Dreams Made Flesh

tonight."
    "They have any rooms there where you can get something to eat?"
    Oh, shit. "They do, but the place is really… female."
    "No males there at all?"
    Remembering all the looks and whispers she'd endured that day, she gave in to the urge to be pure bitch. "Yeah, there are males. We can get dinner there if you want. And since Jaenelle won't be using it, you're welcome to the other bedroom." She paused. "Besides, we need to talk. There's some trouble here."
    "Fine. Let's go."
    "We'll probably have to walk to the corner to find a cab," Surreal said, walking past him.
    His snort of laughter warned her, but before she could react, he clamped one arm around her waist and launched them skyward. Since her back was pressed to his chest, she didn't have many places to grab while he flew way too close to the treetops, so she settled for swearing as creatively as possible.
    "Shut up," Lucivar said, "or you'll end up with bugs in your teeth."
    "What?"
    Roaring with laughter, he spun them a few times before gliding down to the sidewalk and backwinging to land lightly in front of the "female place."
    "You son of a whoring bitch," Surreal snarled. The sidewalk tilted, and she grabbed the arm he offered. "Just for that, I hope being in this place a few hours makes your balls shrivel up."
    He just snorted and escorted her to the registration desk.
    "Am I supposed to sign in or something?" he asked.
    "You can do whatever you want." Surreal grabbed the desk. The atrium wasn't moving, but she still didn't quite trust her legs. The same little prick who had signed her and Jaenelle in that morning was still on duty…and eyeing Lucivar.
    "We do request that any… company… visiting with our guests sign in," he said, setting a leather-bound guest book on the desk and offering a pen.
    Taking the pen, Lucivar dipped it in the inkwell and signed his name. "I'm not company, I'm family."
    It was the man's sneer, there and gone in a moment, that pricked Surreal's temper.
    "What would you do if someone misinterpreted the reason for you being here?" she asked Lucivar.
    He studied her. "I'm here to have dinner with a member of my family, and since your suite has a spare bedroom and I need a place to sleep tonight, I'm staying there. What's there to misinterpret? That's simple enough."
    "Not everyone sees what's obvious… or true."
    His gold eyes narrowed. Then he shrugged. "That's easy enough to deal with. If people turn my spending an evening with my cousin into something it's not, I'll just rip out their lying tongues."
    Her jaw dropped, and she was very glad she was holding on to the desk. "Don't you mean you'd cut out their tongues?"
    "No, I said what I meant."
    She thought about the difference…and shuddered.
    His hand closed over her arm. Then he led her toward one of the archways that provided access to the rest of the establishment.
    "So where do we find dinner?" Lucivar asked.
    "That way." She noticed her hand was trembling. Hell's fire. She was a Gray-Jeweled witch and an assassin. But he was… "You're family, and I love you, but I gotta tell you, Lucivar, sometimes you are a scary son of a bitch."
    "Yes, I am." He stopped at the doorway of one of the dining rooms. "But if what went on back there has anything to do with the trouble you want to tell me about, then there's something the Blood in Amdarh haven't learned yet."
    "What's that?"
    Lucivar studied her long enough to make her stomach tighten. Then he said softly, "That I'm not the Warlord Prince they should be afraid of."
----
    Nine
    « ^ »
    1
    Daemon woke slowly, gradually becoming aware that his hand rested on a soft, smooth thigh, and someone's fingers were gently combing through his hair.
    "You're so beautiful."
    He opened his eyes and smiled at Jaenelle, who was sitting up in bed, watching him. Feeling more content than he'd felt in a long time, he caressed her thigh before lifting his hand to brush across her ribs and continue on to her back.
    "You can thank my father for that. I didn't have anything to do with it," he replied.
    She didn't smile, didn't respond. Just watched him.
    Remembering what they still had to talk about, uneasiness began coiling around his contentment.
    "What do you want, Daemon?" Jaenelle asked.
    ""You. Just you."
    Her sapphire eyes changed. Became haunted, ancient. He hadn't seen that look in almost a year… since the day he'd gone to Hayll to play out a vicious game to keep Dorothea and Hekatah distracted while Jaenelle prepared to