She willed him to solidify, to become whole so she might hear the sound of his voice, see the exact shade of his tanned skin. Her wish wasn’t granted and she was left with the rapid pants of her breath as she leaned into him, only to hear the hollow beat of her heart in her ears.
His erection probed her from beneath the coverlet, making her stomach knot in a mixture of anticipation and dread, for each second drew her closer to the end when his warm hands would leave her and she’d be left on her bed of stone. A mist grew around them, rolling like fog from the ocean, to blur the chamber walls. It grew above the bed, cocooning them in a private alcove. He squeezed her hips, his dark eyes piercing into her, never closing in rapture as he watched her face.
Unable to resist, Juliana kissed him, her eyes open to look deep into his, as if she could read his thoughts. She searched for his soul, only to see her own mirrored back at her. The taste of him invaded her mouth. It was the subtle, warm spice of the ale he enjoyed before bed. The intimate caress intoxicated her senses more than ale ever could.
Moaning, she cupped his face, controlling the movement of the kiss. She dipped her tongue along the edge of his mouth, teasing him until he became aggressive. His hands roamed over the back of her thighs, around her ass to skim the length of her spine. Fingers wrapped the back of her neck, holding her down against him.
Juliana leaned her weight on one hand and knee, tugging at the fur to pull it down on one side and then the other. With full access to his body, she tore her mouth away with a gasp. Still, there was no sound coming from him, though his transparent lips moved and the memory of his voice stirred in the back of her mind.
“Juliana,” he would whisper and she’d know he loved her, though he never said the words. It was in the way he said her name. “Juliana.”
She touched everywhere she could reach, placing open-mouthed kisses against his throat, enjoying the taste of his flesh. Her hands skimmed over his budded nipples and as if sensing her aching need, he mimicked her movements, rubbing her breasts in his strong hands. With each pinch of the sensitive peaks, a twinge of desire erupted in her sex.
“Merrick,” she moaned, knowing no one would hear her and yet strangely comforted by the sound of her hoarse voice. “Merrick, please stay with me. Don’t go.”
As if by silent understanding, they took it slow, stretching out the movements. Legs brushed against legs, intertwining. The stiff length of his arousal pressed up into her, as if begging for attention. She reached between his thighs, her hand gliding onto his shaft.
The instant she touched the smooth, tight flesh, Merrick flipped her onto her back, trapping her fingers against him. He rocked his hips into her hand, massaging himself against her eager fingers.
His mouth opened and she felt his breath flutter along her skin, an intimate whisper that caused her desperate heart to ache. Juliana dug her fingertips into his chest, willing him to feel her agony, to free her from her stony prison. Why did he wait? Why?
His body jerked, signifying he felt the clawing of her nails. Juliana did it again, harder than before. Merrick became impassioned, his body restlessly moving along hers as he gripped her thighs, forcing them open. His lips wrapped around a puckered nipple, biting gently. Juliana’s head rolled back into the cushioned bed. Her hips searched for the contact of his.
And then he lifted, angling himself so that he could better enter her. The tip of his arousal brushed along her folds, parting them. She tensed, ready for that first push of him entering her, filling her, completing her. When he moved, it was perfection.
“Merrick, please, bring me back to you. I want to be with you. I love you.” Juliana forced her eyes to stay open, not wanting to miss a single instant of his determined face as he took her slow and steady. Each thrust stirred her desire even as it tormented. She squirmed, arching to meet him. And, as the first tremors of her climax rained over her, she fought her release. To find the bliss of orgasm only brought the aftermath of despair.
“Merrick, please, keep me with you. I don’t want to go.”
Juliana gasped. She could not fight their climax any more than she could fight loving him. When it came, the bittersweet torment flowed over her in perfect waves. Right as she peaked, heart beating wildly, she grabbed for his arms, trying to hold on. Her hands fell into air, unable to keep her intangible husband no matter how hard she tried.
“Nay,” she cried, as the bed beneath her hardened. The fog pulled away, leaving her alone in her stone prison. Tears streamed over her cheeks in wet, hot trails. “Please, nay. Merrick, do not leave me.”
