DARK AS WINE

By

Morgana de Winter

© copyright July 2005, Morgana de Winter

Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright July 2005

ISBN 1-58608-546-8

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be
confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Adriana Bordeaux longed to be rescued from her prison.

She’d been locked in the tower since her sisters, Bianca and Cerise, had been stolen away by the
unnaturals. Her father, devastated by the loss of two of his daughters, was determined that he was going
to protect his only remaining child from the dark and dread forces that lived in Hellsing wood beyond
their borders, but in doing so, he was protecting her from any life at all.

She yearned for a life of her own with a longing that bordered on desperation. It had become so painful
to her that she could think of little else. Even the books that had given her so much pleasure in the
beginning no longer did. Instead, she spent her days searching for the knowledge that might free her.

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The day came when she found a very old and tattered book of legends among those that had been
brought to her. She knew her father could not know that it was among the books chosen for her, else she
would not have had it, for the book told tales of those very creatures from the dark woods of Hellsing
from which her father was so determined to protect her. She hid it whenever he visited her, but in the
evenings when she was alone in her lonely tower room, she would take it out and read it once more.

One story spoke to her more than any other, lifting her spirits, giving her hope when she had begun to
feel that there was no hope for her. It was the legend of the guardian of dreams, the Lord of the Night,
Morpheus Dragunas.

According to the legend, if a maiden who was pure in every way petitioned the lord of the night, he
would be compelled to come to her and grant her heart’s desire. She knew that it was not something her
father wanted for her, and yet she also knew that she had to live her own life.

She feared, though, that she would not be found worthy. She was guilty of envy for the love her sisters
had found, and she was guilty of disobeying her father. Perhaps she was not pure enough to summon
Morpheus?

Still, she couldn’t think that it would hurt to try. If he did not come, she would be no worse off than
before.

Doubt filled her when she thought of father. If the Lord of the Night answered her pleas it might well
break her father’s heart. She didn’t want that, but she needed something for herself. Surely, once he saw
that she was happy, he would understand what all parents had to learn in time, that when their children
grew up, they had need of their own life, to live it as they saw fit.

As she read the story, over and over again, she wavered back and forth, fearing she would break her
father’s heart, hoping that she could summon Morpheus and he would grant her heart’s desire, fearing
that he would find her unworthy and not come to her at all. Finally, she decided to see if Morpheus
would come to her.

Kneeling before her tower window, she lifted her arms in supplication to the heavens and cried out,
“Come to me, lord of the night! Come to me, Morpheus, I beg of you, and grant me my heart’s desire.”

She sat in front of the window for a very long time, so long her back began to ache and her knees, and
still there was no sign of Morpheus, lord of the night. “Please,” she murmured hopelessly. “I know I’m
not worthy, but I do try so hard to be good, and I’m so desperately lonely. I need a husband and a
family of my own.”

She had no idea how long she sat beneath her window after she had uttered her final, desperate plea,
but the moon had moved across the sky, and she knew it was growing very late. Finally, she rose stiffly,
moved across the tower room, and crawled into her cold and lonely bed.

Adriana was despondent the next morning when she awoke, for even as she closed her eyes, she had
hoped that Morpheus would visit her in her dreams. That he did not seemed an indication that she was
not pure enough to summon him.

In her heart, she assured herself, she had known that he wouldn’t, but she found she simply could not
give up. He was her only hope. Night after night, she knelt beside her window, calling to him, fighting the
tears that streamed down her cheeks, and dripped cold droplets on her night dress.

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* * * *

Morpheus Dragunas massaged his throbbing temples. Night after night, he heard the call without cease,
without pity, without mercy until he thought he could not abide the torment any longer. He could not even
recall the last time he had heard the summons and felt it pull at him and it infuriated him to discover after
so long a time that he was still bound by the spell. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he could not.

Knowing it was useless, that he would be compelled to go in the end, he fought it just the same. Each
day he would assure himself that he had won, that he had resisted the pull and it would not trouble him
further, but each night, he heard the call again, more desperate than before, and each night, the pain
inside of him grew until it finally reached the point where he could no longer bear to resist the summons.
He had to go.

She would regret it, he decided as he stalked furiously from his throne room and strode down the
echoing halls of his castle. When he was done with her she would not dare to summon him again, he
assured himself as he stepped from the wide entrance and whistled for Despair, his night-mare.

