I pushed away from the wall and grabbed her wrist to get a better look. It wasn’t the burn from the other night. This was a new injury. A red raised mark on her skin as if someone had struck her with a rod. Had Phoebus hit her after the dinner? I abandoned my curiosity, any intrigue or attempt to woo her. My fingers tightened around her arm. I pulled her closer. My heart needed the comfort of her presence. My mind however was consumed with murderous thoughts. I didn’t realize that I was growling or that her gargoyle had moved up behind me until I felt the weight of his cold marble hand on my shoulder.
“Morpheus,” he said in that gravelly voice of his, “release Cecilia. Now.” He squeezed for emphasis hard enough to leave a bruise as significant as the one that marred my Fated’s flesh.
“I don’t believe that I will.” I turned my head and glared at him. “It seems to me that she needs a better protector than you. Where were you when she obtained this injury?” I lifted her wrist to make my point.
“Are you volunteering for the position, handsome?” Cecilia shook her head at the gargoyle as if to tell him to back off. He released me. I didn’t really care what her motivation was in that moment. It didn’t even really bother me too much that I knew she was trying to redirect me from speculation about where she had gotten that mark. All I knew was that I was lost in the seductive purr of her voice and drowning in her half-masted lids. I wanted her to look at me like that when we were joined. She put her hand on the center of my chest, peering up at me from between her lashes. I reveled in the feel of her touch. It was the first time she had touched me of her own volition. I was ravenous for more. Even with an audience, I moved to get it. I leaned closer intending to press my mouth to her slightly parted rosy lips, but she sidestepped out of reach.
“Because if you are volunteering, I’ll remind you the position is already filled.” Like a switch her voice turned from soft to accusing. “Filled by someone who follows directions much better than you.” She was referencing her directive for me to leave her alone after our last meeting.
I scowled, though inwardly I was infinitely pleased with her. The way she looked. The way she acted. She challenged me at every turn and I liked it.
I averted my eyes though I could still feel the glow in them. Morpheus seemed intent on getting me flustered at every turn. Most men were careful to avoid showing any interest in me. But then again Morpheus wasn’t most men. He was one of a kind. Looks. Strength. Dream powers. Those incredible wings.
I tried not to let my gaze wander to him as we had strolled through the City of Lights on the tour, but I had been curious to gauge his reaction. If his tight jaw and clenched hands were any indication he didn’t like it much, and neither did his companions. The signs of segregation between Darks and Lights were wider than ever before. Without Leonardo to advise him, Phoebus had slipped deeper into his mad ambitions and his hatred for Dark Immortals had grown. Most of the changes Fiori had worked so hard to achieve had been erased.
No Administration anymore for the settling of disputes. That was all done in Phoebus’ Court once more. Dark Immortals were forbidden to enter any dwelling no matter which side of the Soleil River it lay on. We wore collars. We had no freedom, except for inside the place we were now.
La Ville Sombre.
Phoebus rarely ventured here, but I could tell that he wanted to impress the god of wine. Phoebus could be charming when he wanted something. I doubted that he really trusted Bacchus but he likely felt that he needed his support for the final solution that he was as determined as ever to implement. With all the favors owed to him and all the money that lined his coffers, he was too close to having the means that he required to make his warped dream a reality.
“Cecilia,” Morpheus called low moving up beside me, his impressive body practically brushing mine. “Mi hermosa estrella.” My beautiful star.
“I’m not your beautiful anything,” I returned while staring straight ahead keeping the others in sight. We had fallen several paces behind.
“Not yet,” he allowed.
“Not ever,” I insisted. It wasn’t possible no matter how much he tempted me. I started to pick up the pace. I could see Fiori and the guards turning the corner, but Morpheus grabbed my hand and drew me into the shadows beneath one of the pod overhangs. Watching me closely, giving me the opportunity to refuse, the opposite of Phoebus in the way he treated me, he slowly reeled me closer to him. When we were mere inches apart, he released my hand but only to free his to move to my lower back. Fingers splaying wide and territorially low, he lifted his other hand to my face, gazing deeply into my eyes as he traced a wayward lock of my hair. I shivered when his fingertips softly brushed the shell of my ear.
