A Dark Collection Page 7

  “No.”

  He traced one finger down the length of her neck, across her collarbone. “You really should,” he said. “It leads to no good.” She tried to hear his words, but she was distracted by the path of his finger across her skin. “Those that come and cannot stay are plagued by dissatisfaction.” He continued as he placed his hand flat against her chest and she felt her own heart pounding beneath his palm. “Nothing will seem the same again. Your world will seem thinner, greyer. You will remember and pine for what you cannot have.” He looked up at her, his expression frank and open. “It seems a cold fate, a foolish one to welcome.”

  She lifted her head so her mouth brushed his. “I won’t go home.”

  He moved away from her, his eyes glittering in the dark. “As you wish.” He stepped under the archway and all around him the roses burst open, their faces turning towards him as to the sun, like a lover towards a kiss. “Come then,” he said, “if that is your desire.”

  He disappeared into the darkness and she followed him, the scent of the roses dizzying on the heated air, almost overpowering to her senses, and then she emerged into a small, private garden. High hedges enclosed them on all sides and a large fountain pattered softly, the water rippling out to the edges. Corin sat at the edge of the pool, one elegant hand trailing in the water. He looked up as she approached.

  “Still here then?”

  “Still here,” she agreed.

  He lifted his fingers from the water and tiny drops clung to his fingers, he shook his hand and the drops flew. They glittered in the moonlight and began to flutter as tiny, silver moths appeared in their place. Yvette gasped as they flickered in the darkness and disappeared.

  He held his hand out to her and as she took it, he tugged hard and she fell into his lap with a gasp. Before she could comment or catch her breath his hand was at the back of her neck and his mouth had found hers and her every sense was lost. Her hands moved over his chest, undoing buttons and sliding under his shirt, feeling his skin, the curve of muscle, warm beneath her fingers - the other at his neck, burying her hand in that long, dark hair.

  His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she went willingly, as eager to turn to him as the roses had been.

  “Yvette?” They stilled, lips touching, her breath coming fast, as the duke of Dannon’s voice echoed through the gardens.

  Chapter 4

  They sat together, not moving and then listened as the duke’s footsteps faded away.

  “There goes your rescue party,” Corin said, his mouth brushing her cheek. “Last chance to leave.”

  She turned to look at him, touching his lips with her fingertips. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

  He smiled at her and shook his head. “You will leave, my dear, either now or in a few hours. It is your choice, but you will go and you will not come back.” His voice had an edge which she knew she shouldn’t ignore. He meant it. “Which of those choices, however, is up to you.”

  She looked at him, at those extraordinary eyes, slanted and watchful, his gaze curious but untroubled. Whatever she decided, he would accept, except it wasn’t a choice at all. It hadn’t been a choice for ten years past - but something she had to do.

  “You were behind the apple tree,” he said with a sudden exclamation and Yvette started in surprise.

  “What?”

  “That is when you saw me, when Sindaline followed me through the gate and couldn’t get back.” He laughed and it was a joyous sound, infectious and carefree and she smiled at him. “Gods, I was angry with her, such a naughty child.” He reached out and touched her hair, twining one thick, golden lock around his fingers. “She has been visiting you ever since?” Yvette stayed silent, not wanting to get her friend into trouble. “Hmm, still a naughty child I see,” he murmured. “I'm afraid she will not come again, my dear.”

  “Why don’t you look any different?” she asked. “That was ten years ago and you haven’t changed at all.”

  He smiled. “I am not human, remember.”

  She frowned at him, puzzled. “But Sindaline was the same age as me and she’s aged as I have.”

  “Yes.” He bent his head and kissed her neck. “But now she is an adult she will stop. She will still look very much the same when you are a very old lady.” She tried to understand what he was saying to her but then he pulled down on the hair still laced between his fingers so that her head was drawn backwards and kissed his way down her neck, and then she couldn’t think at all. He followed the curve of her shoulder, kissing a path along the low neck of her dress, his lips soft on the curve of her breast as her breathing quickened. He lingered there, his tongue trailing a path that cooled on the night air, dipping down into her cleavage as her hand grasped the back of his neck, slid into his hair, clenching and releasing like the claws of an ecstatic cat as her body came alive.

  His head came up and he sat back and surveyed her, satisfied as he looked her over. She could imagine what he saw, was only too aware of the flush to her skin that felt like it was stretched too tight, trying as it was to contain the violence of her desire, her blue eyes dark with need as her chest heaved.

  “Take it off.”

  “W...what?” she stammered.

  His head tilted to one side and he blinked slowly. “The dress,” he said, his eyes on her. “Take it off.”

  She flushed a deeper shade of pink and he shook his head, reproving. “Now, now, darling, it is far too late to be coy. We both know why you came here tonight.” He tugged at the fabric of the dress and one rosy nipple peaked obligingly above the fitted bodice. Cupping her breast with one hand, his thumb circled the taught skin; deliberate, slow. “I am quite prepared to give you everything you desire.” He paused and lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking gently for a moment as she moaned, writhing as the heat of his mouth inflamed her skin. He released her again and looked up into her eyes. “Everything,” he repeated. “But I do not take what isn’t offered willingly. If you want to be seduced you had best go find Dannon. Perhaps he will oblige you?”

