Midnight Pleasures

She woke with the warmth of the sun on her face and a sense of anticipation. On the morrow, he had said, when the sun is new, we shall look upon each other.

Throwing the covers aside, she sat up. "My lord?"

"I am here, Channa Leigh."

" 'Tis dawn."

"Aye. Are ye ready?"

"Aye," she replied tremulously. "I am."

"Hold out your hand."

She did as he asked, her fingers closing over something soft. She started to ask what it was, but then she knew. It was the wolf's fur, twisted into a tight braid.

She felt his hand close over hers.

"I am Darkfest," he said, his voice soft yet ringing with power. "Master of fire and light. Believe, Channa Leigh, and receive thy sight."

Heat flowed into her hand, raced up her arm. She trembled as his power poured into her, as warm as the sunlight on her face. She blinked and blinked again as her vision cleared. Looking up, she saw him watching her.

He wore a black shirt open at the throat and black trousers tucked into supple black boots. A long black cloak fell from his broad shoulders. She had not expected him to be handsome, but he was. Undeniably so. Why hadn't her father told her? Darkfest's hair fell past his shoulders, thick and black. His brows were slightly arched, his nose straight, his lips full. His expression was stern but not cruel. But it was his eyes that held her gaze. Green eyes that were familiar somehow. He was tall, as she had expected. She was sorely tempted to run her hands over his shoulders, to press her palms to his chest. She folded her arms tightly over her breasts to keep from reaching for him. His arms were long and well muscled, his hands large and capable-looking.

"How is it possible that I can see?" She glanced at the bit of braided fur in her hand. "How long will it last?"

"Until sundown."

"No longer?"

He shook his head. The power in the cuttings of the wolf's fur grew weaker with time.

"What sort of magic is it that grants me my sight?"

"The power that lies in the hair of the wolf." Odd, he thought, that in his human form he lacked the same ability. "The power within your own blood. I wove the two of them together, then cast a spell upon it, to quicken it."

"My blood? Where did you get my blood?"

"It was on the blade of the knife." He did not tell her how tantalizing he had found the scent of her blood or how frightened he had been at the way it called to him. Nor did he tell her that he had licked her blood from the knife. It had sizzled through him like the purest fire. The memory of it thrilled him even as it repulsed him, and he shook it from his mind to examine more closely later, when he was alone.

"And now, Channa Leigh," he said quietly. "Will ye now grant me my boon?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as he sat down beside her. Moving slowly, he slipped his arm around her waist, his hand splayed over her stomach.

Her heartbeat grew rapid. Her mouth grew dry. Every nerve in her body seemed to come alive as she waited for his kiss. He lowered his head toward hers. He kept his eyes open, and so did she. His eyes were as green as the leaves on the trees. They drew her in, made her think of cool spring nights under starry skies. His kiss was light, his lips warm and firm. He demanded nothing of her, only the touch of her lips against his. But it wasn't enough. She wanted more. She deepened the kiss. His eyes grew darker. His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer.

With a sigh, her eyelids fluttered down and she leaned in to him, her hands spreading across his back, her fingers kneading his flesh.

He groaned softly. Lifting her onto his lap, he kissed her again, his tongue stroking her lower lip, sending waves of pleasure rippling through her.

It was a kiss unlike any she had ever known. It burned away the memory of Ronin's chaste kiss and forever after spoiled her for any other.

She was breathless when they parted. Feeling bereft, she stared into his eyes, felt herself falling into the clear emerald depths. She felt the whisper of his power slide over her skin, heard the echoes of his lonely childhood, saw the small Cimmerian corner of his soul where his uncertainty lived, but before she could explore it further he drew his gaze away from hers.

"Something troubles you," she said, her voice tinged with amazement.

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. "What makes ye say that?"

"I saw it when I looked into your eyes. There is a dark place deep within you."

He did not deny it.

"What is it that troubles you?"

Lifting her from his lap, he stood and began to pace.

She sat down on her blankets and looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "Will you not tell me?"

"There is a darkness within me," he admitted. "More than the darkness of uncertainty. It is a love for the shadows of the night, for the dark magic that lingers just below my awareness." He held out his hands, palms up, and stared down at them. "The darkness calls to something within me that I do not understand. Sometimes..." He dragged his hand over his jaw, wondering how to explain the unexplainable.

"You are tempted by dark powers?"

"Aye."

"But why?"