“Are you cold, estrellita?” Little star. I loved hearing Spanish spoken in his sexy rumbly voice. He glided his fingertips down my arm through the mist and chill bumps that coated my skin. I should have told him to stop but he held me captive with the intensity of his iridescent gaze. “You are. And wet, as well.” He stepped back and unsnapped his shirt, a dark blue plaid western one, and wrapped it around my shoulders before I could protest. His aroma sharp yet sweet, as complex as he was engulfed me. The shirt was still warm from his body. The hem hung past my thighs. But it was the sight of Morpheus’ half-naked torso that made my mouth part and my knees tremble.
His skin was bronze and every single exposed inch of it was sculpted with battle-ready bulges, chiseled contours and rock hard ridges.
More handsome than Adonis.
Stronger than Hercules.
The rival of an Ancient with those glorious ebony wings.
I licked my lips. “I can’t be seen wearing this,” I breathed, my actions belying my words as I crushed the cotton in my fingers and pulled the two sides of the shirt tighter across my chest. I was underdressed in just my exercise gear.
“For a moment longer then.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. He placed his hands on me wrapping his long fingers around my upper arms and drawing me to him. Why did this feel so unalterable like the surrendering of the tide to the pull of the moon? Willingly, I went to him inhaling sharply as our bodies came together. Hard and unyielding strength to soft and supple submission.
“Morpheus, we can’t do this. Not here. We’ll get caught.”
“Here. Now.” He lifted my chin with a curled finger and lowered his head his intention clear. My lids fluttered closed a moment before his warm lips pressed firmly, seamlessly to my own. Pleasure flowed through me. He brushed his mouth slowly over mine a second time, a leisurely pass to savor the shape and texture. Awash in warm shimmery sensation, my entire body tingled from the top of my scalp to the tip of my toes. I moaned and my legs wobbled. I had never been kissed like this…so persuasively. Sliding my arms around his waist, I locked my hands together at his back, feeling his flexed muscles tighten, knowing that I never wanted to let go. His belt buckle and the legendary hardness beneath it pressed insistently against my belly. I didn’t just want to see it anymore, I wanted to experience it. I bowed my body into his seeking surcease for the throbbing ache between my thighs. Groaning, rocking against me, he tunneled his fingers into my hair, cradled my head to hold me in place and deepened the kiss. He flicked my lips with his wet tongue. I opened for him desperate to taste him. A complex blend of currant and oak like a rich red wine with a hint of bold spice, the taste of Morpheus did not disappoint. It annihilated every last bit of my reserve. All thoughts scattered but one.
“More, Morpheus,” I pleaded when he broke the kiss, his warm lips moving insistently across the skin of my jawline and down the arched column of my neck. But he didn’t give me more. He set me away. Abruptly. I swayed on my feet. Dazed, it took me a moment to register the footsteps over my ragged breathing. My eyes widened in fright. I quickly peeled off his shirt and threw it at him, smoothing my hair and hoping I didn’t look the way I felt, like I had been thoroughly kissed. I stepped out from behind the building.
“Cecily,” Phoebus called, holding out his arm to m
e. “What are you doing over there in the dark? Did you stumble and trip? Tell me you didn’t let the falcon put his hands on you. I would hate for him to have to lose them.” He grinned at me as I scurried to his side but there was no warmth in it. His glowing hot fingers brushed over the top of my skin. A not so subtle warning. I prayed Morpheus would stay out of sight until I could distract him.
“Are you cold, Cecily?” I almost choked at the similarly spoken line, but gagged instead when he pressed me into the side of the next pod roughly fondling my breast while his guard stood nearby crossbows drawn, pretending not to see how he violated me. “I can warm you up so very quickly.” His palm glowed with his UV heat.
“No.” I swallowed back bile. “I’m fine.” I made my voice weak and forced myself not to cringe from his touch.
