Brush of Darkness (22 page)

“I heal fast,” he softly answered my unasked question. “Come here, Abby.” It was more than a request but less than a command; I followed it anyway, moving as close to him as I dared. His hand reached down beneath my chin, tipping my face up. “No regrets,” he murmured. His golden eyes pinned me where I stood. “Understand?” I nodded as he bent forward, his lips brushing over mine, and then all I could taste were the rivulets of water sliding between our mouths and the sweat from his skin, tinged with coppery blood.

Brystion grunted, running his fingers down my neck to my shoulders, pressing forward in bold strokes along my arms. He briefly traced the curve of my breasts, and I
shuddered as his thumbs teased my hardened nipples. His lips curved into a smile, but his tongue never stopped its gentle exploration, even when his fingers dropped lower still, lingering on my hips before sliding toward my ass.

For a moment I hovered, as his touch stripped away the last of my hesitation like the faded skin of some desperate reptile. He drew back, his fingers skimming my jaw.

No regrets.

I launched myself at him, taken aback at my own ferocity, months of inner turmoil threatening to explode upon us. I kissed him frantically, my hand reaching to the base of his neck, trying to pull him closer still. My breasts brushed his chest as my hips began to sway against him in the most ancient of erotic motions. Soft, urgent sounds escaped my throat, but were battered against his mouth, becoming a muffled cry as he turned me around so I was facing the backsplash. A hand glided over my neck, lingering, stroking, claiming.

“You know, for an incubus you seem to be rather interested in my neck. You sure you’re not a vampire?”

Filtered through the steaming hiss of the water, his answering chuckle was rich and throaty. It rippled around me. He slanted his lips over my collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin. “Vampires don’t have complete jurisdiction when it comes to blood,” he said mildly. “Just as incubi don’t hold dominion over sex. The lines between us have always been a bit blurred.” The nips became harder, more insistent. He worked his way higher, suckling and licking the water droplets from the sweet spot just below my ear, nuzzling my earlobe with an unfamiliar tenderness.

I tipped my head forward, resting it on the cool porcelain. The water sluiced over me like a gentle rain, leaving my skin slick and gleaming.

“You might even call us cousins of a sort,” he continued,
splaying his fingers over my breastbone, playfully reaching down to tweak a peaked nipple. I gasped, an electric rush cresting down my spine. The hum of unadulterated male satisfaction rumbled from his chest.

“Cousins?” My legs were quaking now, my knees heavy and weak. He roped his arms around mine, lifting them up to press my palms flat against the tiles before grinding his erection into the hollowed cleft of my ass. I gave a small snort of surprise. When had
that
happened?

“Life versus lust—they’re practically the same thing, if you think about it. Or at least they ought to be.” I twisted my head toward him, torn between annoyance and arousal. A wicked grin pulled up the corners of his mouth as he watched my helpless squirming with that hungry, half-lidded gaze. “But given the choice, I think I know what I’d rather feed on.”

“Indeed,” I whispered hoarsely, as his tongue darted between my lips and cut off the rest of my words. What
was
that delicious thing he was doing with his hips? And why the hell were we even
still
having that conversation? “Given the choice, I think you talk too much, incubus.”

“That’s about to change,” he murmured, his voice husky, turning me to face him. He dropped one hand, spreading me wide even as he lifted one of my legs to wrap around his hip. “I’m going to need to get you off quickly, Abby, but I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

I could only moan in approval, my hand snaking down to press his fingers harder against me. He shuddered, growling in appreciation. I arched my back when he finally grabbed my hips and thrust inside. Small ripples of heat flooded my belly, the beginnings of the first swells of climax pulsing.

“Please,” I begged. He kissed my neck, the blood thrumming in my ear as my world narrowed until there was nothing left but the movement of his body with mine.

“Now, Abby,” he grunted, pinching a stiff nipple. I toppled over the edge with a keening cry. His hands were iron, supporting me as I rode out the waves of my pleasure.

