"But give me a willing kiss, Meredith, and then you will be mine."
It seemed so reasonable. I began to turn my head back toward him, and then what he'd actually said came to me. "Willing," I said.
He laid another warm kiss along my neck. "Yes, Meredith, willing. I want you always to be willing, so there are no more misunderstandings between us."
"Misunderstandings," I said.
"Yes, Meredith," he said, and kissed higher on my neck, just under the line of my jaw. His lips were so warm, almost hot against my skin, as if he were fevered. I didn't remember his skin being hot like this last time, and just thinking about that last time made me remember coming to with him on top of me. I remembered the fear, and the pain of the concussion from where he'd hit me. He hit me. He raped me. He did not love me, had never, ever loved me. I wasn't sure King Taranis could love anyone but himself.
I tensed in his arms, because the fear was back, screaming through every nerve in my being. I wanted him to stop touching me. I spoke around the pulse in my throat and it made my voice have to squeeze out around the fear, "Stop, please, stop touching me."
"Meredith, you don't want me to stop."
My name from his lips began to calm the fear again, but him telling me that I didn't want him to stop pissed me off. I knew my own mind, and I did not want him to touch me, ever again.
I remembered coming to with him on top of me. I remembered him naked, and on top of me, and I hated him. I hated him with a fine, burning hatred. "You have hurt me too much and too often, Taranis. Your spell will not work, because I keep remembering how much I hate you and what you have done to me."
His weight was just suddenly more, pinning me harder to the rugs, hard enough that I could feel the hardness of the stones underneath. My fear washed over me so that my skin ran cold with it.
"Will you forgive nothing, Meredith, and remember only the bad?"
"What good memories do I have of you, Uncle Taranis?"
"Meredith, Meredith, hear me, feel me, and know that I love you."
Even with his weight pressing me into the floor, and my fear almost choking me again, that unnatural calmness started to take me over again. It was magic, it wasn't real!
"Is this how you seduced them all, Taranis, through trickery and lies? Are you not the great lover, but just a great liar?"
He squeezed his hands around my wrists until I thought he meant to crush them, and then he slid his knee between my thighs, and the fear robbed me of everything. I couldn't think past the fear as he began to try to worm his way between my legs.
"Stop!"
He leaned his face close, his voice ugly with his rage. "Shadowspawn is already dead. His sluagh will not hunt or protect you now, Meredith. Your Darkness and your false storm lord will be dead soon, and I do not fear the rest of your would-be suitors."
I knew he meant Doyle, but it took me a second to realize that the third death was Mistral. I was suddenly less afraid, because my anger helped chase it back. "You had Sholto killed. You ordered it."
"He led his wild hunt into the heart of my sithen. I could not allow that to happen again, Meredith."
"Stop saying my name!" I yelled it, holding my anger to me, because even now when he said my name, I could feel the compulsion in it, to just give in, to believe him. But he had me pinned to the floor, his weight on me, and that helped me not to believe he loved me.
"If you but kiss me once, Meredith, you will enjoy the rest, I promise you that."
I kept my face turned away from him. "A kiss, or a willing kiss, uncle?"
"Do not call me that," he said.
"You are my uncle. You are my grandfather's brother. Nothing you do will change that."
"I have never acted as an uncle to you, Meredith."
"No, you tried to beat me to death when I was a child, and you almost beat me to death less than a year ago, and you raped me after you had beaten me unconscious. A good uncle would do none of these things, I suppose."
He used his body weight to keep my body pinned to the floor, and wrapped his big hand around both my wrists where they were still pinned under me. He was freeing up one of his hands; nothing good would come of it. I struggled to free the wrist that he was trying to hold with one hand, and felt his fingers begin to slide. His free hand grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back.
I spoke through gritted teeth as I fought to keep my face down. "A stolen kiss will not win you my affections, not even by your magic. You said it yourself, it must be willing."
"I could have made this pleasant for you, Meredith. I meant it to be, but you are always so difficult!"
