by Jaide Fox
“Were this the last night of my lifetime, I would wish to spend it with you. For this night, our first time, I want it to be as man and woman. I want you to feel everything I do.” Her voice broke on the last, and she swallowed, overcome with emotion.
“May dawn never come,” he whispered. He straightened from the bed and closed his eyes. A golden light emanated from his skin, growing until it encompassed him entirely. It rippled in a shimmering wave, then absorbed back into his skin.
He opened his eyes, and a look of pain crossed his features. “Something ... is ... wrong,” he gasped and dropped to his knees. A gash opened over his heart, and blood poured from the wound.
Bianca screamed and leapt from the bed as he sank to the floor. She pressed her hands to the wound, watching in horror as the red blood turned black. There was so much of it, everywhere, all around her. Her vision blurred, and she realized she was crying. Tears streamed down her face. “I can’t heal you, Damian. My power isn’t working!”
“The curse ... live ... love no more,” he whispered, collapsing.
“What is it, Damian? Tell me the curse, please!”
He raised a hand as though he would touch her face, but he had not the strength to lift his arm more than a few inches from the floor.
“You can’t leave me, Damian,” she cried, her tears mingling with his blood. “I love you.”
He smiled, and for a moment, she had hope. “I am glad I could hear you say it ... just once.” He closed his eyes and sighed for the last time.
“No!” she screamed and collapsed on his chest, sobbing. She looked up at his face, smoothing his hair back as she cried brokenly. Cried for the last of the Valiants ... for the centuries of despair ... for the life he’d given up to save countless innocents. And she cried for herself and the love she’d wanted to share ... with him ... for the whole of her life.
Lost now ... all was lost....
She closed her eyes, stroking his cool chest, willing oblivion to take her. Her fingertips tingled with the abrasion of his hair. She stopped and the feeling persisted. Bianca cracked her eyes open and bolted upright. Her fingers glowed a pale pink, and with each heartbeat they darkened until they glowed with blinding, crimson light.
Bianca stroked his chest, stunned, unable to believe the power surging through her veins. His soul ... it remained! It could be nothing else. He refused to leave her, even in death.
Heat suffused her as she massaged his chest, willing life into his body, praying with the essence of her being for him to breathe. She squinted against the light, watching in amazement as the small gash in his chest slowly mended, new flesh growing over the hole.
Bianca placed her palm over the new, pink skin. Light flashed with blinding force, throwing her back. She blinked rapidly and scrambled to his side, sliding her arm behind his neck. His body shook as if seized, and he gasped as his lungs pulled life giving air into them.
She pulled him into her arms, cradling him, kissing his face all over. He was warm, warm with life. “My heart, my love, I thought I had lost you.” She kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back, unable to stop touching him for fear he’d disappear.
He coughed and pulled back from her, amazement in his eyes. He touched her cheek, her hair. “I can feel you, the heat of your skin and the silk of your hair.” He looked down at the small scar on his chest, touching it gingerly before looking at her once more. “The curse was fulfilled, yet you have given me a second chance, a second life.”
“I don’t care to hear any more of this curse.” She reached for him, but he stopped her.
His brows drew down in a frown. “You must hear it. I ... I never understood until now. ‘For untold years you will wait upon death’s door. From the healer’s hand and love’s demand, you will live and love no more.’ Your love set me free, Bianca, but when I assumed my human form, so too was the necromancer’s curse fulfilled. An ultimate cruelty, to have love but to lose it.”
“Then why do you yet live?”
“He could never have known of you, nor the power of your spirit. We were bonded, Bianca, even through death.”
Bianca hugged him tightly, kissing his neck. “I love you so much, Damian.”
They stood, holding each other. “I love you too,” he whispered, and gently removed her gown, dropping it to the floor.
He looked down her body and felt a fierce ache lift from his soul. The years of despair had been worth it--for if he’d not been cursed, he would never have known her. She’d healed him completely with her miraculous power, infusing him with life, with love. He gathered her in his arms and strode to the bath, placing her inside.
Damian joined her in the steaming water. They bathed the hardships from each other, reveling in the feel of wet, slick skin, in the feel of each other. He wanted to touch her everywhere, kiss every part of her body. He rubbed a soap covered cloth over her breasts, and her nipples hardened, begging for his mouth. He rinsed them and kissed her nipples, groaning as they puckered for him and she dug her fingers into his hair. He wanted more, but he had to pace himself or he would lose control before she reached her own pleasure.
He traveled down the length of her belly, and she closed her eyes as he rubbed the cloth in her cleft. He massaged her clit in short, circling strokes, and she moaned, tilting her head back to expose her throat for his eager lips.
“Damian, I cannot wait for you anymore,” she breathed, gasping as he slid a finger into her.
She was so hot, hotter than the water, like liquid silk. His cock hardened unbearably, burning with the need to sink into her depths. He could take no more. With a groan, he pulled her toward him, sloshing water over the sides of the tub.
