Rejar (21 page)

Already his very existence had set a precedence in the Familiar race, being the first child conceived of Charl and Familiar. Now he was setting a second precedent as the first Familiar male to take a non-Familiar wife. An untouched woman. He smiled. Perhaps it is my destiny to forge new pathways.

He chuckled at the incongruous idea. He was a man who cared little about forging pathways; he just liked to enjoy life.

Temporarily sated, Rejar’s thoughts drifted pleasantly. He never would have believed introducing a woman to her sensuality could be so erotic. Never would he forget the look in her eyes when he first moved in her; the wonder on her face when she experienced the beginnings of feminine desire; the joy in her eyes when he gave her her first release. These were gifts to him alone and he would carry them with him in his heart forever.

Much of his restlessness was gone.

But not all.

There had been no Transference.

Despite his Familiar blood, he had wondered whether it would occur. Aviaran men had a tendency to spark when they made love. And when they mated, they really sparked. The Charl, of course, by their nature, were high sparkers.

Even though he did not outwardly display any of his father’s Aviaran characteristics, Krue still insisted on teaching his Familiar son the ways of the Transference when he was but a boy.

Nevertheless, Yaniff had been wrong; there was not the least bit of Charl in him.

The fingers of the hand which held her to him traveled up her back under her hair to lightly stroke the soft skin at the nape of her neck. Still, it had been an unparalleled experience for him.

Unparalleled.

He gave a short purr before he, too, fell asleep.

* * *

Completely ravaged.

He was like a wild, pagan beast!

After the second time, he just kept going. The third and fourth times blurred together. She didn’t want to think about what he had done to her the fifth time.

Images of the way he had looked filtered across her mind: those astonishing eyes of his teasing her, luring her, tempting her—blue and gold flashing with desire, then softening with satisfaction; that sultry, silken mouth—smiling with delight, seducing with a caress, softly sipping as if she were the finest delicacy; his head thrown back—eyes clouded with passion—the cords of his neck straining with the strength of his fire.

Yes, that was him: teasing, tempting, laughing, and igniting. It appeared her new husband was a sensual storm of considerable tenacity.

With every loving stroke, he had worn her down.

With every hot kiss, each slow lick of his tongue, he had reduced her to a moaning, quivering creature as wild as himself.

It was ... an unexpected bonus.

Perhaps this marriage business wouldn’t be quite the horror she had imagined it to be.

Lilac sneaked a peek over her shoulder. Nickolai’s face was burrowed into her neck. He was sleeping like a baby. She remembered the last time he had fallen asleep next to her; it was in the carriage during their ride through Hyde Park.

It seemed the Prince had a penchant for sticking his nose in her neck.

She giggled as he gave a little lap to the soft skin under her ear.

He had done it three times already in his sleep during the night. She had noticed that at those times when he seemed particularly comfortable, nestled cozily into her, and she had decided to change her position, he gave her a small lick in his sleep to quiet her movements down. It was really rather sweet.

Odd, but it seemed to work for his benefit—it did calm her.

“Does that little laugh mean that I have pleased you, souk-souk?” he purred sleepily, snuggling against her.

“Nickolai.” She placed her hands over the strong arms which were encircling her, watching him over her shoulder.

“Yes, you have pleased me.” Realizing what she had said, she quickly faked a yawn in case he was thinking of getting frisky again. It wouldn’t do to give in too easily. Not that she hadn’t already demeaned herself the previous night by downright begging for him.

“I am glad.” He kissed her shoulder. “Now you can please me by calling me by my true name—Rejar.”

Lilac stiffened. “Please don’t tease me, Nickolai. I thought we could begin anew this morning since we probably have to spend the rest of our lives together.” The irritating thought did not put her in the best of moods. She still wasn’t quite able to figure out how he had maneuvered the situation.

“I am not teasing you, my heart.” His cheek caressed her own. “Did you not understand what I was telling you last night?”

Lilac turned in his embrace to face him. “That nonsense about you being ...” She couldn’t even say it, it was so foolish.

Rejar frowned. “It is not nonsense—it is the truth. The cat and I are one and the same!”