I had no words, just animal sounds, guttural and chuffing, a rush of air filling my lungs as I tried to breathe. His body stiffened as he found his own release, his teeth biting into my shoulder with a tender fierceness. Thick billows of steam enveloped us, and I felt the slick tiles fading away beneath my shoulders. Panic tipped the edge of my voice. “What’s going on?”

He arms coiled around my waist. “Oh, shit. Hold on, Abby.” And then we were sinking, floating,
falling.
Naked and entwined, the darkness swallowed us up. We were hurtling toward something. It looked like my bedroom with me lying there, but the unicorn was gone. No—he was at the foot of the bed, blue eyes staring at me intently. And then there was nothing at all.

I sat up with a jerk, rubbing vainly at my eyes. I was back in my room, away from the Dreaming, blissful and sore. And naked. I glanced down and blinked. What the hell? Brystion cracked his eyes open and grinned at me. “You’re beautiful when you’re groaning my name, did you know?”

I flushed despite myself. “Never mind that, what the hell just happened?”

“You pulled us through the Dreaming.” His lips pursed with amusement. “I’ve always prided myself on being good in bed, but I’ve never been
that
good.” He propped himself up on one arm, leaning forward to kiss my naked thigh. “And your orgasm was just . . . delicious.” His voice was all male now, smugness and satisfaction rolled together with a hint of vulnerability.

“You’re missing the point, Brystion. How did I manage to pull you with me? I can understand waking up from the
Dreaming, but why are you here? And where the hell are my clothes? Not that I’m complaining,” I added hastily.

He flopped onto his back, arms folded beneath his head. His abdominal muscles flexed as he breathed. They were exquisite. I tore my gaze away.

“Does it matter?” he asked softly. “I’ve never seen it done before, but I know it happens sometimes. You know the fairy tales, right? When the women wake up and their dream lovers are laid out beside them? It appears as though that might be real.” He reached up to play with the loose strands of my hair.

“So I’ve gathered,” I said dryly, snuggling against him. A stray thought pushed its way to the forefront of my mind, awkward and ugly. “Ah . . . I’m not really on birth control right now, you know.”

He chuckled, nipping at my ear. “I can’t procreate via mortal means.”

“Mmmm,” I muttered. “How does that work? I thought incubi and succubi worked together to get women pregnant.”

He made a noncommittal noise. “Well, I suppose that’s one option, but it’s a very ugly way of going about it. Besides, that would mean one of my sisters would have to steal the seed of a man, fuck
me
, and then I’d fuck you. Not very romantic,” he said reprovingly. “Never mind the fact that I wouldn’t fuck my sister, I sure as hell wouldn’t subject my TouchStone to it.” There was an edge to his voice, an undercurrent that clearly noted my entrance into dangerous waters.

“Did you get enough to . . . ah . . . eat?” I slid down beside him, enjoying the way we fit together. “Because we can do it again, if you need.”

His lips twitched, a soft flare of gold starting to circle his dark pupils. “A bit of dessert wouldn’t go over too badly,” he murmured, his hand curving around the back of
my head. “But I’ll leave it entirely up to you. In theory, we haven’t actually slept together, so if you’d rather not complicate things further, I’ll understand.”

“Easy is for pussies,” I muttered, nuzzling his palm with my cheek. “And I’m
not
easy.”

“Never that,” he agreed softly, his arms wrapping around my waist to pull me closer. I rolled, flexing my hips until I was straddling his waist, bending over to kiss him again. “Never that, love.”

I arched a brow. “Love, is it? I must have been better than I thought.”

“Figure of speech.” His arms slid over my back to gently pull me forward so I was comfortably splayed across him. He kissed me again, but it was more of a question this time, a soft probing. “You’re tired.” He tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed the scar and I pulled away slightly, still shy. “I forget sometimes, just how fragile mortals are. And yet, you bear our burden willingly, so there must be iron beneath the silk.”

