Rejar (9 page)

Yaniff, whose eyes were darker than the darkest night, peered intensely at Lorgin. He finally spoke. “You will go to your brother.”

Lorgin paused.

Often it was what Yaniff did not say...

He hesitated a fraction of a moment more before turning to his wife, swiftly taking her in his arms. “I will return to you shortly, zira.” His mouth took hers in a fierce kiss.

With a swirl of his cape he was gone.

London

“He’s the most insufferable, overbearing, arrogant cad I have ever had the misfortune to meet!”

Lilac threw her arms up in the air for emphasis as she paced the length of her bedroom. Directly in front of her was the cat, who was resting on all fours by the edge of the carpet.

Said cat’s eyes were narrowing more and more with each pass she made; with every epithet hurled from her oh-so-succulent lips. In fact, one could say that the feline’s eyes were almost completely shut—except for the odd flash of anger glinting through the slits every now and then.

“What a sapskull he is! Imagine ... telling me,”—Lilac lowered her voice several octaves in an attempt to mimic Rejar’s low, dulcet tones—” ‘Your societal customs are quite tedious, souk-souk. I will come to you this evening.’ ” She brandished a clenched fist in the chair. “Ha! I’d like to see him try!”

Ears flattened to the back of his head, the cat slapped his tail onto the carpet. Repeatedly. Thump ... thump ... thump.

“Now, miss, he couldn’t have been that bad. There’s rumor that says he cuts quite a dashing figure.” The ever-stalwart Emmy, as usual, tried to take the edge off Lilac’s temper.

Lilac stopped pacing long enough to spin around. “Him? Dashing?” She paused as if she were considering it.

Rejar rotated his ears forward, anxious to hear how she would respond. Not that he had any intentions of forgiving her! He had no idea what a “sapskull” was, but he did not like the sound of it. It was not... seemly. Besides, no one had ever dared to call him one before! Whatever it was.

“He’s too cocksure by half!”

The cat’s eyes widened. Does that mean what I think it means? Well, perhaps he could forgive her after all... .

“I tell you, Emmy, he’s a nick ninny?”

Nick ninny?

“Well, I don’t know, miss, I never heard none call the Prince a stupid fellow.” Thump!

“In fact,” Emmy continued, “just the opposite. Why, Beau Brummell says he’s exceedingly quick witted and—”

“Stuff and nonsense! The only thing that fellow is quick about is—”

“Miss Devere!” Emmy gasped.

Chastened, Lilac toned down a bit. “Very well. Just don’t mention that irritating sapskull to me again!”

Sapskull! She dares once more! Thump. Thump. Thump.

“I didn’t mention him the first time, miss,” Emmy shrewdly pointed out while eyeing the young woman. “Seems ya brought ‘im up on yer own now, didn’t ya?” The maid teased her.

Lilac blushed. “Well... if I did, it—it was so you—you wouldn’t mention him to me in the future.”

“Yes, miss.” Emmy smiled conspiratorially at the cat.

Unfortunately, Rejar was too caught up in his own ruminations to catch the maid’s private joke. What exactly had he done wrong? To his way of thinking, he had not been rude to her in the least. On the contrary, he had approached her in a forthright manner, immediately letting his intentions be known. What did she have to be angry about? Familiars were always direct in their dealings with women.

Well... perhaps not always, but mostly.

“Good. I’m glad we’ve got that settled.”

“Goodnight, miss.” Emmy picked up one of the candleholders to light her way as she left the room.

“If I never see that irritating Prince again, it will be too soon for me,” Lilac muttered as she passed by the cat on her way to bed. “Just who does he think he is?”

I will show you who I am.

Insulted, Rejar tossed his head back in a regal feline gesture. Familiars were inordinately proud creatures.

Believe me, you will know, souk-souk.

* * *

“You!”

“Yes, it is I. Your sapskull.”

Rejar lay directly on top of Lilac, holding her hands down to the mattress with his own. He had removed the blanket that had covered her just prior to wakening her.

Unlike the stab to his pride that he had not been able to remove.

“Let go of me! And take yourself from my dream at once! Of all people to dream about—you!” It was the dreaded Russian here in her dreams. Egads! “Out! Out, damn spot!” Lilac thrashed beneath him.

