, where dwelt those he most feared would spirit her away. It seemed to her that he would be the least likely to be able to rescue her, because he was only mortal, but someone was looking for her. She need only escape beyond Morpheus’ domain.

  She should chance it—now—she decided, before she lost her nerve.

  One problem almost immediately presented itself. She could not judge the time of day. Beyond her window lay a world that seemed shrouded in perpetual gloom or complete darkness. It was not night time, but she could not tell if it was early morning or nearing dusk.

  She pushed the anxiety aside. Likely, she would never be able to tell. This was the realm of the Lord of the Night after all. She must dismiss cowardly qualms and do what she knew was right—and best for Morpheus even if it would break her heart to leave him.

  She would take nothing, she decided. It was a risk, but she knew she couldn’t face creeping around the castle in search of victuals for her journey. It was a pity the tray and food had disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared to begin with. She might at least have taken the remains to sustain her until she found help—or was found, but it was not something she could change now and the very thought of being caught filching from Morpheus’ larder made her heart quake.

  Resolutely, she left the bed chamber and crept down the stairs. When she had reached the main hall, she peered inside. Relieved when she saw that it was as empty as before, she hurried across the room and struggled with the great doors.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Chapter Eight

  Adriana let out a squeak of fright and whirled at the voice, her hand clutching at her painfully pounding heart. After staring at him guiltily for a full minute, she blinked, forcing a smile to her lips. “I—uh—I was looking for you,” she lied.

  His brows rose. His expression looked almost pleasant—like his voice. Almost pleasant. “Truly?”

  Her smile wavered. “Yes. Truly.”

  “Why?”

  Adriana blinked. “Why?” she echoed, dismayed.

  “You had no particular reason?”

  She sucked in her lower lip, thinking frantically. “I thought that you might show me around,” she said on sudden inspiration.

  His brows rose. “I thought you had thoroughly explored the castle earlier.”

  Adriana reddened. There seemed little point in lying when it was obvious he knew everything that went on inside the castle. On the other hand, the alternative of simply confessing did not particularly appeal to her. As torturous as it was to play the game of cat and mouse with him, she could think of nothing to do but dig the hole a little deeper with another lie. “Uh—I was looking for you. But then when I didn’t find you I thought that you must be outside.”

  His lips curled, but there was no amusement in his eyes. Hunger gleamed in his eyes as he raked his gaze slowly over her. “I was only waiting for you to rest so that we could resume our interesting little game.”

  “Game?” Adriana asked doubtfully, feeling heat surge through her.

  “Mmm.” He moved closer, caging her against the door with his body. “I slake my lust on your sweet body and you pretend you don’t want me to.”
>
  Adriana’s breath snagged in her chest, but embarrassment colored her cheeks, as well. “But—I don’t—not—not really,” she gasped a little breathlessly as he caught her waist, lifting her, and nuzzled his face into the valley between her breasts.

  He lifted his head. “No?”

  Adriana swallowed a little convulsively.

  He pushed his knee between her legs, settling her on his thigh and dragged her skirts up. She felt his hand skate lightly over her bare thigh and her heart began to hammer a little more frantically. When he lifted her slightly and pushed his hand between her legs, dragging one finger along her damp cleft it was all she could do to keep from moaning at the pleasure that coursed through her. Her fingers clenched spasmodically on his shoulders as he pushed his finger slowly into her body. “This tells a different tale,” he murmured in satisfaction.

  She closed her eyes, trying to close her mind to the way he made her feel.

  Darkness settled over her. When she opened her eyes again she discovered that she was no longer standing by the door. Instead, she found herself standing before Morpheus’ throne. He was sprawled comfortably, his eyes slumberous with desire as they moved over her.

  Confused, she glanced around and finally lifted her hands. There were manacles on her wrist—just as there had been in the dream she’d had of Morpheus.

  “Except this time, it is no dream,” Morpheus responded as if she’d spoken aloud.

  She looked up at him when he spoke. “You made me dream it before.”

  “Yes. You enjoyed it.”

  He’d been with her. He had to know that she had. Instead of trying to lie, she said nothing at all.

  “I found it—interesting. On the other hand, in the world of dreams it isn’t the same as the physical world.” He untied his cod piece, pulling his engorged cock out. With his other hand, he beckoned her. “Pleasure me.”

  Adriana’s mouth went completely dry. She swallowed, trying to work wetness into the orifice, but all her body’s moisture seemed to have fled down to her nether regions. She was stunned to stillness by his enormity, by the fact that he’d claimed her with that beast. It seemed so much larger now, more real.

  When she didn’t move, he twisted his hand and pulled her chain, forcing her down on her knees. She stumbled forward until his cock was eye level, the weight of the chains making her awkward.

  Incredibly, she hungered to taste him. He wanted to dominate her, but she was eager for the experience without the unreal fog of slumber affecting her memory. She gripped his cock, mimicking the clutch of her sex, flicking her tongue across the tip.

  He tasted better than she remembered. More intense, supremely male. He tensed, his belly jerking as she sucked the mushroomed tip inside her mouth. Rubbing her hand up and down his engorged length, barely moving his almost too tight skin, she lubricated him with her tongue. Nibbling him like a confection, she knew she did as he wished when he groaned and clutched her head, fingers tangling in her hair.