Despair answered with a high pitched whinny and galloped from his pasture, snorting and breathing fire,
no more pleased to be summoned than was Morpheus. Catching the night-mare’s mane of fire,
Morpheus leapt onto his back and rowled him into motion. Rearing, Despair pawed the air with his
flaming hooves, then shot skyward in a burst of speed that whipped his fiery mane and tail into a frenzy.

* * * *

Adriana stared hopelessly at the distant horizon as the sun sank from view and the evening sky
blossomed with colors. She could not even find it in her heart to enjoy the beauty of it, for she had
petitioned the lord of the night for so many days that she had lost count, and still he had not come to her.
Below her, she saw the servants of her father’s keep going about the final chores of the day, putting the
castle to rest for the evening, laughing and joking as they anticipated their dinner and the entertainment
that usually followed.

Sighing despondently, Adriana lifted her head as the first stars winked into life above her. In the distance
she saw a flicker of light. It caught her attention, and she studied it, thinking at first that it was a twinkling
star, but after a time, she frowned, her curiosity thoroughly aroused. It seemed to be growing larger, or
coming closer.

As she watched, she realized that it was definitely coming closer, for she saw that it was not a star at all.
There were flames streaming from it, and at the center of the flames was a dark shape. Slowly, it seemed
to her, it drew closer and closer, and the dark shape took form, and finally became two forms. And the
fire took shape and form.

In time, she saw that it was a dark cloaked figure upon a black steed. The mane and tail and even the
hooves of the dark horse seemed to be on fire.

Adriana’s heart sped up with fear as she saw the unnatural creatures bearing down on her father’s castle
like some evil spawn of hell. Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming for her, she told herself. It couldnotbe
coming for her. And yet, it was hard to convince herself that it wasn’t, when neither man nor beast

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looked right or left, focusing on a course that led directly to her.

As man and beast alit in the open ground just beyond the castle walls, Adriana tensed, expecting
momentarily to hear a cry of alarm. Instead, she heard only silence as the dark cloaked figure lifted his
arm and moved it slowly through the air before him. Confused, fearful, she dragged her rapt gaze from
the dark figure at last to look at the guards upon the walls to see what they thought, why they had not
sounded the alarm, and she saw that they had slumped on the parapets as if they had fallen asleep.
Stunned, she looked down into the bailey, and as she watched, the workers there yawned and began to
slide slowly toward the ground, as if some invisible force was moving inward, catching man and beast
and placing some sleeping spell upon them.

Below her, the castle itself fell silent, but even as she listened to the silence of the dark enchantment,
Adriana felt her fear subsiding, felt herself drifting slowly toward the floor.

* * * *

As sleep claimed the very last inhabitant of the tiny castle, Morpheus dismounted. His booted heels
crunched loudly on broken rock strewn across the ground, sounding loud in the silence of the night, but
not a breath of protest whispered on the cool night air.

Freeing Despair to go about his own concerns until he had need of the steed again, Morpheus strode
purposefully toward the castle gates, seeking the object of his wrath, his tormentor, the mortal that had
dared to summon him, Morpheus, lord of the night as if he were no more than a slave to do her bidding.
When he reached the great gate, he lifted his hands. At once, the massive panels began to swing open.
He strode inside, crossed the bailey and lifted his hands as he approached the castle doors so that they
also opened to him. Without pausing, he entered the castle and crossed the great hall. Reaching the stairs,
he climbed them rapidly, until at last he came to the tower door, where slumbered the sleeping beauty
who had demanded his presence.

Flicking an arm in the air as if swatting at a fly, he threw the door to the tower open. It slammed against
the stone wall, echoing in the silence. Entering the room without a pause, he looked around for the girl,
jolting to a halt when he spied her.

By the window she lay, resting upon the floor in a pool of her own wine dark hair, one hand cradled
against her face in sweet supplication.

He had known that she was pure of heart. He had not expected that she would be lovely, as well. As
angry as he was, Morpheus felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite identify as he stared at her
peacefully sleeping face.

For a moment, it pierced his anger. Impatiently, he brushed the unaccustomed, unidentifiable emotion
aside, crossing the room swiftly and kneeling beside her. So close, he saw that his eyes had not done her
justice. She was fair, so fair that it caused him another pang only to look upon her.

