Shadow's Light (13 page)

The harder I reached for my Light, the bigger the response from the bracelet. When I had tentatively reached for it in the hotel, I had just felt the beginnings of a headache. When I had reflexively reached for it as a form of defence in the passage, it had knocked me out. I prayed to Nut that if I reached for it now with the thought of death, the bracelet would do the rest.

No, ma douce!

I sucked a sharp breath in at the volume of Michel's voice in my head. So strong, so close, so real. I was instantly pulled back to the scene with Lutin, panic washing over me as I realised we were now both naked and things had progressed too far for my mind to accept or acknowledge without outright shock and fear.

Let me help you
, Michel whispered, an obvious strain in his voice, a depth of panic that matched mine.

How?
I whimpered as I heard Lutin's chiming escalate around me and felt his body pressed along the length of mine. He was still playing, teasing, not yet ready to complete the act. But the panic was back to such a fever pitch, I think I actually fainted with fear.

The scene changed and Michel and I were on the hill above my parents' farm. I cried when I saw him. Such a relief, mixed with such a strong indication of me losing my mind.

"Trust me," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. He looked sad, pale and so sick, but his smile was warm and full of light.

He opened his arms and I went straight to him, allowing my mind to conjure this break from reality, to take me away from the scene in Lutin's room I had no hope of stopping. I knew it now. Without my Light, with Lutin's influence, I had no hope. How could I fight back? Unarmed, unprepared, defenceless as I was. He would take what he wanted and a part of me would die.

Michel lowered his lips to mine, brushed a sweet kiss across my mouth and then whispered, "Lower your shields." I hesitated, but this was all in my mind. What did it matter if I lowered what was left of my shields here? I did as my mind-Michel requested and let the remnants of my mental defences fall away. "This is the best I can do," he continued. "I am not strong enough for more, but it will suffice,
ma belle
."

The moment his tongue slipped between my teeth I felt a jolt of
Sanguis Vitam
shoot through my body, down my throat, across my chest, around my waist, up the length of each arm and swirling down to my feet. My whole being came alive with Michel's life force, it thrummed so familiar, so beautiful, so desired.

In my arms Michel swayed, his face in a grimace of pain, his skin turning a shade of grey. I gasped at the deterioration in front of me, as he fell to the ground, me still wrapped around him, following in his wake.

"Michel!" I screamed in fear at what was happening before me. "What do I do?"

"There is nothing for you to do,
ma douce
," he mumbled, already fading, already slipping from my mind.

"No," I cried, feeling like I was losing him, watching him die, all over again.

I tenaciously clung to that scene on the hill above my parents' farm, searching for Michel, who was no longer there. I refused to let it go, but these dreams had always been Michel's illusion, not mine. And even when my mind played tricks on me, like now, it still worked within the parameters of what had been. Michel had left the scene and now so must I.

I came to on the bed beside Lutin, tears streaming down my cheeks. An ache so raw in the centre of my heart, that nothing Lutin chose to do now could have touched me. Nothing could hurt me like the loss of my kindred all over again.

It took me a while to figure it out. The coolness of the air in the room against my skin was the first thing I noticed. Not Lutin, not anything he should have been doing, but wasn't. When I forced my tear filled eyes open, he lay beside me, breathing deeply, eyes half lidded as he traced a finger slowly down the side of my thigh.

“Now you smell of sex and me. We can face my mother and not lie.”

I lifted my head and looked at him, he had an impish grin on his face. He looked well sated, content and not just a little cocky. I sat up, covering myself with a nearby sheet and glanced around the room. Just what the fuck did Lutin think had happened? Because I knew all I felt was the ghost of Michel's kiss against my lips. My body had not been harmed, or assaulted. I felt no physical after effects of sex and Lutin had definitely not entered me. But, Lutin, on the other hand, looked downright lusty, as though he'd just had the best time of his life.

I wanted to ask just what
had
happened, but if I did, would the illusion my mind-Michel had created for Lutin be dispelled? I couldn't risk it. Somehow, miraculously, whatever I had dreamt up in my mind had led Lutin to believe something other than simply lying beside my body and not doing a thing. I knew without a shadow of doubt that we had not progressed any further than his fondling, but
he
did not.

