Prince of Forever Page 21

  He had known instinctively that she was his chosen life-mate. Yet she always denied him. A lesser man might have given up long before now. Mayhap he should have admitted defeat. He liked to think he possessed too much pride to beg for her attentions.

  But here he was. Here he was, willing to accept any scrap of tenderness she might offer.

  When she had summoned him, she’d interrupted his magic and talon practice, yet he eagerly dropped his sword and came to her, just because she had need of him. He’d hoped she meant to at last accept him. But she hadn’t. Instead she had asked him to help find her former lover.

  The rage he had felt at that moment still beat within him. He yearned to cleave Tristan in two. At the very least, beat the warrior to a bloody mass.

  Unable to do either of those things, he agreed to help Zirra find him. Because now she owed him—and he had every intention of collecting. Soon. Not yet, but soon.

  “Are you peeking?” he asked her.

  “Nay.” She squeezed her eyelids so tightly little grooves formed at the edges. Her voice was tight with irritation when she added, “Why will you not call him back?”

  “Because his box will then belong to me, and I wish not to own him. Do you wish for me to own him?”

  “Nay,” she shouted vehemently. Then more calmly, “Nay.” She paused. “If you owned him, you could gift the box to me.”

  “But I would not. I would cast the cursed thing into the nearest hearth and happily watch the man inside burn.”

  Her eyelids popped open. “You would not dare—”

  “Aye. I would. Now offer no more complaints, or I will leave you here on your own.”

  It was a threat neither of them believed, for he wanted her too severely. Needed to taste her too desperately. And they both knew it. He would give her anything she asked, even another man, if only to know her passion just once.

  I am a fool, he thought with disgust.

  “Close your eyes,” he demanded again. She did.

  Guilt wound through him. He was disobeying his father, a man he respected, a man he admired. Still that did not dissuade him. As if an invisible cord tugged him, he strode to her. She sensed his nearness and tiny bumps rose on her flesh. Her scent drifted to his nostrils, magic and moonlight, and was so completely arousing he gritted his teeth against the pain of wanting her. Unable to stop himself, he traced a fingertip over the curve of her ear, then tangled his hand in her hair. Her lips parted on a wispy catch of breath.

  Dewy mist swirled from the sea, past the windows, kissing her cheeks and neck, dampening her hair and silky blue robe. She was beauty and strength epitomized, a woman who would appeal to any who looked upon her, yet there was something very vulnerable about her, something at the periphery of her smile. Insecurities, mayhap.

  “Reach inside yourself,” he whispered. “Find the source of your magic.”

  Her lips pursed as she concentrated. The fact that she did not hesitate sent another surge of anger through him, battling with his desire, mingling with his guilt. He wanted to hate Zirra, wanted again to hurt Tristan. How did such a man, who lacked any mystical powers, command such devotion from this sorceress?

  Scowling, he dropped his hand to his side. “My father’s spell did not destroy your powers. It merely covered them, like a blanket. Reach under the blanket.”

  “There,” she said excitedly. “I can see what you mean.” She clapped her hands, keeping her eyes tightly closed, and he suddenly sensed a charged energy enveloping her. “I have it. I have it!”

  So lovely. So deadly. “Now open your mouth,” he commanded roughly.

  Her lashes fluttered open, casting shadows upon her cheeks. When she saw him, she gasped, startled. “Romulis?”

  “Hold on to the source of your power and open your mouth,” he commanded once more, his voice rough with the force of his desire.

  Just as before, she obeyed.

  He crushed his lips to hers, his tongue immediately pushing deep and hard. Her teeth scraped him. Greed and decadence were her flavors; heady, forbidden, and he did not want to like them, but he did. All too well.

  She purred, a deep throaty sound. His powers swirled around them, blending with the mystic abilities she clasped in her mind. Arcs of energy charged and lit the air and hummed along their skin. He pressed his erection between her thighs. Her nails bit into his shoulders. He palmed her breasts in his hands, measuring their luscious weight. She ground herself against him, searching for completion. He groaned, a sound of victory and joy, because he felt her need and knew she wanted him.

