Rejar (5 page)

{I do not know. I have explained to you—you cannot do this.}

“I don’t see why not.” She stuck her chin stubbornly in the air. If Rejar wasn’t so exasperated, he might be tempted to laugh.

“I can send my thoughts to you—or anyone for that matter,” he said aloud, “but you cannot send your thoughts to me because you are not... like me.”

“I see ... it’s the rules of the dream world, isn’t it?”

“Something like that.” He smiled kindly at her.

Lilac yawned. “I’m rather tired; I think I should be waking up now.”

“Do you not mean go to sleep now?”

“But I’m already asleep, so if I’m tired, I suppose I need to wake up.” She looked confused herself. “How could that be?”

He needed to distract this line of thinking immediately as conscious realization could sometimes cause a subject to break trance.

{Did I not promise to show you what pleases you?}

The diversion worked; she gave him a surprised look. “How do you know what pleases me?”

{I know. Watch ...} His capable fingers immediately began massaging up and down her back, lightly kneading the muscles into relaxed compliancy.

When he reached her shoulders, he completely enfolded her in his embrace as they lay on their sides. Still gently moving his broad palms in circular motions against her back, he occasionally used just the heel of his hands to augment the soothing kneading action.

“Mmm—that does feel nice.” She closed her eyes, enjoying the exquisite sensation of a man giving her a massage.

His hands moved lower to the arch of her waist.

“That feels very good.”

Then to the base of her spine.

“Oh yes, that—”

And lower still...

Lilac’s eyes snapped open. “You shouldn’t be touching me there.”

He looked at her through half-lowered lids. {Why not?}

Lilac frowned. “Because it’s just not done! Not even in dreams.” Reaching down, she stopped his roving hand.

He gave her a patent look. “And how do men make love here, then?”

Lilac blushed. “I... What a question! You must never ask a lady that—it is not—not,” she used his own word back at him, “seemly.”

Rejar exhaled in frustration. This was proving more difficult than he had first thought. It was going to be a challenging hunt; he could sense that already. True to nature, he relished the prospect of an interesting chase.

In any case, it was enough for now.

It would not be wise to test the limits of her trance state. He would continue the sport next eve.

Indeed, the Familiar were noted for their perseverance.

{Sleep, Lilac...} He cupped her head close to his chest, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Something is odd here,” she mumbled against him, then promptly fell into a deep slumber.

“Yes, definitely,” Rejar whispered agreeably.

He brushed his lips across her clean-smelling hair.

* * *

The next morning Lilac awoke with a vague sense of some pleasant dream she had experienced. She stretched sinuously under the covers before reaching for her morning tray. Something licked her ankle.

“Eee!” Lilac frowned down at the huge lump lurking under the covers. “Rejar, come out of there!”

The lump moved sluggishly towards the edge of the counterpane. Two large paws and a nose peeked out from under the blanket.

“You seem tired this morning. Come to think of it, you weren’t anywhere to be seen last evening. I suppose you were out tomcatting all night.” A tail swished under the blanket. “Shame on you. Serves you right; you’ll get no sympathy from me.”

The paws and nose disappeared beneath the blanket again.

“Don’t sulk. You know very well you’re guilty. I can just imagine what you’ve been up to all night.”

Lilac felt a paw playfully swat the lace edging on the hem of her nightgown.

She smiled. “Oh, all right; you’re forgiven. I suppose boys will be boys even if they are cats.” Said cat began to purr.

“Come on out and I’ll give you some of my cream.”

Now there was an enticement. Rejar scooted from beneath the blanket.

Lilac was pouring some liquid into a saucer for him. Oh. That cream. He sighed.

Halfheartedly, he began lapping up the thick liquid, thinking it would probably be some time before he could sneak into the room where the food was prepared to help himself. The tidbits he was getting were not enough to sustain him. And some of them were not to his liking at all. One day the cook had actually thrown him some kind of water creature’s head, beaming at him as if he should be grateful for the disgusting thing! Usually he had to gather his food in the middle of the night, while the rest of the household was sleeping.

