Rejar

  “Yes, Nickolai; I promise.”

  “Fine. I will begin. A long time ago, there was a little girl and her name was…Prunella.” Lilac nipped his neck; Rejar smiled against her hair.

  Carrying her, he walked over to the bed, positioning her in the middle of the mattress. He sat down beside the curve of her hip, placing a palm on either side of her waist.

  He bent over her, his glossy hair sweeping forward with the motion. “One day Prunella looked into a pool of water and what do you think she saw?”

  “Fish?”

  “No, souk-souk.” His nimble fingers began to unbutton her dress. “She saw, much to her surprise, countless bursts of light.”

  “In the water?”

  Rejar peeled off her sodden dress. “Yes. She did not know what the lights were…” her pantalettes slid down her legs. “…so she stooped down for a closer look and realized she was seeing millions of tiny stars in the pool.”

  “How pretty!”

  “Very.” Rejar was not responding to her comment so much as the lovely form now exposed to his view. He shed his robe, coming over her.

  “Prunella continued to watch the miraculous picture before her, seeing that many of the tiny stars had even smaller specks circling around them, like so—” His tongue swirled a pattern around the curve of her aureola.

  Lilac thought him a most inspiring storyteller. Her voice caught as she reacted to his apt demonstration. “Wh-what were the specks?”

  Rejar smiled to himself, licking the side of her neck with a slow sweep of his tongue. By Aiyah, she was listening.

  He murmured against the skin of her throat. “It suddenly occurred to Prunella that these specks were…worlds.”

  Lilac gasped. “Worlds?”

  “Think of it, Lilac; a pool filled with stars, and around these stars—worlds.…”

  He let her mull that over for a while as his mouth took hers in a devastating invasion. Lilac’s fingers threaded through his hair, caressing the sides of his head as he sought to deepen his kiss.

  He needed her so. There was no one that felt like this for him; no one who tasted like this.

  A low sound of gratification rolled in his throat.

  Lilac kissed him back, opening her mouth for him, letting her tongue tenderly slide along his.

  “Lilac…” he whispered against her gentle lips.

  She pressed her mouth against his closed eyes, those spiky lashes that so beguiled her; over his strong cheekbones, the bridge of that perfectly straight nose, along the sensual curve of his upper lip. Cinnamon and bayberry and that extra special something surrounded her, calling to her on the deepest level.

  She wanted him inside her.

  Feeling much the way she did, Rejar whispered, “I cannot wait, Lilac; forgive me.” And he entered her in a long, endless thrust.

  They both cried out.

  {I love to become a part of you.}

  His emotional thought only added to her desire for him. “I want you inside me, Nickolai…always,” she murmured against his mouth.

  Her responsive words made Rejar throb within her. “My heart, my heart…”

  He took her strong and slow.

  With every stroke, with every loving movement, he continued to tell her his story. “Prunella saw that these tiny specks were—ah, yes, souk-souk right there—worlds, and she soon discovered a curious thing: if she watched very closely her view seemed to magnify and she could see that on each world there were people.”

  “Nickolai, Nickolai, please…” Lilac wrapped her thighs tightly around his lean hips.

  “Shh, listen…” He kissed her. “Not all of these people were alike; in fact, some of them were very different than what she was used to.”

  Exasperated with his slow torture, Lilac wiggled about, causing her husband to close his eyes in ecstasy.

  Through a gargantuan effort, he regained his sensibility. There was much at stake here. “Remember your promise.”

  Lilac reluctantly stilled her fidgeting.

  Rejar continued his slow, deep movements along with his story. “It seemed these people who lived on the worlds inside this particular pool lived their lives surrounded by the presence of magic.”

  “Magic?” This got her interest.

  “Yes. Prunella soon discovered that magic was quite common on these worlds; however, not everyone had the ability to do magic and those who did often had different abilities from others.” The palms of his hands slid over and down her backside, cupping her derriere to bring her up to him as he plunged wholly into her.

