She started to feel relaxed, yet was still agitated. It was perplexing. On the one hand, she could feel the knots loosen in her muscles, and her breathing regulate, but there was still something bothering her. Sighing in resignation, she closed her eyes and dropped the shield around her, focusing inwards as Arianna had taught her that morning.
Looking inside herself, she found her emotions in a black ball of discontent. Remembering Anais’ descriptions of what she had experienced when her powers were unbound, she realized that the same could be applied to her emotions, because her powers were ultimately tied to them. Allowing the shield to drop, she resolved to ask Arianna on how to deal with it. Then she allowed herself the pleasure of watching the horses. They moved towards a solitary white unicorn, not an uncommon site in the hollow. The unicorn’s continuous efforts to befriend the horses were rebuffed. To an outsider, it was obvious that the unicorn intimidated the horses, and so, they went on the defensive instead of trying to understand it. Dieu! Sophie scrambled up and began pacing as an unexpected monster of an epiphany hit her.
Sylvain stood to attention. He’d been watching Sophie, a picture of grace and serenity in the meadow as she meditated. It was a vision he found he was content to observe for an indefinite amount of time. But Sophie sprung up and began pacing. So now, he observed an agitated vamp wear a path in the grass under the tress.
“Sophie,” he went up to her, stopping her by grasping her shoulders. “Are you okay? The training with Arianna is supposed to help you, not freak you out.”
“You’re the unicorn,” Sophie blurted out.
“Huh?” Sylvain asked, sans eloquence. What the hell was she carrying on about? Last night he was her savior and today he was a unicorn. He wondered if there were adverse effects to empath training and made a mental note to chat with Arianna. Sylvain sighed. Saying a mental goodbye to the momentary tranquility, he took the object of his desire by her hand, and led her to a bench he conjured out of thin air. “Okay,” he said, pulling her down next to him, “explain.”
“You’re the unicorn,” she repeated, “and I’m the horses. Well, everyone else is a horse.”
“Sophie, ma chérie, you are far from a horse,” he teased.
“No, you idiot,” she slapped his arm. “Watching the horses, I realized that I’d been rebuffing you the way they snub the unicorn because they’re intimidated by it. I know that many of the supes do that. And those who are not intimidated by you, take you at face value. They see you as the charming, mischievous fae prince and nothing more.”
“I intimidate you?” Sylvain asked brows puzzled. Why the hell would she feel that way? He took pains to not go all royal on his friends and after millennia of practice. He'd figured he’d gotten that down pat.
“No, not you,” she said. “Uurgh, I’m making a mess of this.” Taking a deep breath, she continued more calmly, “I’ve been intimidated by the feelings I’ve been having for you. First, you were Sylvain the hot stranger, then Sylvain the Prince of Fae, followed by Sylvain the man-whore…” Sylvain winced at her flippancy. “Sorry, it is what I thought at the time,” Sophie said smiling gently. Sylvain scowled, but waved his hand for her to continue. “Then,” Sophie said on a short breath, “last night you were Sylvain the savior and now, well … now, I don’t know who or what you are.”
“I’m just Sylvain, Sophie,” Sylvain said sadly. “As Prince of Fae, I’m often measured up or compared to whatever preconceived notion people might have of me. That’s why I love being around everyone at the plantation. You treat me no differently than how you treat others.”
“Yes,” nodded Sophie, "everyone at the plantation treat you like a regular guy, because we’re all pretty odd ourselves.” Sophie looked at him as though he was a three year old not comprehending an instruction. It should have amused him or irritated him - Sophie again as the school marm. But, damn! It was a turn on, though. He had to shake his head to get rid of the images of her dressed in a prim outfit as he divested her of it and laid her across the desk. Hell, he’d even allow her to put him in detention and punish him as long as she was the one administering it.
Sophie stopped talking and poked him in the ribs, “Sylvain, are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Why?”
“I don’t know. You got a funny look on your face and seemed far away.”
“I’m good,” Sylvain draped his arm over her shoulders casually. Not. A. Smart. Move. The heat level in his crotch rose astronomically. Seeing a Faerie’s Star glistening amongst the bed of grass at his feet, he picked the sparkling white flower as an excuse to get some physical distance from her. He still had the satisfying pleasure of seeing her eyes light up with delight when he handed it to her. “You were saying?” he prompted.
Sophie cleared her throat, clearly touched by the gesture. “Yes. Well…” she stumbled over her words. His charm and gallantry was disarming at the moment. Taking a breath, she tried again, “The point is that there are so many facets to you that I feel as though I don’t really know you and so I don’t know what to do about those feelings.”
“I’ve lived for four thousand years,” Sylvain responded. “The experiences I’ve had, have blessed and cursed me with many faces. I’m not a simple man, Sophie.”
Sophie looked at him and nodded. She agreed with his reasoning, but her gut told her that it wasn’t quite the reason for the many masks of Sylvain.
Taking her quietness as acceptance, Sylvain sought to change the subject. “You mentioned feelings for me. Could you share what those are?”
