“Well, the baby can’t go anywhere without you for quite some time, and he can’t seriously expect you to stay inside the Hall for the next ten months.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that, sugar.” Surreal sniffled once more, then vanished the handkerchief. “He offered to marry me. Told me, more like it. A week from tomorrow.”
He loved his brother, but he wasn’t sure Daemon was emotionally ready to be anyone’s husband yet—if ever.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“I haven’t given him an answer yet.” She looked sad and wistful. “But I am going to marry him.”
“Why?” When she didn’t answer, he swore softly. “I know you care for Daemon. And he cares for you. But I’m not sure he can give you the kind of love a wife deserves from a husband.”
“I do have some conditions that he’ll have to agree to, and if he agrees, I think we can do well enough together.”
“You don’t have to settle for ‘well enough.’ ”
She turned away to stare out the window. “I want this baby, Lucivar. Not just a baby; this baby. And I want this chance at a marriage. I haven’t shared my life with anyone since Rainier, and we were never lovers, never had that kind of bond. Plenty of men since then have been willing to entertain a short-term liaison, especially if it got them an invitation to sit at a dinner table with Daemon and talk about whatever grand idea they had that needed a little financial backing. But men from the short-lived races didn’t want to have children who wouldn’t reach true adulthood in their lifetime, and men from the long-lived races saw their offspring’s lives cut short if I was the mother. I never fit in to either place. Sadi knows all that, but he wants this child too, regardless of whatever life span it may have. And I have the feeling that if he doesn’t have someone soon who can make a claim on his heart, he’ll become so cold and distant we’ll all lose him. Or he’ll become so lonely, he’ll accept the illusion of love and end up like his father, with a woman who loves ambition more than him. Well, I do love him, and I know he probably will never love me. But I can keep him from being alone, and I can give him a family of his own.”
“And what will you get?” Lucivar asked.
“I’ll get a family too.”
“Is that enough?”
“I’ll find out.”
“Then I guess I should talk to him about the wedding.”
“I need to talk to him first. Could you stay around for a little while?”
“All right.”
“Lucivar? Did you know Sadi is the High Lord now?”
Her words froze Lucivar’s heart. He’d suspected that Daemon had begun absorbing that side of Saetan’s duties years ago—Sadi was, after all, Saetan’s true heir—but he hadn’t wanted to see the evidence, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge what had been unspoken until now. He’d been afraid that once he admitted that Daemon was the High Lord, he would lose the man who was his brother.
He understood Surreal’s decision now. The Realms couldn’t afford to let Daemon slide into an isolated, lonely existence. None of them wanted to see Daemon repeat the mistakes in Saetan’s life—or see the rise of someone like Hekatah because of those mistakes. The new High Lord of Hell needed to be kept tethered to the living because the simple truth was he was more dangerous than his predecessor.
“Go on and talk to him,” Lucivar said. “Get things settled between you.” He paused. “And then get off your feet.”
He thought her answer landed squarely on the side of bitchy, which pleased him because it meant she was feeling a little better—and he’d take bitchy over tears any day.
Surreal found Daemon standing in the middle of his study, watching her with those glazed gold eyes.
“I have some conditions,” she said. “If you can agree to them, I’ll marry you.”
“I’m listening,” he crooned.
Her throat closed up. She was dancing on the knife’s edge by making any demands of him, but now was the only time such things could be said—if she could get her voice working again.
He moved toward her slowly. He probably thought his movements weren’t threatening. Unfortunately, until things were settled between them, there was nothing about him that wasn’t threatening.
“Let me tell you what I think are some of your concerns,” he said as he stepped close enough to touch her. “The wife of the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan has to make a commitment to be faithful to her husband and take no lovers. Naturally, she would want the same commitment from her husband. Yes?”
“Yes,” Surreal whispered, staring at the Black Jewel peeking through the unbuttoned opening of his white silk shirt.
“But I don’t think you want to be married and celibate,” Daemon continued, his voice becoming a soothing caress. “And I think you enjoyed the pleasure I gave you in bed. Yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“So one of your conditions is that I be a husband to my wife in every way? That I don’t deny you the pleasure and comfort of sex?”
She nodded, still not daring to look into his eyes.
“I was aware of that when I made the offer, Surreal,” he said gently. “I can’t promise you a husband’s love, because I don’t know if I have that in me anymore. But I can promise you all of the social courtesies, all of the physical courtesies. That much I can, and will, give you.”
He lifted her chin with one finger, a silent command to look at him. “Is there anything else?”
“No. Yes. I don’t want to be locked up here for the next ten months!”
“If I agree to that, you, in turn, will try to tolerate occasional bouts of rabid protectiveness?”
She heard amusement in his voice and felt the slightest release of tension in his body.
“If you turn rabid, I’ll turn bitchy.”
He smiled. “Fair enough. One question. Is there a particular stone you would like for your wedding ring? Or a particular kind of setting?”
She shook her head. “Surprise me.”
“In that case, Lady . . .”
His lips touched hers, a soft kiss that remained soft but grew warmer. She floated on the sensation of being wrapped in the softest blanket. So soft, so deliciously warm. She felt light and heavy, and there was nothing in the world but his mouth so soft on hers and his hands lightly brushing her back under her shirt.
She wanted to snuggle down into that soft warmth and doze for hours, safe and content.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before Daemon raised his head and said, “Feel better?”
Her head began to clear, but the warm, sleepy feeling remained—and the sharp discomfort in her abdomen was gone.
“You drained my power,” she said. “Gray and Green.”
“Yes.” He kissed her temple.
“You going to kiss me like that every time you drain me?”
She felt him smile.
“I’m going to kiss you like that simply to kiss you like that. And I’ll do it often if it pleases you.”
Mother Night.
She felt the pull of desire between her legs, but the soft warmth wrapped around her again, and she didn’t want to do anything about that pull. Not right now.
“Once I drain your Jewels to give you an unfilled reservoir, your body will channel its power to them naturally, the same as it does during your moontime,” Daemon said. “I thought you would be more comfortable if I took a direct path this first time.”
She was pretty sure he’d wrapped some spells around her while kissing her, but she felt too comfortable and lazy and soft to care.
“Why don’t you snuggle down on the sofa in here and take a nap?” he said.
She nodded. She’d do anything to keep that voice stroking over her, petting her. And maybe tomorrow—or next month—she’d figure out why feeling that way should piss her off. For now, she let him settle her on the leather sofa in his study and tuck a light blanket around her.