“The only metal in me is stainless steel.” I tapped the scar ruefully. “And I hardly think that counts.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, a trace of his old arrogance seeping out, “but you sell yourself short by far.” He toppled me over to my side, curling his naked body around me. “It’s nearly three
A.M
. Sleep now.”

I started to protest, but my eyes were already shutting. Feeling safe for the first time in ages, I drifted off. And this time I didn’t dream at all.

I
was wrapped in his scent, curled beneath a blanket of sunlight and cinnamon. Wriggling in the sheets, I sighed and opened an eye to watch him sleep.

Or I would have—if he’d been there.

A familiar smell worked its way into the room, and I frowned. Was that bacon? I pondered this anomaly for a moment and then decided that maybe I really should get up and see what was what.

“Chaste?” A soft, flutelike voice sounded gently in my ears.

What the . . .?

I barely managed to turn my head before a sharp pain pierced through the softer part of my backside. I shrieked, rolling away hard enough to tumble to the floor with a thud.

Brystion bolted in from the kitchen, frying pan in hand. He was still gloriously naked.

Clutching the sheet over my chest protectively, I waved my fingers at the bed, caught between panic and momentary glee that he was actually still here. “Something bit me!”

The incubus relaxed. “Ah, yes. Nice pet you have there.”

I tore my eyes away from his sculpted abs, confused. “What?”

“The unicorn,” he said dryly, gesturing at the bed with the frying pan. “Seems he has a thing for . . . uh . . . asses.” He held in a laugh before turning around to show me the porcelain perfection of his own. “As you can see. His name is Phineas, by the way.”

I looked at the reddish-purple bruise on Brystion’s left
cheek. “I didn’t know he could talk.” I glared at the unicorn, ignoring the way he leered at me from the edge of the bed. “You little shit. You’ve seen me naked!”

Scrambling to my feet, I craned my neck to look at my own reddening welt. “That better not scar,” I warned him. He just sniffed and then leaped to the floor.

I rubbed at the spot with a grimace before turning my attention back to Brystion. So damn easy to just let my eyes linger over his body. Our eyes met for a moment and whatever else I’d been going to say flew out the window.

His gaze flared into something bold and appraising, and I realized I was still mostly naked. “See something you like?” The crooked smile that turned up the corner of one cheek made it perfectly clear that at least
he’d
found something worth staring at. Well, that and the erection that was standing at about half-mast. I sighed, almost in disbelief.

I had a naked incubus in my bedroom. With a frying pan of half-cooked bacon and a hard-on. And a unicorn bite on his ass. Christ, this was turning out to be a weird morning.

“You look ridiculous,” I mumbled, feeling a strange relief flood through me. Suddenly shy, I drew the sheet up around my shoulders. “I thought maybe you’d left.”

“I thought about it,” he admitted, “but your dreams indicated breakfast was a better choice. Besides, my alternatives are rather limited at the moment.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel good.” I clutched the sheet a little tighter.

“It’s a gift.”

“Modest too, I see.” I sat up straighter, glancing at the floor to find my clothing, but it was bare. I’d forgotten we’d
fallen
into my bed, sans undies. I waved my hand at him imperiously. “Go on and cook me my bacon, incubus.”

“Oh, I’ll cook your bacon,” he muttered, ducking back out to the kitchen.

“We’re going to have to find you some clothes for the Hearing,” I called after him. “As much as it pains me to say it.”

A noncommittal grunt was the only reply, so I kicked the covers back and set about getting dressed. Practicality warred with curiosity for a moment. What
did
one wear to a Hearing? It was early in the morning, true, but who was to say Robert wouldn’t just show up and drag us away? Then again, I snorted softly, my only competition would be a naked incubus. Even a sheet would be better than that. In the end I went with a long, loose peasant skirt and a muted silk tank top. It was still late August in Portsmyth, after all, and that meant humid. Never let them see you sweat and all that shit.