It was several days before the news of Lord Rotewick’s death reached Prince Azov’s household.

Everyone was sitting in the parlor since the day had turned out to be a dreary one. No one wanted to venture out. Rain sheeted down the windows and it was chilly and damp.

After luncheon they had all wandered into the parlor in search of creative pursuits.

Lady Agatha was sitting by the fire on one side, reading a cloth-covered book which Lilac suspected was on one of her favorite obscure metaphysical subjects. Probably something like “The Inexpressible Ambiguity”; she imagined the title, giggling to herself.

Seated on the opposite side of the fire, she was attempting a new sampler. Since Nickolai had praised her last effort to the point of requesting the work, she thought she might try to make him a companion piece depicting the various types of stitches in needlepoint.

So far, it seemed to be coming along very nicely.

Her gaze drifted over to the men. They were seated at a table opposite each other immersed in a board game.

She smiled fondly at the sight of the two long-haired heads bending over the board in serious study as if the fate of the world resided with the next move they made. Men often gave vast importance to the silliest of things.

The game itself consisted of a checkerboard and chips that were white on one side and black on the other. The object of the game was to surround your opponent’s color with your own by moving horizontally, vertically, or diagonally across the board one space at a time. If you succeeded, that chip or row of chips flipped over to your own color. The winner was the one who had the most chips of his color displayed at the end of the play.

It was a game of strategy and skill.

Both of the brothers had taken to it as soon as Auntie Whumples had explained the rules to them. In fact they had been at it for hours, completely immersed in their “battle.”

Lilac frowned. It was the only thing Nickolai seemed to be immersed in lately.

Under normal circumstances the crude thought would have caused her to blush scarlet, but Lilac was very concerned about her husband’s lack of interest in her in that way. Oh, he still left sweet little gifts here and there for her, picking places he knew she would be sure to find them, and he was still most solicitous of her welfare but…he had not touched her in days.

She missed him.

Missed his kisses and hugs.

Missed his deep voice whispering in her ear as he moved seductively within her.

Lilac missed his arms about her in the night and the little lap under her ear when she fussed in her sleep.

Lilac gazed out the window morosely, the dismal day reflecting her heavy heart. Since that fateful night something had changed in Nickolai.

That night he had frightened her; he had been wild and out of control. His lovemaking seemed to be born of eroticism and fury mixed together in a potent brew. He had been more than she could handle; nevertheless, he hadn’t hurt her.

Looking back on it Lilac could remember only the intense passion in him overwhelming her in his embrace; crashing over her like waves of a storm-tossed sea; pulling her under its voracious current. Nickolai had been the tempest.

Suffering a change into something rich and strange…

Lilac did not have a great deal of experience in this area but she suspected most men did not make love with Nickolai’s intensity. It was something she had sensed when she was speaking with the women at Lady Whitney’s and later, had come to believe as she got to know her husband better. Nickolai was a most passionate man.

At least he had been.

She glanced over at his brother Traed, wondering if the trait ran in the family. The ambient firelight reflecting off his strong, chiseled features cast him in a different light. For one thing, the glow softened his visage and Lilac could see at once the sensual side he tried so desperately to hide. Why? What pain was this brother running from?

Auntie shook her from her reverie by casually saying, “Did you hear about that loathsome Lord Rotewick? It seems he was killed in a duel last week. Served the rotter right, I say! Past time for the likes of him. Never could quite stand the fellow…something about him gave me the megrims!”

Rejar’s hand stilled over the board.

“Who killed him, Auntie?” Lilac continued on with her needlework, not really interested in the topic, but knowing Auntie expected her to ask. It never ceased to amaze her how her aunt was able to obtain all her information on the ton since she rarely left the house.

“No one seems to know.”

Pausing in the midst of his move, Rejar pierced Traed with a glittering glance. {Why did you do it?}

Traed sat back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “Your move.”

So his brother was not going to answer him.

Fine. If that was the way he wished it! Rejar moved his chip, overturning an entire row of Traed’s. He exhaled noisily. {He was mine to deal with! You should have left him to me.}

Traed did not even flick an eyelash in response.

Auntie stopped reading, glancing up from her book. “Most odd that part of it…Neither the butler nor that fencing instructor, Herr Schimmer, could remember what the man looked like even though both had seen him.”