It took more of an effort to banish the strange, confusing hesitancy that came over him that time, to
resurrect his anger of before, but he stoked it to life once more for he despised his enslavement to mere
mortals with their petty dreams. Bending over her, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to her
bed, laying her carefully upon the counterpane.

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Straightening, he folded his arms over his chest, pondering a dilemma he had not anticipated. He had
decided err he left his realm to answer the summons that he would teach this mortal a lesson that would
prevent future petitions upon his valuable time, and yet now that he looked upon her, he was suddenly at
a loss as to just what he could bring himself to do to put fear into her heart and mind. Grinding his teeth at
the weakness, he settled beside her on the bed and lifted his hand.

Without touching her, he moved his hand just above her cool, pale brow, summoning the demons of
sleep.

Chapter Two

Something huge crashed through the woods behind her. Adriana’s breath caught in her throat, the
coolness of the night making her lungs ache. She whirled, trying to discern the direction from which the
sound came, but the thick underbrush rattled with a sudden wind, masking its source.

Above the treetops, the moon crept out from hiding, dancing behind rain drenched clouds to lend her
only flickering light.

Again the sound came, closer. The great thwack of a naked blade against brush was unmistakable now.
Someone hacked through the wood, coming for her. She turned from the sound, heading blindly into the
thickness that surrounded her. Brambles caught at her skirt. Random stones and broken sticks stabbed
her feet so that she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She wondered dimly why she’d not
thought to wear her boots or cloak on a night such as this, but the looming sounds increasing behind her
quickly drove such thinking from her mind.

A deer path opened before her and she stumbled onto it, and she ran, hoping to find some den to hide
herself from whoever chased her. Behind her, the crashing and slashing dimmed and finally stopped.
Above the pounding pulse in her ears, though, she heard a more terrifying sound--hoof beats.

Horror surged through her, but she dared not look back. She ran, ran until her sides ached with the
unaccustomed exercise, until her chest hurt from her ragged breaths. A cold, thin creek darted through
the darkened landscape, soft grasses along its bank rustling in the breeze. The moon peeked from the sky
again, revealing a tangled heap of ancient vine across the way. They were curved near the bottom, as if
many animals had taken shelter there over time.

Knowing she couldn’t outrun a horse, she crossed the stream and rushed to the vines. Crouching on the
ground, she scrambled inside the pitiful shelter, praying that her dress was not bright enough to draw
attention through the sparsely cloaking plant.

When she could go no further, she stilled, listening for sounds of pursuit, hearing nothing but the
maddening, masking sounds of the babbling brook and the creak of the vines as wind whistled through
them.

Had her tormenter given up? Adriana held her breath, straining to hear anything that presented itself,
anything that would tell her that the danger had passed her by--or stalked her still.

Long, torturous moments passed before she heard it--a sudden series of splashes, and then they ceased.

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A thud sounded then, followed by quiet rustles of grass, the soft swish of fabric caught in a wind.

Adriana held her breath, fearing even so small a movement would betray her. She wished she could turn,
but there’d been barely enough room to crawl inside her hiding place--and no room to turn and settle into
a watchful position. She bit her lip, clenched her hands into fists, praying he would pass her by, but she
feared her hiding place was too obvious even to a man struck blind.

Unaccountable minutes passed, allowing her terror to increase with each second. Her body was a
bundle of tension, waiting to spring, waiting for something--anything--to happen.

Something seized her foot and yanked.

Adriana screamed, grabbing at the vines as she was dragged from her hiding place, pulled out into the
grassy bed she’d trampled when she had scurried into the tangle to hide.

She twisted, rolling onto her back to fight her attacker. Leather armor creaked as he knelt and trapped
her legs between his knees, cutting off her kicks. Hands clamped around her biceps, holding her against
the ground until she was unable to move for the weight bearing down on her. She shrieked, struggling
against him, but he was too heavy and much too strong for her to even budge.

His first words shocked her with the deep, powerful resonance of his voice. “Cease your struggles,” he
commanded, his gloved fingers hard, tightening on her arms.

Thoroughly subdued, and contrary to all logic, her fright eased to a dull roar, enough so that she could
think rationally. Had he truly meant her harm, she realized, he would have cut her down immediately, or
raped her once she’d been subdued. Instead, he’d done nothing more than capture and study her as he
held her beneath him.