Merrick groaned as his body fell through the transparent image of his wife, sinking into the soft mattress still warm from her body. His pillow smelled of her and he buried his face into it, breathing her in, trying to keep her with him. But, like always, the scent of her dissipated, leaving him completely alone with only the memory to torment him.
Feeling a sting on his chest, he pushed up. Juliana had been almost violent this time as they came together, clawing into him like never before. Pushing up, he reached for his chest, wondering why he could still feel the sting even after she was gone. When he pulled his hand back, there was blood on it.
Merrick darted to his feet, materializing a mirror alongside his bed. Angry scratches stared back at him, spelling backward letters in his flesh.
“Get me out,” he read, stunned.
It wasn’t a dream. Juliana had been real, she was with him and if the bleeding words on his chest were any indication, she wanted him to get her back. Now.
Chapter Five
Bellemare Castle, England, Mortal Realm
Thomas watched his brother, the Earl of Bellemare, woo yet another chambermaid away from her duties. The woman was pale and slender, but her cheeks were rosy with health and beauty. She was merely one of the pretty women who lived within the castle. It wasn’t arranged like that on purpose, but merely an effect of Bellemare’s magical blessing. All prospered, even the serfs and servants.
The tallest of all the siblings, Hugh’s very presence emitted nobility and power in his dark green tunic with gold trim. The Bellemare crest—a black stallion statant on a field of green—was embroidered onto the chest, echoed in the dark green emerald of his ring. All of the Bellemare siblings had dark brown hair that gleamed in the sunlight, high cheekbones and proud features. The oldest, Hugh, and the youngest, William, both had brown eyes as dark as sin. Juliana and Thomas had blue eyes the color of the night sky, taking after their long passed mother.
Looking at the earl, Thomas saw his entire life reflected back at him. He saw them as children, playing in Bellemare’s grassy pastures. They used to ride their horses through the fields until the animals could barely breathe, and then they themselves would run until every nook and crack in the land and castle were as familiar as their own faces. They hid from each other, carved names in the dark stone entryway of the outer bailey wall. The brothers taught Juliana how to fight in the courtyard. Thomas kissed his first maid in the stables, made love to her days later behind the brewery.
But, no matter the memories seeing the earl’s face invoked, it wasn’t his brother, Hugh, standing before him. He looked like him, talked like him and with Thomas’ help even acted like him. Yet, it wasn’t him. He was an imposter; one Thomas helped to keep in Lord Hugh’s place.
Blue tapestries hung on the wall, along with a banner of the Bellemare crest. A large stone fireplace set along the wall opposite the head table. A fire burned brightly, giving the hall light when the sun shining through the iron-grated windows would not, or when the oak shutters were closed. There were also many candles, made from animal fat and beeswax, placed along spikes in the stone walls.
Thomas was seated at his place next to Sir Geoffery at the head table where the family and honored guests dined, though the table felt somewhat empty as of late. They were lifted above the rest of the hall on a platform. Below the high table, the permanent dining tables and benches were set up for the servants, soldie
rs and freemen of the keep. Though currently empty, servants readied the tables for the evening meal. The fact that the tables were permanent fixtures in the manor, and not the usual portable kind, showed the extent of the Bellemare wealth.
“It gladdens my heart to see the earl no longer mopes about the castle.” Sir Geoffrey was a steadfast knight, one the Bellemare brothers would trust with their lives. As children, they’d all trained for knighthood under the same lord. With his dark skin, hazel eyes and short cropped hair, he didn’t look like a Bellemare, but he was one of them. He lived in the castle, led the Bellemare knights and guarded their lands when the brothers were away. The man even knew the secrets of Bellemare—of the other world hidden where most humans could not see, of the blessing bestowed upon it by an ancient elfin king because his daughter had been turned mortal, of the magical creatures that helped protect that blessing and of the half demons who would see it end.