He seemed to believe what he was saying.

Oh, dear. This was worse than she thought. The man was delusional. If anyone should hear him speak this way, they would take him to Bedlam! Just the stories she had heard of the horrible place made her shudder. Even though he wasn’t her favorite person, the thought of him there—suffering who knows what kind of torture—made her inexplicably ill.

She placed her fingertips gently against his well-shaped lips. “Nickolai, you must never, ever, say this again.”

He looked down at her through lazy-lidded eyes. “You do not believe me.”

“Of course I don’t believe you! What person in their right mind would believe such a—What are you doing?” He had rolled away from her. Throwing the covers aside, he jumped from the bed.

“Watch,” he said, standing before her.

“Really, Nickolai, I wish you would—” A strange aura seemed to be shimmering around him. No—from him.

Lilac watched in astonishment as arcs of light began twirling around and through him, faster and faster, like a dance of sparks, illuminating his entire form in a halo of brilliant glimmer. The pulsating light entirely engulfed him; it was so bright, she almost had to shield her eyes from the intense glare. What was happening?

As quickly as it started, the light display faded. Nickolai was gone and there, on the rug, was a cat.

A black cat with two different colored eyes.

Her cat.

Lilac fainted dead away.

* * *

Her eyelids fluttered opened slowly.

Nickolai was leaning over her, concern and a half-smile on his face.

“It seems I am forever shocking you, souk-souk.”

It all came back to her—the strange, flashing lights, Nickolai no longer there. The cat.

Terrified, she scrambled back toward the headboard in a vain attempt to put distance between them. “Stay away from me!” She put her arm out to ward him off.

“You are being foolish. Let me explain—” he reached out to her.

“Don’t touch me!”

He ignored her words and clasped her shoulders.

“Stop this. I want to tell you—”

Caught within his embrace. Lilac panicked and began screaming at the top of her lungs. “Help! Help! I’m in here with a beast!”

* * *

“Help! Help! He is a beast! A beast!”

Downstairs Emmy gave one look to Jackie, grinned, and continued with her dusting. Jackie’s eyes rolled, but his gaze went speculatively to the ceiling.

* * *

“You are letting your fears and superstitions overwhelm you!” Rejar shook her slightly in an effort to bring some sense back to her. It did not work. At a loss, he shut her up the best way he knew how—with his mouth.

“Mmgf!” She pounded against his back to no avail. When she finally realized he wasn’t going to release her until she quieted down, she went limp in his arms.

He lifted his lips from hers.

Lilac immediately wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. At the insult, his blue/gold eyes narrowed. Her eyes flashed back at him. “What are you?”

“I am a Familiar. I come from a race—”

My god, a familiar! She had secretly read all about them in one of the books Auntie thought no one knew about—the books she kept hidden behind the davenport. “I will not hear this!” she covered her ears. He was a witch!

He pulled her arms down. “You will hear this.”

“I—I don’t believe—I’m a woman of good sense! There is no such thing as witches!”

Rejar sighed. This was not going as he had thought. “I have no idea whether there is or there is not. In either case, it has nothing to do with me.”

“You—you’re not a witch?”

He shook his head in disbelief. Laughing, he replied, “No. I am a—”

“Then you must be a sorcerer! I—I saw you—I saw what you did! Why, you cast some kind of a spell on me! That’s why I behaved as I did! You made me wanton and—and—breathless!”

He revealed a lazy half-grin. “Did I?” his deep voice rolled in his throat.

She bit her lip and nodded.

Rejar exhaled. She was being serious. “Lilac, I am not a sorcerer!” He paused a minute. “At least I do not believe I am.”

“What do you mean?”

Distracted, Rejar unconsciously sent her his thought. {Yaniff thinks ... never mind, it is not important. I am only confusing you further.}

He spoke in her mind! She gasped. He had unearthly powers! Just like in her dreams! Only, they weren’t really dreams. Somehow he had come to her in the night. Come to her and—and played with her! Wove some kind of enchantment about her.

Why did he have to pick on me? Well, what did one expect from someone coming from such an outlandish place as Russia? It wasn’t at all civilized like England.