  She smiled against him, suckling, nibbling with lips, flicking her tongue, massaging him with her hand. He went rigid, thighs flexing as his cock jerked violently in her mouth, gushing seed. She swallowed it, not knowing what else to do, exulting at having brought him fulfillment, at having him vulnerable to the suckle of her mouth.

  He groaned her name, tightening his hand in her hair to force her head back. He moved on his knees, pushing her to the floor.

  “I crave sustenance as you’ve begot from my loins,” he murmured, dragging himself down her body.

  Her belly spasmed when he lifted her skirts, exposing her bare legs. Her pantalettes had been ruined beyond repair. He looked at her from above, his eyes glittering with dark, male intent as he dipped his head between her thighs.

  She flushed with embarrassment, expecting disgust, repulsion by her nakedness. She was far fallen from grace, a wanton in his eyes.

  She was shocked to the core when his hot breath fanned over her mound. Her heart lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her. She strangled on a gasp, jerking as his lips closed over her clit with unerring accuracy.

  “My lord, no!” she cried, trying to close her legs—too little, too late.

  He pried her legs from his cheeks, splaying her wide, his fingers near bruising. “Will you, nil you, I’ll taste the honey of your body. Dare you deny your want of me?” he said, his voice harsh, breath hot. He flicked his tongue down, down into her hole.

  “Please!” she cried, writhing as he plunged that wet, rough spear of flesh into her opening. She didn’t know whether she protested or encouraged.

  He curled it inside her, striking a spot that erupted in instant pleasure. She bucked against his mouth, wanting to writhe away but needing to get closer.

  He moved inside her, spiking her need. Just as she felt her orgasm closing in, he withdrew, nuzzling her swollen lips.

  “Do you want me?” he said, rubbing her mound with his thumbs, massaging her thighs with his fingers.

  She trembled all over, so close to climax. She clawed her way up from the fog of arousal, until she could think of an answer to his question. She couldn’t admit it. She had to remember he was in danger. “No,” she said past the thickness of her throat, her tongue and lips feeling swollen with want, the need to be kissed.

  “Perhaps I should cease…,” he murmured before nibbling her clit. Pulling at the bud, he plucked it with his lips, making the nerves ripple with impending release.

  “No!” she cried, wanting to clutch him, admit her desire to cease the games and allow herself to love him and be loved.

  He moved a hand, parting her lips to thrust one tapered digit inside her. He pushed another in, curling them into that most sensitive spot, evoking a torrent of feeling. “You want me. You want this as much as I.”

  She shook her head, trying to deny him, at least this once. She had to stay strong. She had to save him, save herself.

  He buried his face in her cleft, consuming her with a ravenous hunger. His lips and tongue and fingers seemed everywhere, deep inside her, teasingly across every surface. He brought her to the edge again, until her hips rose from the floor, and then he backed off, cooling her with his breath.

  He repeated the torture, asking the same questions again and again, until she was mindless with want. She lost all sense of time.

  Her womb and belly cramped with longing, muscles screaming in protest. Every move was agony, ever touch mind-numbing.

  When she could take no more, she cried out, “Please, no more!”

  He said something, but she couldn’t hear him. Every sense focused on her loins. When he finally allowed her release, it came in a painful gush. Her muscles tensed to the point that they seized on his fingers. She jerked against his mouth, gasping, crying as he wrung her pleasure out, leaving her emotionally and physically drained. Exhaustion claimed her in a faint.

  When she awoke, it was with dismay that she realized he’d taken her back to bed. There was no satiating his hunger, and she was just as ravenous. He made love to her again, fast, rough, heedless to anything but the pleasure they found in each other.

  Adriana felt that she’d fallen into a dream world, a reality where pleasure reigned in a dizzying whirl of ecstasy.

  * * * *

  No matter how often he plundered her body, satisfaction eluded him. As sated as he was from making love to Adriana a vague, unnamable emptiness still plagued him. Restless, he rolled to the edge of the bed and dressed. After staring down at her peacefully sleeping face for several moments, he leaned toward her and waved a hand over her. “Sleep.”

  Assured that he need have no concern that she would wake while he was gone and use the opportunity to leave, he left her and strode quickly from his castle, whistling for Despair. Frowning when the night-mare did not appear at once, he whistled again. With obvious reluctance, the mare answered his summons, galloping up to him in a rush that spattered his boots in a shower of pebbles and dirt and clods of grass.

  Gritting his
teeth, Morpheus grasped the night-mare’s fiery mane and flung himself onto the horse’s back, clouting the steed on the side of the head for her impertinence. “Even the bloody mare defies me,” Morpheus muttered, giving the horse its head.

  Rearing, snorting with anger, Despair leapt skyward and raced across the heavens at a breakneck pace. Morpheus paid little heed. His mind was wrapped in the puzzle of his dissatisfaction, but turn it though he might he could not quite grasp the thing that teased at him.

  Dawn was approaching when at last he turned Despair homeward once more. As the first rays of morning pinkened the horizon, he strode into the castle once more, climbed the stairs and sought the solitude of his own chamber. It was there, in his dream world that the answer at last came to him.