"Yes, I am difficult, uncle; you will not win me."
He pulled my hair tight enough that it hurt and growled his anger in my ear. "I will have you, Meredith. You can enjoy it, or you can fight me and I will take my pleasure and not worry about yours."
"Are you saying that I can either enjoy my rape, or not enjoy it?"
His grip in my hair loosened slightly, and some tension went from him, as if by hearing it spoken so bluntly, even he heard that it made no sense.
His voice was calmer when he said, "I can leave this dream now, Meredith. I can free us both of this dream, and call back the assassins that are going to kill Doyle and Mistral, if you will but kiss me here and now."
"I trust Doyle to kill anyone you send against him, and you must fear Mistral very much to target him, so you know what he is capable of; they are not easy to kill."
"Sholto shouldn't have been easy to kill either, Meredith, but he was; think upon that as the minutes tick away. Think upon that and decide whether you would rather your Darkness and your Storm be alive but parted from you, or dead and parted from you forever?"
Fear poured over me again, and the fresh memories of holding Sholto's body on the beach. I didn't think I could bear seeing Doyle dead. I admitted to myself that I would not grieve Mistral as much, but I remembered the moment on the battlefield when I'd thought my cousin Cel had killed Doyle. If I left them, then Doyle would still have Frost; they would not be alone, but I would be. I would be worse than alone.
"One kiss, Meredith, one willing kiss, for the lives of two of your lovers, is that so much to ask?"
"No, not if it were just one kiss, but if I give you a kiss, uncle dearest, then what happens next?"
"I kiss you back, of course."
"I am not stupid, uncle; if I kiss you willingly, what does the spell do?"
"You will no longer be afraid; you will be safe and happy in my arms."
"But for it to work you must win a kiss from me." I laughed, I couldn't help it. "You need to 'Kiss the Girl,'" I said.
"Yes, I suppose I do need to kiss the girl."
"No, uncle, I'm quoting a movie that you've never seen."
"I do not know what you are talking about, Meredith. The assassins are even now in place, and I promise you they will strike, as they did this morning for your shadow lord."
"You don't even know there was a movie of 'The Little Mermaid,' do you?"
"I have read the story by Hans Christian Andersen, if that's what you mean."
"Yes, that is what I mean. I forgot the Seelie Court enjoys reading fairy tales, and laughing at how wrong the humans get things."
"It would be a shame if you kissed me too late to save them, Meredith. I can only offer their safety for a little while, and then the assassins will do their jobs and it will be too late."
"They made a movie of the story. They made a movie of 'The Little Mermaid,' and there was a song in it called 'Kiss the Girl.'"
"What does it matter, Meredith? Why this delay, do you want them dead?"
"You don't understand. By killing Sholto you put them all on alert, and I trust my men, and the human guards, and the human police, to fight."
"It will not be a fight, Meredith, any more than Sholto had a chance to fight."
"What of my babies? What happens to them if I let you bespell me?"
He settled his weight
more firmly against me, one knee between my legs. "They are our babies, Meredith. They will come with you to the Seelie Court. They will be princesses and prince here with us."
"You'll never take them to a Disney movie, or read them a fairy tale without showing your disdain for the human who wrote it. You won't love them."
"I will love them, as I love you, Meredith."
"You don't love me!" I yelled it at the floor, the echo of my own voice strident in my ears.
"I love you, Meredith."
"Swear it, swear that you love me truly, swear it by the Darkness That Eats All Things; swear that oath, uncle, and I may give you your willing kiss."
"That is an Unseelie oath, and I will not utter it."
"It is an oath that will hunt you down and destroy you if you break it. The only reason not to take such an oath is that you know you do not love me."
"You will love me, Meredith. You will adore me. Our children will see us as a devoted couple."
"You are not their father! The genetic tests will come back in a few weeks and that will prove that I was pregnant before you forced yourself on me. The tests will prove that you are a rapist, a liar, and infertile, and I will do everything I can to get you convicted of my rape. I will plaster it across the human media, that the great King of the Seelie is so insecure that he has to beat and rape rather than seduce."
