come. He could smell the fresh blood in her, the life force pumping through her veins in counter-rhythm to his own pounding heart.
"Not that way," he said huskily, drawing her to him. "Not with me." With a lover's gentleness, he unbuttoned her dress and nicked the silky skin of her throat with his nail. The blood flowed, hot and sweet. He closed his mouth over the wound.
Her power rose beneath him, a slow, black tidal wave skillfully controlled, a tidal wave that washed over him, cleansed him, healed him even as his mind shuddered to find itself engulfed by a mind so powerful and yet so gentle. He counted her heartbeats. When he reached five, he raised his head. She didn't look shocked or frightened, the usual emotions the living felt when required to give blood directly from the vein.
She brushed a trembling finger against his lips. "If you had more, would it make you completely well?"
Saetan called in a bowl of warm water and washed the blood off her throat with a square of clean linen.
He wasn't about to explain to a child what those two mouthfuls of blood were already doing to him. He ignored the question, hoping she wouldn't press for an answer, and concentrated on the Craft needed to heal the wound.
"Would it?" she asked as soon as he vanished the linen and bowl.
Saetan hesitated. He'd given his word he wouldn't lie. "It would be better for the healing to take place a little at a time." That, at least, was true enough. "Another lesson tomorrow?"
Jaenelle quickly looked away.
Saetan tensed. Had she been frightened by what he'd done?
"I ... I already promised Morghann I'd see her tomorrow and Gabrielle the day after that."
Relief made him giddy. "In three days, then?"
She studied his face. "You don't mind? You're not angry?"
Yes, he minded, but that was a Warlord Prince's instinctive possessiveness talking. Besides, he had a lot to do before he saw her next. "I don't think your friends would care much for your new mentor if he took up all your time, do you?"
She grinned. "Probably not." The grin vanished. The bruised look was back in her eyes. "I have to go."
Yes, he had a great deal to do before he saw her next.
She opened the door and stopped. "Do you believe in unicorns?"
Saetan smiled. "I knew them once, a long time ago."
The smile she gave him before disappearing down the corridor lit the room, lit the darkest corners of his heart.
"Hell's fire! What happened, SaDiablo?"
Saetan waggled Jaenelle's abandoned shoe at Andulvar and smiled dryly."A Craft lesson."
"What?"
"I met the butterfly maker."
Andulvar stared at the mess. "She did this? Why?"
"It wasn't intentional, just uncontrolled. She isn't cildru dyathe either. She's a living child, a Queen, and she's Witch."
Andulvar's jaw dropped. "Witch? Like Cassandra was Witch?"
Saetan choked back a snarl. "Not like Cassandra but, yes, Witch."
"Hell's fire! Witch." Andulvar shook his head and smiled.
Saetan stared at the shoe. "Andulvar, my friend, I hope you've still got all that brass under your belt that you used to brag about because we're in deep trouble."
"Why?" Andulvar asked suspiciously.
"Because you're going to help me train a seven-year-old Witch who's got the raw power right now to turn us both into dust and yet"—he dropped the shoe onto the chair— "is abysmal at basic Craft."
Mephis knocked briskly and entered the study, tripping on a pile of books. "A demon just told me the strangest thing."
Saetan adjusted the folds of his cape and reached for his cane. "Be brief, Mephis. I'm going to an appointment that's long overdue."
"He said he saw the Hall shift a couple of inches. The whole thing. And a moment later, it shifted back."
Saetan stood very still. "Did anyone else see this?" "I don't think so, but—"
"Then tell him to hold his tongue if he doesn't want to lose it."
Saetan swept past Mephis, leaving the study that had been his home for the past decade, leaving his worried demon-dead son behind.
chapterTwo
1 /
"Not that way," he said huskily, drawing her to him. "Not with me." With a lover's gentleness, he unbuttoned her dress and nicked the silky skin of her throat with his nail. The blood flowed, hot and sweet. He closed his mouth over the wound.
Her power rose beneath him, a slow, black tidal wave skillfully controlled, a tidal wave that washed over him, cleansed him, healed him even as his mind shuddered to find itself engulfed by a mind so powerful and yet so gentle. He counted her heartbeats. When he reached five, he raised his head. She didn't look shocked or frightened, the usual emotions the living felt when required to give blood directly from the vein.
She brushed a trembling finger against his lips. "If you had more, would it make you completely well?"
Saetan called in a bowl of warm water and washed the blood off her throat with a square of clean linen.
He wasn't about to explain to a child what those two mouthfuls of blood were already doing to him. He ignored the question, hoping she wouldn't press for an answer, and concentrated on the Craft needed to heal the wound.
"Would it?" she asked as soon as he vanished the linen and bowl.
Saetan hesitated. He'd given his word he wouldn't lie. "It would be better for the healing to take place a little at a time." That, at least, was true enough. "Another lesson tomorrow?"
Jaenelle quickly looked away.
Saetan tensed. Had she been frightened by what he'd done?
"I ... I already promised Morghann I'd see her tomorrow and Gabrielle the day after that."
Relief made him giddy. "In three days, then?"
She studied his face. "You don't mind? You're not angry?"
Yes, he minded, but that was a Warlord Prince's instinctive possessiveness talking. Besides, he had a lot to do before he saw her next. "I don't think your friends would care much for your new mentor if he took up all your time, do you?"
She grinned. "Probably not." The grin vanished. The bruised look was back in her eyes. "I have to go."
Yes, he had a great deal to do before he saw her next.
She opened the door and stopped. "Do you believe in unicorns?"
Saetan smiled. "I knew them once, a long time ago."
The smile she gave him before disappearing down the corridor lit the room, lit the darkest corners of his heart.
"Hell's fire! What happened, SaDiablo?"
Saetan waggled Jaenelle's abandoned shoe at Andulvar and smiled dryly."A Craft lesson."
"What?"
"I met the butterfly maker."
Andulvar stared at the mess. "She did this? Why?"
"It wasn't intentional, just uncontrolled. She isn't cildru dyathe either. She's a living child, a Queen, and she's Witch."
Andulvar's jaw dropped. "Witch? Like Cassandra was Witch?"
Saetan choked back a snarl. "Not like Cassandra but, yes, Witch."
"Hell's fire! Witch." Andulvar shook his head and smiled.
Saetan stared at the shoe. "Andulvar, my friend, I hope you've still got all that brass under your belt that you used to brag about because we're in deep trouble."
"Why?" Andulvar asked suspiciously.
"Because you're going to help me train a seven-year-old Witch who's got the raw power right now to turn us both into dust and yet"—he dropped the shoe onto the chair— "is abysmal at basic Craft."
Mephis knocked briskly and entered the study, tripping on a pile of books. "A demon just told me the strangest thing."
Saetan adjusted the folds of his cape and reached for his cane. "Be brief, Mephis. I'm going to an appointment that's long overdue."
"He said he saw the Hall shift a couple of inches. The whole thing. And a moment later, it shifted back."
Saetan stood very still. "Did anyone else see this?" "I don't think so, but—"
"Then tell him to hold his tongue if he doesn't want to lose it."
Saetan swept past Mephis, leaving the study that had been his home for the past decade, leaving his worried demon-dead son behind.
chapterTwo
1 /
Similar Books
![Jordan Summers - [Dead World 01]](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/474996/thumbs/152x264/jordan-summers-dead-world-01.jpg)
