pdf - From the Ashes.PDF (8 page)

“Oh. I see,” The Lady replied, although she clearly didn’t. “Cilia you are not of the same blood. You were yourself, only given new life through the body of a willing human.

There is no blood, no bond between yourself and Cayden.”

Cilia relaxed. The tight ball of self-loathing slacked a little. She snuggled closer to Fiach’s chest. “What about Fiach? How did he end up being a demon born of the Sidhe?

Why didn’t you allow him to join me with humans?”

The Lady became saddened. “After your exchange was completed, the Morag attacked Faerie. I was able to hide Fiach through the first wave of the invasion. There was no time to arrange for his rebirth. A demon lord breached the fortress and came to the great hall. He agreed to leave us in peace as long as the rumors of our harboring the Phoenix were unfounded.” Her eyes met Fiach’s. “He also demanded a night of pleasure with a Sidhe woman.” It went unsaid that Harailt had singled her out. Fiach vibrated with fury at the sacrifice the Lady had given; Cilia’s heart ached for her sacrifice.

“It is in the past. Demons make admirable lovers, so I enjoyed the exchange even if the choice to initiate it was not my own. The coupling was a perfect cover for Fiach’s revival. My court helped me fake the pregnancy. He was implanted in the womb of a demon lover belonging to one of my most loyal guards. The birth was natural to her, whereas if I had attempted it myself,” she pointed at his wings, “the result would have been much less favorable for us both.”

“Harailt knew me. He claimed me.” Fiach spoke into the silence.

“Yes. Someone leaked word that I had conceived. He wanted you. He thought my blood mingled with his would provide him with a stronger, more agile and magically proficient heir. He was right about you, but not because our powers had bred such a powerful child. You had been demon born when Cilia found you the first time and gifted you with the power of your Phoenix. Harailt did not know that was where the power drew from. I refused to give you up. I knew I had to protect you from the Morag until the time was right, until Cilia could find you again. The only solution was sharing you. He would have you half a mortal year and I, the other half.” Her face grew pained then. “I know the things he forced on you, the way he corrupted your youth and innocence. If I had tried to stop him, he would have killed you. He would not have succeeded, but our cover would have been blown. He would have enslaved you and murdered my people. Then he would have gone after Cilia as well, and I could not allow that.”

“It’s all right. I understand.”

The Lady’s eyes shined with regret as she looked to Cilia. “I would have kept him innocent for you. I had hoped to experience your mating fires while you lost the virginities of your new bodies.”

Cilia’s heart hurt. It hurt for the loss of so much time with her mate and for the fact that he had shared the gift of himself with others. She looked into Fiach’s dark and desolate eyes. Shame burned there. His sense of disloyalty was crippling. Cilia tipped her head back, cupped the base of his neck, and pulled him down to her lips. She welcomed him as sweetly as she knew how. She put into words her undying love of him and her acceptance of what had happened to them; she offered forgiveness for what deeds he had committed simply to survive until they found one another again.

When they parted she could feel the quickening of his heart against her cheek, which she laid to rest against him.

His voice rumbled in her ear. “Can you forgive me, Cilia?”

She sat up and rested her palms on either side of his beloved face. “There is nothing to forgive.” Then she rested her forehead against his. “I love you, Fiach.”

His lips pulled up into a sensuous curve. “And, I love you. So much, I want to set the world ablaze and dance in the fire as we watch it all burn down around us.”

He pulled her in for another kiss. Her blood thrummed in her veins. He lowered to trace the vein below her ear with his tongue. His teeth rasped against the soft flesh. Cilia wanted him to pierce her, to feed from her essence and live from her always.

The Lady’s harsh intake of breath broke the spell of the moment. Cilia looked to their friend, their ally and savior. Her eyes were wide and dark, and her lips were parted; her chest rose and fell with her excitement.

“It is true.” The Lady rasped.

Cilia and Fiach’s eyes met. Cilia had been born a Phoenix, but by claiming Fiach as her mate she made him dependent on her fiery blood to live. The sheer eroticism of the act ensured that both parties found pleasure with the exchange. By the heated look on the Lady’s face, she was not immune to the ritual either.