  “Oh!” Lilac took a shuddering breath, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. “How did they live with this magic, Nickolai? Did it not upset their lives?”

  “No, for it was natural to them, simply the way they were.”

  A tiny line creased her brow as she mulled this over. Rejar could not help but press his lips against the spot.

  “Prunella soon found her most favorite people on one of the hidden worlds there. This was a very special place,” he whispered enticingly. “These people were rare and different from all the others. Because of this, they were protected by a powerful race of magicians; for their abilities and the beauty of their spirit were highly sought after.”

  “They sound lovely. What were they like?”

  “They were much like you or me except for one difference.”

  Caught up in the story, among other things, Lilac looked up at him. “What was that?”

  “They could change their shape at will—into a catlike form.”

  Lilac froze in his arms. “Nickolai…”

  “You promised, Lilac.”

  She said nothing for a tension-fraught moment. “Very well, go on with the story.”

  He embraced her waist, kissing the corners of her mouth. “When they changed form it allowed them to see and experience things others could not. Prunella knew this was nothing to be afraid of because she saw that this ability was a natural trait of these people, who, in their natural form, looked much as she did.”

  “What did these people call themselves?”

  “Familiars.”

  Lilac stared at his chest, not speaking.

  Rejar stopped moving, remaining deeply embedded in her. “One day, in order to help his brother, one of the Familiars entered a…whirlpool in the water around them. The currents swirled him around and around; he had no control of his life or what happened to him as he spun about the vortex. Without warning, he was flung out of the churning spout in the water pool and he found himself—”

  Lilac put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it.”

  He removed her hand from his lips, kissing the palm. “He found himself falling into the air. To protect himself, he changed into his cat-form. With a burst of lightning he broke through the barrier of the universes and crashed down next to his Prunella.”

  Lilac threaded her fingers through the glossy hair on the sides of his head. “You can’t expect me to—”

  “She was riding in a coach,” he continued on inexorably, “next to her aunt, who was extremely frightened of the cat. But Prunella wasn’t. She was very kind to him and took him home with her.”

  Lilac blinked several times, clearly distressed by what she had heard. It had the disturbing ring of truth to it. “I—”

  He placed his tapered finger against her mouth. “Shh. It is all right, Lilac. I only ask that you think on it.”

  She didn’t want to think right now. She only wanted her husband to hold her and make love to her. The amazing story made him seem that much further removed from her; she did not want Nickolai removed from her. The strange reality of it panicked her. “Nickolai, please don’t stop now!” she cried out.

  Seeing how upset she was, Rejar immediately obliged her, gliding his tongue into her mouth, imitating his languid ebb and pulse below. It was time to show her that he was the same man, that she need not fear him.

  His tender actions provided the reinforcement she needed; Lilac i
nstantly relaxed under his accustomed touch. {There is a flow to us together, souk-souk, like the water I spoke of. Do you feel it?}

  Lilac ran her palms down the plane of his back, letting the tips of her fingers feel every contour of rippling muscle as he advanced and retreated within her. “I do feel it, Nickolai.”

  {Waves…there is much about waves I will teach you, Lilac—waves on water, waves in moonlight, waves we create together…} He took her breast in his mouth, lovingly suckling on her.

  “Yes…oh, yes…”

  They moved together in a dance as old as time. Mimicking the resonance of life itself. They flowed into each other.

  It was a marvel that spanned galaxies, planets, and, yes, even pools of star-filled water.

  This time Rejar did not hold back; he joined his wife in completion.

  Both of them surging, swelling, breaking.

  Releasing, exchanging, and clinging…together.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Mmmm…” Rejar rubbed his chin against Lilac’s shoulder.

  The soft nap of her cotton chemise, not the velvet skin he anticipated, brushed his jaw. He frowned. “Why are you wearing this?”

