The Dark Blood of Poppies (29 page)

He wondered where Rasmila and Fyodor were.

If they find me here, I’ll make them stay and serve Cesare. How hard are they prepared to work to win me back?
He grinned.
Would they bring Lilith to me in chains?

Their passion is there to be used, like that of Cesare and John. I’ll use every one of these fools in God’s service.

Yes, let Cesare stoke the furnaces of their hearts, that I might feed on their energy. I need all the light I can consume to burn away the shadow between myself and heaven.

The thought of Lilith made Simon freeze briefly, like a mouse in owl’s shadow. But the dark wings passed, and his inner sun shone again.

You’ll do for now, Cesare. You’ll last for as long as you feed me with the light of your vision.

Use both your hands to hold me
Tight! Tighter than you should
My heart is coldest steel
But my body’s flesh and blood,
Walking hand in hand with silver,
Close as gold to kiss,
Only lovers left alive
And they’re swallowed in the mist.

I’m your Sword of Light
Won’t you be mine tonight?
I’m your Sword of Light tonight
Going to scorch you deep inside
Make you glad to be alive
Because I’m your Sword of Light.

Wrap tight your cloak around me
And I’ll whisper close my dreams.
My home is such a long way
And I’m older than I seem.
I’ve come a long way
With the good news;
See you need my help.
But don’t ask me to be your guide
I’m a stranger here myself.

I’m your Sword of Light…

HORSLIPS, “SWORD OF LIGHT”

“
I
went to see Josef after all,” said Violette, as they sat on the train that was taking the company to New York. A week at the Manhattan Opera House, then on to Hartford, Philadelphia, Baltimore and the southern states.

“What happened?” Charlotte already knew – Josef had told her when she’d wished him bon voyage – but this was the first time she’d heard it from Violette. They were alone in the compartment.

“Nothing.” Violette stared listlessly at the landscape rushing past. “He told me things I’d rather not have heard.”

“And then?”

“I thanked him, and left. What else? Do you think I attacked him?”

“Of course not. So, he was no help?”

“Lilith is an aspect of my personality, he implied, that I must learn to accept and control. Some hope of that.”

“Isn’t that partly true?”

“Perhaps. He was very kind. I know you had my interests at heart when you brought him, but he couldn’t help. No one can. Except…”

“What?”

A pause. Then she spoke, very low. “Josef’s niece.”

“Robyn?” Charlotte said anxiously. “I asked you not to –”

“I don’t know what possessed me. I’ve always been alone, that is Lilith’s nature. But when I saw her… Oh, I love you, Charlotte, but you’re a golden ice shard. You began our relationship by scaring me witless, and it went downhill from there. But Robyn is human, soft and warm. And innocent. She’s the only person I’ve ever met who is capable of making me act against my nature. Alarming, isn’t it?”

“Violette, don’t.” She gripped the dancer’s arm. “You’d kill her. Vampires and humans can’t—”

“Do you think I don’t realise?” Violette said coldly. “Did it ever stop you – with Karl, or with me?”

“No,” Charlotte breathed. “Dear God, don’t –”

“What?”

“Don’t do to her what I did to you! This obsession, it’s lethal.”

“What’s wrong? Are you jealous?” She spoke sharply. Charlotte couldn’t answer. “Well, don’t worry. She wanted to come with us, but I said no. I told her how I felt, but that nothing could come of it.” Violette turned away and leaned her forehead on the window.

“Why?” Charlotte asked softly.

“Because what I feel is an illusion. Of course I know what would happen if I let her join me. So I ended the affair before it began.”

She was expressionless, but Charlotte felt her suppressed emotion: a shattered heart.

“Oh, Violette. I never had the strength to resist my passions like that.”

“Not strength. Just realism. You and Josef should be happy at least, because all the vampires have left Boston and Robyn is safe again.”

* * *

The day after Josef left, Sebastian came to Robyn’s house, as if he’d been waiting for her uncle to leave.

His unexpected visit displeased Robyn; she’d planned a quiet evening with just Alice for company. Still, his courtesy disarmed her. He invited her to dinner, but she had already eaten. Instead, she asked him in and they sat in the parlour with glasses of illicit wine, while Alice withdrew to her own room – with ill grace, Robyn thought – to sew.

Robyn tried to make conversation, but there was dreadful tension between them. Sebastian’s dark presence and his bewitching eyes assailed her physically, like heat. And she thought,
why are we holding back? This is what I wanted, isn’t it – to seduce him?

Eventually Sebastian said, “I don’t know why we’re wasting time talking.”

“Nor do I.” She stood, holding out a hand. He accepted the invitation. As he rose and put his drink aside, she noticed that the glass was still full.

* * *

The bedroom, all heavy cream lace, was pale gold in the lamplight. Robyn had designed the décor to be luxurious, pure and inviting. Rose petals, with an underlying note of musk, perfumed the air. They’d said nothing as they climbed the stairs and Sebastian made no attempt to touch her. Was he feigning indifference, or here out of idle curiosity?

“I won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable,” she said as she entered her bathroom.

Sex itself meant nothing to her. It used to, in the early days of her marriage, when she’d imagined herself happy. Betrayal had murdered her physical desires. Now she would never allow them to reawaken.

She undressed and put on a robe of oyster satin. When she emerged he was already in bed, his hair almost black against the big pale cloud of the pillow, one bare arm resting on the cover. Fine dark hairs shadowed his forearms, she noticed, but his chest was as smooth and beautifully moulded as a statue.

