Dreams Made Flesh

You didn't have to run."
    Yes, he did. But he hadn't run far. Just down to the orchard, where he would be out of sight of the eyrie while he puked his guts out in sick relief that he hadn't seen any visible wounds on her, hadn't seen any missing limbs. He'd been terrified to look when he woke up that morning, hadn't known how keen an edge panic could have until she'd walked into the kitchen on her own.
    "It's difficult to explain," he said, flinching at the tears in her eyes when she turned to face him.
    "How can a woman understand if no one will explain?"
    "I don't remember!"
    Now she flinched. Then she whispered, "So I was just a body."
    Lucivar shook his head. "Oh, I remember you, Marian. The taste of
    you, the smell of you, the sounds you made, the feel of you under my hands. The feel of my cock inside you. I remember you. But I don't…" He closed his eyes. "I remember bits and pieces, moments that are jumbled together and shrouded in a violent, red haze that needed some kind of release. But… "
    Hadn't he run from this all day? This one picture in his mind. He'd worked himself to exhaustion because every time he thought of her, desire burned through him, and he couldn't ask her to be with him tonight. He couldn't. Because of that one fragment of memory. But he had to ask. Had to know. She couldn't stay here with him if he didn't know how close he'd come to destroying her.
    He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I do remember one thing. Me standing by the bed, holding my war blade. And you cowering in one corner of the bed."
    Marian shook her head.Then she paled as his words sank in. "No, Lu-civar. No. You weren't trying to hurt me. You thought something had gotten into the room, into the bed. You were trying to protect me."
    "Nothing could have gotten into that room, not with all the shields I had around it."
    "Nothing did," she agreed. "But you didn't know that. You were startled and…"
    "By what?" he snapped, feeling raw…and not sure he really believed her.
    She mumbled something and wouldn't meet his eyes anymore.
    "What?"
    "I didn't know my feet were that cold, but then you screamed and leaped out of bed and—"
    He looked at her feet.
    "I'm wearing socks."
    She sounded grumpy. Grumpy was good. Grumpy was wonderful.
    "You didn't hurt me, Lucivar. Not in any way."
    Relief surged through him, but his heart still ached because he'd sensed a lie beneath her words. He tried to smile, "But you don't want me for a lover." He saw hope in her eyes—and maybe something more? "Do you want me, Marian?"
    "I—" She swallowed hard. "Yes, I want you."
    He held out a hand. "Then take me."
    She turned shy and uncertain. Couldn't quite look at him. Another kind of woman wouldn't have hesitated to take what he offered. Marian might, given time and encouragement, initiate sex by giving a quiet invitation, but she would never demand.
    He approached her slowly, his fingers linking with hers when he got close enough to touch her. "Take me, Marian." He stepped back, bringing her with him, until he could sit in one of the chairs. A quick tug and a deft move had her straddling him. He brushed her hair away from her face, enjoying the feel of that black silk flowing around his fingers. His lips touched hers, a soft kiss. "Take me."
    He remembered her, but now he could savor the sensations of being with her. The way her mouth opened for him. The timid way her tongue stroked his, encouraging him to take what he wanted. Soft. Sweet. The kind of sex he'd never had before.
    Her fingers flexed on his shoulders, her only signal that she wanted more.
    His mouth drifting along her jaw and down her neck, he undid her tunic lacings and slipped it down her shoulders as he vanished her undershirt. He doubted she was aware of arching her back in an unspoken invitation to suckle, but he took the invitation while his hands slipped under the tunic to caress her back.
    He played with her until she squirmed in his lap, looking for what was still caged behind leather. She gasped, startled, when he vanished all of his clothes and all of hers below the waist. His hands kneaded her buttocks, rubbing her against him.
    "Take me." He lifted her, sheathed himself inside her. "Take me." She was too focused on the feel of his cock to understand he was offering more than sex, but he knew he was offering his heart as well as his body. She was ready to ride. He wanted to be ridden. But she didn't have the leverage, so he slid his hands down her legs and cupped