The Familiar’s eyes dilated fractionally, then veiled. He watched Traed speculatively. A vein throbbed in the other man’s temple as he bent over to casually make his move.

Rejar was not fooled by the disinterested action; Traed had not wanted him to learn of his involvement in the matter. Now why was that?

“Have you heard about Madeline Fensley, Lilac?” Auntie went on with her sporadic gossip as she read. “Rumor has it she has come down with some type of ague. The servants aren’t talking, of course, but—”

“Madeline Fensley? I recently saw her; it was the night we all went to Lady Harcorte’s.”

“Really? Well, I hear she is quite ill. Why I remember one time, back in ninety-eight when half the city fell victim to a noxious fever…”

Auntie rambled on about a shortage of leeches in the city. Lilac stared pensively down at her hoop. Should she add a row of purple chain stitches?

She did not notice Agatha had stopped her diatribe to train her lorgnette on the embroidery her niece held in her lap; nor did she notice the elderly woman gape at the hopelessly jumbled mass of tangled knots and stitches.

When she glanced up, her aunt’s attention had quickly shifted back to her book.

Lilac decided to make the chain stitches green instead of purple. She began embroidering, her mind once again going to her dilemma with Nickolai. She sighed. If only he would—Strange; her embroidery seemed stuck.

She could not turn the hoop in her hand!

Surreptitiously, she lifted a corner of the wooden frame. Oh, no! Somehow, she had stitched the sampler to her dress!

She gave it a sharp yank.

The blighted thing wouldn’t budge! It was sewn fast to her lap.

What am I going to do now?

Covertly, she scanned the room, making sure no one was watching her. How embarrassing! Here she was trying to impress Nickolai with her stitchery skill and she had gone and done this stupid thing!

It would not make a very artisanlike impression on him, she was sure.

Maybe she could snip it loose with her scissors.…

But if she did that, how would she explain a gaping hole in the front of her gown the size of a Portuguese cake?

Somehow she was going to have to escape the room.

Thinking quickly, she suddenly stood, grasping a corner of her skirt with the edge of the hoop in one hand. “I think I shall go up to check my stitching by the light of the window in my room, Auntie.”

“Don’t be silly, my dear; why not just stand by the windows in here?”

“Be-because the windows in the bedroom face the—the light better.” She stumbled over the ridiculous excuse.

Agatha frowned. “Whatever are you talking about? Lilac, really—”

“I shan’t be a minute, Auntie!” Lilac raced from the room.

Rejar watched her leave, wondering what was causing her strange behavior. When the game ended in the next couple of moves, he excused himself, following after her.

Lilac was just coming out of the dressing room when Nickolai entered the room.

“Is something amiss, Lilac?” He noted immediately that she had changed her dress.

Color heated her cheekbones. “No, no, everything is fine. I was a bit chilly so I decided to get my shawl.”

“But you have changed your dress.”

“Yes, well, that works just as well, doesn’t it?” She looped her arm through his, leading him back downstairs. Away from the dressing room.

Rejar gave her an odd look.

“How did your game turn out?” She tried to sound very nonchalant.

He smiled. “I won.” Rejar was very pleased with his victory; Traed was notoriously clever with games of strategy.

“Is Traed going to demand a rematch?”

“Most likely; however, I thought we might do something together.”

Lilac’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart speeded up. Finally. “Yes, Nickolai?”

“I want you to teach me to read in your language.”

“What?”

“What part do you not understand?” He took her elbow, steering her toward the library.

“I—you mean you cannot read English?” She was appalled. And acting as if there could be no greater crime in existence.

Rejar chuckled. Surely there was no other place like Ree Gen Cee Ing Land. “I realize you are much more civilized than I am, Lilac. Perhaps you will have mercy on my barbarian self.” He raised a mocking black eyebrow.

His pithy comment struck its mark; Lilac realized how patronizing she must have sounded. She hadn’t meant to—it was just that she was so disappointed by his unexpected request. She had hoped…

Lilac got a sudden idea.

She would teach him to read and at the same time perhaps she could stimulate more than his mind. It was certainly worth a try. After all, her husband could be very stimulating around books. Look what he’d done for The Tempest.