  She felt anger flare, especially when he chuckled, a deep, rich sound, gently mocking. But instead of slapping his face and leaving as she knew she should, she kissed him again, hard. He stood, lifting her in his arms and then putting her down so she was standing too, clinging to him, his lips never leaving hers. His hands went to the fastenings of her dress and with deft movements they were quickly undone. He pushed her away a little and pulled lightly at the gauzy material once more. It slithered to her hips where it stopped and Corin pursed his lips, one eyebrow raised. “It seems I must do everything tonight.” He sighed and got to his knees, easing the material over her hips where it fell once more, puddled in golden swathes at her feet.

  He looked up the length of her body, as white in the moonlight as the marble statues they had passed earlier. “Lovely,” he murmured as his lips skimmed her thighs, hands caressing the back of her knees. Yvette trembled, excitement and fear blazing under her skin, desire fizzing in her veins, as decadent and careless as the bubbles in a champagne glass.

  His mouth moved higher, his tongue trailing the crease of her thigh as her eyes closed, head tipping back. He teased her, dipping just a little below the lace of her underwear, just enough to make her dizzy, laughing as she whispered. “Yes, yes ... oh.”

  He stopped, sitting back as she whimpered with frustration. “Yes ...what?” he demanded, his voice low and wicked in the darkness. “Where are your manners, don’t you know to ask nicely when you want something?”

  “Please, please,” she begged, not caring for anything other than he carry on and not stop again.

  He hooked his fingers under the scanty lace and drew her underwear down her legs, his movements excruciatingly slow and deliberate, a smile curving over his lush mouth as he saw the pleading in her eyes. “Say it again.”

  “Please... oh!” she gasped as his mouth closed over her, no teasing this time as his sinful tongue caressed her intimately, hot and wet aga
inst her aching body, and she arched against him, hands thrust deep into his silky hair, pulling him closer as his fingers slid between her thighs, seeking and finding the heat of her desire.

  She noted with satisfaction that he drew in a breath too as his fingers slid inside her, that his eyes were just as dark as hers were as he looked up. She lost track of time, forgot everything as she felt the edges of herself begin to fade, as everything receded. Her world shrank until there was nothing outside of his touch on her skin, the warmth of his tongue, and then his clever fingers found that delicate spot and began to caress, building a desperate pressure that had her swaying on her feet, clutching at his hair and shattering her from the inside out. She cried into the darkness, her pleasure shining behind her eyes brighter than the moonlight.

  Her legs felt weak, unable to support her and she leaned against him as he laid his head against her, his hands running over her hips. He kissed her stomach, a trail of butterfly touches that set her skin to shivering again. “Lovely,” he said, before releasing her and taking off his jacket and laying it on the grass. His waistcoat and shirt followed and she drank in the sight of him, as stunning as a pagan god beneath the moonlight, every bit as beautiful as she had believed he would be. He reached out his hand and she took it and sank to her knees beside him.

  He watched as she lay down on the jacket and he joined her, lying at her side, one hand trailing carelessly over her body, delicate as a spider web. She gasped as patterns appeared, pretty and fine, flickering against her pale skin. “What is that?”

  “Magic.”

  Fear flickered in her stomach. “What does it mean?”

  He leaned down and kissed her stomach. “Nothing, just playing,” he said, looking up with a lazy smile. He leaned over her and touched his fingers to the earth, and the grass around them sprang to life as flowers covered the ground. She gasped, charmed and delighted as the garden became a blaze of colour and scent, even whilst bathed in the cool, silver light.

  “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, warmth in his eyes now, understanding in his tone.

  She nodded, reaching up to touch his face and drawing him down for another kiss. He went to her, giving her what she had asked for, what she had come here for, fulfilling her every desire as the magic slipped over them, around them. And it wasn’t until she was standing at the gates to her realm again, looking back through at the bleak winter’s day that awaited her that she truly understood his words.

  “Nothing will seem the same again, your world will seem thinner, greyer, you will remember - and pine for what you cannot have.”

  She clutched her coat tightly around her as the gate closed, taking the magic and the colour ... and him away with it.

  Nothing would ever be the same again, and she couldn’t have that. She couldn’t live the same life knowing what was on the other side of that gate, what was so very close and so very, very far away ...

  She had to find a way back.

  A Dark Tale

  There comes a murmur from the shore,

  And in the place two fair streams are,

  Drawn from the purple hills afar,

  Drawn down unto the restless sea;

  The hills whose flowers ne’er fed the bee,

  The shore no ship has ever seen,

  Still beaten by the billows green,

  Whose murmur comes unceasingly

  Unto the place for which I cry.

  For which I cry both day and night,

  For which I let slip all delight,

  That maketh me both deaf and blind,

  Careless to win, unskill’d to find,

  And quick to lose what all men seek.

  The Nymphs Song to Hylas.

  William Morris

  Chapter 1

  “By the fires, Malen!” Corin cursed, blinking in the soft light of the candelabra his butler was holding over the bed. “What in damnation are you about, waking me at this hour?”