  Lilac yawned sleepily, tucking her derriere closer to the warm of the male body behind her. “I’m chilly.”

  “With me keeping you so close?” He tease-kissed the nape of her neck, drawing her tighter into the circle of his arms.

  Lilac smiled. “I suppose it was all that dampness yesterday; I feel a bit achy as well.”

  Concerned, Rejar raised up on one elbow. “Was I too rigorous for you?”

  Lilac gazed at him over her shoulder. “No, Nickolai; not at all—you were very gentle.” She patted the hand still curved around her waist.

  Rejar was not convinced. He cupped her chin, examining her closely in the morning light. “You look pale, souk-souk. Are you sure I have not worn you out?”

  Lilac giggled. She couldn’t help it. Imagine a man being concerned he had been too satisfying! “Well, if you did, I can’t think of a better way to wear oneself out, can you?”

  Chagrinned, Rejar smiled softly in agreement.

  She sat up in bed, stretching. “I feel deliciously weary. In fact, I think I shall go out to the garden in this glorious sunshine”—she gazed at him coyly from beneath her lashes—“unless you have something better for me to do?”

  Rejar laughed. How pretty she looks, he thought, with her hair tumbling over her shoulders and those forest green, Aviaran eyes twinkling at me…

  “Best you go out in the garden; I must be careful how ‘delicious’ I make you feel.” He planted a smacking kiss on her shoulder, grazing her with the edge of his teeth.

  “If you insist.” She threw the covers back, trying not to wince as she made her way to the dressing room.

  “Lilac?”

  “Yes?” She paused in the doorway.

  “Think about the story I told you last eve.”

  Her back stiffened slightly. Without responding to him, she closed the door softly behind her.

  She couldn’t think about anything right now; she was terribly achy. She hadn’t been this sore since the morning after her wedding night. Although…Nickolai had been very gentle with her last evening.

  Come to think of it, she wasn’t at all sore down there. Shrugging, she decided a morning outdoors in the sunshine could only help.

  It did not help.

  In fact, by the afternoon, Lilac had a distinct sore throat to go along with her sore muscles.

  By evening she had taken to bed with a fever.

  “What is wrong with her?” Rejar stood over the bed, a worried expression marring his sultry face.

  “She seems to have an ague.” Agatha fussed over her niece, lifting the covers to her chin. Lilac had fallen into a troubled sleep.

  “What is that?”

  “I’m afraid she is ill, my boy.”

  “I am too much for her,” Rejar sadly said.

  Agatha had a coughing fit.

  Rejar lightly tapped her on the back. “Are you all right, Lady Agatha?”

  “Yes, of course I am all right!” Impatiently, she waved his hand away. “This has nothing to do with you, my dear boy! Lilac has a disease of some kind.”

  He did not understand. “What is disease?”

  Lady Whumples looked at him rather strangely. “It is a sickness which is contracted in some unknown fashion.”

  He thought about this a minute, suddenly going pale. “This is like the pox Jackie warned me about? He said that women called doxies—”

  “Young man.” She reached over and smartly boxed Rejar’s ears.

  “Ow!”

  “I will not have that kind of talk in this house! This is nothing of the kind!”

  Rejar rubbed at his stinging ears. “Lady Agatha, I do not understand.”

  “Lilac has a fever. We do not know what causes these sicknesses of the body. There are those who liken it to a poison in the blood.”

  “Is there nothing we can do? Can we not get a healer for her?”

  “You mean a doctor? I must tell you, your Highness, that I am not one to subscribe to those quacks; it is my opinion that they cause more harm than good. My advice is to let Lilac try to rally on her own. We will do our best to make her comfortable, of course.”

  “I will take your advice. Lady Agatha.”

  But Lilac did not seem to rally.

  Over the next several days her condition steadily worsened. Her fever rose, she went in and out of lucidity, and an ominous rattle sounded from her chest while she struggled for each breath she took.