She came willingly, sliding her breasts against his chest, rubbing against his nipples with abandon. The pleasure was sharp, lancing through his nerves. She tilted her face to him, and he crushed his mouth on hers, forcing his tongue between her lips to taste her, as he’d longed to do upon first seeing her.
She moaned into his mouth, her tongue finding his. Rough, slick, she tasted sweeter than ambrosia, intoxicating his senses. He ran his hands down her smooth back, cupping her buttocks as she wrapped her legs around him.
Bianca tensed as his shaft nudged her belly. Her body slick with soap, she lifted her hips with his guidance until his cockhead rested at the opening of her womb.
She wanted to be one with him so badly, no matter the pain or pleasure, only he mattered now. Bianca returned his kiss and groaned as he jerked his hips and sank inside her. She cried out as he burst through her seal.
He broke from her mouth, breathing heavily, eyes heavy lidded with lust. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head and tightened her thighs around his hips, rocking against him. He groaned hoarsely and squeezed her buttocks, pulling her against him, drawing his cock out of her to plunge inside again.
She clutched his shoulders, clinging to him as her nerves danced with pleasure, the spasm of her body building upon itself. Bianca locked her gaze with his, riding with him. He filled her completely, stretching her nearly to her limit. She could feel him consuming her, touching every pore of her body with the force of his thrust and the heat of his love.
Her thoughts raced chaotically as feelings of joy and satisfaction flooded her being. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo, her blood singeing her veins. Sweat beaded her brow and between her breasts, and she clung to him for the strength to go on. He felt right inside her, a welcome intrusion that she’d sought for so long.
The pleasure reached a crescendo suddenly, blinding her with a wave of bliss she felt through every part of her body, culminating in a wave of pleasure that made her mind nearly black out from the intensity. Her body clutched him, milking the seed from his body as he jerked inside her. She cried out and his voice joined hers in a chorus of ecstasy, and then he collapsed back, holding her in his arms.
He kissed her damp forehead, stroking her back.
“That was beautiful,” she breathed, kissing hi
s neck.
“I am sorry I was so rough,” he said, pushing her wet, clinging hair away from her face.
“You will not apologize for that. Besides, I enjoy pushing you over the edge.” Bianca grinned and looked up at him.
He pinched a buttock cheek and kissed her nose. “What happened to the lady healer, pure of heart?”
Bianca returned the pinch, then groped his firm behind. “She is in here ... along with the bold wench who demands a repeat performance.” His shaft hardened inside her as she squeezed his cheeks, and she squirmed enticingly, loving the feel of him in her tight passage.
He growled playfully. “You’ll get what you wished for, my sweet lady.”
Aye, that she would. She smiled as he reversed their positions, rolling on top of her as he descended for a kiss.
The End
Here’s a special sneak peek at HEART OF DARKNESS, a full length paranormal/fantasy romance coming in January 2013:
Chapter One
Bolting into an upright position, Isabeau Hart's ears perked up as she listened to the sounds of the night around her. The fingers of her left hand automatically wrapped around the onyx, gold encircled ring, which bound the index finger of her right hand. She clung to the golden circle with a fierce need, seeking unconscious comfort from one of the last remaining items that had once belonged to her mother.
She licked her lips as she analyzed the different sounds in an attempt to discover what had awoken her, but could discern nothing in the silence outside of the ale house in which she was staying. Her ears were literally pricked up as she attempted to sift through the noises of the other inhabitants, but she could hear nothing.
Something must have caused her to awaken though....
Realizing that she hadn't taken in a breath of air for the last few moments, she gulped and attempted to once more, calm her breathing. Slowly, she inhaled and exhaled then sank back down on to the cot beneath her. She thought of the feather bed that had once sucked her into its comfort and the pleasant sleeping chamber that had been hers since birth and longed for it with an ache that had tears stinging against the sensitive flesh of her eyelids.
Perhaps it wasn't the superficial comforts of home she missed, but the security of her parents' love and care, which had forever cushioned her from the harsher aspects of life.
Isabeau sighed as she realized that perhaps that cushion had caused the last four years alone to be even more difficult, but still, she could not and would never regret the secure upbringing she'd been fortunate to have.
Wriggling against the cot that was a makeshift bed for the night, she grimaced as the wooden spine seemed to scrape each nodule of bone that sat along the slender expanse of her back. In comparison to the down mattress she had once slept upon, it was akin to torture, but after four solid nights of sleeping on the loamy ground of varying woods throughout the realm, it was a welcome change. It was no wonder she was so fatigued, when night after night amongst the scurrying insects and rodents kept her from the deep slumber she needed after covering so much distance throughout the day!
Although Isabeau was once more lying against the cot, she hadn't relaxed. Her senses were such that very little disturbed her, so when something did, when it actually woke her up from a deep slumber, she knew to trust her instincts. Over the last years alone, they had been her sole defense and she had come to rely upon them. Whilst at this moment in time, she could hear no particular reason to be agitated, her senses and instincts rarely lied.