Comforted by those thoughts, Adriana quieted her struggles, allowing her breathing to return to normal
as she attempted to discern who he was. She could see nothing but the general shape of a man leaning
above her. The width of his shoulders and his whipping cloak obscured the light. Squint as she might in
the gloom, nothing availed his identity to her.

He remained silent so long after those three words, she thought perhaps he’d turned to stone. Only the
warmth of his body seeping through the supple leather to her trapped thighs alerted her that he lived.

Unable to bear the suspense any longer, she asked, “My lord, pray tell, who are you? Why have you
pursued me? Have I done you wrong?”

“I am Morpheus Dragunas, Lord of the Night. You summoned me.”

She felt the deepness of his voice reverberate in her chest. Elation surged through her body. Her prayers
had been answered! But how had she arrived here, and why had he frightened her? Had she been too
dim-witted to recognize him when he came? Surely that was it. “My lord, forgive me. Had I but known it
was you, I would not have taken flight,” she said, breathless.

Strangely, the weight of his body on top of hers excited her. Her belly quivered, her sex felt awakened
and eager for exploration. Her fingertips tingled with the need to touch him, and she longed to discover
what he looked like.

She’d angered him, she realized suddenly. She had summoned him, and he had come at last, and then

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she had fled him, and fought him. “I will gladly accept whatever punishment you wish to mete out, my
lord,” she whispered, anxiously touching her lips with her tongue to moisten her suddenly dry mouth.

Her voice, husky with fright still, quaking, washed over Morpheus like a warm tide. He stared down
piercingly at the girl’s face, frowning in confusion when he could not read her thoughts, struggling to
ignore the unbidden surge of desire that tightened his loins at her supplication.

Her mind was closed to him. Tightening his hold on her, he leaned forward, as if closing the distance
would open her mind to him. It didn’t. He could discern nothing of her inner thoughts.

He puzzled over it. The dream world was his domain. He should have had complete control, been able
to twist her desires into nightmarish visions.

“What trickery is this?” he asked harshly, suspicious at her lack of fear, puzzled at the slip of his control.
He had no need to fear sorcery, in dream or in reality, but still, he was wary at the alteration to his plan.
She was supposed to be frightened witless.

Adriana felt her heart skip uncomfortably at the anger in his voice, not from fear of him, but from the
dread that he was so angry that he would decide not to grant her heart’s desire after all. “No trickery. I
swear it! I wouldn’t dare, not when I begged you to come,” she assured him earnestly, trying to summon
the nerve to voice her request, trying to think of what words she would use to describe her heart’s desire.
If she merely asked for a man to love and a family of her own, how would he know what man to give
her? Could he see into her heart and know the perfect man for her?

It occurred to her quiet suddenly though that, perhaps, the wish she had intended to make would not be
one that he could grant. Perhaps it was not even what she really desired, for she could not begin to
envision what sort of man she wanted. In truth, she could not think beyond the ache that had come upon
her at his nearness, at the sound of his voice.

It dawned on her that, in all the times she had read of him, pleaded for him to come to her, she had not
once thought of the vague wish for a man to love and a family of her own. She had thought only of him.

“I--wanted to ask…. Would you grant me a boon?” Her voice dropped to the merest whisper as doubt
and fear warred in her breast, but she knew suddenly that it was exactly what she wanted. “A kiss from
your immortal lips?”

As the words left her mouth, Morpheus’ gaze seized on her full lips. The darkness was no cloak to his
vision. He’d toyed with her before, building her terror to destroy her hopes of conjuring him again, but
this was different. Again the desire came, wholly unnatural and unwelcome.

That unfamiliar tightness grew in his loins. His cock surged with blood, strained at the leather breeches
which held it captive. Now that the emboldened request hung in the air between them, Morpheus felt as
powerless to resist her shy advance as he had been to resist her summons.

He leaned close, listening to the quickening sounds of her breath, the rapid beat of her heart as he bore
down on her. Her eyelids closed, her dark lashes hiding the excitement in her eyes, but he knew it was
there. He had seen her desire as she gazed up at him. She was tense, her muscles strained. As he
hovered just above her, she parted her mouth in invitation, and it was more than he could resist.

Morpheus brushed his lips over hers. The soft skin was alien to him, but pleasing. He inhaled her sweet
exhalation of breath, a gasp of surprise. It was his undoing.