Her erratic motions caused her nightrail to slide up her legs. That was when she realized her dream Prince was naked. Muscular legs slid heavily against her own; their tougher texture an abrasive heat.

She immediately stopped moving, gasping into his face—a wildly beautiful face, which was very close to her own.

“You—you don’t have any clothes on, your Highness!” She squeaked rather lamely up at him.

The left corner of Rejar’s mouth curved. “Now Lilac, what do you expect from a—what did you call me—a nick ninny?” He smiled down at her. It was not an amused smile. In fact, it was rather ... feral.

Lilac’s eyes rounded. One did not ignore such a smile as the Prince had on his face right then. Especially not if one prided oneself on being a woman of logic. She swallowed convulsively. “I—I wish to wake up.”

“I do not think so, souk-souk.” He slowly lowered his head.

Ever so gently, the most sensuous of male lips captured her little earlobe. Whereupon he nipped it sharply with his teeth.

“Ow! Stop that!” Lilac tried to grab a hank of his long hair, but failed miserably when she realized he would not release her wrists from his powerful grip.

“What do you think—” Lilac sucked in her breath because those same white teeth, which only moments ago had nipped, now nibbled in a light grazing pattern along the rim of her ear.

His agile tongue swirl-teased the entrance to her canal, causing a quivery sensation to run right through her.

“Oh my! I—”

Velvet lips sipped the edge of her jawline, stopping a moment to secretly experience the militant indentation in her chin, before trailing down the front of her throat. She felt herself swallow beneath the debilitating ministrations of this most bewitching of mouths.

“I don’t—” She began, only to stop when Prince Azov reached her collarbone. There, he lightly suckled.

Lilac had no way of knowing the expertise that Rejar displayed; the Familiar knew just how strong to draw upon her without leaving a mark on the tender skin.

Despite herself, she shivered.

Rejar acknowledged her reaction with a mischievous, catlike sweep of his tongue. Lilac shivered again.

“I don’t like you, Prince Nickolai.”

“But I like you, my Lilac.” His low, soft voice vibrated seductively against the hollow at the base of her throat before his mouth covered the vulnerable spot possessively. She tasted like hot sweet honey.

An unintelligible sound came out of her mouth that sounded like “Nnnnn...”

Rejar knew exactly what it meant.

He released one of her hands so that he might untie the ribbon bow at the neckline of her garment.

Lilac was so overwhelmed by his sultry actions, she wasn’t even aware he had let her go. The strong fingers of his other hand—the one that still captured hers—threaded through her own. Deftly, he untied one bow.

Then the next.

And then the one after that.

In a dreamlike trance for more than one reason, Lilac met his hot-blooded stare reproachfully. “You shouldn’t, your Highness.”

“I know.”

Their mutinous gazes locked for an endless time. Finally he broke the stillness with a response that was very Familiar.

“But... I am going to.”

Without taking his eyes from hers, he separated the front of her gown, the edge of his hand lightly brushing across the satiny skin. Slowly his vision left hers to rake over her face, her throat.

Her bare chest.

There, he observed her silently for several minutes, his knowing look frank and very male.

Lilac felt herself redden even in the dream.

Then he lifted his eyes to hers. When he spoke, his low voice was a husky rasp of sound. “You are so beautiful, souk-souk.”

Moonlight danced off him, haloing him in silver. Lilac could see his dual-colored eyes quite clearly in the dream. The pupils were softly dilated, the lids heavy. An intense sexuality emanated from him.

Like a cloak, it covered her.

Spellbound, Lilac lifted her mouth for the kiss of this Prince from another land.

In a time-stopped moment the Nickolai of her dreams lowered his head to hers ...

The touch of his mouth never came.

Oddly, at the moment his lips would join hers, he hesitated, exhaling as if in frustration. Lilac watched him, confused. Didn’t her dream Prince want to kiss her?

Rejar was indeed frustrated. On all levels. How could he kiss her without entering that sweet mouth? Impossible. His lifeforce could not enter her in any way without breaking the trance.

He reflected for a moment... There were ways to ignite her without danger of an untimely discovery; he need only be more creative. He smiled wryly at the challenge. In this area especially, he was the son of Krue. All challenges must be met. So his father had trained him.

