Thief Of Light Part 14

She didn't want to think anymore. She was as ready as she'd ever be-wearing her oldest nightgown because he'd warned her it might be messy under there, her hair braided and tied back out of the way. Sister save me, I've lost my mind Sister save me, I've lost my mind. Prue sucked in a breath and leaped.

The cold struck her like a fist in the chest, but as she trod water, watching Erik cast about under the stairs, her blood began to pump, her skin to tingle.

He reappeared at her side with a couple of easy strokes. "It's behind," he said. "Just like the other one."

"All right," she said breathlessly, sculling around the base of the stairs, acutely aware of eyes as blue as the water, watching her every move.

At last he said, "You're a bit more than competent, Prue." Something warm bloomed in her chest.

Beneath the stairs, water lapped at the tough outer skin of the Pleasure Leaf. Wonderingly, Prue touched it, solid as a building. She couldn't make a mark on it, not with all her strength.

Erik slid his arms around her from behind, giving her the shelter and support of his body. She wasn't fool enough to reject it. Their legs brushed under the water, her nightgown billowing. He inhaled deeply, expanding his chest "There's nothing wrong here, thank the Lord and Lady. No stink, no rot."

"The seelies?" She peered around.

"Through there." He pointed to an opening about ten feet in diameter in the Leaf. "With any luck."

Prue's mouth fell open. "You mean we-? G.o.ds!"

"If it's like the Leaf of n.o.bility, that pa.s.sage leads down to all kinds of hollow chambers, inside the Leaf itself. I'll go through and check first. Then I'll come back for you."

"But-"

"Shush," he said sternly. "I can hold my breath much longer than you can. You wait here, understood?"

Prue clutched his shoulders, the density of bone and muscle chilled and hard under her fingers. He was so big and strong, so vital, he seemed indestructible. But he wasn't, no man was. "You'll be careful?"

"Of course." He gave her a crooked grin. "Especially seeing you still care." With both hands he grasped her head, pulled her forward and kissed her deep and hard, his lips cool, but his tongue hot and deft. She was still gasping with outrage when he released her, jackknifed into the water and disappeared down the tunnel. Her final view of him was the flex of powerful b.u.t.tocks and the pale flutter of the soles of his feet, kicking.

As the seconds ticked past, the cold rose out of the depths, climbing up her legs, caressing her belly, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with slow, deadening fingers. Prue clung to the walls of the Leaf, her nightgown tangling around her legs like a shroud. First, she counted the seconds in her head, then out loud, her hoa.r.s.e whisper no more than a thread among the lapping of the wavelets.

She reached a hundred three times before she broke. Merciful Sister, he had to be dead, trapped in some small, horrible s.p.a.ce, those beautiful eyes gone wide and dull, his lax limbs b.u.mping against the walls of the tunnel as the current rolled- He burst out of the dark opening like the Technomage stars.h.i.+p barreling toward the heavens on a plume of flame. Then he had the nerve to laugh out loud, a sound of sheer joy that echoed around the shadowed s.p.a.ce.

Prue thumped him hard on the chest with her fist. "I thought you'd drowned!"

"Don't be silly." Erik dropped a kiss on her nose, then drew her close before she could gather her wits sufficiently to hit him. "This tunnel's quite short. Hold on to me and you'll be fine."

Prue searched his face, the moving shadows flickering over his features. She could do this, of course she could. He'd keep her safe. "Give me a minute."

Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, filling her lungs, calming her racing heart. Gradually, she became aware of Erik's hands soothing up and down her spine in a hypnotic rhythm, his muscled chest, pressed against the softness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, vibrating with a deep, wordless croon. She suspected this was how he might communicate with nervous horses and small children, but if truth be told, she didn't care, the comfort was too great.

With an effort, she raised her head. "Ready."

"On a count of three then. Hang on tight, and let me do the work. It's not far, Prue, I promise, but you mustn't panic."

"I don't panic." She glared.

"I knew that." Another smile, a brief kiss pressed to her lips. "Here we go. One . . . two . . . three three!" His arms banded around her.

