Ensnared by the Dream Lord (Dark Lords) (9 page)

Delighted with the treat, Adriana climbed from the bed and crossed the room to the tub, testing the temperature with one finger.

Perfect.  She smiled.  Twisting her hair into a knot on the top of her head, she climbed into the tub and leaned back, enjoying the feel of the rose scented water on her skin.  She soaked until the hot water had soothed her almost to the point of drowsing and finally sat up and finished her bath.  When she emerged, she took the thick towel that had been left beside the tub and wrapped herself in it.

On the bed lay a cunningly wrought gown of emerald green.  After staring at it in surprise for several moments, she moved toward it, fingering the fine silk with pleasure. 

It was not her gown.  It was far finer than anything she had ever owned.

But it was meant for her.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, for she knew it could only be Morpheus who had conjured it for her, she donned her underclothes and struggled into the dress.  Morpheus appeared behind her when she had moved to the mirror to examine her reflection.

Without a word, he acted as lady’s maid, tightening her corset and then snugging the lacing of the dress at her back and tying it.  Startled, Adriana watched his reflection as he worked.  “You’ve done this before.”

He glanced up at her, his gaze capturing hers in the mirror.  “I was mortal once—yes.”

A pang shot through Adriana, but she dismissed it.  She had no claim upon him.  She had no right to the jealousy that gnawed at her vitals when she thought of Morpheus with another woman.  “Was she … pretty?” Adriana asked, finding she could not contain her curiosity, but unable to bring herself to ask if he had loved the woman either.

He smiled faintly.  “Since I cannot recall, I would guess that she could not have been half as beautiful as you are.”

Adriana blushed at the compliment, but she was far more pleased that he had dismissed the mystery woman of his past so easily.  He could not have loved her, she thought. 

When he had finished with her dress, he urged her to seat herself upon the bench and carefully combed her hair.  She watched him doubtfully until he had begun, but she relaxed at his careful ministrations, pleasantly surprised to discover such gentleness in such a giant of a man—and suspicious once more of the woman he had spoken of.

“What brings a frown to your brow?” he asked after several moments, his voice husky.

She met his gaze in the mirror once more.  Jealousy.  Envy.  Forcing a smile, she shook her head.  “You seem—different,” she finally said.

His dark brows rose, then descended in a slight frown.  “Is this bad?” he asked finally, helping her to her feet and offering his arm.

She thought it over.  “Just different.”

He seemed to find the comment disconcerting for he said nothing more as he led her downstairs and into the main hall.  Adriana hesitated when she saw a table had been set out for dining.  Two many armed candelabras filled with flickering candles sat upon the gleaming surface of the table.  Two ornate place settings had been arranged at one end.  Nearly a dozen covered dishes littered the space between the two candelabras.

When he had seated her in the chair just to the left of the head of the table, Morpheus served them both the first course and settled into his own chair.

More than a little unnerved by everything that had happened since she’d awoken, Adriana glanced at Morpheus.  “Is this the way things were done when you were mortal?” she asked hesitantly.

Morpheus frowned thoughtfully.  “It is not what you’re accustomed to?” he countered.

Adriana smiled wryly.  “Not quite.  And not for quite some time.  My father was so heart broken when my two elder sisters were taken by the un….”  She broke off, fearful the term would offend him.  “…into Hellsing wood that he locked me into the tower to protect me from the forces there.  I have rarely left the tower since.”

He seemed surprised, although she thought it strange that he would not know.  To her knowledge, no mortal had ever been chosen as wife by an unnatural before her eldest sister, Bianca, and when Cerise had been stolen away by the vampire lord, as well, she would have thought that it would cause quite a stir among the folk of Hellsing. 

“Your sisters?” he prodded politely.

“The black knight, Damian Alessandro had captured my father.  When Bianca went to his castle to beg him to free our father, he took her instead.  Cerise decided to go and rescue her, but Daegon Erlansson captured her.”

“And they have not been seen or heard from since?”

Adriana chuckled.  “Very little.  They fell in love with their dark lords and wed,” she admitted, sighing with pleasure.  “It was so very romantic.”

Morpheus looked far more disturbed than pleased.  “And the dark lords?  They decided to keep them?”

Adriana giggled.  “Oh yes!  For they fell in love with my sisters.”

Morpheus frowned at the soup in his dish, looking a little ill.  “You are mistaken.  To love a mortal woman is—not possible for an immortal.”

Adriana blinked several times in surprise, suddenly feeling a little ill herself that she had led the conversation in such a direction when she had been at such pains to keep her distance from Morpheus.  Instead of arguing with him—although she knew better—she focused her attention on her soup.  “This is very good.”

Morpheus seemed as anxious to allow the subject to drop as she was.  He did not mention it again.  Instead, as they enjoyed a leisurely meal that was as delicious as anything that Adriana had ever eaten, he drew her into telling him stories about her and her sisters as they grew up together.

She was embarrassed when she realized she had talked only of herself throughout the meal, but the memories had lightened her spirits and even seemed to have improved Morpheus’ mood. 

When they had finished, he took her for a tour of the castle, telling her nothing, really, of a personal nature, but of the castle and the people who had once lived there.  They both fell silent as they reached the battlements at the very top of the castle, gazing up at the beautiful night sky. 

Finally, Adriana nerved herself to ask him to tell her of his life before he became immortal.

He seemed reluctant at first, but after studying her for several moments, he struggled to dredge the long forgotten memories to the surface of his mind and told her the tale of a man who had lived many millennia ago. He had been an ambitious man, longing for his own lands to rule.  He fought many battles, studied with great scholars, but he could never attain his dream.  In studies, he came upon the legend of the dream stone, a holy relic, which could grant everlasting sleep encased in stone, or to those most skilled, everlasting power and life.

