Heart Quest (25 page)

Trif had her eyes closed, and was washing her hair with the liquid herbal soap that Ilex usually smelled of, when a pair of masculine hands set around her waist and lifted her with steady solidity. Her lids opened just in time to see his firm jaw, then his soft lips before his mouth took hers.

She melted, opening her mouth for the thrust of his tongue, shivering as his chest hair rasped against her tender nipples. Her sex clenched as need ravaged her, need for this man. Forever.

Her hands slid along his broad shoulders, cupped around his upper arms. She whimpered in delight at the strength of him. He opened his mouth and she explored it, treasuring the intimate taste of Ilex.

When she pushed against him, he lowered her. “Let me wash you,” she said, breathless.

He smiled and it stunned her, it was so rare. She set a hand against the rock-sheeted wall and blinked at him.

To her, he was simply beautiful, a man in his prime. She'd woo him, and tonight she'd touch him—know him better than she had any man, make him more aware of her than he had been of any woman.

She soaped her hands and started with his feet. They were long and narrow, elegant, like the rest of him. He curled his toes at her touch and she chuckled.

Sweeping her hands up, she washed his legs—not too hairy, none of him was too hairy, but just right. Enough hair for texture to tease her palms and the rest of her.

His thighs were long, solid muscle. She soaped and rinsed them, front and back, then stepped closer to cup her hands around his butt. Just as muscular as the rest of him. She glanced up, and found his arms braced against the wall behind her and his eyes closed.

The expression on his face caught her. There was intense concentration, a deep longing…and resignation. As if he knew the moments with her would end all too soon and be all too short.

She battered his pessimism with her own joy—and they both tended to live in the moment, though for different reasons. As she sent the bubbling sweet delight she got from just stroking him through their connection, a slight smile formed on his lips.

Good.

Glancing down, she saw he was ready for her and she wanted to tease. So she did. Gently, she stroked him, washed all of him, smiled at the changes in his body, the fine tension in his muscles. She petted him until he groaned and whispered her name.

Once again, she looked up and found his eyes blazing. “Having fun?” he rasped.

She tried an innocent look. “Some. But I want more.” She giggled. “That's what Greyku is always saying. ‘More.'”

He stared down at her, his gaze lingering on her breasts and her nipples, peaked from the cool air, contracted further. An aching need spread from her core until her breasts felt heavy—and she hungered for his touch. She twined her arms around his neck. “Ilex.”

“No.” He straightened, put his hands on her waist, and set her gently aside. “Waterfall off. Wind on.”

A hot breeze swirled around her, drying her. She scowled. “I don't want wind to caress me. I want your hands. I want more.”

He linked fingers with hers. “I am not going to take you against another wall.”

She raised her brows. “No? What do you have against walls?”

She thought she heard him grinding his teeth. He stepped over the lip of stone around the waterfall area and tugged at her. The wind followed them through the small room, but with every step he hurried faster. When they reached his bedroom, he picked her up and tossed her on the sponge.

“Ilex!”

But she could say no more because his body was over hers, his tongue in her mouth. With one swift plunge, he was inside her filling her with exquisite pleasure. He stopped. A
very
bad habit of his. It drove her wild.

Arching her hips, rotating them, had him groaning aloud and sending her intimate whispers mentally.
Let me stay inside you, know you. Keep you.

I want to move!

He withdrew slightly, slid again, prodded one particular spot that sent wicked need to every nerve.
More!

Yes, more.

Again and again he surged inside her, and she was aware of only him, the muscles of his back flexing under her fingers, his iron thighs spreading her legs, the salty taste of his throat on her tongue.

One…last…time
, he sent to her, and she sensed the explosion of rapture to come, the loosening of his control.

Heady, delicious orgasm hit her. She screamed, loud and long. He did too, and they flew through the universe bursting with stars. She wrapped him with the golden HeartBond and he slipped away from it.

A pulse of tender yearning mixed with suffering came back to her.

“Dark,” he said, and the room turned into night. He rolled with her to their sides, then stroked her hair. “Sleep.” It wasn't an order, but she found lying in his arms was all she wanted.

“You too.”

“Yes.”

They fell asleep together, wrapped around each other, heedless of everything else.

Until she walked through his dreams.

S
he walked through his dream and his feelings impinged
upon her. Fog drifted down a hall that seemed nothing but doors. As Ilex turned to face one, dread filled him until the suspense of being outside was worse than facing what was inside. His hand shook as he set it on the latch. A slight push and the door swung open to a bright, misty place. A place he loved to be.

Noises rushed out, loud cacophony, happening instantaneously. Yowls, a loud metallic ring, then a crash, a horrible bang and thud. Screeching!

Dream Ilex floated through the door. His gaze went to a shadowy area of red clay tiles. Everything focused. Dressed in guardsman brown, his body lay on the floor. The side of his head was broken, face covered with red, sticky blood. Near him was a golden metallic curve he strove to identify and understand. His shoulders twitched with a sensation of being watched by monstrous eyes.

Another scream.

