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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 256 из 293Regardless, he was dead unless a fresh healer arrived within minutes.
I said it again. “I am sorry, Royal, I am so sorry.”
He actually smiled at me, and that made my heart hurt. “I have had a sidhe princess say sorry to me.” His face showed that pain again, and his body fought against my fingers.
“Don’t talk,” I said. “Help is coming.”
He gave me a look, and it was eloquent. “There will be no help for me.” His voice fell to a whisper, so low that I had to lean in to catch his words. “Queen Niceven made me… surrogate. Let me taste your… lips and blood… just once. Before…” Another spasm took him, and this time he couldn’t quite make himself hold still. He writhed with the pain, and that caused him more pain, until he screamed. Blood flowed faster around my fingers and the sodden rags. He was going to die in my hands, and I could do nothing to prevent it.
I tasted the salt of my tears before I knew I was crying.
His eyes fluttered open, but they had that glazed look to them, as if he was already seeing things that the living do not see.
His lips moved, but I could not hear him. I leaned into him again, and heard him sigh, “Kiss… me.”
I did what he asked, though I had never kissed lips so delicate. It wasn’t until his lips brushed mine, like the caress of a tightly curled flower, that I felt his glamour. I had let my pity blind me to possibilities. Pity, and the fact that he was dying. You don’t think of the dying wasting energy on sex. It was the most chaste of kisses, but his magic made it more.
His mouth pressed to my lower lip, and in that moment his glamour poured over my skin like water from a warm bath. I could not breathe through it, could not think, could not do anything but feel.
It was like an hour of foreplay in one small kiss. His hand touched my bare breast, and he bit my lip. The touch was so much more than that tiny hand should have been able to deliver, as if he caressed the front of my body with a hand as large as any man’s. That small, sharp shock of pain was like the last thrust, the last lick, the last caress, for it spilled me over the edge and made me scream my pleasure into him. But it was as if his mouth were bigger. He were bigger. In that instant I would have sworn that I lay atop a full-sized lover, that the hands that touched me were another human or sidhe. That the body that I was pressed against was not only full-sized, but well-sized.
I forgot everything but the feel of his body under mine. His hands exploring me. His mouth feeding at mine.
I said it again. “I am sorry, Royal, I am so sorry.”
He actually smiled at me, and that made my heart hurt. “I have had a sidhe princess say sorry to me.” His face showed that pain again, and his body fought against my fingers.
“Don’t talk,” I said. “Help is coming.”
He gave me a look, and it was eloquent. “There will be no help for me.” His voice fell to a whisper, so low that I had to lean in to catch his words. “Queen Niceven made me… surrogate. Let me taste your… lips and blood… just once. Before…” Another spasm took him, and this time he couldn’t quite make himself hold still. He writhed with the pain, and that caused him more pain, until he screamed. Blood flowed faster around my fingers and the sodden rags. He was going to die in my hands, and I could do nothing to prevent it.
I tasted the salt of my tears before I knew I was crying.
His eyes fluttered open, but they had that glazed look to them, as if he was already seeing things that the living do not see.
His lips moved, but I could not hear him. I leaned into him again, and heard him sigh, “Kiss… me.”
I did what he asked, though I had never kissed lips so delicate. It wasn’t until his lips brushed mine, like the caress of a tightly curled flower, that I felt his glamour. I had let my pity blind me to possibilities. Pity, and the fact that he was dying. You don’t think of the dying wasting energy on sex. It was the most chaste of kisses, but his magic made it more.
His mouth pressed to my lower lip, and in that moment his glamour poured over my skin like water from a warm bath. I could not breathe through it, could not think, could not do anything but feel.
It was like an hour of foreplay in one small kiss. His hand touched my bare breast, and he bit my lip. The touch was so much more than that tiny hand should have been able to deliver, as if he caressed the front of my body with a hand as large as any man’s. That small, sharp shock of pain was like the last thrust, the last lick, the last caress, for it spilled me over the edge and made me scream my pleasure into him. But it was as if his mouth were bigger. He were bigger. In that instant I would have sworn that I lay atop a full-sized lover, that the hands that touched me were another human or sidhe. That the body that I was pressed against was not only full-sized, but well-sized.
I forgot everything but the feel of his body under mine. His hands exploring me. His mouth feeding at mine.