“Aye,” Thomas agreed, though he didn’t sound enthusiastic. Geoffrey might be a close friend, but one thing he didn’t know about was Hugh’s double. Thomas had promised his brother not to tell unless it became necessary and, in his desire to not disappoint his brother, he’d kept that promise.
“Are you troubled because he takes the pretty maids from your bed?” Geoffrey chuckled as he lifted a goblet to his mouth. He took a long drink of mead.
Thomas kept his eye on the pretend Hugh, not speaking. After fifty years of torment in Lucien’s prison, Ladon had wanted to escape the Immortal Realm. Thomas was afraid of losing Bellemare to demons. With Hugh gone, everything was his responsibility—the keep, the land, the famous Bellemare horses, the people.
“A strange thing occurs to me, Sir Thomas,” Geoffrey continued thoughtfully. “You both came back from the Otherworld and it is as if your souls are switched. He loves the women and you brood as he once did. Though overly serious, he seems more carefree and I see you carrying the burden of the title.”
Thomas snorted. What could he say? It was true. Only, unlike Hugh who had brooded because he loved the faery queen and thought he couldn’t have her, Thomas now brooded about the things he could not change. He was alone. For the first time in his life he felt without family. Juliana was frozen in stone. Hugh was trapped in the Immortal Realm unable to come back even for a visit without dying. William was distracted and of very little comfort, even when he was home. Not saying the whole truth, he answered, “My head does not let me sleep. I fight demons in my dreams.”
“The nightmares haven’t stopped?”
They’ve become worse, Thomas thought, before answering aloud, “They are only dreams and with time they will cease. I’m not the first man to have nightmares after a battle.”
“You are the first I know to have nearly died in a battle against goblins and trolls in the Otherworld. What are the dreams about?”
“They’re strange. I feel myself flying through a pair of old, decrepit doors in a gate, surrounded by demons who are trying to grab hold. I’m me, but the breeze flows through me and when a demon does touch, it burns the flesh. Never you mind, it makes no sense.”
“Such is the way of dreams.” Geoffrey thankfully respected Thomas’ need to talk of other things. “However, something else troubles me more than nightmares.”
Thomas arched a brow.
“I know you are Sir Thomas. You know the stories from our childhood. If I come at you with a sword, you know how to defend yourself against me. You know my weakness for redheads and I your preference for pretty women in general.” Geoffrey again took a drink. Then, tipping the edge of his goblet across the main hall in Hugh’s direction, he sighed. “I know all these things, as do you, but what I would know is, who it is I have been calling ‘my lord’.”
That brought Thomas out of his contemplative stupor. Blinking, he turned to his friend.
“Nay, do not protest it. I’ve thought long and hard over this matter and that man, though he does speak and look like Lord Hugh, he is no more the earl than I am that serving wench he is courting.” Setting down the goblet, Geoffrey frowned slightly. Another maid joined the man as they watched, simpering prettily as she fought for his attention. “It’s hard to say what first made me realize it. There were small things. He moves unlike Hugh, uses strange words and fights differently. Today, to test him, I attacked using one of the first, simple techniques we learned. He couldn’t defend against it and I nearly took off his head.”
Thomas didn’t even try to deny the claim. “His name is Ladon. He is a blessed prince disguised as my brother so none from his world can find him and none from ours will know of Hugh’s…”
“The earl is dead?” Geoffrey sat up straighter. His face paled, as he stared at Thomas. “How—?”
“Nay, only dead to this realm. When we fought that demon shaped as Lord Eadward and Hugh was bitten, he became infected. The creature is called a living dead and Hugh cannot return or he’ll die from his wound.” It actually felt good being able to tell someone the truth.
Geoffrey sat back, his mouth slightly agape in shock. “I suspected something like that for awhile now, but to hear you say it…”
“Had you not said anything, I would not have spoken of it,” Thomas admitted. “I promised Hugh to help the prince adjust to the position, until such a time as he can return to his realm and we can effectively fake my brother’s death and name me the successor.”
“Hmm.” Geoffrey rubbed his temple thoughtfully.
“Aye.” Thomas nodded.
“Does my lord live with Lady Juliana?”