Together, they sank through the shadowed water and entered the tunnel. The light vanished, and Prue clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached. In the darkness, Erik was her only reference point, and she burrowed into his warmth and strength, feeling the flex and release of his mighty muscles, his legs moving against hers as she added her kicks to his. She had the sense of an immense weight pressing down on her, her body brus.h.i.+ng against a smooth, unyielding surface.

Just as her lungs were beginning to labor, they broke through into open s.p.a.ce.

Whooping for breath, she clung to Erik's shoulders. His palm cupped the back of her skull. "All right?"

When she nodded, he loosened the arm he had around her waist. "Look, Prue," he whispered, awe coloring his voice. "Look!"

Secure in his hold, she leaned back, staring. Her jaw sagged. The world was made of a s.h.i.+fting twilight, illuminated by flashes of the most shockingly vivid yellows, blues and greens, as if the sea G.o.ds had decided to manifest their essence as captive light. The chamber was no more than thirty feet across, roughly oval, its sides curving in a pattern that was too organic to be completely regular. Every now and then, there were other dark openings, ledges and indentations.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh. What's that? The colors?"

"Healthy phosph.o.r.escence." Erik's voice was hushed. "I think the t.i.tanplant produces it."

Prue slid out of his grasp and stroked toward the nearest wall. Skeins of opalescent color s.h.i.+mmered in the flesh of the t.i.tanplant. When she reached out in wonder, it coated her fingertips, sliding down over her hand and wrist in a wash of glowing, vibrant beauty. There was no physical sensation, as if she truly bathed in light. Her eyes p.r.i.c.kled with tears.

She met Erik's gaze across the water, his eyes dark. "You look like a G.o.ddess, Prue," he said softly.

"Don't be stupid." She shook her head. "Anyway, I don't believe in the G.o.ds. They've never done much for me."

The air tasted warm and moist and briny, pressing against her, making her acutely aware of the life pulsing beneath her skin, the wet nightdress molded to her body. But she was no longer cold.

Prue swallowed. "Seelies?" The word came out in a husky whisper.

"I'll have to call them." He glanced around the chamber. "C'mon. Over here." Taking her hand, he drew her along the wall toward an indentation that formed a s.p.a.cious ledge about three feet deep and quite a bit longer. "Up." Without warning, he set his big hands to her waist and boosted her forward onto the ledge. When she teetered, he chuckled and spread his palms over both cheeks of her bottom for the final shove.

Ignoring the murder in her glance, he hoisted himself up beside her with easy strength. Water streamed off his head and shoulders, making him look darker, sleeker, but no less powerful. As he moved to lean against the back wall of the ledge, the charm around his neck glowed pale amid the wavering shadows.

All the fine hairs on the back of Prue's neck stood up. What was it Purist Bartelm had told her? You have a natural resistance to Magick, Mistress You have a natural resistance to Magick, Mistress. She'd always been so practical, so grounded in reality, in the cold, hard beauty of numbers. The old wizard had been right, she didn't really believe in Magick, though she knew on an intellectual level it must exist. Any time Katrin had been sick as a child, she hadn't hesitated to send for the healers from the Wizards' Enclave, but that was only because she wasn't quite poor enough for a visit to the charity clinic in the Technomage Tower. Whether it was the herbs or the Magick or the resilience of youth, the child had always recovered. Prue frowned, remembering. Now that she came to think of it, the healers invariably asked her to move to the other side of the room. One man, less tactful than the others, had said outright her presence interfered with his concentration.

The melody began deep in Erik's chest, so soft and blurred it was scarcely there. His gaze still fixed on the water, he reached out and drew her into the shelter of his arm. Hot chills danced up and down her spine. Slowly, it grew and grew, a song without words, but clear and pure, each rich, arching note shaping the warm, salty air into something of ineffable beauty. The phosph.o.r.escent lights glowed and pulsed like a living rainbow.

Prue resisted the urge to settle her head against Erik's shoulder. Come to me. Come to me. The call echoed back and forth off the walls of the chamber, an irresistible summons. The call echoed back and forth off the walls of the chamber, an irresistible summons. Come, come Come, come. But that wasn't all it was. There was the promise of comfort threaded through it, of love and laughter, a sense of coming home.

Safe harbor forever.

He was warm, so very warm, and he was stroking her arm, again and again, the lightest absentminded brush with his fingertips.