And how the hell did my mind-Michel do this? I couldn't figure it out. Was there a part of me that possessed more than just Light as a power? Had Nut bestowed on me another talent, another gift? The ability to manipulate reality. Or was my mind so far gone that the reality I now perceived was not true? Had I finally given in to the mental anguish that accompanied the pain in my heart? Was I now mad, delusional, beyond all hope?

I just stared at Lutin, trying to puzzle this all through, as he held my gaze and dipped his head to lay a line of kisses across my belly through the sheet. I wanted to know what he was thinking, what he
thought
had transpired, but the fear of breaking the illusion Lutin was under, was equally as strong as the fear that I was losing my mind.

I lay my head back down on the pillow and let Lutin lick his way across my body, not even realising what I was allowing him to do. My mind was too tangled to be concerned and he didn't seem in the mood for more. I only realised how intimate and erotic his actions were when a young fey girl entered the room and cleared her throat.

I startled and stilled at the sound, but Lutin just kept going and said huskily, “Yes?”

“A bath has been run for your
elska
, your Highness and the Queen wishes to see you in her rooms.” Her eyes unashamedly took all of us in, sprawled so decadently on the bed.

Then she left quietly, closing the door behind her and Lutin lifted his lust-filled gaze to mine.

“Duty calls,” he whispered and kissed me on the nose, heading out the door to relay to his mother the progress we had made.

I lay back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling unable to determine what was real or not.

It didn't really matter though, did it? For now, Lutin's belief would hopefully be enough.

Even if the tendrils of madness were curling ever closer and closer as I feared.

The bathroom was lit with a thousand candles it seemed. All over every available surface. The young fey girl, Mena she said her name was, led me through the the flickering flames to a large and very deep claw-footed bath. Steam was rising off the water and a pleasant smell of vanilla and lavender filled the air. Little Lavender whorls floated on the surface, the petals tainting the bath water purple.

The purple reminded me of Michel.

I let her numbly help me into the bath and then start to run a wash cloth over my shoulders and back.

“You don't have to do that,” I said, reaching for the cloth so I could clean myself.

“It is my job to assist you,
mœðr
. I am your lady-in-waiting.”

I never really did get the whole lady-in-waiting thing. Hell, I'm a farm girl from the Antipodes, a bank teller once upon a time and now a kick-ass vampire hunter. The chances of me walking in the same circle as those who understood and accepted the role of a lady-in-waiting, was pretty damn slim. Still, as uncomfortable as it felt, I let Mena continue to wash me. I had a feeling she would feel offended if I pushed her away.

Besides, she seemed lovely and I could do with a friend. Not that I have relied on others for my safety or happiness before, but I was feeling a little out of my depth here. Mental trauma along with this not just being another country, but a whole other world. I could feel the beginnings of culture shock settling in.

“So...” I started tentatively, “... have you always helped Lutin too?” My rudimentary understanding of a lady-in-waiting was they served ladies, but for some reason the idea that this young, pretty girl had
helped
Lutin in the past grated. Shit. Where had that jealousy come from?

She dipped her head, her pale skin glowing in the candle light and her long brown hair falling around her face to hide her expression. She was uncomfortable with the question, but I wasn't sure if it was because she thought I wouldn't like the answer, or just because she was shy. I was betting on shy. Mena just came across as young and innocent and not at all worldly.

“No, my Lady,” she whispered, then all of sudden words began to tumble from her mouth. “He is gorgeous, is he not? I have only ever seen him from afar and since I began serving in the Court, he has been in your realm. Words of his valour and courage have reached me though. He is a true Prince of
Ljósálfar
.”

Oh. So our little Mena had a crush. I heard a growl in the room and realised it was coming from me. I yelped at that thought. What the hell?

“Oh, I have offended you, my Lady. Forgive me. How may I make it up to you?” She had pulled away and had placed her forehead to the floor of the room. Almost prostrating herself in front of me.

“Mena, get up. You haven't offended me.” Well at least the me that is in control of my faculties. I'm not so sure about the impulsive, perhaps influenced, me.

The girl returned to her kneeling position beside the bath and took up with the wash cloth again. I didn't say anything for a while. I wasn't sure what my plan was going to be here. I'd been in tricky situations before. I was held captive by the King of the American Families, a vampire by the name of Jonathan, for a month once. I'd had a plan then. One that helped me escape and get back to Michel.

