House Of Blood Part 26

She didn't want it ever to end.

He pulled out of her, relinquished her hair, and flipped her over. She spread her legs wide, and he climbed on top of her. She ground her teeth and ripped the flesh on his back with her nails as he reentered her.

His voice was hoa.r.s.e. "Will you kill that black b.i.t.c.h for me, Dream?"

Her mouth opened wide.

She couldn't say anything. She was entranced by the sight of his magnificently muscled torso looming above her. The way it looked, the pecs and biceps flexing as he moved against her, was beautiful. So f.u.c.king beautiful.

He stopped moving. "Answer me, Dream."

She cleared mucus from her throat. "Yes."

What?

How could she say such a thing, even during the altered state of consciousness induced by l.u.s.t? It was awful. She was troubled, in a detached way, that he was even asking her such creepy questions. He couldn't mean them literally. He had to know she would never hurt her friends. She knew, though, that some people got off in strange ways. Asphyxiation, for instance. Slapping. Biting. Bondage. This was just his version of that.

His kink.

She decided there was no harm in playing along.

He slid slowly in and out of her. His brow furrowed and his mouth twitched. She loved the way he groaned and twisted his neck. He was so turned on. Being able to do that to him thrilled her, heightened her own already elevated state of arousal.

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"And what about the Asian s.l.u.t?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes. His voice seemed far away. "Would you slit her throat, Dream?" His head arched back. "Would you drink her blood for me?"

She felt it coming.

Saw the muscles in his shoulders tensing.

Her eyes went wide with antic.i.p.ation.

His voice was barely audible. "Say it, Dream."

"Yes!" she cried. "I'd drink her blood."

He opened his eyes.

And smiled.

Then his body spasmed against hers, rocking the bed, threatening to push her through the mattress. She locked her legs around him and held on for dear life. It went on far longer than any normal male o.r.g.a.s.m should. When his body finally stopped pistoning and settled on top of her, she felt the way she imagined champion bull riders must feel at the end of a grueling tournament.

Her voice sounded frail when she said, "Oh my G.o.d."

He rolled off her and beckoned her to the head of the bed. She felt weak, enervated, but she managed somehow, curling her small, toned body around his muscular frame. Their bodies meshed perfectly together, like two halves of a whole. Dream realized she was smiling. She knew why.

Who wouldn't smile after having the best s.e.x of their life?

It was true.

She had never felt this drained, this completely satisfied, or more inextricably linked to a partner. She didn't think anything in her life had ever made her feel this good. No 235.

food, no emotional experience, no professional accomplishment-nothing. It was nice beyond words to finally feel fully alive, to not hurt, to not want to die. The suicidal impulses were quiet again, and she felt their absence like the lifting of a heavy physical burden. She suspected they were only lurking somewhere in a dark corner of her psyche, biding their time until she was vulnerable again, but that was okay. They wouldn't trouble her while she was in the arms of this amazing man.

She traced a finger along the edge of his rib cage. "Mmm, I want to do that again. ..."

He chuckled. "As you wish. ..."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh, s.h.i.t, no, not now."

He was smiling. "Why not?"

She sighed, her face flush with perfect contentment. "I don't think I could survive another round of... that... so soon." She kissed his chest. "You're ... my G.o.d, there's no word for you ... you're like nothing else on earth."

He laughed. "You're right about that, Dream."

Dream rolled her eyes. He had a healthy ego. Well, what else would she expect? Any man who could do the things he did had to be br.i.m.m.i.n.g with confidence. A lot of guys out there came on like G.o.d's gift, but Ed here was the real deal. He knew it, too, which was sickening on one level, but also pretty thrilling.