  “Oh, Tristan,” she breathed.

  Romulis jerked away. Enraged, he glared down at her, taking in the swollen redness of her lips, the dewy desire in her eyes. His chest rose and fell rapidly. How dare she say another’s name while he kissed her. How dare she! He could withstand many things from this woman, but not that. Never that.

  Her eyes widened when she realized what she’d done. “Romulis,” she said, shaking. She even reached for him, but he shrugged her off. “Do not be angry with me. Please. I cannot succeed without your help.”

  She cared only about his anger and the fact that he might change his mind and not aid her cause. And still he wanted her. His fists clenched at his sides. “Angry?” he said with deceptive calm. “My emotions matter not. I gave you my vow, after all, so I will help you.”

  “You must understand. He is—”

  “Silence.”

  She clamped her lips together.

  “I find I must wash the taste of you from my mouth.” With that, he whipped around and strode toward the entrance. “But I will return. Doubt it not.”

  * * *

  ROMULIS DID NOT APPROACH her again until the four suns had set on the golden horizon. By that time, Zirra had regained authority over her emotions. She would not allow him to startle her again with his kisses. Kissing him had been a pleasant diversion, exciting even, and had somehow given her a sense of her deepest power, but Romulis was an uncontrollable force, one who sought to dominate all he encountered, and she would not allow herself to be conquered.

  She did the conquering.

  Tristan was proof of that. If only she could clasp her powers on her own, but nay. Once Romulis left her, she’d lost her tenuous grip on them.

  The wispy white fabric hanging over the entrance to her chamber swished.

  Frowning, she spun…and found herself facing him. Romulis dropped the door scarves and they fell behind him, enclosing him inside. A gentle sea-dewed breeze floated from the windows, whisking the hem of her white gown about her ankles, making her shiver. Surely her reaction had nothing to do with the prince.

  “Let us get this over with,” he said, his tone emotionless. Bored, mayhap.

  She didn’t offer another apology for calling out Tristan’s name while Romulis kissed her. What did she care if his male pride was hurt? He had sworn to give his aid, and he would, no matter how she infuriated him.

  “It certainly took you long enough to recall your vow,” she told him, straightening her shoulders and giving a regal flick of her hair.

  The corner of his left eye ticked ominously, and he took one threatening step toward her. His eyes glowed with barely suppressed rage. Then he stopped, collected himself and made his expression once more impassive. “Sit at the edge of the bed.”

  Ire pounded through her. The prince was just like his father, always issuing orders, always expecting total compliance. She deserved so much more. She deserved devotion and love, affection and respect—things Tristan gave her when she commanded him.

  Watching Romulis, she moved with deliberate leisure, swaying her hips and exaggerating each motion. When she perched where he had commanded, she eased back on her elbows, pushing the roundness of her breasts against the sheer fabric of her gown.

  “I am waiting,” she said.

  “Clasp your power in your mind.”

  Though she wanted to taunt him further, she closed her eyes, reached within herself and eas
ily found the source of her mystic abilities, a source Percen could not bind. They swirled and churned, dark and dangerous, searching for an outlet.

  Romulis came to her then and cupped her cheeks in his big, hard hands. “Repeat these words.” He uttered a spell she’d never heard before, a spell of time and galaxies and hope. “Repeat them until you believe them, until they are a part of you.”

  She did, over and over chanting the spell, each time louder, more intense. Lances of her power sprang from her body and reverberated through the chamber. Bright rays of light bolted toward the arched ceiling like wings of an angel. She even added her own words to the spell. “Hang Tristan’s current guan ren from a tree.”

  “Say only what I tell you,” Romulis commanded with a fury so intense she felt it all the way in her bones.

  “Hang her and bring Tristan to this room,” she said, uncaring that she went against Romulis’s orders. To Zirra, the end justified the means.

  * * *

  I’M GOING TO make love for the first time.