Belatedly realizing just how deeply she’d put her foot in her mouth. It was also uncharacteristic for her. “Drat the empath training,” Sophie blushed. “One minute I’m practicing the skills Arianna taught me and the next minute I’m rambling on.” Unsure of his reception, Sophie peeked at him through the canopy provided by her lashes.
Enchanted by her sudden shyness, Sylvain ran the back of his hand along her flushed cheek. “Ah,” he said gently, through curved lips, “those kinds of feelings.” He had wanted to tease her, and yet, he found the simple act of touching her face baited his crotch. Goddess, if this is what such a simple touch did, what would full skin on skin contact do?! It seemed that around her his mind was destined to be permanently in the gutter. Maybe, he acknowledged, he was not such a complex man after all. “I’m having some of those feelings too,” he grinned. “I agree with you, ma chérie, we need to get to know each other better to deal with these feelings.”
He stroked the side of her face while speaking, and then gently, barely touching her, traced the sides of her arms and captured her hands in his. Enraptured by the desire he saw in her eyes, he moved towards her, and gently nibbled her already parted lips. Jolts of awareness shot through them. It felt as though they’d both been hit with a Taser.
“Dieu,” Sophie exclaimed. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Sylvain replied, “but, I think we need to do that again and find out.”
“Your majesty,” a young fae warrior hesitantly interrupted them. “Apologies for disturbing you sire. You asked that you be informed immediately when we received the response from the Unseelie Court.”
“I did indeed,” Sylvain said sardonically. “I’ll be right there.” Dismissed, the warrior left them. Sylvain looked at Sophie, regretting the interruption, but knowing that the delay would make future intimacy so much sweeter. “I’m sorry Sophie, court matters call.”
Sophie waved his apology away dismissively. “That’s fine. You go ahead. You’re speaking to your sister?”
“Yes,” Sylvain replied, gravely. Gone was the prince of boyish charm.
Both curious and concerned, Sophie observed, “I sense a reticence to speak to her. I presume it is about the trickster incident.”
“It’s complicated,” Sylvain shrugged, feeling uncomfortable.
“I’m an empath, Sylvain,” Sophie reminded him. “I can sense your trepidation. I know you’re not scared of her, but you’re guardi
ng your heart.”
Sylvain scowled. The kiss, an electric shock of pure bliss, had jolted him to the extent that he’d let go of his shield. “I’ll be okay,” he said, turning towards her and stroking her cheek again. Sophie instinctively leaned towards his touch and Sylvain dipped his head to place a soft, quick kiss on her lips. “Thank you for caring enough to ask, ma chérie. Now, I must go. I’ll see you at dinner?”
“Yes,” Sophie nodded and watched him walk away. She sat and looked at the horses and unicorn for a while and realized, yet again, that this past moment with Sylvain had been a defining one. The course of her life would be changing. Whether it was for the better or not, with or without Sylvain, she had no idea, but the change would be significant.
xxx
Sylvain stepped into a room in which he hadn’t been for three thousand years. It was unchanged. Colors of light and brightness melded together perfectly with dark. The entire room was a juxtaposition of things that shouldn’t go together, but did. The one side of the cavernous space was an illustration of all things Seelie, the shining court. It was bright, beautiful, and fantastical and made one sigh in contentment. The other side was a physical manifestation of the darker, baser Unseelie fae. Whereas the Seelie side depicted murals of meadows, beaches, and creatures that children read about in fairytales, the Unseelie side showed the darker side of the fae - blood, danger, and creatures that made kids crawl under their covers. Strangely enough, the joining of the two sides in the middle was neither light nor dark. Instead, it was the colors of the Goddess, the colors of magick in its rainbow hue of shades unknown to humankind. It was pure, sparkling, and bright. And in the middle was armor to fight with and beds to love in. Again, both sides of the coin melding together seamlessly to illustrate the balance the Goddess so often orated.
Sylvain looked towards the end of the room to where two thrones sat. She was already there and by the familiar scowl on her face, she was irritated by having to wait.
“Vérène,” he said, by way of greeting. His voice echoed off the bejeweled and mural covered walls made of faerie silver, marble, and gold. The booming quality of his voice was not due to the emptiness of the space they occupied, but rather that he was home. Truly home. This room, the throne room of all things fae, found in a space neither on earth or in the heavens and hells, was where the fae resided up until three thousand years ago. This was the first time he and his sister had entered it. The power surging through his veins with each step he took yelled at him that it had been too long. His self-imposed starvation had had a greater impact than he’d thought or was willing to admit.
Vérène quirked a brow at him, “You feel it, too?”
“Yes,” Sylvain replied, careful to keep his voice neutral.
“Oh, for fucks sake,” she spat out. “We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in three thousand years, and you can’t crack a fucking smile. And, you keep me waiting! You know I hate that.”
“My apologies, sister,” Sylvain said, meaning it. “I was unavoidably detained.”
“Of course,” Vérène stated, sarcastically, “picking flowers and singing to trees keep you Seelie incredibly busy. Such important work!”