"You won't; you will drop the charges against me, Meredith. You will tell everyone that you came to me willingly, Meredith."
Of course I would; he was right, of course.
"You will tell the newspapers and the television that the Unseelie kept you prisoner and it was only when Shadowspawn, Darkness, and Storm were dead that you felt safe enough to escape to the Seelie Court with your babies."
"You always go too far, uncle," I said. "You almost have me under your spell, and then you say something that is so outrageous that even your magic can't make me believe it. You are evil, uncle, did you know that?"
He got both of his legs inside mine, and only the dress with all its layers of petticoats kept him from pressing closer, but even through all the clothing I could feel him against me. I had to swallow past the lump in my throat. I prayed to Goddess that he would not touch me again.
"Do you feel that, Meredith?"
"I don't know what you mean, uncle." It was a lie, but I was not going to play along.
He ground himself in against my ass. "Do you feel me now, Meredith?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"I dressed you for this dream, Meredith; I can just as easily undress you with a thought."
"Don't."
"Kiss me, Meredith, and then you will want me to, and it will not be rape."
"Lust magic is the same as date-rape drugs in human courts, Uncle Taranis. Even if you bespell me, humans have forensic wizards who specialize in understanding spells like this; I have too many friends among the human police. They won't believe that I was willing. Even if you win this moment, the police will free me of your spell eventually, and when they do, you will be jailed, or exiled from this country."
"At worst they would limit me to the Seelie Court, Meredith, and that is where I stay anyway."
"No, uncle dearest, you had a king of another kingdom assassinated; that is an act of war, and that is the one thing that will get you kicked out of this country."
"Only you know what I did, Meredith, and once we kiss, you won't tell."
"You don't believe the human wizards will free me once you have me under your spell?"
"No, Meredith, I don't. Human magic has never been a match for mine. Now, about that dress."
"No," I said.
My clothes vanished and I was suddenly naked against the rugs and the stone. He was still pressed against my ass, but now he felt bigger and harder, eager for his conquest.
"NO!" I pulled my hand free, and I prayed as never before, Let this work, let my hand of power be real here! Taranis made his clothes vanish. I had a moment of feeling him naked on top of me, pinning me to the floor, and then his hips began to shift, to hunt for an angle that would let him enter me, and I shoved my hand against his bare arm. The same arm that I had twisted in the last nightmare he'd given me.
His arm began to fold in upon itself. He let me go, and it was his turn to scream, "NO!"
I turned and saw him on his knees, naked, and maybe he was handsome, but all I could see was the monster he was, and his left arm was a curling, deformed thing. I waited for it to reach the main part of his body and turn him inside out so that he wouldn't be able to hide the monster inside, behind the handsome facade. I would make him into the truth of himself, and pull the horror out so all the world could see it.
"Meredith! Help me, Meredith, help me!"
I said, "No."
He vanished, and a second later I woke in the hospital with Doyle bending over me. He wasn't dead. I wasn't trapped with Taranis, and he hadn't bespelled me, and maybe, just maybe, the damage I'd done to him in dream would be real when he woke. Now, all we had to do was stop the assassins from killing Doyle and Mistral the way they'd killed Sholto.
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
A SOUND IN the darkened room had frightened me at first, and then I'd seen the nightflyers plastered to the wall around the window, and my heart had lifted, because only Sholto could have brought them to L. A. He wasn't dead? Had it been another dream? No, it had been real. I held Doyle's hand in mine and looked around the room for Sholto.
Galen was on the other side of the bed. "I told you what she'd think when she saw the nightflyers. I'm sorry, Merry, but Sholto is still dead."
"How did they get to L. A. without him?"
"Kitto brought them," Doyle said.
I looked from one to the other of them. "Am I still dreaming?"
Galen smiled. "I could pinch you to prove we're real."
It made me smile a little. I tried to reach for his hand, but I was still hooked to an IV, so he took my hand instead. "No pinching necessary," I said, "but how did Kitto bring the sluagh across the country?"