Not that
Álfheimr
was America nor Lutin a vampire. Or that Michel was waiting for me to come back to him. Still, having a plan of attack seemed appropriate. I am not a victim, I never have been. I refused to see myself as one now. I would plan my escape, but it would require a lot more stealth than I'd had to use in America. And sunlight and silver weren't going to be my secret weapons this time.

But deception was.

I needed Lutin to get back to my world. In order for that to happen, I needed him to believe I was on his side. That I had fallen for him and accepted my role as his elska. I swallowed painfully at that thought and ran a hand over my stomach at the nauseous feeling that accompanied it. Just how much
acting
was this going to take? And how much of my abused mind was going to survive?

I knew it wouldn't be a swift deception. I'd been fighting him too long for a quick turn around on my part. This was going to take time. I settled back against the bath as Mena began washing my arms and legs and took a deep breath in. I needed courage and stamina for what lay ahead. And I needed to use all the weapons I could find.

Not physical weapons like knives and stakes and the like, although having those would make me feel less naked. But no, I would have to use whatever weapons came my way. Like Mena. I was sure that part of Mena's job description involved reporting back to the Queen on my relationship progress with Lutin. I would start convincing Mena that I was falling for her Prince.

It took several attempts for me to form the words, so foreign they felt in my mind. So wrong. Like I was being unfaithful to Michel's memory.

I licked my lips and said in a whisper quiet voice, “He treats me like a princess.”

“You are a princess, my Lady.”

“Not where I come from. I walk in the Dark and stake evil. But, Lutin makes me feel something else,” I whispered, not just because I wanted her to think I was feeling wonderment, but because saying it louder would have made it feel true.

“You are his
elska
, he would move all realms for you,” she said in the type of voice I needed to mimic better. Awe.

“I'm a little scared of him.” That wasn't too far from the truth.

“Why, my Lady, he would mean you no harm?” she said with genuine surprise.

“Because he makes me feel things I haven't ever felt before.”

She smiled, a knowing yet wistful smile. I'd done enough for today, any more and it would be overkill.

She helped me out of the bath and started rubbing luxurious creams into my skin. It was a full body spa treatment. I couldn’t believe this would be a regular occurrence. A nightly ritual. She was taking such care and it had started to make me relax more than I felt comfortable doing.

“You're very good at this,” I said as she diligently applied cream on my arms, careful to avoid the silver bracelet I was still wearing.

“Thank you, my Lady,” came her happy reply. “You are very kind.”

She finished up and helped me into a white cotton night dress. It was the kind of nightdress I would have expected my grandmother to wear and certainly not something that I would wear at all.

“There's a lot of fabric here,” I said, brushing my hand down the front of the billowing outfit.

“The Prince likes to...” She hesitated, blushed, then said, “...unwrap his women.”

“How many women has he had?” I said through gritted teeth. And whoa! Who gives a flying fuck?

She flicked a glance at me, no doubt picking up the gleam of jealously in my eyes. What on Earth was wrong with me? I tried to get a handle on the emotions swilling around my head, but had to just settle on the fact that at least they helped my cause.

“He is very old, my Lady. But now you are here, he will not stray, I am sure.”

“You don't sound so convinced,” I blurted, cringing internally at this sudden raw need to stake my claim on Lutin. I had started sweating with the effort it took to disassociate myself from these unwanted feelings.

“I am sure you are all he will require to sate his needs.”

“How great are his needs?” I ground out.

Mena completed closing the many buttons on my nightdress and just stood there, head bowed looking at the ground.

“Mena,” I said, lifting her head up to look at me. “It's all right, you can tell me. I just need to know what I am up against.” Wow, wasn't I the consummate actress?

“He has a reputation for his prowess, my Lady. It is often joked in the servant halls that Prince Lutin could service a harem and still have stamina for more. He is the only Prince in our Court that the girls dream of losing their virginity to. He is perfect in every way.”

Obviously sexual promiscuity was coveted here in
Álfheimr
.

“Have you dreamt of him, Mena?” I said it in a soft, deceptively gentle voice, but to my horror, my hand had clasped into a fist at my side.

