I stared at the throne, then at the handsome man kneeling beside it. This was all wrong, but I could not put my finger on why. Drowning in frustration, I could no longer see clearly as my eyes welled with tears. “I do not remember!”
He stood and enfolded me in warm, comforting arms. “Oh, my love, your memory will return. I am confident you will remember me soon.”
“But—”
He put a finger to my lips. “Shhhh.”
I almost protested, but let that idea go with a sigh.
His finger trailed to my cheek, wiping away my tears. “May I kiss you, my love?”
My feet wanted to retreat, but I held them rooted here. “You didn’t ask before,” I replied.
“You shied away before.”
I bit my lip, but did not offer an apology.
“I understand, love. You do not remember me. But those kisses I gave you earlier were not the type of kiss I want now. So I am asking . . . may I?” His eyes searched mine. Underneath the hope and adoration in his expression, there was a hint of sadness.
Pressing my lips to his was not an unpleasant notion, except for the doubts inexplicably clinging to my heart. Perhaps if I kissed him, the flame of familiarity would ignite and I could remember our love. Or maybe the unfamiliarity would redouble my misgivings. I weighed the options. “You may,” I said.
Aidon put his mouth to mine. It was a trembling kiss, like a first brush of lips. That he did not immediately take the liberty of a full-on, happily-married-for-many-years lip-lock made me soften to him. He at least understood my perspective.
When the kiss grew bolder, I did not resist. Though my eyes were closed I could feel warmth surging within me like summer sunshine. And yet . . . there was something arid about this warmth, something coarse scouring me like desert sand. Then his voice echoed through my mind, whispering, You are safe here. All will be fine. When he broke away, I believed those words and all my worries had faded.
“Too much?” he asked.
“No. Just right.”
He smiled. “More?”
All will be fine. I nodded.
This time, his tongue found mine. He tasted of blood oranges. His hands roamed, hot on my arms, teasing under my breast, tingling along my spine.
For an instant his lips left mine and he gestured at the regal furniture behind us. Even as I turned to see what had drawn his attention, the seats slid together, melding into something more like a chaise lounge than a throne. The air around us shimmered and black velvet curtains hung in a circle in midair, providing privacy. A single black marble pillar appeared beside the chaise, and a three-wick amber candle flickered atop it.
I was amazed! “How did you do that?”
“Magic, love. You can do it, but you’ve forgotten how.” Aidon sat, pulling me down beside him.
I can do such things?
He deposited a series of kisses on my neck, which were quite arousing, but his warm breath caused a chill to run down my spine. “I’ll teach you everything again if I have to.”
He unfastened the clasps of his vestlike shirt and discarded the garment, then resumed kissing my neck.
My head fell back and my eyes shut as desire trickled through me. My hands explored the contours of his chest. Had I known many men? Was this . . . husband . . . my only lover?
His deft fingers caressed between the ribbons at my back as he kissed his way down my neck, avoiding the tender burns. His affection concentrated on the upper mounds of my breasts.
Heat was rising within me.
“Whatever you wish, my love,” Aidon said between kisses, “by my hand, you shall have it.” He stood, lifting me with him. He closed the distance between us, jerking me into his arms and wrapping me in his strength. He kissed my lips again, rough and delicious, and I was locked in a longing I could not escape, and did not want to.
My hands ran along his back. His body was like stone, every muscle so hard. I squeezed his backside, and he bit my lip gently as he growled encouragement.
This moment had all the titillating arousal of the touch of a stranger, but it was mingled with the security of a committed relationship and an inherent knowledge of what pleasure our bodies could create.
He broke the kiss and I instantly yearned for more. Lust had laid claim to me, but I fought to catch my breath and regain control of my passions.
“Can you feel the storm within you, my love?”
“Yes.”
“Can you feel the blaze burning in your soul?”
How did he know? “Yes!”
“Is the flood filling you up?”
“What is happening?”
“You are so close. . . . ” He took my thumb into his mouth and sucked on it. “Malek tsalmaveth.” He switched to the other thumb. “Basilissa nekros.”
The sensation was strangely wonderful.
“Call your mantle.”
“My mantle?”
“Close your eyes. Look inside yourself. There is a light within you, an armor that glows.”
My eyes shut obediently. I tried to see within . . . to feel a storm, a blaze or a flood. “I can’t find it.”
He kissed my palm, my wrist. Working his way up my arm to the inner spot on my elbow, he then moved back to my neck.
“Don’t stop,” I begged.
“Search deep, my love. Follow the desire deep into this body, then fall into it, fall deep into the sensations rising in your soul. There you will find the light.” He squeezed my hands.
And there it was. At the instant I found it, I felt brightness shine out from me.
He gasped. “Yes. There it is, my love. Now hold on to it. Open your eyes.”
Silvery light twinkled around us. It was beautiful.
He rubbed his thumbs in circles against mine. “This is how you command fire, love. Right here. In your thumbs.”
“I command fire?”
“You do. Now choose something to burn. You do not command all the elements yet, so you have to be in contact with something to make it blaze, but since I am here with you, you can push your will through me . . . and burn it without direct contact.”
After looking around, I chose the curtains. Focusing on them, I cast my demand down my arms, into my thumb, and passed it to his.
Flames licked over the curtains. The fire gave off heat and light, but did not consume the fabric.
Aidon reviewed my handiwork with an expression of satisfaction. “You are a quick study, my love.” He pressed his lips to mine again.