Silken Rapture: Princes of the Underground, Book 2 (27 page)

The next thing she knew she was facedown and Blaise’s hands were at her hips, sliding her across the fluid silk. She heard a sound like a hard object sliding across the floor and sensed Blaise moving behind her.

“Step on the stool. Your feet don’t reach the floor,” he said, his voice rough with arousal, but also warm with amusement. The sound of his zipper lowering sent an electric tingle through her satiated sex. She whipped her hair out of her face and pushed up with her hands.

“No. I want to hold you, Blaise,” she protested.

“It’ll be all right. I will hold you, lovely.” He set her feet upon what felt like a wooden stool. It ideally situated her bottom right at the edge of the bed, and she realized distantly he must have known this. The bed seemed made to match his proportions for making love when he stood next to it. He matter-of-factly spread her thighs wide. She moaned loudly at the sensation of his cock probing her entry.

She shook like a leaf in a storm as he worked his way into her, challenging, teasing and stroking her flesh the entire time.

When he was fully sheathed, he slid his hands beneath her body and pressed his chest to her back. He hugged her to him as he began to fuck her. She keened at the sublimity of the embrace. His cock stroked her as he cradled her, one hand holding a breast, the other clasping a shoulder. He moved her with the hand at her shoulder, sliding her along the slippery silk, and up and down on his cock.

He whispered to her roughly as she shuddered in bliss.

“You are the most beautiful thing in existence—a treasure. I wish more than anything I had the power to make you happy.”

“You do,” she moaned through fevered lips. “You have accomplished your goal.”

He scraped his teeth down the top of her spine and she shuddered. She heard his harsh moan as she held him at the core of her climax. She cried out, stunned, when she felt him press the tip of his finger into her anus. The caress amplified her orgasm. She writhed beneath him, caught in the grip of pleasure. His growl of arousal vibrated into her hot body.

“No,” she murmured in confusion when he slid out of her a moment later. She could tell he hadn’t yet climaxed, and she loved the sensation of being joined so closely to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. She sensed him moving behind her, and again tried to get her hair out of her eyes and turn over on the bed. Again, he placed his hand at the small of her back, stilling her. She gasped when she felt his finger penetrate her anus. It was slick with some sort of slippery substance. She moaned in rising pleasure as he loosened and lubricated her.

“I must do this, lovely. To show you are mine. Only mine.” She went still, her eyes going wide when he pressed the crown of his cock against her anus. “I will be very gentle.”

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered. She was a little surprised to know what she’d said was true, for Blaise was large, and she didn’t have experience with this delicate maneuver.

He held one buttock open as he presented his cock to her body. His fingers caressed her gently. “Try and relax, if you can,” he instructed. “It will help if you push back on me. You must be the one to let me in.”

Isabel responded immediately, hungry to have him possess her even if there was some discomfort. If Blaise wanted to do this, then she did. Her heart was so full in that moment, she would have done much more to offer him some small measure of the joy he afforded her.

He grunted when she pushed so firmly that his cockhead slipped into her body.

“Hold still,” he grated out, his tone a little desperate.

She held her breath until her lungs burned. She sensed him trying to gather himself behind her. When he grabbed both of her hips with his hands, Isabel determinedly pushed back again. They both gasped raggedly as he slid several more inches into her. It seemed he had lubricated his cock with the slippery, silky substance as well.

“That is enough,” he barked. She used one hand to sweep her long hair out of her face. She glanced around at him, one cheek still on the silk duvet. He gave her a wild-eyed glance.

“I don’t want to lose control. You’re so precious to me,” he muttered.

“I won’t break,” she pleaded in a whisper.

His groan seemed to be ripped out of him. He flexed his hips and began to fuck her ass rapidly with the first half of his penis. Now that he was in her, all the pain had faded. There was only raw, dark pleasure. The sensation of having his cock in her ass was exciting to her in a forbidden way. Because of his nature, he could evoke unusually strong, rapid responses from a woman. He could make her climax without ever touching her sex. He could make her lost in a dizzying world of sensation and bliss.

But this…this was for him. A quick half-glance at his rigid, transported expression told her that.