Lilac was petrified. What should she do? They were married. My god, she had consorted with him! It was too late. She must talk some sense into him before the situation came down around them! Frantically, she clutched his arms.

“Do you know what they could do to you? To all of us if they find out? You must give this up, Nickolai!” she beseeched him. “Renounce these black arts! It was not so long ago that—why, we could all be burned at the stake!”

Rejar snorted, exasperated. “Do not be ridiculous. Your superstitions are overwhelming you.”

“No, Nickolai! You must never, ever do this again!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Lilac.” Rejar took her in his arms. He had not realized she would react like this. Women always loved Familiars. Who could have predicted this reaction? It was not his intention to upset her so. She was nearly hysterical. “Shh. It will be all right.” He soothed her.

“Pr-promise me, Nickolai! Promise me you won’t!” she cried into his chest.

He kissed her forehead. He could not make such a promise. “We will not speak of it now, souk-souk.”

“You—you won’t ch-change again, will you?” she sniffed.

Not unless I want to. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly she could go from woman to child. For all her bravado, she really was very young, he realized. And very inexperienced.

He shook his head at a loss. What was he to do but temporarily appease her? “Not now,” he answered ambiguously.

The vagueness of his reply passed by her. She accepted his words at face value. “Good.” Her tear-streaked face gazed up at him. “It shall be our secret then. No one need ever know of it.”

He brushed the tears from her cheek with the indulgent hand of a husband. “You are right; no one need know of it.” He sighed to himself. How was he going to overcome this unforeseen barrier? He could not. For the time being. However, there was one thing he could make clear to her.

He met her pleading look with a commanding one of his own. “You are my wife. Do you understand me?”

Lilac swallowed, then looked away. “Yes.”

He caught her chin with the crook of his finger, turning her back to him. “Then I accept your challenge.”

Krue’s second son lightly pressed his mouth to hers, sealing the exchange.

* * *

Emmy walked through the foyer, took two steps into the parlor, and remembered she had left her dust rag in the dining room. She immediately turned to retrace her steps. And walked into something very solid. There was a tall man standing in the foyer. Emmy gave a startled jump and backed up a few steps. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir! I didn’t see you standing there.”

Cool green eyes assessed her. “Think nothing of it.”

Cor, but he was a looker! And that hair! Tied back in a queue and down to his waist, it was. Must be a heathen Scotsman. Emmy straightened her apron. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No.”

What did the bloke mean by that? “Can I help ya then, sir?”

“I am looking for Rejar. Do you know his whereabouts?”

“Her ladyship’s cat? What would ya want wit’ him?”

Not one iota of expression crossed the man’s handsome features. “Perhaps you can tell me who lives here.”

This was decidedly queer, she thought. But then, nabobs were always peculiar in their way. “Why, there’s Lady Whumples, her niece, Li—”

“Males?” He interrupted her.

“Well, if you mean the new master, that would be his Highness.”

That brought forth a small expression. The man quirked a mocking eyebrow. “His Highness?”

“Yes, Prince Azov.”

“Does this prince you speak of have two different colored eyes?”

“How’d ya know that?”

The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly in the semblance of a smile. “No one else would have the kani,” he murmured to himself. “Tell ‘his Highness’ Traed is here to see him.”

Emmy did not even think to question an order given in such an authoritative tone. “Very good, sir.”

* * *

Rejar blankly stared at the bookcase in front of him. His mind was not on the tomes before him. In view of the fact that he could not read in this language, his stance was a measure of his distraction. He linked his hands behind his back, pondering the best route to take with his recalcitrant mate. A brief knock at the study door interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up. “Yes?”

Emmy stuck her head in the door. “Beggin’ yer pardon, yer Highness, but there’s a Mister Trey Ed to see you. Shall I show him in?”

Traed? Here? By Aiyah, as if he did not have enough problems! So who shows up on his doorstep but Traed! His dour brother-of-the-line. The man Adeeann affectionately refers to as “Mr. Levity.” He sighed. What was he doing here? “Send him in, Emmy.”