Doyle answered, "He used his hand of power."
"The hand of reaching only lets him bring someone through a mirror during a call." I looked at the mass of nightflyers covering the far wall and clinging to part of the ceiling. There had to be at least two dozen of them, though the way their flat bodies overlapped it was hard to get an accurate count, but still ... "It would take hours to bring through this many of the sluagh. How long was I trapped in dream?"
My heart was pounding in my throat again, because though Doyle was here safe beside me, Mistral was not.
"You have only been asleep a short time, Merry; it has not been hours," Doyle said.
"Where is Mistral?" I asked.
"At the main house, in charge of seeing that no harm comes to the babies. A hate group had claimed responsibility for trying to assassinate you, so I made Mistral stay at the house and see to the defenses there. He made me swear I would explain that only duty to our children would keep him from your side."
"Doyle, you and Mistral are in terrible danger. Taranis means to have you both killed, as he killed Sholto. He fears the three of you the most of my men, and he intends to strip me of you, and then try to claim me for himself."
Doyle touched my face, looking very hard into my eyes, as if trying to tell if I was telling the truth, or mad, or still dream befuddled.
"It was not just a nightmare, Doyle. Taranis was in my dreams again."
Galen cursed softly. "Damn it, we let them put you to bed without the herbs in your pillow. I am so sorry, Merry; I should have thought of it."
"We know that it is not a human hate group, but traitors among the sidhe themselves," Doyle said.
"How do you know? Did Taranis invade someone else's dreams?"
"No, but Rhys and Barinthus went to the beach house to make certain the sidhe there cooperated with the police, and forced them all to let the police take their fingerprints."
"Are you saying one of th
e sidhe at the beach killed ... shot Sholto?"
"Rhys and the police both quickly realized that the angle of the shot meant it could not have come from the hillside, but had to come from one of the upper windows of the house itself."
"A lot of them didn't want to cooperate with the police," Galen said.
"I understand the murderer not wanting to cooperate with the police, but why did the rest refuse?"
Doyle and Galen exchanged a look, and it was Doyle who said, "They felt that the human authorities had no sway over them. I sent Rhys and Barinthus to convince them that they were mistaken." There was something ominous in the way he said the last; at another time I might have asked how harsh the methods of persuasion had been, but frankly, I didn't care. How dare they not want to help solve Sholto's ... murder.
"They refused to help when they thought that I'd been the attempted target?"
"They said that Sholto was not their king, and that he died so easily proved he was either not sidhe or contaminated by your mortality."
I just stared at him for a few seconds. "What?"
They exchanged another look between them.
"What was that look just now? You've mentioned almost everybody but Frost; where is he?"
"He's with a doctor," Doyle said.
I started to sit up, and he held me down with one hand on my shoulder. "He is all right, or as all right as when he entered the hospital," Doyle said.
"What does that mean?" I asked, and it was as if the fear from the dream had just been waiting below the surface, because it came bubbling up now. I fought the panic, and knew it was at least partly the nightmare and Taranis, but ... sometimes there was so much that I felt as if I'd been on the edge of panic for months.
As if talking about him had conjured him, the door opened and Frost was there, looking tall and unbelievably handsome. His hair glinted in the dim light of the room the way the Christmas tree had looked on Christmas Eve when I was little, all gleaming and beautiful as my father turned out the lights because Santa wouldn't come if the lights were on. We celebrated Yule and the winter solstice as a religious holiday, but he wanted me to have a more American holiday when I was very small, and had even been willing for me to go to Christian church with some of my school friends, and to temple with my friends who were Jewish. My father had wanted me to understand my country, not just our people. Frost's hair looked like that long-ago Christmas tree tinsel, and the Christmas mornings I'd seen on television, but that never quite happened to me. I'd so wanted brothers and sisters, and family holidays that hadn't been full of political debate, or photo opportunities for the press. Frost coming through that door made me feel like Christmas morning was supposed to feel, and never had.