“Very well, Nickolai.” She walked over to the bookshelves and made her selection. Then she went over to the desk for a quill and paper.

“Let’s sit here.” She patted the spot next to her on the oversized chair.

He hesitated a fraction of a second before joining her, his large frame barely making the snug fit. The adjacent position put her husband in satisfying proximity. In fact, it was the closest he had come to her since that night.

Rejar glanced over at his mate and swallowed. Her flowery scent teased his nostrils. Tiny beads of sweat broke out across his brow. He was already semierect. Perhaps this was not such a good idea.

This had been the worst week of his life! He didn’t know how much longer he could last. Traed.

Lilac seemed oblivious to his discomfit as she scribbled across the pages of paper, then tore them into smaller squares.

She placed each piece down on the table in front of him, reciting the name of the letter she had written there. “These are the letters of the alphabet; there are twenty-six all together.”

“Only twenty-six?” The Aviaran language contained three hundred and thirty-three.

Thinking he was being sarcastic, she replied. “Yes; I have no doubt it will be difficult. However, you will need to memorize these letters first before—”

“A, B, C, D—” He pointed to each appropriate letter as he spoke its name.

Lilac’s mouth dropped. “That’s amazing! Are you sure you don’t know how to read?” She looked at him suspiciously.

He shook his head. “No. I just speak this language. Did I do something wrong?”

“No…it’s simply…never mind.” She wiggled in the seat.

Rejar gritted his teeth.

“Now these letters are called consonants, and these over here are the vowels…”

For the rest of the afternoon Lilac instructed her husband, who seemed to be vastly interested in letters and not in the least interested in his wife. Although said husband was failing miserably in the boudoir department, he was proving himself a superior student.

“Nickolai?”

“Yes?” He did not look up from the letters spread before him on the table.

Unconsciously, Lilac poked her little finger again and again through a small hole in the seat of the chair while she thought of a way to phrase what she wanted to ask him.

Rejar noted her action out of the corner of his eye. He tried not to groan.

“Do you think we shall have children soon; I mean…well, because of what we’ve done.” There! That brought the subject up. She patted herself on the back for her cleverness.

Her unexpected question on a topic he least wanted to discuss at that moment took Rejar by surprise. His jaw clicked audibly. He was not about to discuss Familiar procreation with her. Especially not now. By Aiyah, she would run screaming from the room!

“No,” he snapped.

No? This was not what she expected to hear. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “But I thought—”

“I will explain it to you later, Lilac. Now what is this word you have made here?”

“Frolic,” she said glumly. “The word is frolic.”

Rejar studied the letters carefully.

Fretting over his lack of inclination, Lilac again poked her finger through the small hole in the fabric of the chair. Repeatedly.

Rejar abruptly stood, calling an end to the lesson.

“I wish to bathe. I will see you at the evening meal.” He stormed out of the room, leaving her sitting there by herself, staring dumbfounded at the empty door he had just walked swiftly out of.

How odd. He had been doing remarkably well; in fact, he was actually reading entire sentences. She had never heard of anyone doing that so swiftly before. Lilac had to admit that Nickolai was exceptionally bright.

Why had he left like that?

This past week it seemed as though he kept leaving her to…bathe. Several times a day, if she recalled. And he never requested any hot water. Why would he want to take cold baths? Over and over again? The man was decidedly strange.

Lilac’s shoulders sagged. He hadn’t appeared affected by her nearness. He seemed no more interested in her than he had been all week. A heavy sensation settled around her chest.

It was time to face the truth: Nickolai did not want her anymore.

A tear tracked down her face. If only she were like Leona; she would know what to do to entice him. Leona had so much experience.

Lilac’s head snapped up. Of course! She would go to Leona; the woman would be sure to help her. After all, she had said they were friends.

This was the best idea she’d had all week.

Not stopping to think through her plan, she grabbed her shawl. She would go now while Nickolai was bathing.

Lilac hesitated, biting her lip.

Nickolai had told her he did not want her to leave the house without first informing him.

Well, she would be back before he finished with his bath. She wouldn’t even call for a carriage; Jackie might decide to confer with “his Princeship” on the matter. Leona’s house was only a few blocks away; it would be better to walk than risking discovery.

Too bad her bonnet was upstairs.

It really was raining very hard.