Something was out there.
Waiting silently for her.
Isabeau lifted a tired arm and scrubbed her fiery red hair back from her forehead. Using her thumb and index finger, she rubbed her eyes and tried to evaluate what her next move should be.
Was it safer to remain here until daylight?
Or sneak out now and attempt to dissolve into the woods and forests that surrounded this quiet village?
Biting her lip, she realized that she was tempted to stay here and hide away for a few hours longer, but as the skin at the back of her nape persistently tingled, Isabeau knew that she had to move. A part of her longed for the blessed relief of sleep, but that tenacious tingling had her on edge and as far from the arms of Morpheus as was physically possible.
Suffering from a severe lack of sleep as she was, Isabeau's movements were slow and dulled and her reactions were not exactly swift as she climbed from the cot and stood beside it. Her shining violet eyes were dazed with somnolence.
Rising to her feet, she stifled a groan as her bones settled and she swept her hands along the length of her skirt to free it from the dust and lint that it had collected during her slumber. Isabeau gathered her few possessions, a square swatch of material which acted as a carrying bag when gathered together and currently contained a stale hunk of bread and a block of cheese.
She had soon learned that any possessions she wished to keep had to stay on her person. The six guineas she had were sewn into the skirts of her petticoats. A miniature painting of her beloved mama and papa were tucked down the bodice of her chemise and the ring they'd bestowed upon her, never left her finger. In company, she often hid her right hand in her skirts so as not to attract attention to it. For even though she could change her appearance at will, for some reason, the ring stayed no matter what form she took.
Having gathered all her things together, Isabeau quietly crept out of the ale house in which she had paid over the odds to sleep in a single chamber. It seemed a shame to depart so early in the night and a waste of good money to boot, but she had little choice. Her instincts were screaming at her and to ignore them could mean...
She pursed her lips together and closed her eyes to deny what she knew to be fact. That whoever had murdered her parents, whoever had set their house alight and allowed them to burn to their deaths, was now on her tail and had been for the last four years.
Exhaling roughly, Isabeau grimly exited the ale house as silently as she possibly could. The less attention she garnered the better. For even though it was the early hours of the night, her senses told her that of the twenty inhabitants, at least five of them were in a state of wakefulness. Any abrupt and strange noises could bring about an investigation on their parts and that would never do. For the last few years, discretion had been her watchword and she was certain, that that was the reason for her continued safety.
How she knew there were twenty people staying in the inn and how she knew that five of them were awake, was simply one of those things that she had soon learned to accept. It was added to the fact that if she was injured, she could heal herself. And if she wanted to, then she could change her appearance.
Her abilities were a mystery to her but with the life she led, they were her only security. Without them, she would more than likely have died days after her parents' death. Sixteen, she had been. Old enough to be wed in the eyes of the law, but she had been raised differently than other girls. She had been a young sixteen and the aftermath of losing her parents had been the most difficult time of her life.
To this day, she was unsure as to how she'd coped. How she had survived. She could believe that she was, just that, a survivor. Someone, who despite the odds, despite the fact that everything was against her, wanted to live and would do anything physically and magically possible to do so.
The ring ...was something she kept close at all times as it was her mother's. A part of her was unsure of its power, yet another part was certain that something inside her soul triggered its magic. Once, a few terrible months after the death of her mama and papa, a beggar had attempted to rip it from her hand. As soon as the gold and onyx had touched the man's flesh, terrible screams had escaped his throat and he had grabbed his hand back and nursed it against his chest, like a mother would a suckling babe. He had soon run off and left her to herself.
That experience made her believe that while the ring reacted in unnerving and miraculous ways whilst sat upon her hand, it couldn't on another's.
What that made her,
she didn't know.
A part of her wondered if that was why she was constantly running from place to place. Attempting to outrun the knowledge of what she actually was.
Perhaps she was wrong, perchance her constant flight from danger was for some other reason, but the simple villagers of her home town had never treated witches with any kindness. There were documented papers, which explored the dunking of countless, simple women and the burning of supposedly evil sorceresses, who were in league with the devil.
Mayhap, the villagers had been behind her parents' deaths and she simply had to count herself blessed that she had not been in the house that day. Had been sent out on an errand for a ribbon for one of her mother's new hats.
Or conceivably, it was something more sinister and something that was completely beyond her cognizance.
Again, and not for the first time, she wished that her mother had explained these...talents to her. Isabeau wished that she wasn't so in the dark as to what she was able to do. But it was simply a waste of time to wish for things that were impossible and Isabeau had no other choice but to wait to learn all that she could do.
Patience was not, however, one of her virtues.
Closing the door to the ale house as gently as she could, Isabeau sighed out in relief as she finally entered the yard. A horse neighed and she froze at the sound, but relaxed moments later as she realized that it came from the inn's own stables.