  Julia smiled dreamily as she and Tristan held hands in the back of the cab. The warmth of his palm coupled with the roughness of his calluses proved an amazing contrast. A contrast I will soon have all over my body. She’d just spent the evening with this gorgeous, sensual man who truly found her desirable, and now their date was going to have the perfect ending.

  Just imagining the skim of his hands up her calves, thighs, stomach, of his mouth sucking her nipples, caused something powerful to bloom within her. When the cab jerked to a stop, she and Tristan emerged in a hurry. She tossed the driver a twenty, and seconds later, exhaust fumes and gravel were spitting behind the tires.

  Waving one hand in front of her nose and trying to subdue a fit of coughing, she searched for Tristan through the haze. He did the same, and their gazes locked. Awareness sharpened her every cell into a blade of desire.

  His lips lifted in a slow, deliberate smile, and he reached out and clasped her palm in his once again. A shiver tingled up her arm, leaving a trail of sensitive goose bumps.

  “Are you ready to begin?” he rasped.

  Her knees almost buckled in eagerness. She halfway expected her tongue to swell and her thoughts to fog but…no swelling and no fog. With Tristan, her fears melted away. “Oh, yes. Please and thank you.”

  “Then come.”

  He tugged her toward the house. They were just about to step up to the porch when the cement beneath her feet…just…shifted. In less time required to blink, her world careened out of control. A scream burst from her as she tumbled down an endless pit of darkness. Tristan tried to jerk her into his arms, but he was falling, too, and they were spinning farther and farther apart.

  Fear clawed at her as she and Tristan fought their way back together. She clasped him tight, afraid to release him. His grip on her nearly cut off her air supply.

  “What’s happening?” she cried.

  If he answered, she didn’t hear him. Loud, piercing screeches erupted, masking any other sounds. She felt as if she were being sucked into a vacuum, a million twinkling stars whizzing past, so close she had only to reach out to grab one. Brilliant flashes of color nearly blinded her. Rays of pink, purple, green and blue twirled together, forming a kaleidoscope of color.

  Tristan’s grip on her tightened, holding her as close as their bodies would allow. And then, as suddenly as the spinning began, it ended.

  The ground hardened beneath her feet, once again a solid foundation. Her dizziness lasted for several prolonged moments, but when it passed, she opened her eyes and expelled a shocked puff of air.

  “Where are we?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

  Silver marble covered large, spacious walls, and some sort of smooth crystal provided a glistening floor. There was no furniture present, only empty space. No light fixtures, either, and yet the room was lit with a crown of brilliance. A large window claimed the farthest wall, and Julia released Tristan to stride over and peek outside.

  Confusion rocked her as a pink-and-purple skyline filled her vision, dragon-like creatures soaring through the air, their wings spanning an incredible length. Below, she drank in a view of a clear silver sea and white sand. Trees dripped with brilliant sapphire-and-emerald-colored fruit, framed by the light of two golden moons. A cool, damp breeze scented with sweet rain kissed her cheeks and ruffled strands of her hair.

  Mouth agape, she repeated, “Where are we? And how did we get here?”

  “This is Imperia,” he answered, his own shock dripping from each syllable. A flicker of joy lit his eyes. “Someone used magic to bring us here, at this time and location.” Face now gleaming with a mix of dread and delight, he walked around the edge of the walls, his fingertips brushing each surface. “These are lamori gems. Watch.” He caressed one of the stones, and the dull silver glow shimmered to life.

  Curious, she reached out and stroked the stone nearest her. No heat, only cold and tangible reality. Yet a rosy light illuminated the inner sphere of the stone. Then the walls began to move, slowly at first, spinning faster and faster. Panic raised its ugly head, and Julia raced back into Tristan’s arms. He held her close.

  “Time,” he said, the delight gone, leaving only dread. “Time is reversing.”

  How many minutes passed while they stood in place, unable to do anything but watch as the walls spun, spun, spun, Julia didn’t know. How could magic make something like this happen?