“A stone powerful enough to make dreams reality—whatever my heart desired.”  He glanced at the grounds.  “I found it, here, deep in the bowels of the earth.

He looked at her, his eyes haunted.  “Foolishly, I invoked its power, unprepared.  I was trapped, much like a carved statue, aware of all that surrounded me but helpless to change my fate.”

She made a small gasp, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips.  “How did you free yourself.”

“I traveled the realms of dreams—the only respite open to me in that form.  It kept me from going insane.”  He moved forward, cupping her cheek in his palm.  “Hundreds of years passed before I unlocked the magic to free myself.  I’ve never lost control since ….”  He left the words hanging in the air as he kissed her tenderly, stoking a slow burning fire in her blood.

He covered her lips in gentle, nibbling kisses, moving forward only as what little resistance she possessed disappeared of its own accord.

He closed his arms around her, cradling her against his warm, solid frame, making her warm inside and out.

Before she knew what had happened, she discovered they were in her bed chamber.  Magic sizzled in the air, tickling her nostrils.  Caught up in his kisses, she could not spare a thought for it, could only concentrate on him and what he was doing to her.

Placing gentle kisses along her jaw, he leisurely unlaced her dress until it drooped down her shoulders and dropped to the floor with a soft rustle.  Her corset and shift soon followed.

Her skin finally bare, he feasted, tasting every inch of her flesh until she could no longer bear her own weight beneath his tender onslaught.  Sensing her sensual distress, he lowered her to the bed, continuing his ministrations, licking and suckling her breasts, the hollow of her belly.  Nipping her hip bones and nuzzling her mound.  He licked her thighs and gently probed her cleft, stoking her to a fever pitch until she was begging him to take her.

He removed his clothing then, settling easily between her thighs, guiding his erection into her slit and penetrating her, slowly.  So slowly she thought she’d die if he did not hurry.

He wouldn’t hasten his movements, rocking his hips with slow deliberation, stroking that most tender part of her until her blood sang through her veins.

Her sex clutched him, shuddering into climax.  He felt the tremors, groaned, shortening his strokes until his own orgasm came.

“My sweet, sweet, Adriana,” he murmured, kissing her.

Sadness pierced her to the core.  She could never be his.  No matter how much she wanted it.  She clung to him, overcome by emotion.  It welled inside her, making her heart ache, her throat burn, spilling out through the tears in her eyes.  “If only,” she sobbed, kissing him back as he rolled and cradled her in his arms. 
If only it could be
.

* * * *

Morpheus was horrified.  Placing a sleep spell on her, he left abruptly.

Greatly disturbed, he paced the ramparts restlessly.  Peace was slow in coming to him. 

She’d wept!

He did not know which was more disturbing, that she had, or that he could not understand what had made her weepy. 

Concentrating, he recalled the moments that they had shared, but he could not think of anything that might have disturbed her.  He had been very gentle.  He had been pleased to discover that it was not nearly as difficult as he had thought it would be. 

She had responded.  He had controlled his ardor.  He had watched every change in her expression, listened for each sigh of pleasure to make certain that he was pleasing her.  And she
had
been pleased.

Why, then, had she wept as if her heart was broken?

Anger and frustration surged through him.  “Bah!  Mortals!” he growled, pacing as furiously now as he had before he had found a modicum of calm.  After a time, he paused at the wall, glaring balefully at the night sky.  As beautiful as it was, it brought him no pleasure.  Darkness was his world.  He had not seen a bright, sunny day in so long he could hardly recall what it had been like to roam the world in the light of day.

He had not missed it—truly. 

Until she had come into his life, he had been content.  He had not been particularly happy, but neither had he felt any of the turmoil he felt now.

He uttered a sound of irritation, wondering if he should forget the tenderness.  She had seemed to respond, but then she had cried.  Perhaps it was not what she wanted after all?

After drumming his fingers impatiently on the stone wall for several moments, searching his mind, a thought emerged from his distant past.

Gifts!  Mortal women were always pleased with gifts. 

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

He shook his head.  So simple an answer, right before his face, and he had missed it!  She had been pleased with the dress.  He had been so enthralled with how beautiful she had looked in the color of the gown that he had failed to notice how pleased she was with it.

Crossing his arms, he tapped his chin thoughtfully with one long forefinger.  Simple gifts?  Or should it be only the very finest and most rare of gifts?  He frowned.  Truthfully, he wasn’t certain what would please her best.  He decided finally that he would try both, the more the better.  He would shower her with gifts and then he would see happiness in her face when she looked at him.  And he would be a tender lover, because he was fairly certain, even though she had cried, that she had liked that.

If that didn’t work, then he would ravish her again, for he found it very tiresome to have to rein his desire in and proceed slowly.

Chapter Ten

The scent of flowers tickled at her nose, dragging Adriana from sleep.  Yawning, she stretched and finally opened her eyes a crack.  A smile curled her lips when she saw that she hadn’t imagined the smell.  A table had appeared beside her bed, and on it was a vase filled with flowers of every imaginable color. 

Morpheus had brought her flowers!

Happiness swelled inside of her in spite of all that she could do to contain it.  Throwing her coverlet off, she scooted off of the bed to examine the flowers more thoroughly, closing her eyes and drinking in their sweet scent.  When she lifted her head at last and turned to the wash stand to perform her morning ablutions, she discovered another vase had been left beside the bowl and pitcher.  This vase was filled with roses, deep, blood red roses.

For love! She thought, feeling a thrill go through her. 

A pang hit her almost immediately.  Not love!  He could not love her!  That would not do at all.  As much as she yearned for it, she could not bear to think of what might happen to him if he fell in love with her as she had fallen in love with him.