Cilia arched her neck and brushed the fall of hair and feathers from her throat; she waited for her lover to claim her.

*

Fiach remembered; with relief, he knew why every sexual act and every drop of blood that he had taken from others had been found wanting. He knew, now, that his body had primed itself for taking Cilia’s essence and had been starving without it. He had fed from other lovers, but it had never slacked the hunger.

When Cilia revealed the silky strip of flesh at her neck, he lowered his head to nibble along the delicate column of her throat. A soft moan incited him as he bared his fangs and pierced her deeply. Her heat rolled over his tongue and filled his body, making him feel alive with her flame. He suckled the small punctures and coaxed the life-giving liquid from them. The fiery tang of her blood bathed his mouth with her taste and left him wanting more, needing more. He needed a taste of flesh to temper the sweetly spiced richness of her blood. He pulled away and watched a rivulet of blood flow down her neck to curve over one breast.

Cilia moved in tandem, reading the needs of his body. She shifted on his lap until she straddled him and then reached between them to free the erection eagerly pressing against his zipper. Fiach had dressed her in another diaphanous gown, and since he made sure his clothing procuring skills excluded undergarments of any kind, she was deliciously bare and open for him.

He lowered in his chair. His hips tipped upward and positioned the wet tip of his arousal at her entrance. The Lady gasped; her hands slipped beneath the table where Fiach imagined she would pleasure herself as she watched them mate and him feed.

Cilia glowed above him. She rested her palms on his shoulders and began the slow slide up and down his cock. Her juices coated him; her pussy was so soft and warm that he could die now with sure knowledge that he would never find anything more pleasurable than being inside of her. He pulled her close and licked the line of blood still staining her pale skin. Where the line of crimson fluid stopped, he nestled into the sheer fabric of her dress to capture a pebbled nipple in his mouth. He sucked and nipped before returning to lave away the final traces of his earlier carelessness. When he reached her throat and licked over the pinpricks, his erection jumped. It wanted more. He continued to lap at her as the red beads formed against her delicate skin, still so hungry but afraid to feed again so soon.

Cilia rocked against him, and he realized with shame that he had stopped thrusting into her. He was preoccupied with her blood, and his hunger had clouded his mind.

“You need to feed,” she said and began slipping up and down his shaft.

He groaned and let his head fall back. “It’s too soon. I would take too much.”

“I trust you. You’ve gone too long without my blood; I can spare a little more.”

Fiach was tired of fighting the desire to bury his teeth at her neck while he brought her to orgasm. With her permission granted, he planned to make them both enjoy it.

He pulled her forward into the tight circle of his arms. He pressed her into his chest and brushed his cheek against hers. She slid down the thick stalk of his flesh as she settled further against him. When she flipped her hair over her shoulder, his eyes rolled back, and he pierced her skin below his first puncture. Cilia whimpered as his suckling pressure began, and he lowered his hands to her hips and surged upward. Her moan of pleasure rumbled in her throat and vibrated against his lips. He drank from her in slow languid pulls and savored the searing cinnamon of her vein.

Cilia stilled as she settled more of her weight over him than before. Fiach’s eyes opened. Her face was pale but peaceful. He had taken too much, allowed himself to become drunk on her sweetness. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her throat in between licks. The small wound sealed, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

“Fiach…”

“I was careless.”

“Fiach!” she cried out.

He pulled back to meet her eyes. They simmered with desire and impatience.

“Please…” she whispered.

He released his breath in a low rush as he stood, still buried inside of her, and pressed her back into the wall of the Lady’s chamber. He wound her legs around his waist and let her relax for a fraction of a second before he drove his crest to her womb.

She clenched around him and writhed against the wall. Her nails bit into his shoulder and drew blood as he continued to pound himself into her weeping core.

He heard sounds of pleasure over his shoulder and flicked a glance to the Lady, who cried out her release. His cock tingled, but her cries were not the ones he wanted. He cupped the cheeks of Cilia’s ass in his hands and ground into her. She gasped and bowed; her breath sounded ragged in his ear. He began to piston inside of her with hard fast strokes that had him gritting his teeth to keep from coming without her.