“Do it harder,” she murmured.

Every muscle in his body seemed ready to burst from tension. Despite her plea, he continued to be careful of her, fucking her ass with restraint. For some reason, the whole thing made her terribly aroused. She slid her hand beneath her hips and rubbed her hungry clit while she listened to his grunts and growls of satisfaction.

A moment later he withdrew. She came in a hot, delicious rush to the sensation of him ejaculating on her skin.

“I’m sorry. I had to do it,” he murmured next to her ear a moment later as he held her close on the bed.

“I’m not sorry,” she whispered, turning her face and brushing her lips against his. They both lay on their sides, facing one another, his arms surrounding her. “What do you mean, you had to do it?” she asked slowly as she examined his face.

“I only meant I wanted you to know I could control my base nature. I can control my animal aggression, Isabel. Always. That’s what I learned tonight. And Isabel?”

“Yes?” she whispered, a little awestruck by his solemn manner.

“I wanted to prove to you that I have control, because there will come a moment when you must trust me to show even more control than I have tonight.”

Something reared in her memory…something Usan had transferred to her through their joined hands. The ephemeral thread quickly sank back into the darkness.

“I don’t understand.”

“Now is not the time for you to understand. It will come, though. Very soon. And when it does, you must make the choice of whether you will trust enough to participate in the ritual or not,” he said, and she realized he’d read her mind. “There is one more thing I must do to claim my soul…to claim you, Isabel. Now I know I can do it, because I could never cause you harm. Never. I care about you too much.” He pushed her head down to his chest and stroked her hair and cheek. A tear leaked from her eye and dropped to his skin, wetting him. His fingertips massaged her scalp, and Isabel felt as if her heart would burst through her chest, it was so full.

“Even though my need seems boundless, even though it seems as if my hunger for you will never be satisfied, my greed is exceeded by something greater,” he said, his voice a rough, lyrical anthem in her ear. “I could never harm you, Isabel. Never. Because you are my very soul.
That
is what I learned tonight.”

“Blaise,” she whispered feelingly.

He rolled her onto her back and came down over her.

“There is one other thing I must ask of you,” he said.

“Anything.”

“I need you to use your gifted hands to help me find Morshiel. My clone has a major part he must act in this play before I can truly vanquish and rule him.”

Aubrey stood while Morshiel reclined on a velvet couch, the luxurious fabric striking Aubrey as bizarre within the dank, fetid underground tunnel.

“He has spoken to Isi,” Aubrey said.

“Why didn’t you finish the bloody American once and for all in the tunnels?” Morshiel asked irritably.

“I tried to kill him, but as you know, the circumstances were harrowing with Blaise closing in on us. Now I’m glad my attempt was unsuccessful. I was able to read more of Isi’s thoughts while he was wounded and draw my own conclusions on what must be done to vanquish Blaise. It served me—it served
us
—for Isi to live and impart this information to Blaise. I believe Blaise will seek you out very soon.”

“And I am to let him find me?” Morshiel asked, sitting forward on the couch, his gaze narrowed.

“Yes, by all means,” Aubrey murmured, smiling. “I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Why use my magic to get you into Sanctuary, when the way would open to us eventually. The spirits tell me the end is coming, and Blaise senses it, just as you do. The master of Sanctuary must be the one to invite you within its walls. Only he can do so.”

“He can. But
will
he?” Morshiel asked sneeringly.

“He shall. And you must cooperate with the ritual that will take place. If you do, you will be the one left standing. Blaise will be dead. And you will rule Sanctuary.”

Morshiel sniffed and took a sip from his goblet. What did he have to lose? If Aubrey, the Immortal Genius lied, Morshiel would not be the loser. Blaise could not kill him with his weapon, for Morshiel was truly immortal. He could not resist the opportunity to step within the bounds of Sanctuary.

He would let Blaise live—for the time being—if he did seek him out in the tunnels. Why not let him? Risk added spice to the bland, boring experience others called life. He would chance much, much more to obtain the women.

Isabel Lanscourt
.

