“When a man wears his pants that tight, they tend to pinch his balls, and that tends to pinch his temper.”
“Lucivar winced. "She guzzled half the flask — and it wasn't one of his home brews, it was the concoction you created."
Jaenelle’s eyes widened. “You let her drink a ‘gravedigger’?”
“No no no,” Wilhelmina said, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t ever drink a gravedigger until he’s had a bath.” She smiled placidly when Jaenelle and Lucivar just stared at her.
“Mother Night,” Lucivar muttered.
“Do you know that song?” Wilhelmina asked Jaenelle.”
“Not fault of teaching spider if little spider pay more attention to catching fly than doing lesson.”
“I can do this,” [Daemon] crooned, slowly circling around her. “I can keep Dorothea and Hekatah off-balance enough to keep the others safe and also prevent those Ladies from giving the orders to send the Terreillean armies into Kaeleer. I can buy you seventy-two hours, Jaenelle. But it’s going to cost me because I’m going to do things I may never be forgiven for, so I want something in return.” He could taste her slight bafflement before she said, “All right.”
“I don’t want to wear the Consort’s ring anymore.” A slash of pain, quickly stifled.
“I want a wedding ring in its place.” A flash of joy, immediately followed by sorrow. She smiled at him at the same time her eyes filled with tears. “It would be wonderful.” She meant that.”
“He kissed the spot where her neck and shoulder joined. The first kiss was light and chaste. With the second kiss, he used his teeth to hold her still while the tip of his tongue caressed and tasted her skin. He could feel her heart pounding, feel each breathy pant. Leaving a trail of soft kisses up her neck, he finally whispered in her ear, “You’re not too young anymore.”
“Saetan paused. “Can you also appreciate that, in the thirteen years she’s lived here, Jaenelle has never been concerned enough about clothes to ask for my opinion about something she was wearing. And can you appreciate that she wasn’t asking for my opinion as her Steward or her father but as a man. And I admit that, considering the way that dress fit her, my opinion of it as a father would have differed considerably from my opinion as a man.” Daemon almost smiled. “She sees you as a man, Daemon. A man, not a male friend. For the first time in her life, she’s trying to deal with her own lust. So she’s running.”
“She’s not the only one trying to deal with it,” Daemon muttered, but the sleepy look had changed to sharp interest. “I am her Consort. She could just—”
Saetan shook his head. “Do you really think Jaenelle would demand that from you?”
“[Daemon's] arms tightened, drew her closer as his hand stroked up and down her back, just for the simple pleasure of it. She sighed. The tension in her muscles eased a bit, and she rested against him more fully.
He wasn’t thinking of seduction when his hands began to wander over her—or when her hands hesitantly stroked him.
He wasn’t thinking of seduction when his body delighted in how different the silky skin of her neck felt under his mouth compared to the robe beneath his hands.
He wasn’t thinking of sex when he opened his robe and then hers so that only that film of spidersilk separated skin from skin. Or when even the spidersilk no longer separated them.
He wasn’t thinking of sex when his mouth settled over hers and he sent them both sliding into dark, hot desire. And by the time he found himself in bed, listening to her purr with pleasure while he moved inside her, he wasn’t able to think at all.”
“Do you trust me?” [Daemon] snapped.
“Yes.” No hesitation, no doubts.
He finally stopped moving and faced her. “Do you know how desperately I love you?”
[Janelle's] voice shook when she answered, “As much as I love you?”
He held her, held on to her as his lifeline, his anchor. It would be all right. As long as he had her, it would be all right.”
“His voice shifted into a sexual purr. “I love you. And I’ve waited a lifetime to be your lover. But you were too young, Lady.”
She raised her head, her body stiff with dignity. “I wasn’t too young here, in the abyss.”
Slowly, he continued moving around the altar. “Your body had been violated. Your mind had shattered. But even if that hadn’t been the case, you were still too young—even here in the abyss.”
