Dreams Made Flesh

killing edge.
    But that something wasn't the man staring into his glazed eyes. This male belonged to his Queen and shouldn't be harmed.
    With effort, he pulled back the seduction tendrils, eased back physically. "Thank you for the dance."
    "My pleasure." Rainier cleared his throat. "It's been an education."
    They walked back to where Jaenelle and Surreal stood. No one in the ballroom spoke, no one moved. Even the musicians were silent for a long moment before the music began for the next dance, and the room was once more filled with movement and murmurs.
    Jaenelle watched him approach, her face flushed, her eyes wide.
    Was she repulsed by seeing him dance with another man? What was she thinking? He wanted to reach out, mind to mind, but he didn't dare. Not when his temper was being held back by a frayed thread.
    As he stopped in front of her, Rainier still beside him, he saw her throat muscles working to swallow.
    Looking dazed, Jaenelle said, "It's awfully warm in here. Is it warm in here?"
    Surreal snorted as she studied him and Rainier. "Sugar, we passed warm and leaped straight to blazing."
    "Oh. Good. It's not just me."
    Surreal gave him a wary look and linked her arm through Jaenelle's. "I imagine everyone is feeling a bit warm right now. Let's go out on the terrace and get some air."
    "Air is good," Jaenelle said, wobbling a little. "Air is… good."
    He said nothing as the two women made their way to the glass doors that led out to the terrace.
    Rainier cleared his throat. "It's been… um…" He shook his head and walked away.
    Daemon stayed where he was, watching Lucivar approach, seeing wariness in his brother's gold eyes. Rainier had been given the lightest taste of what it was like to dance with the Sadist, but Lucivar knew. And Lucivar was afraid.
    But being afraid never stopped him from issuing a challenge with all the Eyrien arrogance in him.
    "Quite a dance," Lucivar said.
    "It had its moments."
    "Rainier is a good Warlord Prince."
    "He's a dance instructor?"
    "Among other things."
    Which confirmed his sense of the man. "Who trained him?"
    "I helped him hone what he'd already learned."
    Which meant Rainier wasn't just a natural predator, he was also a well-trained killer.
    "Daemon… Jaenelle and Rainier are just friends."
    "I know. It isn't him. But there's something in this room…" He shook his head. "I'm going to find someplace to be alone for a few minutes. I need a few minutes."
    Lucivar stepped aside, letting him pass. With a bit of hunting, he found a small, secondary parlor near the ballroom. By the look of it, this was where visitors who weren't "important company" were entertained. Which meant right now it was quiet and empty, and that was what he needed to bring himself back from the point of going cold.
    Lektra grabbed Tavey's arm. "Do it now. He's by himself."
    "You want me to talk to him alone?"
    "Well, you can't do it when she's nearby, and she's been clinging to him all night. This may be your only chance." And after watching him dance with that other Warlord Prince, she'd go mad if she couldn't have Daemon soon.
    Tavey looked scared, but he never could refuse her for very long. So he left the ballroom to deliver his little speech.
    By the end of the evening, her beautiful love would be free to be with the one woman in the whole Realm who truly deserved to have him.
    * * *
    Hearing the parlor door open, Daemon slipped his hands into his trouser pockets to hide his wedding ring. He'd spent the past few minutes just staring at it, taking comfort in its presence. He'd almost regained his balance, but he wasn't quite far enough away from the killing edge yet. He needed to find Jaenelle and tell her he couldn't go through with their public quarrel. He couldn't afford to have anything prick his temper right now.
    As he turned toward the door, he caught sight of himself in the mirror above the fireplace. His gold eyes were still glazed…the prelude to cold rage.
    "You don't want to be here," he snarled softly as the Yellow-Jeweled Warlord slipped into the room and closed the door. "You really don't want to be here."
    "I…" The Warlord swallowed hard. "I'm asking you to do the right thing."
    "And what is the right thing?" He glided toward the door, forcing the Warlord to sidle farther into the room to avoid getting close to him.
    "We…We're in love. We want to be together."
    "Who is 'we'?"
    "Jaenelle. Me. We're in love. But she hasn't wanted to say anything because…"
    "Because?" Daemon