He shook his head. "In here," he placed his hand over his heart, "I know that good is more powerful than evil, but still the darkness calls to me, tempting me to do that which can only be done through the power of darkness, to rise up and unleash the full power within me, the consequences to others be damned. I could destroy the village with the wave of my hand, enslave its people, cause famine and flood."

He dragged his hand over his face as if to block out the images his words had conjured. "I have ever used my powers for good, for healing. But there is another power, a dark power that tempts me. It calls to me in the lonely hours before the dawn, when goodness lies weak and vulnerable within me and evil rides the wings of the night."

"Virtue and vice," she said. "Truth and error. 'Tis a choice we all must make."

"Aye."

"You must not choose the darkness, my lord, you must not give in to it, else you be lost."

He thought of her words later that day as they left the valley behind and entered a stand of thick timber. She was wise beyond her years, he thought. Knowing but little of him or his past, she nevertheless sensed the danger that lay before him if he succumbed to the darkness that beckoned him, tempting him with powers beyond imagining. The darkness. More and more he was drawn to the night. The light of the sun made his skin tingle oddly; sometimes it burned his eyes. His taste in food was also changing; where once he had preferred his meat well done, he now liked it rare and dripping with blood.

The leafy branches overhead grew thick, so thick in some places that they shut out the light of the sun. The shade was a welcome break from the touch of the sun. The sounds of their horses' hooves were muted in the thick leaf mold and vegetation that covered the ground. Here and there he saw the glow of slanted yellow eyes observing their passing.

He watched Channa Leigh. Blessed with sight for this day, she looked at everything carefully, exclaiming softly when she saw a stag bound across their path. She remarked on the beauty of the trees, the eerie shadows beneath the branches.

Leaving the timber, they found themselves in a broad meadow.

"Oh, 'tis lovely!" Channa Leigh murmured.

And, indeed, it was. The grass was a thick blue-green. The trees wore gowns of green and gold, amber and ocher. Sweet-smelling flowers grew in clumps of bright pink and lavender, pale blue and purest white.

He heard the sound of a waterfall and turned his horse toward it, thinking to quench their thirst and refill their water flasks.

The falls were a beautiful sight - crystal clear water cascaded down the side of an onyx mountain, splashing over huge boulders to gather in a deep turquoise blue pool.

It wasn't until they were kneeling at the water's edge that he felt it, a ripple in the air, like the static before a storm.

He rose quickly to his feet, all his senses alert. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, heard nothing, and yet every instinct he possessed warned of danger. The horses stirred restlessly.

"What is it?" Channa Leigh asked. She came to stand beside him, her hand on his arm.

He shook his head. "There is something amiss. Can ye not feel it?"

She glanced around, her brow furrowed. "I feel... a stirring in the air."

"Aye, that's it." Gathering his power around him, he flung his senses out as a fisherman might cast a net.

There was a faint sizzle as his power came up against another force. There was a blinding flash and then a creature stood before them the likes of which Channa Leigh had never seen. It was as tall as the trees, covered with a slimy gray skin. Its eyes were close set. Its mouth was open, revealing jagged yellow teeth.

She took a step backward, repelled by the hideous creature. "What is it?"

Darkfest shook his head. He had no idea what kind of beast it was, only that it had been born of evil. He extended his arm toward the creature. "Begone!"

With a mighty roar, the beast shook its massive head.

Jerking free of their tethers, the animals bolted.

Darkfest straightened to his full height. "Begone, I say!"

The creature took a step forward, one hand reaching toward Channa Leigh. The air around it shimmered. The smell of brimstone filled the air. The grass beneath its feet withered and died.

Darkfest reacted instinctively. Thrusting Channa Leigh behind him, he lifted his hand. There was no time for words, no time to refine his magic. He gathered his power around him and hurled it at the creature.

Channa Leigh gasped and reeled backward as a ball of crimson fire flew from the wizard's fingers.

The creature screamed as its body burst into flame.

Channa Leigh covered her face with her hands, unable to watch as the leathery gray skin began to blister and melt.

There was an obscene popping sound, and then she felt Darkfest's hand on her shoulder. " 'Tis over, Channa Leigh."

Slowly, she lowered her hands and glanced around. Nothing remained of the creature but a small pile of gray ash.

She looked around, her eyes wide and scared. "Are there more of them?"

He closed his eyes a moment, then shook his head. "I think not."

"But what was it?"

"A minion of the dragon, perhaps, sent to frighten us away. No matter, 'tis over now. Come, let us go after the horses. They will not have gone far."