Dreams Made Flesh (The Black Jewels #5)(15)
Author: Anne Bishop

Buthe couldn’t even follow Protocol becauseshe was his damnhousekeeper. She had every right to expect him to protect her from any male’s unwanted sexual attention…and that includedhim.

But… Hell’s fire, she was pulling at him in too many ways. Her fear spiked his temper because his instincts demanded that he defend and

protect…and destroy whatever was causing that fear. He couldn’t do that becausehe was the cause. And underneath that fear he sensed a warm, quiet strength that intrigued and aroused him, that made him want to wrap himself around her and breathe in her psychic scent as well as her physical smells. Oh, he’d been stirred by a few women over the past three years, and there had been times when the hunger inside him had been fierce, but never enough to give in, never enough for him to forget the rage and bitterness that had flavored most of his sexual experience. So it had been easy enough to turn away from that stirring, to chain that hunger. Until Marian had walked into the kitchen. Now hewanted, and he wasn’t sure if he could keep that hunger chained.

Lucivar looked toward the eyrie. Maybe, once she was settled in the housekeeper’s room, her fear would ease a little. Maybe it would ease enough that she would stay, although he wasn’t sure if her staying would be a torment or a boon.

He sighed, then turned back to look at Tassle. "I’m going to get her settled in for the night. You stay here. I don’t think she can handle more than one male at a time right now."

Tassle whined but didn’t follow him when he went back to the eyrie. She was still in the kitchen, her eyes too bright with fear. "I’ll show you to your room." His voice was as calm as he could make it, but there was a hint of a growl that was a response to her fear.

Silent, she followed him to a room that was on the opposite side of the eyrie from his bedroom. She shuddered when he opened the door and she realized she had to walk past him.

Watching her look around the room, he said, "My father’s housekeeper brought over the furniture and set up the room.There’s a private bathroom through that door. I expect you’ll find everything you need."At least for tonight.

She still didn’t say anything. She looked bruised and exhausted, and the only thing he could do to help her was to leave her alone.

"Good night, Lady." He closed the door and stared at it for a few moments.Damn you, Cat. You really kicked me in the guts this time.

But as he went back outside to tell Tassle it was all right to come in, he had a bad feeling it wasn’t his guts that would feel the pain.

* * *

Marian stared at the door. No lock. No way to prevent someone from coming in during the night to…

She could put a Purple Dusk shield around the room, but that would probably just insult him…or amuse him. It certainly wouldn’t stop him if he…

She shuddered, then clenched her hands until they ached. She couldn’t think like that. Fear was already a living thing crawling inside her. If she was going to survive staying here, she had to beat it back, not feed it.

She called in her nightgown…another piece of clothing Luthvian had been ready to discard and had given to her instead. She wouldn’t think about that either. Just wouldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t think anymore.

After changing her clothes, she settled into bed and called in her book, sure she wouldn’t get any sleep.

Later, she roused enough from a deep sleep to realize someone was gently pulling the book out of her hands and turning off the lamp on the bedside table, but not enough to wonder who it was.

SEVEN

Marian jolted awake, her heart pounding. She kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep to give her scrambled brain a few precious seconds to catch up and identify what had ripped her out of a deep sleep.

There. Warm breath against her hand. Someone was in her room, next to her bed. Someone who would know by the change in her breathing that she wasn’t asleep, and pretending only kept her blind to the danger.

She opened her eyes… and stared at the wolf who was watching her intently.

*You are awake. Yas told me not to wake you and I didn’t wake you but now you are awake.* The wolf stretched his neck so that they were nose-to-nose. *You can pet me.*

She raised her hand to obey. Then her brain identified what was wrong with this "conversation."

A breathless shriek, a wild kick to free herself from the bedcovers, and a hasty scramble had her standing on the opposite side of the bed from the wolf, who looked equally startled.

The bedroom door was open. She was closer to it. If she could reach the door…

She shuffled sideways, never taking her eyes off the wolf…until he put

the corner so fast she almost hit the opposite wall, and ran down the wide main corridor of the eyrie. Seeing the archway of the only room she recognized, she grabbed at the stone wall and swung into the kitchen, startling Yaslana enough that he almost dropped the mug he was holding.

"What in the name of Hell…" he began.

"The wolf talks!"

"I know," Yaslana replied. "He’s kindred. Since you’re up, do you want some coffee?"

Marian stared at him. Maybe he wasn’t awake enough to understand what she’d said. "The wolftalks. Insentences!’

"I know." He studied her for a moment, then added, "He’s kindred. Blood."

"Blood?" She suddenly felt a bit weak and woozy.

"The Blood from the nonhuman races are called kindred." Yaslana scratched his cheek. "Tassle is a Warlord, as a matter of fact. Wears the Purple Dusk Jewels."

Marian groped for the nearest chair to keep from sinking to the floor. Blood? Warlord? Purple Dusk Jewels?

A whine.

She turned. Standing in the archway, the wolf gave her the most woeful look she’d ever seen.

He whined again and slunk away…and she felt as if a small boy had tried to give her something he thought was a wonderful present… and she’d smacked him for it.

Confused and feeling guilty, she focused on the familiar sound of sizzling meat…and frowned. "What are you doing?"

Turning back to the stove, Yaslana picked up a fork and flipped the two steaks sizzling in a skillet. "Making breakfast.You want some? There’s plenty." He poked at something else in the other skillet.

Marian slumped in the chair. "But… I should be making breakfast."

He shrugged. "You were asleep."

She quailed at the implied criticism. Then she bristled at the unfairness of it. "I’m sorry, Prince Yaslana. You didn’t tell me what time you expected…"

"I woke up early and decided to make breakfast," he said testily. "It’s not important."

Not important.The words cut into her, telling her clearly enough what he thought of the skills that usually gave her such pleasure.