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Yielding to his own burning need, his mouth locked onto hers. Without remorse, he unleashed the full
brunt of his desire. Dimly, even as he did so, he was aware that her innocence would not have prepared
her for such dangerous passion. He knew that it would frighten her, but he relished the thought of turning
her innocent request against her.

He ravished her mouth, plunging his tongue inside the moist, sweet crevice like a conqueror. She
moaned and arched her neck to meet his harsh possession and his purpose dimmed, banished from his
mind by his own need and her eager response to his touch. His grip on her arms relaxed until she was
free and touching him. She grasped his arms, tugging him closer, offering her breasts to him … anything
he wished to possess.

She caught the back of his head, her rigid grip almost painfully desperate.

The roar of blood at his temples, in his ears enthralled him, threatened to wrench his control completely
from his grasp. His heart beat wildly. The need to be inside her--Now--pounded through his loins in a
savage rhythm.

Abruptly, he tore his mouth from hers, wrenching his head free of her hand.

She cried out, reaching for him. “Take me, my lord,” she begged.

* * * *

Morpheus pulled himself from her dream. His harsh breath made his lungs and throat ache--forgotten
sensation from his long ago mortality. How long had it been since he’d been tempted by pleasures of the
flesh?

Longer than his memory allowed.

He dragged in a deep, sustaining breath, fighting to reassert his control.

Adriana moaned in her sleep, drawing his gaze to her. If she was pure, he thought irritably as he watched
her writhing in desire, it was in body alone. Her mind was that of a seductress.

Things had not gone entirely as planned--in fact, not at all. It had begun well enough. He knew that she
had been terrified in the beginning, but what little he’d done to frighten her was not likely to deter her
from summoning him again.

Anger surfaced.

No trickery, she had claimed, and yet she had welcomed his fierce desire, matched it, nearly turned it
against him. And yet she had to be pure of heart or she could not have summoned him at all. It was a
puzzle that he found disturbing.

He thought briefly of deflowering her while she slept, but the idea of taking her without her knowledge so
repulsed him that he instantly regretted even thinking on it.

That also puzzled and disturbed him.

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He was forbidden to cross the boundary from the sleep world into the physical world and the desire to
do so had not been spawned by the intention of despoiling her purity to free himself from her demands.
And even so, he should have felt no compunction about doing so, not on her account.

While he stood pondering the curious, unnerving situation, he sensed the rising sun threatening to crest
the horizon, signaling that it was time to leave.

He would leave her to her dreams for now, he decided. If she summoned him again, he would return on
the morrow to finish what he had begun. Seductress or not, she was still an innocent. Perhaps that would
be enough to convince her to plague him no more. If not, he would unleash his full wrath upon her and
she would come to rue the day she’d learned to summon the Lord of the Night.

Chapter Three

Adriana awoke exhausted. Snatches of her dreams from the night before teased her memory, yet
remained intangible, just out of reach. Her stomach felt cramped, her sex achy, as if she’d been aroused
and left unfulfilled.

She knew the sensation. She’d experienced it before she’d discovered how to pleasure herself and find
relief. Yet what relief she found felt miserable to her now. She longed to be filled with a man’s length, to
have his weight on top of her, his hands touching and arousing her in ways she hadn’t yet imagined. She
longed for love eternal.

Adriana sat up in bed, surprised to see she hadn’t changed from her gown into a nightdress. The book
of legends lay open atop her bedside table. Outside she could hear the sounds that signaled her father’s
castle coming to life with the beginning of the day’s chores: the squawking of hens, chopping wood,
greetings of good morrow, and a hundred other sounds.

Adriana missed her morning walks. She was rarely allowed outside, even under escort, for fear some
lusty man--of the unnatural world--would cart her off. As if one of the dark creatures who dwelt in
Hellsing wood would leave it only to whisk her away!

She found little amusement in the thought. It was unfair and unjust that she should have to pay for her
sisters’ choices in men.Theyhad ventured into that dark place of the unnatural. She would be content
enough if her father would only allow her the run of the castle and bailey.

She wondered if perhaps today her father would regain his sanity and her imprisonment would end.

She had wondered that for more days than she could count, though, and he had shown no signs of
relenting. Yawning, she dropped her feet off the side of the bed and discovered tracks on the rug.

Alarm assailed her. Someone had been in her room, watching her sleep. Her first thought was to alert
her father, but she quashed the impulse. She was alone in the room now--there was no immediate
danger.