Morpheus stepped out and saw it all. Everything. His expression grew darker than the shadows he had kissed me in. He growled a low warning and stomped toward us, his claws extended. I shook my head, my eyes begging him to back off and he frowned at me. He was going to get himself killed.
With each purposeful step he took my panic increased. My pulse roared. I knew what Phoebus was capable of. I couldn’t bear for him to unleash it on Morpheus.
To see those iridescent eyes close forever…
I couldn’t allow it. I knew Morpheus well enough now to know that he wouldn’t back down. I caught Stone’s gaze and jerked my chin in the Dream Falcon’s direction. Stone stepped in front of him and I did something unexpected to distract Phoebus.
“You should come to my room…later…after the show.”
Phoebus’ brows rose in surprise.
Too obvious, Cici, I chastised myself though I hadn’t really risked much with the offer. The Sun King came to my room after the show whether I invited him or not. He always got amorous ideas afterward. I would have to keep Stone close to dissuade him.
“I’ll do that, Cecily. Thank you for the kind invitation.” Phoebus stroked my cheek over the mark he had given me all those years ago, although I knew now that the ones he had left on my soul were far worse. I pasted on a saccharine smile. I’d had lots of practice in the art of chicanery because of him. “My pet.” He cast a narrow eyed investigative glance over his shoulder.
He knew Morpheus was there. He was taunting him. Did he know about us? Did he perceive the way my pulse sped up whenever Morpheus drew near? Had he noted the way my attention heedlessly wandered to the falcon? Did he know what we had just done?
If he had, he didn’t betray the knowledge. We toured the La Ville Sombre for an hour longer. Incessantly, Phoebus had touted the superiority of Light Immortals; listening to his tired rantings and constantly worrying about what Morpheus might do to risk his ire had my already strained nerves on edge.
“Why are those demons gathering there?” Bacchus asked, pointing to a slab of concrete and the patch of moonlight that was much wider than it had been in the days when Roderick had been in charge. “It looks like a memorial.” I swallowed at his accurate observation. A demon child with short hair and small horns saw me. I shook my head at him but he broke free from his mother’s grip and ran over.
“Cecilia.” He threw his arms around my waist. “Thank you for the new bench.” He tugged on my hand. “Come sit on it with me.” I could feel Phoebus’ burning eyes boring a hole in my back as I let myself be led by the young boy. I sat beside him unable to keep from tracing the letters of her name in the granite. I knew without looking that Stone had followed us. We both felt closer to her in this place.
The bench represented the latest addition to Amelia’s Grove. The entire park was a shrine to her. I had brought the dirt in myself wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow. I had planted all the night blooming plants and flowers. Phoebus hadn’t interfered because it had benefited him. I had been incoherent with grief, so physically and psychically damaged by Amelia’s death and what he had done to me afterward that I had been useless to him. He recognized that it had been therapeutic for me to do this for her, to memorialize her, to have something constructive to focus my energy on when before I had been ready to curl up into a ball and join her.
While I had done most of the work down below, Stone had worked above me hacking through the wires and clawing away the obsidian covering from the glass ceiling far above so more of the moonlight could shine through, until he was discovered and stopped by arrows that flew too close to his vulnerable wings. Still, we had managed to keep the hole he had hewn through the barrier a secret so far.
I tipped my face upward not realizing that my eyes were glowing softly behind my nearly closed lids and that tears had leaked unchecked down my cheeks.
“What is this place, Cecilia?” I didn’t need to open my eyes to know whose voice had posed the softly spoken question. A firm snap and a whoosh of air lifted my hair then silky softness, welcoming warmth and his wild orégano scent surrounded me. His wings were the perfect shelter. I let out a shuddering sigh as a feeling of contentment stole over me such that I had never known.