Still sitting in the parlor over the board game wondering how Rejar had managed that last move, Traed caught sight of Lilac leaving the house through the reflection in the foyer mirror.

He raised his eyebrows pensively.

“Lilac!” Leona held out her arms to the younger woman.

Lady Harcorte had elected to see the girl in her boudoir, thereby giving the appearance of close friendship. She was not ready to give up on her quest with the dashing prince; she had a reputation to maintain.

Still, the brother had proven incredibly satisfying. Albeit a tad domineering. Nonsense and stuff! Who was she kidding? He had been the best she had ever had; and she’d had oh-so-many. Just the memory of the incredible night was enough to—

She tried to compose herself.

“To what do I owe this charming, impromptu visit?”

“Oh, Leona!” Lilac ran into the older woman’s embrace. “You must help me! You must!”

“Why, my dear, whatever is the matter?” Leona stood back while clasping Lilac’s hands. A properly concerned expression displayed itself on her face.

The girl’s eyes were red-rimmed as if she had been crying; her dress was damp; and her hair was covered with water-droplets.

There was only one thing that could get a young woman this upset. Lilac was having husband trouble. Leona tried not to let her excitement show.

“You’re soaking wet; come sit by the fire. Did you walk all the way over here?”

“Yes.” She nodded, shivering slightly. “I didn’t want Nickolai to know I had come. He—” she bit her lip.

“He what?”

“He doesn’t seem to delight in our friendship, Leona.”

Smart man. “Nonsense! Nickolai adores me! Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.” She slyly goaded her.

Lilac shook her head. “No, that wouldn’t do, I’m afraid. Anyway, I don’t care what Nickolai thinks of our friendship! I like you, Leona, and that’s all that matters.”

Leona Harcorte stamped out the foreign rush of affection she surprisingly felt for the girl. She hadn’t gotten where she was by allowing herself to care about the feelings of anyone but herself! After all, who, except her father, had ever cared about her?

“That’s very sweet of you dear.” She patted Lilac’s hand. “Tell me what troubles you.”

“It’s Nickolai!” she sobbed. “I believe he has lost interest in me! He turns from me at night…and he does not seem to want me anymore.” She gazed up at Leona, large green eyes all brimming with tears and trust.

Here was her chance. Leona gloated on the forthcoming victory.

With her next words she could drive a wedge between Lilac and her husband so deep they would never be able to recover from it. The Prince would soon be hers.

What should it be? She tapped her delicate chin.

She could say she had seen Nickolai with another woman—that always worked. Or…

She could hint that he had made overtures to her, but because of her dear friendship with Lilac she had naturally refused him—a personal favorite of hers. Or…

She could casually impart that he had been seen in the company of several of the lowest doxies from Covent Garden. The threat of disease worked wonders to dampen the ardor!

There were still worse insinuations she could come up with.—This was so much fun! What should it be? Leona glanced at the innocent, trusting little face next to her. Something she had thought long dead in her rose to the surface.

She couldn’t do it.

In that brief glimpse it was as if time had overlaid itself and she had seen herself fifteen years before, young and trusting, and so completely vulnerable. A time before that bastard Harcorte had forever destroyed something in her. A time when she was a woman who still believed there was hope and a thing called love in the world. An idealistic little fool.

The unfamiliar feeling of compassion wedged itself in Leona’s throat.

Agitated, she stood, placing herself before Lilac. If she was going to be noble, she’d best do it quickly before she made herself sick.

“Don’t be a pudding-head, Lilac!” Her cross voice stymied the younger woman. Lilac blinked back her tears, gaping at her.

“Wh-what do you mean, Leona?”

“Men do the most incomprehensible things at times; it is not for us—logical beings that we are—to waste our time trying to figure out their odd behavior. Nickolai adores you.”

“How do you know?” Lilac wasn’t sure she believed that.

Leona slashed her hand impatiently through the air. “If there is one thing I know in this world, it’s men. Believe me, Lilac; if there is a problem between the two of you—and I don’t think there is—it’s temporary.”

“But”—her lower lip quivered—“he doesn’t…”

“For heaven’s sake, Lilac! Use the brains you were born with! The man is probably waiting for a gesture from you. Men can be the oddest creatures—tell him what you want.”

“You think?” A light of hope lit up her pretty face.