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Kneeling on the floor, she traced the faint outline of boots with one finger. The tracks were large. The
man who’d left them had to be at least a head taller than any man in the castle--nearly high enough for his
head to almost brush against the top of the doorframe. She knew of no man of this height in the castle.

Her sisters had found husbands of this ilk--tall, forbidding men of unnatural height and build. Their height
had seemed to grow from their strength and will.

The thought shot her into breathless excitement. Her door was locked and heavily barred from the inside
and outside. Her father would never allow any man entry into her room, least of all while she slept. Had
she managed to conjure forth the sweet demon of her fervent dreams?

However unlikely it seemed, she couldn’t help but hope it was true.

Why could she not remember it, though? She could remember nothing of the night before save her
prayers forhimto come to her.

The only explanation was that he wished to remain unknown to her.

Certain now that she’d not descended into madness, Adriana cleaned the tracks from the floor as best
she could and then performed her morning ablutions, delighted by the possibilities inherent in such a
discovery. She was more determined than ever before to summon Morpheus to her again.

* * * *

The day wore on, agonizingly long. Adriana felt more penned than ever before, since freedom seemed
so much the closer to her now.

Her father had come to her and kissed her goodnight. He’d brought her more books to read and
apologized again for having to do this to her. He felt extremely guilty, but not enough to risk losing her.
She loved him still, but she would not be denied by any means.

She meant to regain her liberty.

As the castle quieted with the dipping sun, Adriana began to pray for Morpheus to return to her. She
watched the sky, hoping to see his arrival before darkness settled across the land.

As with many times before, she saw nothing, but she continued her pleas until her knees ached and her
back screamed in agony. She begged for him to come back to her until darkness crouched above the
castle and the torches were lit.

An hour passed as she knelt in the darkness, and then another, until time became a blur and her mind
began drifting into the realm of slumber. Her eyelids flickered shut. Her head drooped, yet still, she
murmured, “Return to me, my dark lord. Come back, Morpheus, Lord of the Night, guardian of
dreams.”

As sleep claimed her, in the distance rode a dark swathed man on a steed of midnight with hooves and
mane of fire.

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* * * *

Adriana stood in the empty courtyard. Her father’s castle had been abandoned of all life save her own.
She was alone in facing a terror that bore down on her. Thunder clapped in the sky, shaking the ground.
Her legs felt unsteady, knees weak, muscles as substantial as jelly.

She had no time to wonder what had happened--not when the creature approached so rapidly. She
couldn’t bar the keep from him, not without five men to push the door.

Whirling, Adriana ran for the castle. She threw the door shut and struggled with the bracing until she’d
managed to drop it into place, marveling at the strength fear had given her. Outside she imagined she
could hear the creature gain entry into the courtyard, then climbing the stairs. She could practically feel
him on the other side of the door.

She turned then and ran for her tower, dashing up the long, winding stairs with break neck speed.
Below, she heard the unmistakable sound of wood splintering from a massive blow.

He was inside. The knowledge leant speed to her feet. She continued running, her endurance lagging, but
she reached her room and darted inside, dropping another brace on this door, though it was probably
useless. He so easily burst through the other, what deterrent would this flimsy door be for him? Likely
none, but she had to try.

She looked around her room for a hiding spot and then laughed a little hysterically at the absurdity of that
thought. She had no obvious weapon to fend him off--nothing sharp and wicked. Cursing herself for not
grabbing something before she came up, she searched the room desperately anyway. Her gaze settled on
the thick book lying on her bedside table. She hefted it in her hands.

The book of legends…. She lovingly traced the ornate tooled leather. How could she have forgotten…?

The door rattled behind her. The bracing clattered noisily to the floor. Adriana ignored the sound of the
door pushing open, the hollow steps of booted feet.

A memory tickled the edges of her mind. She struggled to catch it, closing her eyes.

Hands locked onto her shoulders, turning her to face the invader … him….

She tipped up her face, instinctively knowing he was tall, the tallest man she’d ever known. Slowly, she
opened her eyes.

“Morpheus,” she said on breathy whisper. The book slid out of her arms, dropping to the floor, just
missing her feet.

Surprise widened his dark eyes, ever so slightly. His thick black brows drew together in a frown. She
could see nothing of the lower half of his face. A leather guard shielded his nose and mouth from her
sight.