Robyn felt businesslike as she approached, letting her robe slide to the floor. A tiny spurt of apprehension jolted her, as it might an experienced swimmer who dislikes the first chill kiss of the water; then, nothing.

She needed this passionless clarity in order to put on the act that men loved. She was like Violette, in that she prided herself on her choreography. Her emotions went into the art, not the act.

The bed was soft, dew-clean and enveloping as she eased herself in, Sebastian holding up the covers for her. She always kept her setting perfect. A jewel should be shown off to its best advantage. Her house, the extension of herself, was almost as seductive as her body.

“You know, I thought you would take more persuasion than this,” he said. His fingers touched her cheekbone. Her heart jumped into a harder rhythm.

“I’m not open to persuasion,” she replied. “Either I will or I won’t.” She stroked his breastbone with her fingernails. “I decide.”

“So I meet your approval?” He was half-smiling. His subtle contempt for everything increased her determination to conquer him.

“Obviously.” She reached up and removed the single comb that held her hair in place. Autumn-brown waves spilled over her shoulders. She wasn’t sure the trick would work on him, so the change in his face was as startling as it was gratifying. His languid mockery vanished. He became sombre, rapt.

“Your hair,” he murmured. His fingers played in and out of the long skeins. Smiling, she moved towards him, her hands travelling slowly over the firm chest, down the long flat abdomen, teasing and coaxing. Her mouth followed in a trail of kisses. She made circles and S shapes with her tongue. She found herself almost enjoying her work; she’d never seen such an aesthetically pleasing body before, so lean and silky, almost luminous.

Men, in her experience, were amazed by a woman who took the initiative. Presumably their wives just lay there, which was unsurprising in most cases. Amazed, then brainlessly intoxicated by her skill.

Yet as she reached the sable curls between his thighs, he caught her chin and stopped her.

“No,” he said, “wait.” He drew her up so they lay face to face. “Let me make love to you.”

“If you prefer.”

“It’s only courtesy.” He played with her hair again. “All you have to do is respond, however you wish.”

She maintained her inviting smile, but her heart sank. She preferred to be active and in control. If he couldn’t wait, though, at least this was unlikely to last long.

Sebastian was in no hurry, however. He began to caress her as she’d caressed him, and she looked at the ceiling in dismay, thinking,
Oh great. He’s one of those who likes to go on all night.

He paused, one cool hand enfolding her left breast. “I see through you, Robyn. You do this for a living, do you not? You don’t really want to be here.”

She snatched a breath to retort, but he pressed a fingertip to her lips. “Never mind,” he said. “Indulge me. I don’t want to hear any pretend moaning. Just relax. Trust me… as if I were a friend.”

His eyes were beautiful. Perfectly shaped and so clear, two woodland pools under the long lashes. Such a lovely colour, soft green edging into brown. Almost feminine. Eyes to die for.

Robyn sank back on the pillows in languorous resignation.
Why not relax?
she thought.
Let him do what he wants. Float away.

She closed her eyes. His hands wove patterns over her arms, shoulders and breasts, absorbing heat as they worked. This was incredibly soothing. A warm feeling woke under her heart, a fluttering ache.

Instead of kneading her with frantic hands, as other men did, his touch was gentle. When his lips touched her collarbone, she stiffened with pleasure, suppressing any sound lest he think she was acting. His mouth alighted here and there on her face, avoiding her lips until she was ready, desperate for the kiss.

As her mouth opened under his, thirsting for the hot pressure and the taste of him, he slid one hand over her stomach and thighs. How gorgeous his hand felt. The warm ache flared and spread, tingling down the insides of her legs to her toes.

Now he pulled her on to her side, slipping one long leg between hers. Close as velvet, this intimacy, yet still he did not enter her. He was teasing her. And she was shaking now with the effort of denying her own arousal.

The yearning became sweet agony.
Oh God, he knows exactly what he’s doing. How… this is cruel, he can’t do this to me!

But her head fell back and she groaned. He was going to hold back until she became so desperate that she made him…

The sensations deepened. At last, at last he slid into her. She could have cried at his gentleness, the incredible sensuality of his flesh against hers and inside her.
To do this to me when I won’t find any release… he’ll finish and roll off happy and just leave me…

But instead of pushing blindly after his own pleasure, Sebastian found hers; found the exact place and drew her expertly along a mercuric path.

She clung fiercely to him, rocking with him, willing him not to stop. The barriers she’d set in place for years melted. Flames fluttered through her, feathers, chains of red jewels, building towards the single point of fire. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t even think. And suddenly, violently, the fire broke.

The sensation was so powerful that it was close to pain. It was an opening, a surrender, the honeyed stab of absolute release. The waves pulsed on and on, stealing her voice and soul, stranding her in blackness. Warm, satiny blackness filled with red stars.

“No one,” she gasped. “No one has ever—”

She lay drained, unable to move. Sweat sheened her limp body. And her lover, the stranger, looked down at her with pleasure and affection.

“Well?” he said.

“How did you do that?” she exclaimed.

“You sound a little angry with me. Was it such a terrible shock?”

He moved gently inside her as he spoke, waking tiny flames of pleasure. She wanted to consume him, to possess him forever; and for making her feel those emotions, she hated him. Then he began to withdraw. With a cry of protest she clasped him, saying, “Don’t.”