Once again, the cream splashed all over his face. He really was not very good at this.

“Just look at you.” Lilac shook her head. “You really are a messy puss, Rejar.” He stuck his face close to her so she could wipe his whiskers for him.

“There.” Lilac settled back against the pillows, drinking her tea. “Now I have to think of some way to avoid that boring soiree this Friday. Auntie Whumples seems so adamant. Perhaps I could say ... no, that wouldn’t work. What if...” Lilac’s voice trailed off as possible excuses went through her mind, none of them very promising. She spent the rest of the day trying to think of something, anything her aunt would accept.

Several of the excuses that seemed promising she later attempted on her aunt, only to have her hopes immediately dashed when Auntie speared her with her infamous no-nonsense glare that traveled haughtily down her long nose, gaining momentum before it launched itself at the unfortunate victim. Her.

By the time she went to bed that evening. Lilac knew that anything short of getting struck by lightning was not going to prevent her from attending that wretched soiree.

* * *

“Oh, it’s you again.”

Lilac opened her eyes to another dream.

The same beautiful man she had seen the previous night in her sleep was back. Only this time he was lying across the top of the covers on his stomach.

He was still very much unclothed.

“Mmmm...” He rubbed the underside of his chin back and forth against the top of her thigh while staring impishly up at her.

“I don’t know why I’m dreaming about you again.”

{Do you not?} Rejar rested his head on his folded arms, letting his index finger lazily trace the outline of demarcation between her night rail and the sheet.

Annoyed, Lilac slapped his hand away. “No, and I wish you would stop touching me in such a forthright manner.”

“Ah, you prefer a more subtle approach.” His teasing eyes sparkled. “Now, how might I be more subtle, I wonder?” He rubbed his chin as if he were actually thinking it over.

Lilac narrowed her eyes. “I think you’re playing with me in some way.”

“In every way.” A rakish dimple popped into his cheek.

He smoothly rolled over onto his back, lacing his hands behind his head before looking lazily over at her. His eyes were dancing with amusement.

For some reason, Lilac got the absurd impression of a cat swishing his tail.

She shook an admonishing finger at him. “You must be nice or I won’t allow you in my dreams anymore.”

“Very well.” He turned onto his side. Propping up his head by leaning on a bent arm, he reached for her with the other.

“What are you doing?” she squealed.

“What you have asked—I am being nice.”

“You don’t look like you’re being nice; you look like you’re being quite mischievous.”

He brought her small hand to his face. “Really. How do I look mischievous?”

“Your eyes sparkle in a certain way and you have these curved lines by your mouth, dimples really, which deepen and—Stop that!” He was running his tongue in a long, slow lick up the center of her hand, straight up to the tip of her middle finger.

“You do not like it?” He spoke around her finger, which was now gently being suckled into his warm mouth. When those thick, ink-black lashes of his lifted to meet her focus straight on. Lilac blushed to the roots of her hair.

“I—I didn’t say that.”

“Then why should I stop?” White teeth held her finger now and the rogue was laughing!

Before Lilac could think of an appropriate response, he was once more licking the inside of her hand, using his silken tongue to probe in a most intriguing fashion between her fingers where they joined at the base.

Her breath caught with an odd hitch in her throat.

“You do not want me to stop, do you?” His low, resonant voice was partially muffled as he continued to pay the most indecent attention to her fingers.

Who would ever guess fingers could be so—so inspiring?

“I don’t suppose”—Lilac cleared her throat—”it would be—I mean, you might continue for just a few more moments; seeing as this is a dream and such.”

Rejar chuckled deep in his throat, his talented lips moving to her wrist. He lightly scraped her pulse point before pulling up the sleeve of her garment with his teeth.

Lilac gulped for air as his moist tongue slid across the crease on the inside of her elbow.

“You know I don’t know how I thought you up, but I think you’re exceptionally handsome,” she whispered to him in the darkened room.

The corners of Rejar’s lips twitched. As a rule Familiars never paid much attention to such compliments. For some reason, women always found them thus. Amused, he stopped to look down at her lying beneath him. “Do you?”