She sprinkled his chest with soft, slow kisses. She was content for the moment to enjoy a period of serene afterglow. And what a wonderful place to wallow in postcoital bliss. The bed was ma.s.sive, big enough for an orgy. The soft feather mattress was deliciously pliant under her, creating an illusion of being adrift on the open sea. A fire 236.

crackled in the fireplace, warming them and providing the room's only illumination. The flickering flames looked far away, like a campfire on a distant sh.o.r.e. A marble bust of Alexander the Great sat on an ornate pedestal next to the fireplace. The s.p.a.cious room was enormous, bigger than many luxury apartments in their entirety. As in the living room downstairs, bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes she supposed were ancient and valuable. The hardwood floor was dotted with throw rugs; they looked hand-loomed, the work of artisans of various ethnicities. French doors opened onto a long balcony, which overlooked a panorama of mountain and trees that would be beautiful by daylight.

It was just heavenly, a wondrous sanctuary from a coa.r.s.e world.

She thought it might be very nice to stay here forever. The notion should have been alarming. How smart could it be to consider that level of commitment to a person she'd known only hours? She knew what Alicia's answer to that would be.

s.h.i.t.

Thinking of Alicia was a jarring dose of reality. She'd managed to keep the memory of King's kinky interrogation at bay for several minutes, but now the perverse words resonated in her head, making her skin crawl. She turned her head to gaze into King's dark, soulful eyes. "Ed ... can I make a request?"

He ran a hand through her hair. "Of course."

Be like Alicia, she thought.

Get right to the point.

She sighed. "I loved everything you did to me. I loved 237.

surrendering my will to you, letting you have your way with me, and you can have me again any time you want, any way you want, as much as you want, but, please, don't make me say that sick s.h.i.t about my friends again. That was awful."

A flicker of some indiscernible emotion pa.s.sed over his face. "Was it?"

Dream nodded. "Yes. Hey, I don't care what you're into, Ed. Any kind of freaky s.h.i.t you like, cool, go for it. I'm yours to do with as you wish."

Hearing the words replay in her mind, she shuddered-yet she knew they were true.

She took a deep breath and continued. "I only ask that you leave my friends out of it, and that you not make me say things that offend my heart."

His arms encircled her, drawing her closer. "Then I will honor your wishes. Your willingness to surrender yourself to me is humbling, but it is profoundly unnecessary. I don't seek your submission."

An odd flicker of disappointment made Dream frown. "You don't?"

He smiled. "No. Quite the opposite. I'll tell you something I believe, Dream. I believe your arrival here was no accident of fate. I believe destiny brought you here. Your destiny. My destiny." He laid a hand upon her face and stroked her cheek. His gaze never wavered as he said, "It's like a fairy tale, Dream, though not of the sanitized, storybook variety. I'm a King. King of this place." His arm swept away from her in an all-inclusive gesture she supposed was meant to indicate his home and the surrounding mountain region. "But I was a lonely King, A tired, sad old King.

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A King who had grown weary of life, weary of existence itself. Then, on a dark night full of magic, a miracle happened, a Queen arrived at the King's door."

Dream swallowed hard. It was hard not to be entranced by King's words. What woman wouldn't enjoy being likened to a fairy-tale queen?

She smiled. "But how can a King be a King without subjects to rule?"

The vaguest wisp of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, but there are subjects. A great many of them, in fact. I want you to take a trip with me, Dream. A great journey. Are you up to that?"

She nodded, murmured against his chest.

"Good." He kissed her mouth. "Now I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"I need you to close your eyes, Dream. Close them and imagine yourself far away from here. Envision yourself floating on a cloud, weightless, insubstantial, a free spirit soaring high above the earth. Glory in that freedom, Dream, revel in it."

She closed her eyes.

She listened to his voice, let herself be captivated by the imagery it described.

At first what she was experiencing was very similar to the kind of visualizations therapists had tried on her as a way to reduce stress. Her mind filled with an image like the one King described. She was high above the ground, soaring through the clouds over East Tennessee. She was a nude figure, a winged G.o.ddess, an image worthy of fantasy tales. It was nice. Soothing. Relaxing. A great way to 239.

escape the mess she'd made of her life. And King's droning, sensuous voice only magnified the sense of exhilaration. Still, she was always aware of it as an exercise-while she swooped over mountains in her mind she nonetheless remained conscious of the mattress beneath her, of King's arm around her, of the shifting of logs in the fireplace.

But then an astonishing thing happened.