  His head gave a dull throb before settling into an excruciating pulse and he pushed Malen’s hand away to get the light from his eyes.

  “Forgive me, your highness,” Malen said, his voice deep with apology. “But the young Lord Tullius is downstairs and is most insistent that you must come at once.”

  Corin massaged his temples and yanked the covers back over his head. “Tell him to go to the devil.” His response was muffled but Malen heard him well enough.

  “I regret to inform you that I have already tried to, sire, with little success. His Lordship is rather ... overwrought.”

  With a groan, Corin gave into the inevitable and pulled his head back out of the covers with reluctance. “What does he want?” he demanded, squinting at the blurred outline of his butler.

  “It appears the Prince Laen is at a tavern, The Black Kelpie, I believe he said, sire. The gentleman would appear to be in difficulties.”

  “Difficulties?” Corin repeated, perplexed. “What sort of difficulties?”

  Malen adopted an expression of disapproval before replying. “I would not venture to offer an opinion, sire but his Lordship said - if you would pardon the expression- all bloody hell has let loose.”

  “Why in damnation didn’t you say so, man!” Corin cursed deeply and with feeling as he threw back the covers and snatched a crumpled pair of trousers from the floor. He pulled them on with speed ignoring the look of horror on Malen’s face.

  “Should I call for Alsten, sire?” Malen asked, his horrified expression increasing as Corin picked up an equally crumpled shirt.

  “Certainly not,” he snapped. “I need to leave now you fool, not in two hours. Where are my boots?”

  Once clothed, albeit in a state his valet would have wept over, Corin thundered down the stairs to find Tully waiting for him and pacing the grand hallway, sporting a black eye and a split lip.

  “What’s going on?”

  Tully shook his head. “Don’t ask me. He’s been in a foul temper all evening and then some damned fool made a remark about the two of you.” He shrugged and looked uneasy. “Well ... You know.”

  “Oh, Gods!” Corin ran out the front door with Tully at his heels.

  “What’s the damage so far?” Corin asked over his shoulder before calling out to a harried groom to tack his horse.

  “Well, no one had actually died, not when I left at least,” Tully said with a frown and an accompanying tone that implied he wasn’t confident the situation would be the same by the time they returned. “But ... well, let’s just say the The Black Kelpie will be needing some serious refurbishment.”

  Corin swung up into the saddle, casting a look of deep reproach at Tully on his way. “Couldn’t you do something?”

  “I did!” Tully said, apparently stung by the accusation. “Look.” He pointed to his face. “He did that when I tried to back him up, said he could manage perfectly well alone.”

  Corin snorted. “Well, he has a point.”

  Once mounted Tully glared in return, following Corin out of the yard with the clatter of hooves on stone ringing through the darkness. “Yes, well you know as well as I do, you are the only one who can talk him down when he gets like this and the inn keeper was threatening to send word to his father.”

  Corin looked back at him. “You dissuaded him of that notion I trust?” he asked, his tone sharp.

  “Of course.”

  Corin nodded and two men rode hell for leather towards The Black Kelpie.

  They arrived to find the ruddy faced inn keeper dragging splintered bits of furniture out of the building and throwing them onto a large fire. A man was carried out next, like another broken fitting, one arm and leg a piece held by his two friends who were equally bloody with torn shirts and battered faces. He was thrown into the back of a cart before they returned to make another trip, evidently for another fallen comrade.

  “Aye.” The inn keeper grimaced seeing them draw near. “Ye’re too late.” He stood glowering in the fire light as he threw the remains of a broken chair into the flames.
“Ye blasted Prince is long gone.”

  “Gone where?” Corin demanded.

  The big man folded his arms and gave Corin a sideways look. “Don’t know, don’t care, so long as he don’t come back again.”

  Corin sighed. “You may send me the bills for the damage.”

  “Aye.” The inn keeper nodded. “That I may, and who will pay me while the place is shut for a month while the work is done, I ask you?”

  A look around the devastation outside gave Corin a fair idea of the state of the interior and he nodded. “Very well, you will be compensated.” It wasn’t a great surprise to see the avaricious expression glittering to light in the inn keeper’s eyes.

  “And what about my clients who will drink elsewhere now ... what about them?” he demanded and was met with a hard stare from Corin.

  “I believe I have been more than generous, don’t push your luck, sir.”

  The man shrugged and grinned. “That you have,” he replied, affable now the damage had been recovered. “Can’t blame a fellow for trying though.”

  Corin gave a snort and shook his head, amused. “Which direction did he take when he left?”

  “That way.” A jerk of his flabby chin, indicated the direction of the river, and Corin swore, low and soft. Somehow he had a pretty good idea where Laen was heading for. Fear stole down his back, prickling his skin and pushing his heart to rush the blood harder through his veins. Fear was good, fear was a normal reaction. Any sane man should be terrified to follow the path down to that particular stretch of river. More disturbing was the thrill of excitement that accompanied the sensation. He turned back to Tully.

  “Go home, man, I will go after him.” He handed his horse into the ostler’s keeping as Tully frowned at him.

  “Don’t you want any help?” he asked, his voice full of curiosity.