Leona put her hands on her hips. “Yes! Go back to him right away and stop this nonsense.”

Lilac stood. “I will,” she said determinedly. A bright smile etched across her mouth. “Thank you, Leona!”

Impulsively, she hugged the older woman, whispering in her ear. “You know, you’re not nearly as uncaring as you want people to think.”

Leona watched her race down the stairs. “Yes, I am,” she whispered sadly.

Behind her, the door to her bedchamber opened.

Leona looked over her shoulder. Prince Azov’s brother strolled into the room, boot heels clicking insolently on her parquet flooring. His glittering green eyes betrayed nothing as he assessed her.

The hardened mask she wore to face the world was once more firmly in place. “How long have you been there?” she demanded furiously.

He ran a knuckle down the smooth skin of her cheek, a soft caress of speculation. “Long enough.”

The fact that he had witnessed her appalling display of sentiment horrified her. She twisted away from him. “Don’t ever mention it to me.”

“If that is your wish.” Strong hands on her shoulders turned her around to face him.

Shocked, she started to object.

His lips silenced her.

Rejar impatiently draped his red robe over his shoulders, tying the sash with a short tug.

He was not going to be able to withstand much more of this. And what did she mean by penetrating her finger slowly through that opening in the chair! Just thinking about it caused him to grind his teeth. Did the woman plan to torture him?

Picturing her arousing action again, he groaned.

The chilly bath water had been punishment enough on this damp day.

He was about to walk out of the dressing room when he spotted the dress Lilac had been wearing earlier. The one she had abruptly changed. It was lying pooled on the carpet next to a stool.

He must have knocked it off in his haste to immerse himself.

Bending over to pick it up, he was about to replace it when he hesitated, frowning. What was this? Her project seemed to be fastened to the front of the outfit. Curious, Rejar examined it closer.

A huge grin spread across his face.

So that is why the little souk-souk left the room in such a hurry! He chuckled. Only his Lilac.

Carefully returning the dress to the stool, he strolled into the bedroom.

Before he had gone a few feet, his wife entered the room, softly closing the door behind her. Not seeing him, she started to tiptoe across the room.

Rejar crossed his arms over his chest.

What was she hiding now? He examined her closely, noting the damp dress and water droplets veiling her hair. “Have you been out?” he scowled.

“Eek!” Startled, Lilac spun around, hand to her heart. “My God, Nickolai, don’t scare me like that! You move as silently as a—” Her words faltered.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you were still taking a bath.”

“Oh, yes? Then why were you trying to sneak into the room?” His penetrating glance slid down her body. “Was there something you did not wish me to know, hmm?”

Lilac blushed guiltily.

“I hope you were only in the garden, Lilac; although I cannot imagine why you would wish to go outside on such a day.”

“Nickolai, don’t be angry. I had to do…an errand.”

“Why did you not tell me? I would have escorted you or done whatever you required. There was no need for you to get soaked like this.”

“Um…you were bathing and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He glowered at that foolishness.

“But I will next time,” she quickly added.

Her concession seemed to appease him. “As long as Jackie was with you I suppose it was all right.”

Uh-oh. I wonder if a man who looks like a fir tree can be bribed. Lilac plastered a reassuring smile on her face, nodding in agreement.

“Next time, I prefer if you would let me know before you decide to leave; I am concerned about your welfare, Lilac. There are dangers in this world I believe you know nothing about. I would not see any harm come to you.”

Moved, Lilac blinked back the sudden tears in her eyes. How was it that Nickolai could affect her this way? She should be incensed at his overbearing attitude; yet here she was emotional because he was concerned about her. She thought about what Leona had said, wondering if the woman was right. Did he still want her?

And if he did, how was she to find out?

She suddenly realized that her husband was perfectly dressed for the job she had in mind. Her yearning gaze took in his muscular form covered in nothing but red silk. Inspiration struck! She used the opportunity to place her hand on his silk-clad forearm. “That’s very sweet, Nickolai.”

As experienced as he was, Rejar had no trouble deciphering the searing look his wife was giving him. So, Traed’s advice had proven true. She wished his touch upon her once again.

He breathed a sigh of relief, his body already responding to her nearness.

Nonetheless, he wanted much more from her.