He whipped around and Trif saw herself, hands covering her chest. “HeartMate!” she shrieked, and collapsed. She lay in the sunlight, eyes wide open, unseeing, dead, lengths away from her lover.

Pain shredded Dream Ilex. He covered his eyes, shrank back. “No, no, no!”
I've killed her
echoed in his mind and grief swallowed him.

He shot up straight in bed, sitting beside her, panting.

Wrenched awake, she shuddered where she lay. She could scent his night-panic sweat, but couldn't move. The vision had been too horrible.

She knew it had been a real, Flaired vision like her own of the past. And the quality of it had made it seem all too true. She must have made a noise because Ilex turned to her, his voice calm and steady in the dark. “Trif, darling. What can I do for you?”

Love me.

He shivered.
In a moment.

Clearing her throat, she said aloud, “In that case, I'd like water.”

“Two cylinders of water,” he snapped, then held one out to her. She touched it, cold from the no-time, and looked around. His windows faced the garden courtyard and the curtains were open. No shields coated the glass. Moonlight slanted inside, bright enough to see the dampness on his back.

Sitting up, she ran her thumb across the top of the cylinder and it disappeared. The cool water soothed her throat, and she wondered if she'd screamed from the vision, and if that was what had awakened them. She squirmed a little at the idea of being so childish.

Without looking at her, Ilex said, “You were there in my premonition. You
saw
too.” He drank.

“Yes. Nothing too detailed.” She scooted up to sit beside him, crossed her legs. She'd have touched him, but her hands were cold from the cylinder.

“That's always the way. Not enough to guard against, to avoid. To
fight
. Now you know.” His eyes were in shadow, and he'd narrowed the bond between them to a small strand.

“I know what you see.” She set the cylinder on the top of the box headboard and rocked to her knees, then wrapped her arms around him. He was warm and substantial and alive, and she found that in trying to comfort him, she received comfort from just hearing his heart beat. “I know what you see,” she repeated. “But I don't know that it's true. And neither do you.”

After one last swallow, he sent the cylinder away and drew her onto his lap, rubbing his face against her hair. “That was the worst vision I've ever had of my death,” he said starkly. “Because you were there. I've never seen you there before.”

“Well, I didn't like my part. I can't think I'd just crumple like that.”

“Who knows how death claims HeartMates? Some say it is the despair of being cut off from the HeartBond, or the sheer shock of the sudden rendering of the bond kills the other.”

She cuddled closer. “I've never seen HeartMates die.”

“I saw one die once, but the other didn't follow immediately.” His mouth moved against her head and she knew he grimaced. “It took her two more weeks to fade away, I heard. But now you've seen and now you know why I…avoid…the HeartBond.”

She sat in silence for a moment; then she met his steady blue-gray eyes. “I grant you that the dream was more than a dream, but I won't accept that it is a premonition that can't be changed.” She lifted her chin.

He closed his eyes, then opened them, and they had turned to stormy gray. “Each time you throw me the HeartBond it gets harder for me to resist—”

“Good.”

“—and I think it is harder for you to accept that I won't bond with you.”

“Yes.” She sat up straight. “But I'm a mature adult. I don't expect my own way all the time. I've experienced rejection before. I don't like it, but I can live with it.”

“Can you? Can we?”

“I'm not giving up yet.”

He just shook his head.

“You are looking too sober,” she said, and jumped him.

He smiled as he toppled over, and then she seduced him and did her best to drive them both mad with passion.

He still refused the HeartBond.

 

I
lex rose early and dressed, leaving Trif sleeping in his
bed. She looked good there, natural, as if she should always be there. But the vision that they'd shared had renewed his determination. He would die, but he would not take her with him.

He would not cut her life short. Yet he sensed that this affair between them would be brief too.

She was young and impatient. He wondered how long she would stay with him, how soon she would tire of his shields against the HeartBond. Even now he sensed the mental and emotional cord that linked them beginning to fray. It seemed their connection wasn't as strong or as pure as it had been even the night before.

He had cherished every moment with her, and would continue to do so until she walked away.

Bespelling a calendar ball to wake Trif in good time for her morning activities, he opened the bedroom door and found a small, absurdly multi-tinted kitten snoozing on the threshold. He scooped her up with one hand. Greyku snuffled and opened one blue eye.
Sire Zanth runs far, hunts hard. I am very tired. Couldn't even 'port through the door.

He stroked her soft kitten fur—would he be alive to see her grow into a cat? He carried her to the bedsponge and put her near Trif. The kitten's purr followed him back out the door, and he smiled at the simple pleasure of feeling her soft fur and hearing her small rumble of pleasure.

At the guardhouse, he scried Tinne Holly. To his surprise, the young man answered immediately, looking worn. “Here.”

“Greetyou, Tinne.”

Tinne's face relaxed a little. “Greetyou, Ilex. Can I do something for you?”

Ilex hesitated, then set the ball rolling in the direction he wanted. “As we discussed earlier, all the victims of this cult are young Noble women and men who have unstable Flair and recurring echoes of their Second Passage. Do you know anyone else this applies to?”