Without thinking, she reached up and tugged it off, revealing his masculine beauty. He didn’t try to stop
her as she traced his square jaw. He swallowed, as if the tender touch pained him. She moved slowly
then, her fingers the barest whisper on his skin as she smoothed across his lips. They parted beneath her

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touch as he drew in a ragged breath.

She remembered terror and elation, and then a kiss, begged for and received. Was she losing her mind?

Her hand rested at his jaw, slowly curling around his neck in possession. She met his eyes and stilled.
Her heart beat rapidly, and she felt like she could no longer breathe. “Do I dream?”

“Yes,” he said.

The familiar baritone vibrated her chest softly. Warmth rushed her body, making her flush. “I dream, yet
here you are. Are you not real?”

“I am flesh and blood.”

“Then I shall kiss you and dispel this dream.” She stood on the tips of her toes, pulling the back of his
neck to close the distance.

* * * *

Morpheus wrenched himself from her dream with an effort, sliding off her bed as if putting distance
between them would ease the sweet torment that infiltrated his body and mind. He angrily paced the
room.

He’d nearly lost control.

He threw off his cloak and gloves, ran a hand through sweat dampened hair, willing his body to return to
normal. Nothing could stop his gaze from crawling back to her sleeping form, however. She moved in her
sleep, her gown slipping up her legs, revealing toned calves and a hint of knee. She arched her back,
presenting her throat, the slender column begging for his lips to nibble across her and up to her lips.

His loins tightened. His belly clenched on a hard spasm of lust.

There was no frightening her away from him. She was powerful--powerful enough to use his weakness,
his desire, to twist her dreams into whatever she wished.

He could not allow this woman to weaken his resolve to have done with her. He would not be enslaved
by a mere mortal, a slip of a girl at that.

He still had time this night to begin again. Allowing his body to cool long moments, he devised a new
plan, one that would allow his needs to be fulfilled, and destroy her longing for him. There was no other
way.

He would not fall prey to the desires of one mortal woman.

He strode to her bed once more, resisting the impulse to touch her as she lay vulnerable to him,
conjuring instead another dream.

* * * *

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The crowded, noisy hall hushed to a quiet roar as she was led inside. The cuffs around her wrists and
neck chafed when her chains were pulled, but the pain was not as great as the shame that washed over
her at the crowd’s perusal. She felt dissected, her every flaw revealed to them and knew she was found
lacking. She heard it in their murmured disapproval and felt the crowd’s gaze like needle pricks all over
her skin.

The pull of the chains forced her head down, leaving only the periphery of her vision available to her, so
it was not until she stopped and the chains were removed that she discovered she was to be an offering
to the dark, forbidding lord, Morpheus.

He’d tried to disguise himself, cloak the fragile edges of her memory. Magic hummed in the air like the
calm before a storm. Try as he might, though, he could not hide himself from her. The more she saw him,
the easier it became for her mind to grasp his every nuance … to remember. Though she knew him on
sight, he was changed. There was not an ounce of tenderness in him. He reeked of barely leashed
passions, anger foremost.

He sprawled decadently on a stone throne, his legs stretched before him, hands grasping the stone arms
with white-knuckled strength. His eyes remained unmoved from her face.

Adriana’s blood wailed in her veins. Fear and trepidation pervaded her senses, feeling wholly unnatural
to her. She should not be afraid, and yet, she was.

“Remove your gown.”

Adriana stiffened, fighting the powerful pull of his voice that compelled her to do whatever he wished.
She took a deep, steadying breath. “No.”

“Remove it or I will have it removed for you.” He signaled the guards to attention with a flick of his hand.

Better to take it off herself than suffer the humiliation of having the gown ripped off of her. She
straightened, resisting the useless impulse to run. She met his gaze once more, opening the neck of her
gown to pull the edges over her shoulders. The thin garment slid down her shoulders and dropped to the
floor, exposing her to all and sundry. The chill of the air hardened her nipples, prickled her flesh.

Lewd jeers rang out in the hall, but she scarcely heard the heckles past the blood pulsing in her face and
ears. Each second seemed an eternity. The black intensity of his gaze rippled over her like a physical
touch. She flushed all over as he raked his gaze down her body. She could practically feel him touch her
breasts, the curve of her waist, the juncture of her thighs and the sparse thatch of hair hiding her sex.

“Come to me.” His command quieted the hall. Not a breath stirred.