Sylvain sighed inwardly. Evidently, three thousand years had not erased his sister’s penchant for sarcasm. Opting to ignore her instead of taking the bait, he sat down on his throne next to hers. Sylvain nearly groaned in pleasure. It felt right and good to sit in it again. It wasn’t an ego thing. The throne was made with metal from the heavens and carved entirely by the purest and most ancient magick - that of his ancestors, the first fae that had come into being.
His sister regarded him. “Yes, I see that you do feel it,” she observed, shrugging nonchalantly. It was an old mannerism she employed when she wanted to change the topic without having to ‘talk things out’ or apologize when she acted bitchy. Vérène was never wrong, at least in her own mind. Sylvain looked at his sister. She was still as beautiful as ever with hair as black as his was blonde and dark eyes where the knowledge of all things dark, all things Unseelie swirled beneath the surface. It was those eyes that had captivated countless men- both human and magickal - even though they were part of a perfectly formed face. Fair of skin and petite of form, those fragile qualities belied his sister’s immense power. She wasn’t more powerful than he. In fact, as much as they differed in looks and personality, his twin was his equal in every other way possible. They were equally powerful, equally magickal, and equally intelligent. If anything epitomized the ‘ying-yang’ philosophy, it was them.
“I’ve heard of your reasons why we had to meet, but I don’t buy it,” Vérène stated, matter-of-factly. “There have been incidences in the past where Unseelie have crept out of the hole we’d been buried…”
“I’d hardly call the Dark Palace a hole,” Sylvain interjected, irritably. He knew she was goading him. If anyone could push his button, it was her. The Unseelie court was far from the hole she described. Yes, it was darker, headier and literally in the plane between the day and night’s sky, but it was not a hole. It resembled the Rio Carnival at night, the New Orleans Mardi Gras in the Quarter, the lust-filled bordellos of an older Europe. It was not the refreshing calmness of the Seelie, but it was far from unpleasant. He knew that his sister tired of the hedonism though and that she might long for a bit of the Seelie world at times, however, that was her punishment and her cross to bear. “But you hadn’t asked to meet then,” Vérène carried on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Why now? It’s either the Goddess, a woman, or both.” She eyed her brother. To anyone else he would look calm and considering. But, she knew him better than anyone else and detected a tell-tale twitch in the corner of his eye. It lasted only a millisecond, but it was enough.
“Ah,” she quipped. “So, it’s both then. Tell me, brother, what foolish mission has the bitch-Goddess sent you on now?”
“Watch it, Vérène,” Sylvain warned. “She may be your nemesis, but she’s still a goddess. As much as it may pain you to hear, there are more powerful women than you.”
Vérène merely shrugged, seemingly uninterested in his comment. Sylvain had always wondered what had set her off. Why had she rebelled against the goddess and thus destroyed the fabric of Fae society? It was pointless to ask her to explain. He’d in fact, begged her to tell him, but she’d repeatedly refused. So, he’d let it go. When whatever anger she’d harbored silently within, spilled out and threatened to destroy both the human and supernatural worlds, he’d been forced to take steps. These steps still left a horrid taste in his mouth and an ache in his heart that family alone could heal. Sylvain regarded her and wished things were different. He would have loved to hug his sister and chat with her as they had before. But, there was no use wishing for what was done and could not be undone.
“We’re not getting anywhere,” he informed her. “You are right. I haven’t called you before and yes, there is a woman or rather women, and it does involve the goddess.” He stood up from the throne and held out his hand to her. “Join me and I’ll fill you in?”
Tentatively, she took his hand. They both closed their eyes and reveled in the power coursing through their essence. As children, they’d laughed and fiddled with their joined powers, familiarizing themselves with it. As rulers, they’d often used it to the trepidation of their enemies. And, by the look on her face, Sylvain realized that he had not been the only one suffering from their separation.
Taking the first step towards a truce, he grasped her hand a bit tighter, then looked into her open eyes. Her stark gaze revealed neither hatred nor disdain for her sibling. Instead, he saw hurt. Puzzled by it, yet knowing that probing would get him nowhere, he gently stated. “It’s been too long, sister. While our kingdoms cannot be joined again, I regret that you and I waited so long to meet. I also appreciate you taking the time to come here.”
Vérène shrugged yet again, and Sylvain wondered what myriad of internal conflicts and hurt the mannerism hid. “You’re my brother, Sylvain,” Vérène said
sincerely, firmly. “No matter what, we’re family, and I’ll always have your back.”
“‘Except once!” Sylvain thought. At the most important time in his life, she’d let him down. Letting it go to focus on the now, he offered her a seat. He’d conjured a lovely patio table and chairs amidst a light, airy garden with a variety of herbs and potted plants offering a profusion of bright, bold colors. It was a replica of the garden they used to sit in as children. Then, she’d manipulated him into playing tea with her pixie playmates. Now, he’d conjured it in the middle of the throne room so that they would find some comfort during their discussion.
After Sylvain retold the events concerning the trickster, Vérène sat back, and thought about it. Sylvain sipped the hot, strong coffee he’d called for from his Brazilian hollow and waited. This was her modus operandi. His sister was nothing if not calculating; a characteristic that ensured that she always came out on top. And when she didn’t, point blank denial, and convincing the victor they were wrong, sorted things out to her satisfaction.
Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) Page 8
