On the Prowl

repulsion, but an almost thrilling awareness; like a burn that did not hurt, just tingle a bit. But with this demon, not only its skin was golden. And it was not a he. It was a she. Her hair waved long and thick about the delicate heart of her face, a striking metallic gold color against the duskier hue of her skin. She was incredibly beautiful and incredibly tiny. Not little, per se. Oh no, not that, with her voluptuous bosom straining the burgundy silk of her shirt, and the generous swell of her hips stretching the tight leather of her black pants. The only thing little about her was her height and her wasp-thin waist.
    Lucinda, Prince Halcyon’s sister. And her presence was a shock to me because I had been expecting to see her brother, my lover, Halcyon. Or his father, the High Lord of Hell.
    “Lucinda,” I whispered, and fell weakly to my knees, swaying suddenly not only with awareness but with another growing discomfort within me—something sharp, something painful, something like sharp talons ripping me apart inside, trying to be born, trying to get out. I gasped, clutching my belly. With my next breath, I screamed.
    Raised voices sounded outside in the hall, and the double doors burst open, spilling in the sentries, and behind them, a sea of guards. Dontaine and Tomas were suddenly there, beside me.
    “What is it, milady? What’s wrong?” Dontaine demanded, pulling my hands away so he could see if I was injured. With the first touch of him, the little shocking electric jolts that came from contact with him, the pain eased and I gasped, almost cried in relief, sagging against him.
    The room was a messy swell of noise and feeling, a collective sudden milling of presences that felt too powerful, too much to all be contained in the same room. Questions and demands were shouted. Then Warrior Lord Thorane was above me, looking down, his older face creased with worry. “Mona Lisa. What’s wrong, milady?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, as bewildered as he. “Something inside me just suddenly started to hurt.”
    That awareness flared over me again, even surrounded as I was with the presence of powerful men and the electric sensation of Dontaine’s touch. It pulled me, called to me. I turned my head and, in the sea of encircling faces standing about me, unerringly locked upon that one darker face. I found her not because of her distinguishing color, but because I knew exactly where she stood. And the scratching and clawing inside me, that horrible ripping pain, started again. Shit. I doubled over and another scream was torn from my throat.
    “What’s wrong, what’s wrong?” Tomas shouted, his strong hands trying to pull my hands away as Dontaine held me, huddled upon myself, writhing in his lap.
    “Get me away,” I whispered, so softly, almost no sound because I had no breath. If I had enough breath, I would have screamed again. But he heard me. They both did. Dontaine lifted me up in his arms and with Tomas’s help pushed through the gathered crowd and made his way outside.
    “Where?” Dontaine asked, his voice and body hard, while I was soft. Soft with relief against him as the pain lessened with each step he took away.
    “The forest,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from my screams or from my breathlessness. I wasn’t sure.
    He plunged into the thick woods. Wrapped in his electric touch, the night cool upon my skin and the soft rays of moonshine falling gently upon me, I felt immediately calmer, the restlessness within me stilling. Dontaine walked in silence, in quiet, and I lay in his arms in blessed painlessness as he took me deeper into the woods until we no longer sensed anything, heard anything, and the chaos of High Court was far away.
    “Is this far enough?” Tomas asked.
    At my nod, they stopped. “Can you stand?” Dontaine asked.
    “Yes,” I said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure if I could. But my legs held me as Dontaine gently stood me on my feet.
    “I never knew how wonderful it was simply not to hurt,” I murmured in the quiet of night. The wind blew, rustling leaves in a gentle shuffle, an airy shimmer of sound, moonlight dappling our skin as it shone down through the thick forest of trees.
    “What happened back there, milady?” Tomas demanded, his voice clipped and harder sounding, his usual soft drawl absent.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Do you not?” came a voice, soft and sultry. I felt her first before I saw her. Felt that tingling vibrant awareness, that