  Finally, as abruptly as the spinning began, it stopped. They stood in the same room—the same room, but different. A large, delectable bed occupied the center, the sides draped by sheer white lace, the top covered with white furs. An elaborate vanity and a plush chaise longue filled a separate sitting area.

  “I don’t…I…” She gasped, for the first time noticing the woman who reclined on the bed, her delicate spill of black hair against the white silk sheets and perfect features giving her a beauty beyond compare. A bronzed, muscled warrior stood beside her, his eyes alight with barely suppressed rage.

  “It worked!” The woman grinned and jumped to her feet, her creamy gown floating around her ankles.

  “Zirra,” Tristan spat, moving his grip to Julia’s waist, keeping her snug against him.

  “Who is Zirra?” Julia asked, shocked by the contempt in his tone.

  A muscle jumped beneath Tristan’s eyes. “She is my tormentor. The one who cursed me.”

  “I am the love of your life,” this Zirra snarled. She cast her gaze to Julia. “And you…you should be hanging from a tree.”

  Rage sparked inside Julia, her hands fisting. “I’ve never been in a catfight, but I’m willing to change that right here, right now.”

  In the next instant, the walls started spinning again. More stars. More colors. Around and around and around.

  “Time travel again?” Her stomach clenched. When the spinning ceased for this third time, she faced a field of tall, flourishing trees. There were no houses, no cars, no electrical poles.

  “Aye. We are now going forward rather than back.” His breath was a ripple against her cheek.

  She trembled, and she fought the urge to vomit. “We’re returning home?”

  “I believe so.”

  Good, that was good. But how long would he be able to stay?

  * * *

  “HE WAS HERE,” Zirra cried, her joy all but bursting from her chest. “He was here!”

  “That he was, aye,” Romulis offered, his tone a bit too happy for her liking.

  “Where did he go?” Swift and sure, she searched her entire room, every nook, corner and hidden hollow. “Is he hiding?”

  “Your power was not strong enough to hold him—not without his box in your hands. And so he journeyed back to his new world.”

  She unleashed her rage with a scream. “I must reclaim his box. I must. Teach me another spell.”

  “Think you my father would allow that? He spelled the box as surely as he cast Tristan away. The box cannot return here with magic alone. The cursed
thing must be brought by someone’s hand. All I told you I would do is bring him to you. I did not say how long he would stay.”

  “Bastard!” A screech of rage broke through her throat, and she whipped around and glared at this man who was supposed to help her. “Bastard.”

  “And yet you should have realized.”

  “Bastard,” she snarled again.

  “What has you more upset, Zirra? The fact that he disappeared? Or the fact that he looked happy with the other woman?”

  “He belongs to me. Do you not understand? I am his master. I control him. If I cannot hold him here with my power, I will find another way. I will possess him again, Romulis. This I swear to you.”

  * * *

  JULIA STARED AT HER HOUSE, which now towered in front of her, then looked up at Tristan, who still stood beside her on the front lawn. The shock of what had happened dwindled away, confusion and fear in full force.

  “I don’t understand what just happened. Why did we go to Imperia to see the one who cursed you? Why did we return?”

  Steel glinted in his eyes, making the violet seem like a whirlpool of deep purple liquid. “My guess is Zirra called me home, thinking to reclaim ownership of me, but the box drew me back to your world.”

  Julia’s mouth went dry. This isn’t happening. She wasn’t ready to lose Tristan. Not now, perhaps not ever, and the fact that she could lose him terrified her. “Who was the guy?”

  “The son of the Druinn High Priest. His magic surpasses Zirra’s.”

  Information overload. “Let’s go inside before my brain explodes,” she said. She didn’t want to stand out in the open, didn’t want to be any more of a target than she needed to be. She wanted him within the walls of her house, the doors locked. But when she tried to move forward, he stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “Did you not turn out the lights before we left?” he asked, frowning.

  “Yes. Now hurry.” She curled her fingers around his and tugged him toward the door.

  He planted his heels firmly in the ground, preventing her from moving another inch. “I believe someone has invaded your home.”