Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (27 page)

“And I’m yours.” A yawn fought its way up and she settled against him, more cat than queen, she thought.

When she awoke, they were still tangled up in each other, but he was watching her. Light filtered through the windows, and she blinked while the world came back to her.

As she opened her eyes, he smiled, and then leaned forward to kiss her. Gentle, sweet, then as their lips parted, he murmured against them, “Stay here today. Let me know you’re safe.”

“No. If you’re doing this, so am I.” She wouldn’t let him persuade her. “Anything but that. I’ll do anything.”

With an outpouring of emotion, he kissed her again, but this time as tenderly as a feather brushing skin. When he tasted her it was with a gentleness that nearly undid all her resolve because this time he was pleading with her. Begging her to change her mind.

She would not, although that plea was nearly her undoing.

His hands roamed over her skin, open-palmed, caressing her with thoroughness and tenderness. He cupped her breasts, brushed his thumbs over the nipples until they tightened into hard peaks and prickling awareness made her twist in his arms. He kissed her, down her throat, dipping his tongue into the hollow at the base of her neck and down to her breasts.

When he moved his thumbs, his mouth replaced them, first one breast, then the other. He kissed around the nipple and then licked the tip, cupped her breast to lift it for his ministrations. When he stopped, he’d turned her into a willing, soft participant, hardly able to stand on her own. Thrills coursed through her. Opening to him, she let him see and feel what she was experiencing. And after a brief moment, he did the same. And she saw his emotions.

He wanted her so badly. Stricken by the bravery that enabled him to open to her so fully, she moved closer. At that moment, had he asked her to stay behind the next day, she would have considered it. Seriously. But not mindlessly agreed.

It said a great deal to his personal integrity that he didn’t ask her now, nor was he considering it. That one action—or lack of action—gave her deep respect for him and convinced her she was right. He wouldn’t hurt her, mad or sane. He would do everything he could to protect her.

He rolled her on to her back on the crumpled sheets as if she were a precious piece of porcelain. But porcelain was stronger than it appeared. Unless a violent blow or collision occurred, it could withstand extreme heat or cold, and remained the same forever. She would become that porcelain.

Aurelia feasted her eyes on his broad chest, his powerful frame, which he hid so skillfully beneath his fashionable garb. His cock reared up, full and powerful, the head gleaming with a sweet libation of liquid.

“Making love,” he murmured as he came down to her, “is so much more than the physical act, wouldn’t you agree?”

She nodded as she reached for him, accepted him and felt him slide into the haven of her body. He needed no help, no hand to guide him, and she needed no preparation for him. “I’ll always be ready for you,” she said, and caught her breath when he sank deep inside.

“So good,” she said. Her breathy words met an answering moan from him, low in his throat, completely instinctive.

“I have never, ever known anyone like you, any body like yours. You were made for me.”

“Yes, I was. And you for me.”

“Yes.” She loved that there was no hesitation in his word, that he agreed with her without thought. It meant his devotion to her ran deep, deeper than thought, exactly where she needed to convince him.

Lifting her legs, she wound them around his waist, drew him to her, closer. He drove in and out of her with an unhurried, eternal rhythm. “Can we keep this up all night?”

He gave a rough laugh. “No, sweetheart. Not the way my need for you is building. But let’s pretend, shall we? Let’s say we can do this forever, that time has stopped and we’re here, together with nothing to concern us, nothing except each other.”

“But that’s true.” She curled her arms around his neck, arched her body to connect with his as he moved. An intimate dance. The ultimate dance, the one all others were headed for, but never quite reached.

This one managed it.

Everything in her body had one purpose, and how often did that happen in a life? When she was here, with him, his dark hair a midnight halo against the morning light, she had that. Knew she was right, that they were so deeply merged he would never hurt her.

If he did, it was his right. Nobody else’s.

“You look so beautiful. By candlelight, by daylight, in any light.”

She opened her eyes, gazed into his. “So do you.”

His laughter rang around the bedroom, but he didn’t stop moving. “If I focus on you, I can think straight. When I look away, madness tinges the edges, but not with you.”