Resolute, he pressed his lips to the center of her chest at the demarcation of her cleavage, letting his tongue slide between the heated, snug crevice there. A long slow lick.

A sound of pleasure issued from her parted lips.

“Something about this seems familiar...” Lilac’s words were nothing but a breathless whisper in the air.

Rejar chuckled low in his throat at her unintentional pun. “Everything about this is Familiar, Lilac.”

“I think I’ve dreamt this before,” she murmured distractedly. “Only there was a different man, a nicer—”

Rejar stopped, not at all liking her words. Or the direction of her thoughts. He wanted her focused—on him. “No. It was the same man. I mean I am the same man.”

Lilac blinked, throwing off the seductive veil he had wrapped her in. “No, it wasn’t and you’re not,” she stubbornly insisted. “The other man was somehow different; he wasn’t you, your Sapskullness!”

Rejar’s brow lowered. A new thing to madden him! Was nothing simple in this strange world? “I tell you, it was I!”

“Ridiculous! How could it be? I didn’t even know you then; so there’s no way I could have dreamt of you!” She summarily dismissed him. “Please leave. You may tell the other man he may visit if he wishes.”

Lilac looked shyly up at him. “I confess, he had the most intriguing abilities with his tongue.”

Rejar’s irritation instantly turned into humor. His lips twitched as he looked down at her beneath him. Now this was amusing indeed. “Did he?” he drawled.

“Yes.” She shook her head in affirmation.

In a beguiling pose, he rested his chin on top of her chest. “Perhaps I could make you forget him?” A dimple curved his cheek as he gazed innocently up at her through a veil of lush black lashes.

Lilac yawned, too tired to spar with this irksome dream image. “Oh, you could try, I suppose.”

Rejar smiled. He should not.

He knew he would.

His sights fastened on the beautiful pearlescent breasts which were pillowing him very nicely. How could he not?

He rubbed the underside of his chin in an easy back-and-forth motion. The sweet pink tips beneath him rapidly deepened to rose, protruding right in the direction of his mouth. As if to beckon.

He must.

Inching slightly to his left, lips which had devastated legions of women before her skillfully captured the succulent offering. Gently, he drew on her.

“Oh!” Lilac gasped at both his unexpected action and the new sensation. What on earth was the Prince doing? It wasn’t decent! It wasn’t at all what a young lady should be thinking of, even in a dream! It wasn’t...

His nimble tongue played the nub inside his mouth.

Lilac couldn’t breathe.

Rejar intensified his actions, suckling, letting his tongue roll around her, lightly using his teeth as well. She was sweet; he would not forget her taste anytime soon.

Not ever, he realized in a moment of truth.

A small, choking sound of desire issued from her throat, distracting him. The passionate response almost drove him over the edge of his control. Should he continue? Lilac moaned again.

Just a little more ...

He would stop now.

Soon.

His capable hands—hands that were trained equally well as both warrior and lover—reached around her, between the cloth of her gown, splaying powerfully against the bare skin of her back.

He loved the feel of her in his arms.

Overcome, he reared back, pulling her right up with him. Lilac’s head fell backwards, her arms floating helplessly to her sides as the strange, terrifying, interesting dream continued and the man {who for some reason looked like Prince Nickolai} feasted on her with a totally improper hunger.

She never thought she would have imagined such a thing, but it did feel so exquisite!

“This is a superb dream,” she uttered breathlessly.

Her words reached him. A dream. She believes this is a dream. Rejar paused.

He blinked.

He drew in a deep breath.

He did not release her from his mouth, but attempted to talk himself into it. Valiantly, he recited the entire Aviaran alphabet—all three hundred and thirty-three letters.

He called up his father’s stem, disapproving visage from his youth.

He pictured the entire assemblage of the Guild, their indignant, righteous expressions more than enough to freeze any man’s ardor.

None of it worked.

It was the imagined shock and pain of discovery that would be in those lovely green eyes should he continue that finally did it. He was about to release her when he felt a small tentative hand rest on his head. His eyes widened in panic.

No! Not the hair.

Do not let her stroke my hair!

It was too late. Nimble little fingers tangled up in the long strands, ruffling through the silken locks of his mane. He closed his eyes in acute agony. In acute ecstasy.