Page 18

Sylvanna

A t first I’m not sure what woke me up. It sounded like shouting and thrashing but I live alone—there’s no one else here to make such noises. Then I remember the Paladin—my new Blood-servant.

I slip from the bed and find him half-out of the small servant’s bed I sent him to sleep in. He’s moaning and thrashing. Low cries come from his lips.

“No—no, don’t hurt me! I’ll serve the GodKing but don’t hurt me—don’t burn me!”

My heart seems to catch in my throat at his words and I remember the cruel brand marks on his back. Quickly I reach for the Jewel of Knowing and press it to my temple.

What I see makes me feel sick. Alaric is so young in his dream—just a little, tow-headed boy.

He is stripped to the waist in a dark room and an evil, crazy old man is hurting him—burning him over and over with a brand!

Alaric is crying—begging for his mother, begging not to be hurt or burned but the evil old bastard won’t leave him alone.

He just keeps shouting about the glory of their fucking GodKing!

I don’t usually curse or get angry, but this scene from my Paladin’s past horrifies me. I reached for him but he swings and I barely jump back in time. He doesn’t know his own strength—not asleep as he is now. I must break him out of this dream and calm him.

Carefully, I gauge his movements and then rush in and touch his forehead at the right moment. I murmur the words of a Dispersement spell, banishing the evil memories from his mind and breaking the power of the dream. Then I call his name.

“Mistress?” he looks up at me uncertainly and I see there are still tears in his eyes. My heart burns again for his younger self—that little boy I saw being tortured in the dark room.

“Come to bed with me,” I tell him. “I’ll make sure the dream doesn’t return.”

I know I’ll be breaking my own rules about letting a Blood-servant come to bed with me, but I can’t leave him alone again—not after what I saw.

He staggers to his feet, towering over me, a mountain of muscle in the darkened room. So much power contained in a huge and impressive package. Yet in my mind’s eye, I can’t help seeing that frightened little boy.

“Come,” I tell him again and lead him to bed.

He crawls under the covers with me and I wrap my arms around him and pull his head down to my breasts. I call upon my power and pour peace through him, easing the terror of the dream.

“Gods, Mistress…” He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, pressing his face to my breasts. His big body is shaking against mine—I feel it and it makes me sad—so sad for that little boy he once was. I feel tears stinging my eyes as I hold him.

My own mother was cruel to me, but not physically—with her it was the emotional distance she kept between us—the coldness that was always there when all I wanted was to be held, the same way I’m holding my Paladin now.

Alaric is more awake now and he looks up at me, his eyes uncertain in the dimness.

“That dream…that fucking dream—I haven’t had it in fucking months ,” he growls. “Thought I didn’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Do you have it often, then?” I ask him.

He shakes his head.

“Not as often as the others—the fucking sex dreams.”

The Jewel of Knowing pulses at my temple and I see what he means. He’s been denying himself for years, so of course his body craves release. The only place that can happen is in his sleep, since he’s always rigidly controlled when he’s awake.

“You asked the blacksmith to make you a sheath studded with spikes to keep from getting hard at night and giving in to the dreams,” I murmur, unable to understand this level of self-harm and pain.

“It was the only way to keep from fucking coming in my sleep every night,” he growls. “Those dreams are the most common. But the other one…” He squeezes his eyes tight for a moment and I see the pain on his face.

“What happened to him—that horrible priest?” I ask fiercely. “I hope he was hung for what he did to you!”

“Well, he did get his ‘just desserts.’” His voice in the dim room is dry. “The first time my Celestial Fire came out, I blew him to fucking Kingdom Come.” He gives a harsh laugh. “So much for ‘building the Holy Fire.’”

“Good!” I exclaim. “I’m glad of it! How dare he hurt an innocent child like that?”

“He was just trying to bring out my power so I could serve the GodKing,” Alaric protests.