The tactile reality of the mattress began to fade. The crackle of fire dimmed, then was gone. She had a sense of falling...

... of plummeting from a great height. ...

Then she felt the wind on her face, buffeting her hair and caressing her body like the ephemeral hand of G.o.d. She opened her eyes, looked down, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. A green carpet of treetops was rushing to meet her. What happened next was reflex. She flexed her arms, turned her gaze heavenward, and soared back toward the clouds. She entered the swirling white mist, continued moving upward, and emerged above the clouds. She continued up, up, up. She knew if she kept going she would pa.s.s through the earth's atmosphere and enter the icy blackness of s.p.a.ce. The prospect initially frightened her, but intuition told her she would be fine. Nothing could hurt her. Especially not the lack of oxygen she didn't need in this form.

So she kept going.

Slipping the bonds of the tarnished planet that was her home. Earth receded behind her, shrinking to a globe the size of a basketball. She circled the moon, her mouth open in awe as she surveyed the gray, rocky landscape familiar from old NASA films. She swooped back toward 240.

earth and hovered above it, raised her arms over her head, and danced like a ballerina, a solo dancer in the celestial spotlight.

The sensation was beyond liberation.

It was empowering.

More intoxicating by far than the most potent drink ever distilled.

And it was real.

She didn't question it. There was no point. She was reminded of Karen's angry words to Alicia about the thing that killed Shane. She was seeing what she was seeing. She trusted her own mind and senses. This was her essence up here in s.p.a.ce. Her corporeal body was still on the bed in King's room, but she could feel and experience everything in an exalted way no physical, flesh-and-blood construct ever could.

King's disembodied voice spoke to her. "Do you like this, Dream?"

Her face had a hard time containing her exultant smile. "Yes!"

"Good." She felt his smile. "Come back to earth. I have things to show you."

She released a squeal of delight, flexed her knees, changed direction, and dove back toward earth. She was free of all fear now, and she moved toward the spinning planet at a speed that should have been terrifying. The earth's atmosphere was like a lover's hand this time, warm, welcoming, stimulating. She plunged through the clouds and overlooked a desert vista far from King's mountain home. She saw a pyramid in the distance, a ruddy, four-sided triangle rising up out of the sand. A 241.

burst of excitement emboldened her, and she sluiced through the sky-she'd only seen pyramids in pictures, and she coveted this new experience. The wonder of it all filled her like a dazzling inner light, made her marvel at the limitless possibilities.

She could go anywhere.

Do anything.

See anything.

People in primitive attire milled about the base of the pyramid. She flew low and studied their faces. They were workers. Their bodies glistened with sweat as they struggled with their burdens. Dream realized they were slaves.

"This is a glimpse, Dream." King's voice was right in her ear, although she was alone in the air. "You asked about subjects. This is the kingdom of one of my forebears. These are his... subjects."

Realization dawned in Dream. "You were telling the truth about being a King. It wasn't just a story."

"No, Dream, it wasn't. And what you're seeing is real, but it's just a glimpse. It's the past. We can only have glimpses of it, unfortunately. All those people are long dead."

The vision faded, broke apart like an old television with bad reception, and there was a sense of displacement, a temporal shift. All of existence was blinding whiteness for a millisecond, then a new scene revealed itself, a remote section of English countryside in the early twentieth century. She flew low between hills, pa.s.sed grazing sheep, and approached a stately old house. A man who looked nothing like King stood on the porch, yet she realized it was King. A fully formed awareness appeared in her brain.

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He could look like anything. He wasn't human. He was something ... more.

Something better, she hoped.

The knowledge should have been frightening, but it wasn't.

"Here's another glimpse, Dream. This is from my own past, so we can linger longer here. For days, if we had the inclination. We won't be that long, however, a few minutes should suffice."

The man on the porch-King, she reminded herself-turned and went back into the house. Dream pa.s.sed effortlessly through the front door. It was insubstantial to her, offering no more resistance than a breath of air. The man, who was wearing a tweed jacket and sported an Oxford cla.s.s ring on one finger, turned down a hallway.

"Leave him, Dream."