The tears welled up and spilled over. It might be Magick and it might not, but she knew she'd never have this again-this moment of crystalline, perfect beauty. A single gift to last her entire lifetime. Prue drew gradually closer until every inch of her side was in contact with some part of him. She pressed her open palm over his heart, feeling the steady beat of his life, his broad chest rising and falling with the formless melody.

When she inhaled, she seemed to taste the salt on his skin.

The song swelled, the echoes joining in, until her head was ringing with it, the vibrations thrumming in her very bones.

"Hoot!"

Erik lifted Prue's hand from his chest and kissed the palm. Then he squeezed it gently, once, twice. When she looked up, blinking, he smiled, still singing, and nodded toward the water.

"Hoot!"

Prue's head whipped around.

Something cut through the water, moving sinuously in and out of the glimmering shadows. Two somethings.

Her heart trying to beat its way out from behind her ribs, Prue reared up, peering.

A round blue face popped out of the water, almost under her nose.

At her stifled shriek, it disappeared just as promptly, leaving only a glittering swirl behind.

Erik chuckled, but almost immediately, he resumed the song, this time with words. "She won't hurt you. See how pretty she is, pretty, pretty Prue."

G.o.ds, how silly did he think she- Cautiously, a tubelike snout broke the water. The seelie sculled about on its back, watching her out of huge dark eyes. It was smaller than she'd expected, about the size of a medium dog.

Prue froze, her eyes wide with wonder. A myth, a story for children, there in the blue-furred flesh.

"Burble, hoot, hoot, burble," it sang, and she realized what the echoes had been.

She glanced at Erik and stopped, transfixed. His posture, his face, everything about him spoke of pure joy, not something as weak as mere happiness, but fulfillment of the soul. He looked as if some G.o.d had lit a candle inside him. Here, under the Pleasure Leaf, with the seelies-with her her, Prue McGuire-he was fully present in a way she hadn't seen before.

Her foolish heart squeezed with longing.

On the other side of the chamber, a second seelie arched out of the water in an exuberant leap.

Erik switched the beat to something irresistibly toe-tapping, and the seelies began to dance-there was no other word for it-just the two of them, an exhilarating pas de deux of twists and rolls and near misses in the air that had her gasping. Prue laughed aloud, clapping her hands, fizzing with delight.

It finished too soon, the seelies slowing the pace and Erik subsiding to a hum and then a murmur, and finally, silence.

Wavelets gurgled and lapped against the walls of the chamber.

The seelies bobbed in the water, an arm's length from the ledge. "Thank you," said Prue in a shaky whisper. "Oh, thank you."

Two sets of protuberant eyes regarded her unblinking. She could have sworn they looked . . . anxious.

"Hoot?"

"I gave my word," said Erik. "I'll do it. And she'll help."

"Oh yes." Prue leaned forward. "I promise too."

"Burble! Hoot!"

And they were gone.

Erik and Prue stared at each other in silence. Eventually, he reached out to wipe the moisture from her cheek with a gentle thumb. "Shall we go back?"

She shook her head. "I need . . . a little time."

Erik settled more comfortably against the wall behind them and held out a hand. He didn't speak.

Never again, she'd never have this again. Reality was waiting, with all its familiar, depressing problems-her own inadequacies as a woman, shown so clearly by the way he'd turned away from her last night. And on top of it all, the Open Cabal yet to face. No one would believe them.

She knew it was weak, cowardly even, but she refused to think of it, to end this precious time out of time, caught like a teardrop trembling on the lashes. Merciful Sister, just a few more moments Merciful Sister, just a few more moments.

Prue placed her hand in Erik's and crept closer. When she nestled into his shoulder, he sighed and turned to rest his cheek on the top of her head.

She wasn't sure how long they lay there. It felt like a dream of peace, so drifty and disconnected she couldn't tell whether she'd actually dozed off. Imperceptibly, the gentle touch caressing her skin became an integral part of the languid, floating sensation. Feather light, his fingertips traced the outline of her shoulder blade beneath damp fabric, explored the hard, delicate shape of her spine, traveled to the nape of her neck and soothed.

Prue sighed with pleasure. A minute hesitation and Erik s.h.i.+fted his attentions to her throat, the sh.e.l.l of her ear. When he smoothed her hair back, she lifted her face toward the caress like a child.