But I see the pain on his face and feel the deep shiver that runs through his big, muscular body. The memory haunts him and the dream is only a symptom of the agony and terror inflicted on his younger self. It lingers with him still.

I want to heal him. I have a number of healing spells—I studied them on my own, of course. My mother had no interest in such things but I have amassed quite a collection. And of course, I know where I can find the best spell for this moment.

I start to get off the bed but Alaric’s arms tighten around me.

“Where are you going?” he demands. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll be back,” I promise.

Drawing my robe around me, I go to my Ritual Room and find the Thornheart Grimoire already on the altar. I knew it would be waiting for me—it appears when it feels my need.

Of course I must feed it a drop of blood or a tear to make it open. Tonight I have no need to prick my finger. I simply bow my head and let a tear fall on its leather binding.

It groans and droplets of black blood form around its edges as the pages part, but it opens exactly to the spell I need.

Some spells call for special ingredients—some only need emotion. The Grimoire has offered me the latter, for which I’m grateful—I want to get back to my Paladin quickly.

I read over the spell and then speak it aloud, pouring all the horror and sorrow I saw in Alaric’s dream and all my caring into every line. The more emotion, the stronger the spell and I’m filled with feelings right now.

“Now in this my darkest hour,

Fill me with the healing power.

Let me take away the pain,

Let the evil memories wane.”

As the words leave my lips, I feel the spell working on me. My breasts are suddenly fuller and my nipples are tight. Good—I’ll be able to heal him now.

I climb back into bed and Alaric’s arms slip around me at once.

I don’t know why or how the Binding I did on him worked so well but I have to admit I’ve never felt such a strong connection with any of my other servants or partners.

Even when Kraven and I did a hand-fasting to seal our Blood-partnership I felt nothing like the deep emotion flowing between me and my Paladin.

“Don’t leave me again.” His voice is low and rough. “And don’t send me to that fucking bed on the floor. I need to be close to you tonight.”

“You will be,” I promise him. “Here…come put your head in my lap.”

It takes some doing but I get us situated the way I want. I’m leaning against the padded headboard again and he’s got his head in my lap, as I requested.

“What’s this for?” he asks, looking up at me.

“I need to heal you of your dream—take the power away so it hopefully won’t return,” I tell him. “Here…” And I feed one of my nipples into his mouth.

He sucks for a moment, then his eyes widen and he pulls away.

“What the fuck, Mistress? Is that…some kind of milk?”

“It’s healing nectar,” I correct him. “You need to drink it.”

“Fuck,” he growls softly, shaking his head. “You filled your breasts with nectar just to heal me?”

“You’re mine now,” I say firmly. “I have to care for you. Now come, will you drink and be healed or not?”

His eyes grow heavy-lidded.

“I’ll never say no to touching you or sucking your nipples, Mistress.”

“Good, then come here.”

I lean over him again and this time he takes my nipple willingly. He sucks hard and I feel him drawing the sweet, healing nectar from my breast. It makes me moan with pleasure, for healing doesn’t have to be a thankless task.

I stroke his hair and then run my hand down his muscular chest and lower. My fingers reach his straining cock and find it as hard as ever.

Alaric gives a muffled moan and sucks even harder, his hips bucking to thrust his shaft into my hand.

“Good, my Paladin,” I encourage him. “Take what you need—let me heal you as we pleasure each other.”

Slowly, I stroke him as he sucks my aching nipples, drawing the healing nectar from my breasts.

I don’t let him come but I do give him the pleasure of my touch and the comfort of my closeness.

Together we drive the dream so far away I know it won’t bother him again—at least tonight.

And when my breasts are finally empty, I break my own rules yet again and let him curl up around me with his broad chest to my back.

As we drift back to sleep together, I can feel our hearts beating in unison. I don’t know what this means, but I can’t remember feeling so close to a man—any man—before.

I know Alaric thinks of me as his enemy and believes that he’s only given himself to me in order to eventually win The Heart of the Eclipse. But part of me wonders if there might be more between us than just that…