Mena trembled under my fingers still holding her jaw up so she would look me in the eye.

“Please do not ask me, my Lady. I fear you would not like the answer. I only wish to serve.” Her eyes had gone round and luminous, tears milling at the edges.

My hand dropped away from her jaw and I lowered my head and frowned.

“I'm sorry, Mena, I don't know what's come over me.”

“It is completely understandable, my Lady. He is yours now, you do not wish to share.”

Oh, how wrong she was, yet my body was acting differently.

She led me back into the bedroom, where the bed had been turned down and candles now flickered there too. I climbed into the bed, feeling strangely numb and also vibrantly alive. My body starting to ache for something I couldn't quite fathom. A small whimper slipped through my lips as I slid down under the crisp, clean sheets. Every scrape of material over my flesh making me writhe a little and gasp.

Mena curtsied and went to leave the room, but before she made it to the side door, I managed to ask, “Mena, why do I feel strange?”

She returned to the side of the bed and fluffed my pillows, but didn't answer the question. Instead, she said, “Prince Lutin will be here shortly to ease your fever, my Lady. Not long now.” And then she left.

I curled into a ball on my side under the covers, but that didn't seem to make things better. I straightened and then flipped onto my stomach, but the sheets still felt like a dozen hands running scratchy feathers across my skin. My body arched and my legs scissored and finally I threw the covers off hoping for a little relief. It was slightly better, but the nightdress was still too much. Too much fabric. Too much weight. I groaned and with fumbling fingers slowly undid all the buttons. It felt like an eternity before I managed each one and then dragged the clothing, almost painfully, across my skin and over my head. Dropping it the floor beside the bed with a sigh.

The part of my brain that was still functioning, that hadn't let alarm and fear at what was happening take over, knew this was not normal. It was hard to reason it through, but I knew I hadn't felt like this before the bath and creams. As soon as that thought reached completion, I sighed in relief. And then quickly felt my stomach flip in outright fear. If Lutin returned now I would be lost. I had finally pinpointed the ache for what it actually was. Need. I needed him.

I slid off the bed and crawled, hand over hand, towards the bathroom. My only hope was removing whatever Mena had put on me. I'd made it to bathroom door, had even glanced up and seen the bath was empty and there was no obvious pitcher of water around to use to wash away whatever concoction Mena had rubbed on me or I had soaked in, when Lutin returned.

“
Elska
,” he said sharply. “What are you doing on the floor?”

The sound of his booted feet on the floor as he stalked closer sent shock waves of heat through my body. Every vibration through the stone shot straight through my skin. I moaned even before he touched me and then when his hot hands went around my waist to pick me up, I cried out. A mixture of hunger, need and pain so raw.

Lutin hissed as he cradled me to his chest and carried me to the bed. By now tears were streaming down my cheeks and I was unable to control my limbs. I wanted to pull him towards me, I wanted his body to smother mine. Irrationally the thought that that would soothe the sensations coursing over my skin seemed forefront in my mind. Even though his light touch as he lay me down on the bed only fuelled the flames further out of control and felt more like whips than delicate fingers.

“Lutin,” I pleaded, unsure just what exactly I was pleading for.

“This shouldn't be happening,” he said, his voice sounding so far away. And then he reached out and ran a hand down over my stomach softly.

I'm sure he meant to soothe, but I screamed out in pain and then followed that up with a frustrated growl.

He sucked in a breath and then tentatively tried again. This time he leaned over my body and laid his lips against mine. I writhed and bucked beneath him, tears making it hard to see the startled expression on his face and then I leaned over the side of the bed and tried to vomit. I hadn't eaten for hours, so there was nothing to come up. But that didn't stop my stomach from contracting and trying to expel my internal organs as much as it could.

Lutin swore and ran to the bathroom, returning with a bowl of warm water and a clean wash cloth.

“I am sorry,
elska
, this is going to be painful, but it must be wiped off.” His voice was low and rough, like sandpaper over stone. He was feeling this along with me, I was sure. But right now, my mind was about to fracture and I couldn't spare him an ounce of compassion.

The first stroke of the cloth was excruciating. I screamed and writhed and cursed him through trembling lips. The second was just as bad and I tried, in vain, to scratch him. To strike out and make him stop. The third, thankfully made me pass out.