Ensnared by the Dream Lord (Dark Lords) (3 page)

Adriana sat up in bed, surprised to see she hadn’t changed from her gown into a nightdress.  The book of legends lay open atop her bedside table.  Outside she could hear the sounds that signaled her father’s castle coming to life with the beginning of the day’s chores: the squawking of hens, chopping wood, greetings of good morrow, and a hundred other sounds.

Adriana missed her morning walks.  She was rarely allowed outside, even under escort, for fear some lusty man—of the unnatural world—would cart her off.  As if one of the dark creatures who dwelt in Hellsing wood would leave it only to whisk her away! 

She found little amusement in the thought.  It was unfair and unjust that she should have to pay for her sisters’ choices in men. 
They
had ventured into that dark place of the unnatural.  She would be content enough if her father would only allow her the run of the castle and bailey. 

She wondered if perhaps today her father would regain his sanity and her imprisonment would end. 

She had wondered that for more days than she could count, though, and he had shown no signs of relenting.  Yawning, she dropped her feet off the side of the bed and discovered tracks on the rug.

Alarm assailed her.  Someone had been in her room, watching her sleep.  Her first thought was to alert her father, but she quashed the impulse.  She was alone in the room now—there was no immediate danger.

Kneeling on the floor, she traced the faint outline of boots with one finger.  The tracks were large.  The man who’d left them had to be at least a head taller than any man in the castle—nearly high enough for his head to almost brush against the top of the doorframe.  She knew of no man of this height in the castle. 

Her sisters had found husbands of this ilk—tall, forbidding men of unnatural height and build.  Their height had seemed to grow from their strength and will.

The thought shot her into breathless excitement.  Her door was locked and heavily barred from the inside and outside.  Her father would never allow any man entry into her room, least of all while she slept.  Had she managed to conjure forth the sweet demon of her fervent dreams?

However unlikely it seemed, she couldn’t help but hope it was true. 

Why could she not remember it, though?  She could remember nothing of the night before save her prayers for
him
to come to her.

The only explanation was that he wished to remain unknown to her.

Certain now that she’d not descended into madness, Adriana cleaned the tracks from the floor as best she could and then performed her morning ablutions, delighted by the possibilities inherent in such a discovery.  She was more determined than ever before to summon Morpheus to her again.

* * * *

The day wore on, agonizingly long.  Adriana felt more penned than ever before, since freedom seemed so much the closer to her now.

Her father had come to her and kissed her goodnight.  He’d brought her more books to read and apologized again for having to do this to her.  He felt extremely guilty, but not enough to risk losing her.  She loved him still, but she would not be denied by any means.

She meant to regain her liberty.

As the castle quieted with the dipping sun, Adriana began to pray for Morpheus to return to her.  She watched the sky, hoping to see his arrival before darkness settled across the land.

As with many times before, she saw nothing, but she continued her pleas until her knees ached and her back screamed in agony.  She begged for him to come back to her until darkness crouched above the castle and the torches were lit.

An hour passed as she knelt in the darkness, and then another, until time became a blur and her mind began drifting into the realm of slumber.  Her eyelids flickered shut.  Her head drooped, yet still, she murmured, “Return to me, my dark lord.  Come back, Morpheus, Lord of the Night, guardian of dreams.”

As sleep claimed her, in the distance rode a dark swathed man on a steed of midnight with hooves and mane of fire.

* * * *

Adriana stood in the empty courtyard.  Her father’s castle had been abandoned of all life save her own.  She was alone in facing a terror that bore down on her.  Thunder clapped in the sky, shaking the ground.  Her legs felt unsteady, knees weak, muscles as substantial as jelly.

She had no time to wonder what had happened—not when the creature approached so rapidly.  She couldn’t bar the keep from him, not without five men to push the door.

Whirling, Adriana ran for the castle.  She threw the door shut and struggled with the bracing until she’d managed to drop it into place, marveling at the strength fear had given her.  Outside she imagined she could hear the creature gain entry into the courtyard, then climbing the stairs.  She could practically feel him on the other side of the door.

She turned then and ran for her tower, dashing up the long, winding stairs with break neck speed.  Below, she heard the unmistakable sound of wood splintering from a massive blow.

He was inside.  The knowledge leant speed to her feet.  She continued running, her endurance lagging, but she reached her room and darted inside, dropping another brace on this door, though it was probably useless.  He so easily burst through the other, what deterrent would this flimsy door be for him?  Likely none, but she had to try.

She looked around her room for a hiding spot and then laughed a little hysterically at the absurdity of that thought.  She had no obvious weapon to fend him off—nothing sharp and wicked.  Cursing herself for not grabbing something before she came up, she searched the room desperately anyway.  Her gaze settled on the thick book lying on her bedside table.  She hefted it in her hands.

The book of legends….  She lovingly traced the ornate tooled leather.  How could she have forgotten…?

The door rattled behind her.  The bracing clattered noisily to the floor.  Adriana ignored the sound of the door pushing open, the hollow steps of booted feet.

A memory tickled the edges of her mind.  She struggled to catch it, closing her eyes.

Hands locked onto her shoulders, turning her to face the invader … him….

She tipped up her face, instinctively knowing he was tall, the tallest man she’d ever known.  Slowly, she opened her eyes.

“Morpheus,” she said on breathy whisper.  The book slid out of her arms, dropping to the floor, just missing her feet.

Surprise widened his dark eyes, ever so slightly.  His thick black brows drew together in a frown.  She could see nothing of the lower half of his face.  A leather guard shielded his nose and mouth from her sight.