“It’s Amelia’s Grove. My parents were murdered back home in the rainforest the very night my twin and I were both captured. Amelia already was wounded when Phoebus punished her. She didn’t recover from it. She died shortly after we arrived here. Her ashes are scattered in the soil. I wanted her to be remembered and her life celebrated whenever the Dark Immortals come to renew themselves in the moonlight. I feel close to her here.” The words were accurate but inadequate to explain the depths of the pain that lay behind them. The sharp edges of loss still cut, still made me bleed. I opened my eyes, blinking through the sorrow and found myself staring deeply into iridescent eyes that were filled with more than only sympathy. In them I glimpsed the acceptance and the absolution I sought, if I could lay aside my guilt. He would provide the warmth to take away the chilling emptiness. Within his arms awaited understanding for my pain. But dare I accept it?
I held her tightly feeling our connection blazing, knowing deep down that she had to recognize what we were to each other but at the same time realizing that I couldn’t push her. She had been pushed too hard too many times and her losses had been staggering. I stared into her tearstained eyes, wishing I had magic to ease her pain. But all I could offer her was myself. If she would have me, I would dedicate my life to helping her rid herself of the heavy burden of her grief.
“Morpheus, come away from Cecilia. Now.” Only Arla’s softly spoken persuasive Progeny command could have convinced me to let her go in that moment.
I opened my wings and then my arms. Cecilia emerged slowly and unsteadily from our cocoon shuffling like an earthbound caterpillar that only dreamed of soaring. If only she would accept me, I knew we had enough magic between the two of us to escape this nightmare. Eyes burning with hatred for him I watched her return to Phoebus. He said something to her that made her face turn ashen. I wanted to tear my talons out when she submissively knelt on the ground before him subjugating her proud spirit to him.
A priceless gift to one completely unworthy.
He lifted her and pulled her into his arms. She stood stiff as a corpse in his embrace, but he gave me a look of triumph over her shoulder that promised retribution. I shot him back a defiant look that said I welcomed his challenge.
Yet unease churned within me. Not for myself, but for Cecilia, and what he might yet do to her.
I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Fiori. She seemed out of breath. Where had she been?
Speculation to that end became moot as the guards suddenly closed in around Arla, Billy, and me. It seemed that the Sun King had seen enough. We were informed in no uncertain terms that our tour was now over. I heard their words but I wasn’t looking at them. I was watching her, bristling as Phoebus placed his arm around her, hating that I could do nothing and that he stood between me and the woman the fates had chosen for me.
At the top of the stairs just before the airlock doors closed Cecilia turned her head slightly, her eyes seeking and finding mine. Loo
king resigned, she gave me an almost imperceptible shake of her head. I knew what it meant. She meant for me to stay away. Her constant refrain, not just to me, but to anyone who attempted to get close to her.
“Podna, doan do it,” Arla cautioned low so our escorts couldn’t hear.
“Don’t do what?” I raised a brow. “I’m just standing here.” Surely he couldn’t read my mind. Surely he couldn’t know that I had every intention of visiting Cecilia again tonight.
“We will do something about the situation in this realm, and the oracle. I can see that you are fond of her, no? But Thyme is in jeopardy. We must secure her first.”
“I don’t need to be reminded of priorities.” I narrowed my eyes. “Thyme is ever on my mind. As soon as Cecilia’s abilities return we will find Thyme and recover her.”
Billy watched our debate with keen interest. He knew a little bit more about how fast my feelings for Cecilia had grown. If it weren’t such an untenable situation and, if he didn’t look as if a stiff breeze could topple him, I would have already confided in him and welcomed his counsel and aid.
“Bien. The oracle is not in any immediate danger, unless you place her in it.” Arla’s words were well meant, but I wasn’t convinced that he was right. I hadn’t yet informed him about the new mark on her wrist, and I didn’t think anyone else had noticed her pallor or her disturbing familiarity with the layout of Phoebus’ dungeon. “If you feel you must have her,” he continued, “we will have to employ diplomacy. She is a possession to him. A heavily guarded and very valuable one.”
“She is not a possession,” I bit out from beneath my teeth, my sharp inhalation bringing the moonflower fragrance of her that lingered on my skin directly into my lungs. “And she is not his.” My heart pounded with the surety of that. “She is mine.”
Dream Magic Page 29