“Oh, yes! Although, I can’t see you as clearly as I would like. What color are your eyes?”

Rejar began nuzzling at the collar of her gown. “Blue ...” His mouth trailed like hot silk across her collarbone. “... golden.”

Lilac tried not to moan aloud at the feel of the sensual male mouth gliding over her with such devastating effect.

“Which is it?” she gasped.

“What?” His heated breath caressed her skin as he continued his sensual foray.

“Blue or golden?”

Rejar stopped.

It was not an easy thing to do; her skin tasted like the sweetest cream to his hungry lips. However, this was dangerous territory. If he told her the truth, it might jog her awareness of... something, the wrongness of his dual-colored eyes to her or, more probably, a connection to her new cat.

No, he could not chance it.

He reined his senses inward, bringing his breathing and body temperature back to normal. The process made him slightly irritable.

His sensual nature needed a release and he had gone far too long without it. He intended to remedy that as soon as possible. The long hunt would have to be momentarily put aside in lieu of a fast conquest.

Tomorrow evening his unaware “sponsor” into society was having a private gathering of his select friends at his country home. Rejar intended to be there.

His entrance into this society would serve a triple purpose: he would be establishing a new life for himself; he would be meeting soon “face-to-face” with Lilac; and he would find somebody on the morrow who could relieve his present condition.

To hope she would have forest green eyes, Rejar acknowledged, would be overly optimistic.

He gazed longingly into those Aviaran eyes and bid them, {Sleep.}

Chapter Three

He did exactly what Lilac thought he had done on their first meeting; he hid under the seat inside one of the coaches bound for Byron’s country home.

When the inhabitants, two young lords who were already well on their way toward being intoxicated, lurched from the coach, Rejar was not far behind them. His deep coat helped to conceal him in the darkness of night, making it easy for him to find his own entrance through an open set of glass doors that led directly into a deserted library room.

From there, he quickly bolted up a back stairway to the bedroom suites, easily locating the master bedroom with his innate tracking abilities. Once inside he nudged the door shut, purposely striding over to a chifforobe in the corner.

Mirrored doors, which an instant ago had reflected a beautiful, long-haired black cat with blue and gold eyes now reflected a beautiful long-haired man with the very same eyes.

Opening the wardrobe, Rejar riffled though the contents, looking for something to temporarily cover his nakedness while he sought out his host.

Not for the first time, Rejar acknowledged one of the drawbacks of metamorphosing was that your clothes did not change with you. Normally, this did not pose too much of a problem as he usually returned to the same place to change back. However, when he had instinctively transformed himself back in the Tunnels, he had completely lost all his clothing in the turbulent cosmic storm.

Since Byron was a much smaller man than he, his choice was limited to a red silk robe. He yanked the garment out of the closet, securing it around his lean waist with the sash. Then he went in search of his “sponsor.”

* * *

Every woman in the room and several fops turned to stare agog at the positively stunning man who stood unabashedly in the doorway wearing nothing but a red silk robe.

His tall, powerful frame filled the doorway, yet there seemed to be a certain lithe sensuality noticeable in his movements as he scanned the room, apparently seeking out someone. The silken robe he wore slid sinuously against the obviously nude, muscular body beneath in such a provocative way as to make several of the ladies feel quite faint.

There was a captivating aura of individuality about him, a feeling that this was someone who would either lead or walk alone. Never follow. His regal demeanor proclaimed to all that this was a man who would very much do as he pleased. His presence in a drawing room, so attired, told all he was not in the least concerned about what others thought of him.

Against fashion, he wore his glossy black hair long. The silken mass fell to the middle of his back with the rich, lustrous texture of the finest Russian sable. In fact, his hair seemed softer than sable and there wasn’t a woman in the room who didn’t immediately itch to feel that hair beneath her hand.

Counter to that gorgeous silken mane, his smooth skin was a tawny golden color; and since the robe gaped open occasionally when he moved, revealing a portion of sleekly muscled thigh, it was evidently his true skin tone all over. Such delectable skin as this invited touching.