He found it hilarious to consider that Aubrey actually believed he’d ever give him Isabel Lanscourt. How could he possibly consider himself so intelligent? He clearly had no comprehension of what the woman meant to creatures like himself and Blaise. Sometimes he lost himself for hours on end, recalling what it was to be flooded by her sublime energy.

The Scourge, and the Literati, and even the Immortal Genius thought they understood Morshiel, but they were all fools. Only he knew that the entire landscape of his life had altered ever since he’d laid eyes on Isabel. He would do anything to possess her…to touch her. His entire existence had been a prelude to the moment he could lay his hand on her, sink his teeth and cock into her vitessence-rich flesh.

His grip tightened on the brass goblet until he felt his fingertips dent the metal.

Yes,
anything.

“Very well,” Morshiel murmured in a bored manner. “If Blaise comes to me, I will not take off his head. I need a distraction, and if anything, what you suggest sounds like a bit of fun,” he said before he drained the blood and tossed the goblet away like a piece of lint found on his jacket.

Chapter Sixteen

Isabel faltered in her line, pausing to stare out at the nearly empty theatre. She peered into the dark shadows clinging to the rear seats. Margaret Turrow, who sat in the front row, twisted around, as if to see where Isabel looked so intently.

She knew what had caused the surge of awareness. Blaise. His presence at the theatre confused her.

Last night, Isabel had located the general vicinity of Morshiel on the map, just as Blaise had asked. She’d been wary about giving Blaise the information, disturbed by his intensity on the matter, but she’d had no choice. As before, his mind had been melded with hers as they traveled the regions of the underground.

Afterward, Blaise had distractedly promised to attend her performance for opening night. She’d begged him to attend the dress rehearsal, but he’d resisted her coaxing, saying there was something crucial that must take place on the night of the rehearsal.

He’d changed his mind, though. She clearly sensed him standing back there, even if she could not see him. A sudden imperative feeling overcame her.

“Isabel? Where are you going? It’s dress rehearsal!” Titurino, who had been admirably playing the “Clown”, boomed out from behind her. She ran toward stage right. Rachel, the talented costume designer Blaise had hired for the production from the surface world, stood backstage, a stunned expression on her face. Isabel plopped the elaborate headdress she wore into Rachel’s outstretched hands as she rushed past her. She ignored all the shouted questions and amazed faces, hurrying down a flight of stairs and bursting through a swinging door onto the audience floor.

“Isabel? What’s wrong?” she heard Margaret call from somewhere to the left of her, but Isabel kept moving toward the back of the theatre at a brisk pace. Once she reached the overhang of the balcony, she paused and peered into the shadows.

“Blaise? I know you’re here,” she called in a tremulous voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“He’s gone,” someone said from behind her.

She spun around, her white pleated dress twirling around her hips and thighs, her fist gripped tightly around the prop she carried.

“Aubrey? But he was here. I sensed him perfectly. But now—” she broke off, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. She stretched out with her senses and felt nothing. “You’re right. He did leave. But he
was
here.”

“Yes,” Aubrey replied calmly. “I, too, sensed his telepathic message to you.”

“Why did he leave?” she asked, feeling bewildered that Blaise would abandon her so quickly after their soul-searing night together.

Aubrey gave her a small, compassionate smile. He wore his costume. The simple austerity of a Roman tunic suited his classic good looks. “More than likely he has gone to the crystal room, to nourish himself. That would be my guess.”

Her gaze skittered anxiously off Aubrey’s face. Aubrey didn’t understand the full communion she’d shared with Blaise last night. For him, nothing had changed in regard to Blaise’s wariness around her. For her, everything had changed, so Blaise’s behavior struck her as odd, indeed.

He hesitated. “I will make excuses for you, Isabel, if you need to go.”

“Thank you for understanding,” she said in a hushed voice. “Yes. Please give everyone my apologies.”

She turned and fled the theatre without a backward glance.

She raced through corridors, the flickering torchlight seeming to bring Titurino’s detailed frescoes to life above her head. She found the elevator that led to the apex of Sanctuary. It didn’t occur to her to question her sudden acute anticipation. More inexplicable things had happened to her since coming to Sanctuary than this. She’d ceased to rationalize constantly, and trust her feelings more.