Eyes sharpening, Tinne murmured, “You're going to bait a trap?”

“Samhain is just a couple of days away. It's a powerful day in our religion. I can only extrapolate that it would be equally powerful for those who attempt black magic.”

“You're right. Offhand, I don't know of anyone else. No one else in my crowd, that's for sure. I'll think about it. Do you want me to make discreet inquiries?”

“Very, very discreet.”

Tinne nodded. “I'll do that.”

“Blessings.”

“And to you too.” Tinne ended the scry.

That morning, Ilex visited the various rooms the guards believed to be the best venues for another dark ritual. In every one he left a tiny Flair trip wire, sometimes two—one on the door and one to be triggered when frankincense was burned. The herb was uncommon and expensive.

He returned to his office and recorded his report, gave one to Sawyr, who grumbled as he forwarded it to the First Families. Both he and Sawyr spent some time roughing out various scenarios to catch the cult members by using Noble bait. Neither of them was happy at the thought.

“Nobles can't be trusted,” Sawyr ended. “They think they know everything.”

“Then we'll just inform the young person that they must follow our orders…advice.”

Sawyr snorted. “Good luck.”

Restless, Ilex could think of nothing better than to once again visit the places where the bodies had been left, all of them except the last on their Families' estates. The emotional Healers who had worked with the victims' Families had advised them to close their main Residences and move to their country houses, so the estates were deserted.

He stretched his senses and his Flair to the limit, but discovered nothing new.

As was common now, he checked his bond with Trif. Her day was progressing much smoother than his and he was glad of it.

Returning to his office, he leaned back in his chair and entered a light trance, trying to put what he knew together so he could find and stop these fliggers before they struck again. He visualized the list he'd made of all the people he'd brushed against in the time period—after Ginger's death and before Calla's, when he'd recognized the trace of a murderer.

Unfortunately, that included his time at the Maypole, and though he hadn't “met” everyone there, his subconscious Flair had picked up and catalogued every person.

Ilex's scrybowl rang. Loudly, persistently, flashing dark blue-purple-black. He stared at it. Another FirstFamily Lord about to interfere. There was only one whose heraldry contained those particular colors, young Vinni T'Vine, the prophet.

Ilex wondered if the boy was going to say anything about Ilex's premonition. Whether Vinni had foreshadowings regarding the murders. Like most, perhaps even more than most, Ilex tended to avoid the prophet. He was too uncanny. Which was why his scry was so loud and obnoxious.

Ilex touched the tip of his forefinger nail to the bowl. That was all it took to have Vinni's image materializing in the water mist above the bowl, frowning. He turned his head, taking in Ilex's office. “Close your door. I'll be there transnow.” He signed off before Ilex could reply.

Shrugging, Ilex stood and walked from his desk to the door, shut it, and bespelled it for privacy so that even the Chief wouldn't know what was going on.

With a small “pop,” Vinni materialized
sitting
in the visitor's chair.

Good Flair. But from all reports and rumors, the young T'Vine was the strongest Flaired person on Celta. Still keeping his hand on the door latch, Ilex asked, “What can I do for you?”

For once, the eleven-year-old had no flip comment. His eyes were deep blue bordering on purple, and pure fear pulsed from him.

Ilex went over and crouched before him. “How can I help?”

The boy gulped and gulped again. With a snap of his wrist, Ilex summoned a cylinder of water for Vinni. He took it in both hands and drank. “I read the reports of the cult killings,” he said.

Ilex wanted to swear, but not in front of the child. He straightened and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “I'm sorry. You shouldn't have.”

“I had to know! Find out what was going on.” He plunked the cylinder onto Ilex's desk, not noticing the water slopping over the rim. Slipping out from under Ilex's hand, he paced the room—a serious boy with title and Flair and concerns that more befit a mid-aged man. Vinni stopped in a corner and turned, lifting his gaze to Ilex.

“You said that you'd asked Tinne Holly which person was most at risk from the murderers.” His voice rose, and Ilex kept an eye on him.

“That's right.”

Vinni paced the small office again. “There isn't one. No one struggling with their Second Passage.” The boy's hands fisted. “They've already taken them all.” Something like a whimper escaped him. “All. And I couldn't stop it.”

“Pardon me, GreatLord T'Vine, but your age precludes you from stopping adult murderers.”

“I should have been able to
see
! I didn't even know something dreadful was going on until the second murder!” His voice caught on a sob.

“So you didn't foresee the murders?” demanded Ilex.

“No.”

“You got no solid visions?”

“No!”

Ilex went over to the boy and picked him up and plunked him to sit on the edge of the desk. “Then why do you think you could have stopped what happened? How can you demand so much of yourself and your Flair?”

“I am
the prophet
.” His changeable eyes were hazel now.

Pulling up the visitor's chair, Ilex sat in front of the boy. Vinni was now physically at a higher level than himself. Ilex didn't think Vinni was often in such a position with an adult. At a greater level in Flair, in foresight, but not physically.