He’d gone without wine for nine hours now, perhaps longer. “How long does it take?”

“This?” More laughter. “I can feel it now.”

He worked her harder now, plunging deeper, careful to touch her internal sensitive spot with every smooth stroke, stimulating her senses so she wondered who was the mad person here. She was, he was, and if this was madness, she’d keep him that way.

“Sweet madness,” he murmured, coming down for another kiss as he picked up her thought.
Perhaps I’ll give up drinking altogether.

That would be interesting.
She could speak to him mind-to-mind as easily as she could verbally now. Their communication was seamless, flowing together in their bodies and minds and hearts. They worked together, pushing against each other, and she stiffened as every part of her coalesced into one, pulsing whole and she exploded, blossoming into a cascade of luxurious ecstasy.

Then it was his turn. When her orgasm subsided so she was once again aware of her surroundings, he gazed down at her, quickened his strokes—
one, two, three
—and he came, crying her name, his eyes open all the time.

Panting and spent, they collapsed on to the crumpled sheets, clasping each other as if they’d never let go.

They would prevail. How could this be an illusion?

The next time they awoke it was to someone tapping gently on the door. Hastily Blaize pulled up the covers to conceal their naked bodies. “Yes?”

“You don’t sound mad.” D’Argento.

“What time is it?”

“Eleven. I’m ordering breakfast.”

Blaize turned to her and stole another kiss. “When this is over, we’re going to the country. On our own. We’re overdue a honeymoon.”

“Will we dress at all?”

“No.”

She believed him.

They ate and they made plans.

Several hours later, she stood beside Blaize and d’Argento in the bleak hall of Bethlem Hospital for the Insane. Although the dimensions were princely, the trappings were not. Neither was the man standing before them, eyeing Blaize with a distinctly jaundiced eye. Under Blaize’s instructions, Aurelia had dressed simply, as befitted a madman’s keeper. Or a simple country housemaid, which was the nearest she could get.

Blaize was distinctly dishevelled. No neckcloth, his fine linen shirt open at the neck, and no waistcoat either. He hung his head, staring at the floor. It seemed odd to see him without his wig in public, and Aurelia felt oddly jealous. That was the way
she
saw him, and she resented that other people would as well. But it meant d’Argento could enter a false name for Blaize and nobody would realise he’d been committed. Again.

All part of the plan.

Half an hour later, they were in the Incurables ward. D’Argento had insisted on it, calling Blaize dangerous and uncontrollable. With the exchange of a few coins, the process was expedited, and they took Blaize away to chain him up. He’d also insisted that his “handler” went with him, as the only person who could control the madman.

With part of her mind settled in his, Aurelia sensed his dark amusement. But when they treated him badly, grabbed him and shoved him, trying to get him off balance, she protested, “Stop that! It makes him worse!”

The warder, an odorous man with beard stubble it must have taken him days to cultivate, cursed. His language was so inventive Aurelia saved it for future use. Predictably he took no notice of her. Until he looked at her, then he changed his mind and shuffled closer to her. “Are you staying the night?”

Visitors weren’t allowed after certain hours, but d’Argento’s gold would take care of that. She stuck her nose in the air. “Just for tonight,” she said. “I’m to help him settle in.”

The warder winked. Aurelia prayed he wouldn’t do that too often or get so close. She could see every broken blood vessel in his eyes and over his face. “Then mebbe later I could show you the place?”

“I can’t,” she said with her best effort at regret. “Orders are to stay with him until he’s settled. He gets violent.”

“You think he’s the only one what gets violent?” The man was missing so many teeth he spat every time he spoke. The ones remaining were blackened and no doubt added to his odour.

But next to the stink they were fast approaching, he smelled like a summer meadow.

A mixture of all the noxious things in the world: rotting food, piss, shit, vomit, mould and mildew, sharpened with something sour. Unwashed humanity. Not only the smell but the sound daunted her. Screams, moans, and a constant underlying mutter, together with the clank of chains made for an atmosphere so distinctive it was like nowhere else she’d ever seen or approached. These people would love the fresh atmosphere and solitude of a Scottish maze.
They keep the mad here?