While Traed’s advice was appropriate for the initial circumstances, Rejar decided he was going to follow through with his own instincts. He had an idea.

He reached over to clasp her waist with his hands.

Lifting her off the floor, he held her up to him at eye level. They gazed into each other’s eyes for several tension-fraught moments.

Finally he spoke in a measured voice. “Do you desire me?”

Lilac’s put her arms around his neck. “Yes, Nickolai,” she whispered, admitting the truth.

“Good.” His mouth brushed along her temple. “Do you want me to give you pleasure?”

“Yes,” she breathed, drinking in his erotic scent, the evocation of the musky taste of him.

“Will you do something for me if I give you everything you desire?”

Lilac buried her face in the silky hair, nodding against the side of his face.

“Since I have come here you have read to me many stories, Lilac. Now I am going to tell you a story. It is a complicated one so it may take some time for me to tell it to you. Do you understand?”

Lilac had no trouble interpreting; Nickolai was implying that if she wanted him she was going to have to take all he had to give. This time she nodded her head rather shakily against him.

“You must promise me that when I start the tale, you will let me finish it and you will listen to what the story is about.” He caught her earlobe in his white teeth. “Do you promise?”

“Yes, Nickolai; I promise.”

“Fine. I will begin. A long time ago, there was a little girl and her name was…Prunella.” Lilac nipped his neck; Rejar smiled against her hair.

Carrying her, he walked over to the bed, positioning her in the middle of the mattress. He sat down beside the curve of her hip, placing a palm on either side of her waist.

He bent over her, his glossy hair sweeping forward with the motion. “One day Prunella looked into a pool of water and what do you think she saw?”

“Fish?”

“No, souk-souk.” His nimble fingers began to unbutton her dress. “She saw, much to her surprise, countless bursts of light.”

“In the water?”

Rejar peeled off her sodden dress. “Yes. She did not know what the lights were…” her pantalettes slid down her legs. “…so she stooped down for a closer look and realized she was seeing millions of tiny stars in the pool.”

“How pretty!”

“Very.” Rejar was not responding to her comment so much as the lovely form now exposed to his view. He shed his robe, coming over her.

“Prunella continued to watch the miraculous picture before her, seeing that many of the tiny stars had even smaller specks circling around them, like so—” His tongue swirled a pattern around the curve of her aureola.

Lilac thought him a most inspiring storyteller. Her voice caught as she reacted to his apt demonstration. “Wh-what were the specks?”

Rejar smiled to himself, licking the side of her neck with a slow sweep of his tongue. By Aiyah, she was listening.

He murmured against the skin of her throat. “It suddenly occurred to Prunella that these specks were…worlds.”

Lilac gasped. “Worlds?”

“Think of it, Lilac; a pool filled with stars, and around these stars—worlds.…”

He let her mull that over for a while as his mouth took hers in a devastating invasion. Lilac’s fingers threaded through his hair, caressing the sides of his head as he sought to deepen his kiss.

He needed her so. There was no one that felt like this for him; no one who tasted like this.

A low sound of gratification rolled in his throat.

Lilac kissed him back, opening her mouth for him, letting her tongue tenderly slide along his.

“Lilac…” he whispered against her gentle lips.

She pressed her mouth against his closed eyes, those spiky lashes that so beguiled her; over his strong cheekbones, the bridge of that perfectly straight nose, along the sensual curve of his upper lip. Cinnamon and bayberry and that extra special something surrounded her, calling to her on the deepest level.

She wanted him inside her.

Feeling much the way she did, Rejar whispered, “I cannot wait, Lilac; forgive me.” And he entered her in a long, endless thrust.

They both cried out.

{I love to become a part of you.}

His emotional thought only added to her desire for him. “I want you inside me, Nickolai…always,” she murmured against his mouth.

Her responsive words made Rejar throb within her. “My heart, my heart…”

He took her strong and slow.

With every stroke, with every loving movement, he continued to tell her his story. “Prunella saw that these tiny specks were—ah, yes, souk-souk right there—worlds, and she soon discovered a curious thing: if she watched very closely her view seemed to magnify and she could see that on each world there were people.”

“Nickolai, Nickolai, please…” Lilac wrapped her thighs tightly around his lean hips.