Finally, her pelvic muscles began to contract and convulse around him. She drew him deeper and kept him there as she found her pleasure. Fiach managed one more thrust before his own orgasm claimed him. He throbbed and spurted inside her until he was replete; his climax erupted so greatly that moisture seeped from where they joined and dripped down onto the floor between them even though he stayed lodged in her sheath.

“Oh, God.” Cilia collapsed on his chest. Fiach’s legs buckled, and he slid her gently down the wall as he went to his knees. The sharp burn of arousal that had plagued him finally subsided. The drug’s effects were all but gone. His body shone with sweat, but it was the product of their love play and not the feverish residue of the Fairy Dust that had coated his skin the past few days.

The Lady rose and straightened her gown; her voice was a touch hoarse. “You may have the use of my chamber. Your
Noce
will commence at sundown.”

“Can you send us back? When the time comes?” he asked.

“You know how this magic works. We can bring you to Faerie at any time, from any point. Our magic cannot counteract that of the demons. The bars on your cage were enspelled. When you go back, you will go back to your cell.” She walked to the door.

“Take all the time you need to devise a plan of action. Jarlath is not someone to cross lightly.” Then she stepped from the room and closed the door behind her.

Fiach looked down at Cilia; she was slumped against him sleeping. He withdrew from her body and chuckled when he heard her sigh of protest, even though she remained unconscious. He carried her to the bed and nestled beside her. He stroked her hair and tweaked the feathered strands until he too succumbed to the dark lure of a healing sleep.

“My Lord? My Lady?”

Cilia stirred on the unfamiliar bed. Fiach draped over her; his weight pressed her into the mattress. She craned her neck around and saw Rois peering around the opened door to the chamber. In that moment, she was grateful that, even though her dress was twisted around her waist, it covered everything important. She was getting tired of putting herself on display. Fiach lay stripped down to his black leather pants.

Rois cleared her throat and continued. “I am sorry to interrupt. I knocked, but you did not answer.”

“It’s all right. We were sleeping pretty hard.”

Rois smiled knowingly. “The Lady suggested that might be the case.”

Cilia raked her fingers across Fiach’s stomach. Even in sleep, his muscles tightened and flexed, and a smile crossed his lips.

“You know how I feel about being tickled,” he warned, keeping his eyes closed.

“Hmmm… I don’t think I remember.” She scratched him lightly with her nails.

In a flash, he rolled over her and pinned her between his muscular thighs. “I think you remember more than you let on.”

Cilia giggled as he released her arms and tickled her sides until she was gulping for air. He circled her wrists then stole her breath with his kisses. When their lips parted, she was flushed and panting. “We have company.”

He twisted to look over to the door. “Hello, Rois.”

Rois blushed and looked at the floor. “Hello.”

He rolled away from Cilia and asked. “Is it time?”

“Yes. The Hall has been prepared.”

“Prepared?” Cilia echoed.

“The
Noce,
” he prompted. He pulled her forward until she stepped from the bed and stood before him. His eyes closed as the whisper of power danced over her skin, and he dressed them. She looked down to see what scrap of fabric he was calling a dress this time when her breath caught in her throat. “Fiach, you remembered.”

She was dressed in a snow-white gown with sapphires sewn into the hem and down the long sleeves that encased her arms. A sapphire choker stretched across her throat and matching blue stones winked in her ears. Her hair was piled on top of her head and was fastened with more glittering gems and small white flowers, but dark curls and long feathers escaped to caress her neck.

She looked at Fiach, and he stole the breath she had regained. His black and crimson hair fell over his shoulders making him severely handsome by any standard. Fine white linen pants, the cuffs of which were dusted with twinkling red stones, had replaced his black leather. His white dress shirt was left open at his throat to allow a tantalizing strip of skin to peek out. The buttons were ruby cabochons.

Rois’s harsh intake of breath was the only thing that merged Cilia’s images of the past with those of the present. Slowly, the here and now became superimposed over the memories of their first
Noce.
They had worn these same clothes then. Fiach had recreated them in perfect detail. Now they were here, lifetimes later, to be bound in their new bodies they way they had been in the old.