Blaize answered without looking at her.
If you’re not mad when they put you here, you are after a week.

She believed it only too well. But they were only here for a night. Enough for Blaize to come into his full powers and to connect with the other inmates here.

“You won’t want to spend the night there,” the warder said. “It’ll put the fear of God into you. An’ anything could happen to you.”

“I’m not leaving here.”

Leave.
Blaize’s command would have daunted anyone else, but she knew him. He would do what he needed to do, and she wanted,
needed
to see that. She was greedy for all of him, every part, good and bad.

She didn’t have to articulate her refusal, either aloud or mind-to-mind. He knew.
I want your promise that you’ll leave if it gets too much for you,
Blaize said.

I promise.
Her promise didn’t matter because she wasn’t leaving, but if it made him feel better then she would tell him.

The warder jangled his keys. A ring of them hung from his waist by a chain, but once he entered the Incurables ward, he kept them in his hands. There were so many they’d prove an effective weapon, but not as efficient as the club that dangled by a leather thong. He probably had a blade somewhere about his person, too.

The warder stepped aside, and she led Blaize in.

Inside the cacophony and the stink, a space lived. A still, silent place that she sensed but couldn’t access, even with her newfound powers.

Blaize stepped right into it.

A hush fell. Not complete silence—she presumed this place was never completely silent—but almost every head turned to stare at the newcomer. The shrieks and moans fell away.

The lord of madness had entered his kingdom and everybody here except the warder knew it. Blaize said nothing, but allowed the warder to take his arm and lead him to a vacant place.

Rings were set in the floor. Blaize stood above the place and met the warder’s eyes.

Without warning, the warder dropped the keys, drew back his clenched fist and punched Blaize in the face. Against his jaw. Blaize’s head jerked to one side. Blood and—oh God, a tooth!—shot from his mouth.

Aurelia, fury coursing through her, hurried to stand between Blaize and the warder, but Blaize stepped aside so she was no longer blocking the man’s access to him.
Let him.

That brief access he allowed her to his mind showed her his pain, but already it was dissipating. But the man had broken Blaize’s jaw. With horror, Aurelia saw the loose lower part of his features, wanted to help him, stop this from happening.

He turned his head to face the warder, but this time lowered his chin and didn’t look at the man. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he showed no outward sign of pain. Inside, he stoically bore the injury, didn’t even clench his fists, much less offer retaliation.

The warder kicked Blaize’s feet from under him. Blaize dropped like a stone and lay on the filthy floor. Something small and black scurried away. Repressing her shudder, Aurelia dropped to her knees and stayed with him. A chain was attached to the ring bolted to the floor and the warder grabbed the end of it, clamping the cuff to one of Blaize’s wrists. He lay on the floor, oblivious of anything, staring at her, his eyes dulled with pain.

Now his inmate was secured, the warder turned back to Aurelia. “You sure you want to stay? There’s places upstairs you can use if you want, and lodging houses nearby.”

More thought than she’d thought the man would have, especially considering his treatment of Blaize. Aurelia hated him. “No.”
How can you fight now? You lost a tooth, your jaw is broken. We should go home.

No. I will heal. I’ll need your help.

That was why he’d stopped asking her to leave him here. Though what she could do defeated her.

The moaning began again once the door had slammed shut behind the warder and he’d made a show of jangling the keys when he secured it. Aurelia ignored the interruption.
What can I do?

Hold my jaw into place.
He had to speak mind-to-mind because he couldn’t speak aloud now.
It’s mending already, so don’t be shy. Hold it straight, otherwise I’ll have to break it again and let it heal properly.

Rather than that, she’d hold his jaw all night. The light outside the high windows was dimming. She hadn’t realised the committal and settling in would take so long.

Reaching forward, keeping her mind as deep in his as he’d allow, she touched the part of his jaw that he’d broken. She could see where it should go. Bracing herself, she moved it. The grating when she shifted the loose bone brought bile to her throat and nearly made her vomit. She’d more or less accustomed herself to the stench, but a trace remained at the back of her throat, inciting sickness every time she breathed. That meant she was fighting nausea on two fronts. Easy, compared to what he was suffering.