“I was going to make some tea,” [Marian] said. “It’s cold tonight.” [Lucivar] returned the smile, then gave her a long, very thorough kiss. “I have a better way to warm you up.”
“For the first time, they were seeing the dream beneath the flesh.
Karla stared at the pointed ears that had come from the Dea al Mon, the hands with sheathed claws that had come from the Tigre, the hooves peeking out from beneath the black gown that could have come from the centaurs or the horses or the unicorns. Most of all, she stared at the tiny spiral horn.
The living myth. Dreams made flesh. But, oh, had any of them really thought about who the dreamers had been?
No wonder the kindred love her. No wonder we've all loved her.
Karla quietly cleared her throat to ask the question she suddenly hoped wouldn't be answered. "Who is going to war with Terreille?"
"I am," Witch said.”
“But that thread isn’t Andulvar. It should be, since he’s the Master of the Guard, but it’s someone else. Someone who isn’t here yet, someone who can guide me to the answers I need to walk that other path.”
*The thread not tell you its name?*
“It says the mirror is coming. What kind of answer is—” Tensing, Jaenelle scrambled to her knees. “Daemon,” she whispered. “Daemon.”
“Jaenelle woke up in a similar mood,” Lucivar said mildly. “Must have been an interesting night.” “Nothing happened,” Daemon growled as he swiped his hair back. “Nothing physical,” Lucivar said. “But I’ve danced with the Sadist enough times to recognize him when I see him.” Daemon just waited. Lucivar’s lips curled into that lazy, arrogant smile. “Welcome to Kaeleer, brother,” he said softly. “It’s good to have you back.” He paused at the bathroom door. “I’ll bring you a cup of coffee. That and a hot shower ought to wake you up enough.”
“They both took a couple of unsteady breaths before Daemon said, “The sooner we make our reports, the sooner we can go home.” For him, home wasn’t a place, it was a person—and right then, he needed to know that Jaenelle was safe.”
“Carefully bracing himself so that he wouldn't hurt her, he leaned over and brushed his lips against hers.
He raised his head. Her haunted sapphire eyes stared at him.
"Daemon?" There was so much uncertainty in her voice.
"Hello, sweetheart," he said, his voice husky with the effort not to cry. "I've missed you."
Her hand moved slowly, with effort, until it rested against his face. Her lips curved into a smile. "Daemon."
This time, when she said his name, it sounded like a promise, like a lovely caress.”
“And the Lady's mate. Despite having only two legs and small fangs, there was much that was feline in that one, and he approved.”
“[Daemon] bent down and kissed her softly, persuasively. When he felt her yield, he murmured against her lips, “We’ll have a quiet dinner. Then we’ll play a couple of hands of ‘cradle.’ I’ll even let you win.” Her huff of laughter provoked another hunger. His kiss deepened as his hand caressed her breast. “I think I am hungry,” Jaenelle said breathlessly when he finally gave her a chance to speak. After they had thoroughly satisfied one hunger, they finally sat down to dinner.”
“he was the friend who would become an enemy in order to remain a friend. 3”
“I knelt by the design. Yes, there was the sun rising. But the white form I had always thought to be a cloud was a bear. I could see it now, upside down. White bear, isbjorn, stood for north. Father had not been able to help himself. The truth was there, too. Truth and lie, side by side.”
“Swinburne, by the way, when a very young man, had gone to Walter Savage Landor, then a very old man, and been given the poet’s blessing he asked for; and Landor when a child had been patted on the head by Dr Samuel Johnson; and Johnson when a child had been taken to London to be touched by Queen Anne for scrofula, the King’s evil; and Queen Anne when a child...”
“But how could anyone be grateful for what they have if they didn’t know what it was like not to have what they need?”
“Last fight I had with the bitch ended way too soon."
Eddie rolled his eyes and glanced at Jim. "It was in the Middle Ages and he still hasn't gotten over it.”
“Inside is where the son and the father will always be holding hands.”
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