Without thinking, she reached up and tugged it off, revealing his masculine beauty.  He didn’t try to stop her as she traced his square jaw.  He swallowed, as if the tender touch pained him.  She moved slowly then, her fingers the barest whisper on his skin as she smoothed across his lips.  They parted beneath her touch as he drew in a ragged breath.

She remembered terror and elation, and then a kiss, begged for and received.  Was she losing her mind?

Her hand rested at his jaw, slowly curling around his neck in possession.  She met his eyes and stilled.  Her heart beat rapidly, and she felt like she could no longer breathe.  “Do I dream?”

“Yes,” he said.

The familiar baritone vibrated her chest softly.  Warmth rushed her body, making her flush.  “I dream, yet here you are.  Are you not real?”

“I am flesh and blood.”

“Then I shall kiss you and dispel this dream.”  She stood on the tips of her toes, pulling the back of his neck to close the distance.

* * * *

Morpheus wrenched himself from her dream with an effort, sliding off her bed as if putting distance between them would ease the sweet torment that infiltrated his body and mind.  He angrily paced the room.

He’d nearly lost control.

He threw off his cloak and gloves, ran a hand through sweat dampened hair, willing his body to return to normal.  Nothing could stop his gaze from crawling back to her sleeping form, however.  She moved in her sleep, her gown slipping up her legs, revealing toned calves and a hint of knee.  She arched her back, presenting her throat, the slender column begging for his lips to nibble across her and up to her lips.

His loins tightened.  His belly clenched on a hard spasm of lust.

There was no frightening her away from him.  She was powerful—powerful enough to use his weakness, his desire, to twist her dreams into whatever she wished.

He could not allow this woman to weaken his resolve to have done with her.  He would not be enslaved by a mere mortal, a slip of a girl at that.

He still had time this night to begin again.  Allowing his body to cool long moments, he devised a new plan, one that would allow his needs to be fulfilled, and destroy her longing for him.  There was no other way.

He would not fall prey to the desires of one mortal woman.

He strode to her bed once more, resisting the impulse to touch her as she lay vulnerable to him, conjuring instead another dream.

* * * *

The crowded, noisy hall hushed to a quiet roar as she was led inside.  The cuffs around her wrists and neck chafed when her chains were pulled, but the pain was not as great as the shame that washed over her at the crowd’s perusal.  She felt dissected, her every flaw revealed to them and knew she was found lacking.  She heard it in their murmured disapproval and felt the crowd’s gaze like needle pricks all over her skin.

The pull of the chains forced her head down, leaving only the periphery of her vision available to her, so it was not until she stopped and the chains were removed that she discovered she was to be an offering to the dark, forbidding lord, Morpheus.

He’d tried to disguise himself, cloak the fragile edges of her memory.  Magic hummed in the air like the calm before a storm.  Try as he might, though, he could not hide himself from her.  The more she saw him, the easier it became for her mind to grasp his every nuance … to remember.  Though she knew him on sight, he was changed.  There was not an ounce of tenderness in him.  He reeked of barely leashed passions, anger foremost.

He sprawled decadently on a stone throne, his legs stretched before him, hands grasping the stone arms with white-knuckled strength.  His eyes remained unmoved from her face.

Adriana’s blood wailed in her veins.  Fear and trepidation pervaded her senses, feeling wholly unnatural to her.  She should not be afraid, and yet, she was.

“Remove your gown.”

Adriana stiffened, fighting the powerful pull of his voice that compelled her to do whatever he wished.  She took a deep, steadying breath. “No.”

“Remove it or I will have it removed for you.”  He signaled the guards to attention with a flick of his hand.

Better to take it off herself than suffer the humiliation of having the gown ripped off of her.  She straightened, resisting the useless impulse to run.  She met his gaze once more, opening the neck of her gown to pull the edges over her shoulders.  The thin garment slid down her shoulders and dropped to the floor, exposing her to all and sundry.  The chill of the air hardened her nipples, prickled her flesh.

Lewd jeers rang out in the hall, but she scarcely heard the heckles past the blood pulsing in her face and ears.  Each second seemed an eternity.  The black intensity of his gaze rippled over her like a physical touch.  She flushed all over as he raked his gaze down her body.  She could practically feel him touch her breasts, the curve of her waist, the juncture of her thighs and the sparse thatch of hair hiding her sex.

“Come to me.”  His command quieted the hall.  Not a breath stirred.

Her nerves jumped.  Shivers coursed down her spine.  She wasn’t certain she could move, much less climb the shallow steps up to him.  She felt on the verge of collapsing.

Gathering her courage, she slowly made her way up the dais until she stood before him.  His heavy boots rested on the floor to either side of her feet.  If he so chose, he could lean forward but a little and capture her completely.  The heat of his gaze seared her by his proximity.  She went tense all over, scarcely daring to breathe.

“Kneel.”

She shook her head, wanting to close her eyes, but fear and something else wouldn’t allow her to look away.

Chapter Four

“On your knees.”

She felt his hard pronunciation of each word deep inside her.  What little resistance she still possessed crumbled.  She dropped to her knees.

“Put your hands on my thighs.”

She obeyed, placing a hand on each hard muscle, turning her face up to him.

He looked down at her, his dark eyes glittering with indefinable emotion.  “I want you to pleasure me with your mouth.”

She gasped and tried to pull back, but he caught her hands, not allowing escape.  Her heart caught in her throat as he took her stiff hand and placed it on his groin.  Her fingers flexed involuntarily at the hot hardness she could feel beneath the leather.  His fingers moved in sync with her, catching the leather ties and pulling until the cod piece hung to the side.  His erection rose from his breeches, thick and monstrous.  Blood throbbed in the lacing of veins covering his skin.