But she didn't open her eyes because something inside her was unraveling and he mustn't see.

A tender fingertip wandered over her eyebrow. "Prue." The word was so soft, it was more a vibration in his chest than an actual sound. "Please don't cry."

She made a negative sound. I'm not I'm not.

Warm lips brushed one eyelid, then the other. "I'm sorry," he said. "So very sorry."

Prue screwed her eyes shut tighter. "Don't . . ." But what she really meant was, Don't make this real, don't spoil my beautiful dream. Don't make this real, don't spoil my beautiful dream.

"Sshh." The kisses were light as air, there only as fleeting, tingling sensations-on her dimpled cheek, her jaw, her nose, her closed eyes. That warm mouth touched hers, nuzzling to and fro. Delicately, he brushed his tongue over the cus.h.i.+on of her lower lip, making her quiver.

She didn't open her eyes, not even when he s.h.i.+fted her gently in his arms and dusted kisses down her throat, lingering over her thundering pulse. All she wanted was to pretend in the dark behind her eyelids, to willfully believe in his tenderness, to imagine he really loved her. When he brushed the swelling undercurve of her breast with his knuckles, she drew a deep breath, her nipples tightening in shameless response. When he sealed his mouth over one, she arched and a low moan escaped her. Sweet Sister, so hot and strong and gentle, all at once, the stubble on his cheek a delicious rasp through the fine fabric.

"Aren't you even going to look at me?" Deft fingers loosened on her laces, exposing her quivering b.r.e.a.s.t.s to the salty twilight atmosphere of the chamber. An instant's silence while she listened to his rough breath. "G.o.ds. Gorgeous." Currents of heated air swirled around her, fondling her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, licking at her nipples. Without looking, she knew they were standing long and proud, begging for his attention.

Prue threw one arm over her eyes. It's only a dream, a dream of what love can be. A memory you can keep forever. It's only a dream, a dream of what love can be. A memory you can keep forever.

"If you want me to stop, sweetheart, you have to say so." She heard his breath whistle between clenched teeth. "Now." Everywhere his flesh touched hers she could feel what his control was costing him, his flesh unyielding, like a big piece of sun-warmed timber.

Don't wake, don't open your eyes and spoil it. It's a dream, a beautiful dream. dream, a beautiful dream. Hair like damp silk whispered across her sternum and broad palms stroked over her ribs to frame her aching b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Erik's a.s.sault was exquisitely gentle-she would never have thought such a big man capable of so light a touch-but inexorably thorough. He didn't miss an inch of skin, not with fingers, lips or that hot, clever tongue. Hair like damp silk whispered across her sternum and broad palms stroked over her ribs to frame her aching b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Erik's a.s.sault was exquisitely gentle-she would never have thought such a big man capable of so light a touch-but inexorably thorough. He didn't miss an inch of skin, not with fingers, lips or that hot, clever tongue.

It wasn't until he was nibbling around her navel, while his thumbs flicked back and forth over her tormented nipples, that it dawned on her he'd pushed the nightgown right up to her waist. Returned abruptly to reality, she opened her mouth, but whatever she'd been about to say strangled in her throat as he s.h.i.+fted and all the air whooshed out of her in a gust.

16.

In a single smooth movement, Erik slid down between her legs. With a faint splash, he slipped into the water up to his waist. His long fingers gripped her b.u.t.tocks, lifting her to his mouth as if she were a ripe fruit. He was humming, a wordless croon that had no real melody but was redolent of masculine purpose. Possession.

The floaty, trancelike state disappeared, grounded abruptly in the physical here and now. The echoes of Prue's scream overlapped, bouncing off the walls of the chamber and gradually fading away to soft, frantic sobs.

He didn't gobble, he was precise, almost finicky, as though he was restraining himself, holding back. His breath vibrated against her excruciatingly sensitive flesh as his tongue flicked back and forth across her c.l.i.toris with pinpoint accuracy, driving her crazy.

She'd had a lover do this before, but only one, and although he'd certainly appeared to enjoy it, Prue had been too embarra.s.sed to relax, and climax had eluded her. In the end, she'd pretended rather than disappoint him.