Lucien's Khamsin (29 page)
Khamsin opened her eyes and looked up at her mate. “She should not be alone, Luc.”
Lucien narrowed his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice firm and brooking no argument. “You will not…”
“I came for the healer,” Sibylline cut him off. “But I could not resist seeing the boy I helped you two conceive. He is as beautiful as his father.”
“I can’t speak for Christina,” Khamsin said, her voice weak for the day was brightening beyond the window, “but since Macmillan gave her a cure for the plague victims, she has had little to do. I imagine she might enjoy a vacation.”
“Sibylline…” Lucien began but the lovely woman dissolved in a flash of sparkling lights and once more the room was plunged into darkness.
“Did you hear the happiness in her voice?” Khamsin asked.
Lucien was silent for a long moment then sighed angrily. “I don’t trust her.”
“Neither do I.”
“What if she keeps Tina there?”
“She won’t.”
Lucien thrust his right arm under his head and glared up at the ceiling. Even as tired and lethargic as he was, his uneasiness would not let him reach for the rest he needed.
“How do you know that, wench?”
Khamsin rubbed his chest with the palm of her hand. “Because they are like oil and water and as you well know oil and water don’t mix. Do you really think she would like Tina there to influence her daughters?”
There was another long silence then Lucien relaxed. He lowered his arm and threaded his fingers through his lady’s. “Perhaps you’re right. Let’s just hope they don’t turn out like their mother. I pity the men those bratlings choose as their own. The gods forbid they should go after the same boy!”
Khamsin did not reply for sleep had reached up with warm arms to draw her down through the soft layers of rest.
Long into the morning Lucien lay awake, unable to close his eyes for he worried Sibylline might return. He knew she was somewhere in Modartha, waiting to transport Christina safely to Croì Cloiche. Just knowing the insatiable beauty was lurking about somewhere inside his home rankled and left Lucien with a distinctly sour taste in his mouth.
Khamsin sighed in her sleep and Lucien turned his head to look down at her. He could feel her heart beating close to his and listened for a while as the two organs beat in unison. She was as much a part of him as he was of her and the product of their great love was but a few feet away. Wondrous satisfaction had spread over both their lives.
Are you happy at last, Sweet One?
Sibylline had asked.
He was more than happy. He was contented. With Stavros gone, there was peace throughout the world. Gideon and Francisco had worked closely with Lucien to help rid the Earth of the plague. A prince had been installed once more in China and by all accounts was a good leader. Humans were venturing out from their hiding places and settling in the old cities. The herds at each keep had been set free and Lucien had been surprised to learn most had stayed on where they lived, improving their quarters and willingly sharing their lifeblood with those who had once been their masters.
There was still a long way to go before humans could fully trust their Revenant neighbors but at least the pathway had been cleared.
Slowly his eyes closed for exhaustion was taking its toll. He tried to stay awake, but the peacefulness pushed aside his thoughts of Sibylline. The sweet warmth of his lady’s body pressed to his, the scent of her body, her perfume, the feel of her silky hair draped over his shoulder pulled him gently into the arms of Morpheus then cradled him there with infinite care.
Sunlight splashed upon doors, and through windows and across floors, streaked down the walls of Modartha. A gentle rain pooled upon the cobblestones and seeped into the earth.
Lucien Korvina’s dreams were love-filled.
About the author
Charlee is the author of over thirty books. Married 39 years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, she is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and Mike, and the proud grandmother of Preston Alexander and Victoria Ashley. She is the willing house slave to five demanding felines who are holding her hostage in her home and only allowing her to leave in order to purchase food for them. A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia and now lives in the Midwest.
Charlotte welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Ave., Akron OH 44310.
Also by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Desire’s Sirocco
Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology
Fated Mates anthology
Longing’s Levant
Rapture’s Etesian
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