“Shh, listen…” He kissed her. “Not all of these people were alike; in fact, some of them were very different than what she was used to.”

Exasperated with his slow torture, Lilac wiggled about, causing her husband to close his eyes in ecstasy.

Through a gargantuan effort, he regained his sensibility. There was much at stake here. “Remember your promise.”

Lilac reluctantly stilled her fidgeting.

Rejar continued his slow, deep movements along with his story. “It seemed these people who lived on the worlds inside this particular pool lived their lives surrounded by the presence of magic.”

“Magic?” This got her interest.

“Yes. Prunella soon discovered that magic was quite common on these worlds; however, not everyone had the ability to do magic and those who did often had different abilities from others.” The palms of his hands slid over and down her backside, cupping her derriere to bring her up to him as he plunged wholly into her.

“Oh!” Lilac took a shuddering breath, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. “How did they live with this magic, Nickolai? Did it not upset their lives?”

“No, for it was natural to them, simply the way they were.”

A tiny line creased her brow as she mulled this over. Rejar could not help but press his lips against the spot.

“Prunella soon found her most favorite people on one of the hidden worlds there. This was a very special place,” he whispered enticingly. “These people were rare and different from all the others. Because of this, they were protected by a powerful race of magicians; for their abilities and the beauty of their spirit were highly sought after.”

“They sound lovely. What were they like?”

“They were much like you or me except for one difference.”

Caught up in the story, among other things, Lilac looked up at him. “What was that?”

“They could change their shape at will—into a catlike form.”

Lilac froze in his arms. “Nickolai…”

“You promised, Lilac.”

She said nothing for a tension-fraught moment. “Very well, go on with the story.”

He embraced her waist, kissing the corners of her mouth. “When they changed form it allowed them to see and experience things others could not. Prunella knew this was nothing to be afraid of because she saw that this ability was a natural trait of these people, who, in their natural form, looked much as she did.”

“What did these people call themselves?”

“Familiars.”

Lilac stared at his chest, not speaking.

Rejar stopped moving, remaining deeply embedded in her. “One day, in order to help his brother, one of the Familiars entered a…whirlpool in the water around them. The currents swirled him around and around; he had no control of his life or what happened to him as he spun about the vortex. Without warning, he was flung out of the churning spout in the water pool and he found himself—”

Lilac put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it.”

He removed her hand from his lips, kissing the palm. “He found himself falling into the air. To protect himself, he changed into his cat-form. With a burst of lightning he broke through the barrier of the universes and crashed down next to his Prunella.”

Lilac threaded her fingers through the glossy hair on the sides of his head. “You can’t expect me to—”

“She was riding in a coach,” he continued on inexorably, “next to her aunt, who was extremely frightened of the cat. But Prunella wasn’t. She was very kind to him and took him home with her.”

Lilac blinked several times, clearly distressed by what she had heard. It had the disturbing ring of truth to it. “I—”

He placed his tapered finger against her mouth. “Shh. It is all right, Lilac. I only ask that you think on it.”

She didn’t want to think right now. She only wanted her husband to hold her and make love to her. The amazing story made him seem that much further removed from her; she did not want Nickolai removed from her. The strange reality of it panicked her. “Nickolai, please don’t stop now!” she cried out.

Seeing how upset she was, Rejar immediately obliged her, gliding his tongue into her mouth, imitating his languid ebb and pulse below. It was time to show her that he was the same man, that she need not fear him.

His tender actions provided the reinforcement she needed; Lilac instantly relaxed under his accustomed touch. {There is a flow to us together, souk-souk, like the water I spoke of. Do you feel it?}

Lilac ran her palms down the plane of his back, letting the tips of her fingers feel every contour of rippling muscle as he advanced and retreated within her. “I do feel it, Nickolai.”

{Waves…there is much about waves I will teach you, Lilac—waves on water, waves in moonlight, waves we create together…} He took her breast in his mouth, lovingly suckling on her.

“Yes…oh, yes…”

They moved together in a dance as old as time. Mimicking the resonance of life itself. They flowed into each other.

It was a marvel that spanned galaxies, planets, and, yes, even pools of star-filled water.

This time Rejar did not hold back; he joined his wife in completion.

Both of them surging, swelling, breaking.

Releasing, exchanging, and clinging…together.