  Concerned over this strange malady which had suddenly afflicted his mate, Rejar did not leave her side.

  Distraught, he sat by her, trying to get her to drink some water, to swallow some broth. He bathed her forehead with cool cloths, covered her with more and more blankets to stop her chills, and paced and paced and paced.

  None of it was helping.

  “You must rest or you will be no good to her.” Traed rose from his chair on the other side of the bed. He had stayed close to Rejar for the past several days, his calm presence offering immeasurable support.

  “I cannot.” Rejar ran a weary hand through his long hair.

  Agatha watched him from the corner of the room. If she had ever had any doubt as to the depth of his feelings for her niece, his behavior these past days would have laid those doubts to rest.

  However, Agatha had never had that uncertainty with Prince Azov.

  She, who trusted few and liked even less, had taken to this man immediately. His brother she regarded just as highly. She had always had very good intuition when it came to people. If only that same intuition could be applied to help her niece. Agatha sighed mournfully; Lilac was not doing well.

  “Nickolai…Nickolai…” Lilac called to her husband, her voice sounding weak and thready.

  Rejar abruptly stopped his pacing to go to her. “I am here, Lilac.” He smoothed back a few strands of hair which had fallen over her forehead. The skin there was dry and very, very hot.

  She did not seem to hear him.

  She just kept calling his name in a voice growing fainter and fainter.

  He could not take anymore. “Send Emmy for a healer,” he said to Agatha.

  “Your Highness—”

  “Do it!”

  Against her will, Agatha went to the landing, telling Emmy to go quickly and get a doctor.

  Within the half-hour the doctor arrived. He was filthy and stank of death. Under normal circumstances, Rejar would not have even let the man into his home, but he was desperate. He did not believe Lilac would last the night.

  “Can you help her?” he asked him.

  The doctor walked around the bed as if looking at the patient from differing angles would help him assess what was wrong with her. Then he bent over the bed, lifting her eyelid to peer into her eye.

  Rejar could barely stand the sight of that filthy hand touching her. “Well?” He wa
s losing his patience.

  “Yes, I believe I can help her; although there is no guarantee.”

  Rejar breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You must leave me alone with the patient for several hours.”

  Rejar hesitated. “Why?”

  “The procedure can be upsetting to those of the family, I insist—”

  “Ask him what he intends to do, your Highness!”

  “Lady Agatha is right. I am afraid what you ask is not possible. I would never leave my wife alone in a situation such as this; she is depending on me to watch out for her.”

  The man drew himself up. “If you insist, that is your right. I must warn you it is not for the faint of heart. These illnesses must be tackled with vigor else they will not be driven from the body.”

  “I understand.”

  Agatha began sobbing into her handkerchief. Using the Prince’s name for the first time, she implored him, “I beg you, Nickolai! Don’t do this. If my niece is to die, let her go in peace.”

  Rejar rubbed his eyes, fatigue, sorrow, and worry claiming him equally. “What is the procedure?” he asked, resigned.

  “Well, first we must bleed her, then—”

  Rejar’s eyes snapped open. “What do mean you ‘bleed’ her?”

  “It is how the disease is removed from the body, through the blood. I must open a vein with this lancet,” he removed a dirty knife from a case in his pocket. “Leeches”—he held up a jar of disgusting, squirming creatures—“are applied to the spot to further aid in the procedure.”

  Rejar staggered back, collapsing into a chair.

  “If this does not work, we may try blistering. Along with purging her system, a caustic liquid is poured onto the skin in an effort to boil the illness away. As a matter of course I’m afraid her Highness will be hideously scarred.”

  “Get out,” Rejar whispered.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I believe my brother has told you to leave.” Traed took the man by the collar and the seat of his pants and tossed him out the door.

  “Have a spot o’this, yer Princeship.” Dazed, Rejar felt Jackie tug at his sleeve. He took the glass the man gave him, gratefully swallowing the brandy.