“Nay, he rules the Kingdom of Feia. There, with Queen Tania, he will live forever.”
“The earl is a king?” Geoffrey smiled, nodding in approval. “It is very fitting. He will make a fine ruler.”
Thomas smirked. “King of the faeries. He even has their magic.”
Geoffrey chuckled. “Ah, now that is something I would give my sword arm to see. Hugh with wings.”
“I didn’t see any wings,” Thomas admitted, “but his breeches did sparkle a little last I saw him.”
Geoffrey laughed so hard he snorted.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him, but—” Thomas began, only to stop when Geoffrey lifted his hand and shook his head, indicating there was no need to explain. Before he could again speak, Thomas felt a tug on his leg. His first instinct was to lightly kick, thinking a dog had gotten into the castle, but when he looked down he saw wide blue eyes gazing up at him. They were almost too big for the face. Rees, the Bellemare spright, was one of the magical creatures who worked at the keep. He wore a bright green tunic that fell to his thighs and his unkempt, short brown hair stood on end. “Aye?”
“I counted the hairs of the new steed and they are five short in the tail.” Rees looked distressed. “Not four or three or six, but five.”
“Aye?” Thomas repeated, glancing up at Geoffrey. The knight motioned his hand weakly, unconcerned. It wasn’t the first time Rees came to them with some inane story about the horses.
“Giles was in the stables earlier,” Rees said. “He is not to be in the stables.”
“Aye?” Thomas knew the spright often fought with Giles, the household brownie who lived in the castle pantry, or more accurately, in a barrel of ale in the castle pantry.
“And a faery brought a message vial.” Rees reached into his breeches and pulled out a vial filled with blue liquid. He shook it violently. “From King Hugh of the Faeries. I told her we had a Hugh here and she laughed, asking if I’d been swimming in the ale barrel because she smelled ale.”
“Huh?” Thomas asked, partly because the spright was talking so fast and partly because he found some small amusement in teasing him.
“Giles was in the barn,” Rees said slowly.
“Aye.” Thomas tried to hide his grin.
“Giles smells of ale.”
“Aye.”
“Harrumph!” Rees again lifted the vial, shaking it at the table in the direction of the pretend earl. “And I told you
that was not Lord Hugh. I know the earl and that is an imposter. Hugh is now a king. A king! And he did not call me to be by his side. Me! His spright!”
“What is happening today?” Thomas muttered, only to say to the spright, “That imposter is Prince Ladon of Tegwen.”
“Ah, so that’s the surge of magic I’ve been feeling around the castle. You two have been casting protection spells over the keep, haven’t you? Methought they were a sight too powerful for just William.”
“Aye, we have,” Thomas said. “To assure we keep the demons out. Hugh knew you would understand that he needed you here to help the blessed prince, being as you are a blessed creature and you are his spright. That is why you are still here.”
“Ah.” Rees chewed his lip thoughtfully. Gradually, he nodded, a smile crossing his features. Sighing in what could only be relief, he added, “And I bet he sent a faery to tell me this, only the daft creatures forgot or lost their way.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Constantly flitting about the soldiers, they are. They lost my missive from the king. I have half a mind to tell King Hugh what they did. I’m sure he will not be happy to hear his spright was not told of this matter.”
“May I see the message?” Thomas held out his hand toward the spright. Normally the vials were delivered directly to William, but the youngest brother was in the Immortal Realm with Hugh.
“Oh, aye.” Rees tossed the missive vial at Thomas, only to hop onto the table. Imposter Hugh glanced in the spright’s direction, but the maids he currently charmed didn’t indicate they saw the tiny magical creature. Rees hopped down, ran across the floor and leapt onto the prince’s shoulder, tugging at his ear. His mouth opened and closed at a fast rate, as if he chattered incessantly in Ladon’s ear. The prince tried to continue smiling, but it was obvious by the way he swatted at the spright that he was distracted from his purpose.
“Did Lord Hugh send Rees a message and order him to help the prince?” Geoffrey asked when they were alone, pushing his goblet away.
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