Her nerves jumped. Shivers coursed down her spine. She wasn’t certain she could move, much less
climb the shallow steps up to him. She felt on the verge of collapsing.

Gathering her courage, she slowly made her way up the dais until she stood before him. His heavy boots
rested on the floor to either side of her feet. If he so chose, he could lean forward but a little and capture
her completely. The heat of his gaze seared her by his proximity. She went tense all over, scarcely daring
to breathe.

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“Kneel.”

She shook her head, wanting to close her eyes, but fear and something else wouldn’t allow her to look
away.

Chapter Four

“On your knees.”

She felt his hard pronunciation of each word deep inside her. What little resistance she still possessed
crumbled. She dropped to her knees.

“Put your hands on my thighs.”

She obeyed, placing a hand on each hard muscle, turning her face up to him.

He looked down at her, his dark eyes glittering with indefinable emotion. “I want you to pleasure me
with your mouth.”

She gasped and tried to pull back, but he caught her hands, not allowing escape. Her heart caught in her
throat as he took her stiff hand and placed it on his groin. Her fingers flexed involuntarily at the hot
hardness she could feel beneath the leather. His fingers moved in sync with her, catching the leather ties
and pulling until the cod piece hung to the side. His erection rose from his breeches, thick and monstrous.
Blood throbbed in the lacing of veins covering his skin.

“Put your lips on me,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

Adriana thought she would explode. She was spellbound by the beast nestled at the apex of his thighs.
She couldn’t imagine taking it into her mouth. She would choke on it. Horror and fascination mingled in
her blood. A pulsed throbbed between her legs--moisture gathering in her sex.

She didn’t want to, yet she couldn’t resist.

Mesmerized, she allowed him to tug her wrists and pull her forward. His knees touched her rib-cage, the
supple leather softly abraded the sides of her breasts as she leaned forward and touched her lips to the
tip of his manroot. The heat startled her first. A clear drop of liquid glistened on the head, dampening her
lips. Without thinking, she licked it away, surprised by the faintly salty taste.

Morpheus tangled his hand in her hair, his fingers curling around the base of her skull. “Take me in your
mouth.”

She sucked in a harsh breath, opening her lips over him as he forced her to take him in her mouth.
Adriana nudged the bulbous head with her tongue, hesitant and unsure of what to do.

He groaned, clasping his other hand at her head, holding her still. His hips moved, pressing him harder

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into her mouth.

She moaned in excitement as he forced it further inside her, filling her mouth, awakening a hunger she
hadn’t known she possessed. She suckled him, not knowing what else to do. His hands tightened in her
hair, pulling her scalp until it prickled. She clutched his thighs, fingers grasping the tense muscles as he
arched his hips and retreated, thrusting into her mouth with strong, shallow strokes.

He was intense, his taste addictive. The tautness of his body echoed in her own. Her sex drenched with
desire, her clit pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart. She could sense nothing but him--the crowd was
gone from her mind--only pleasuring him existed now.

His cock jerked in her mouth and he groaned again, loosing his hold on her head to grasp her shoulders.
She stopped, looking up at him, wondering what she’d done wrong.

He leaned forward then, catching her under the arms, pulling her up onto his lap and above, until her
thighs hooked over the arms of the throne. Cool air tickled her parted nether lips, almost painfully
contrasting the heat deep inside her sex.

Her breasts were inches from his mouth if he but dipped his head a little. His hot breath whispered over
her nipples, making them harden, the flesh tightening in anticipation. She caught the back of the throne for
balance, becoming a fleshly cage that barely held his passions in check. He looked up at her, his eyes
dark and unreadable. His hands curled around her hips, touching her buttocks as she hung suspended
above his cock.

He cupped her nether cheeks, fingers gripping her forcefully as he pulled her down. His cock parted her
lips, becoming a painful pressure against the edges of her sex. She gasped at the shocking contact, her
hips jerking in his hands. He pressed her inexorably down onto his erection, his thick cock digging into
her tight channel.

Her core clenched on arousal, cramping her womb with longing. She clamped her fingers tightly on the
back of the throne, her knuckles aching from her grip. Her thighs strained to hold herself up off his
member, but he was intent on delving her to the deepest depths.

His jaw clenched, teeth gritted as if he was in pain. Adriana resisted him as long as she could, but the
lure of pleasure pulled her. She had not the strength to resist. Giving up the fight, she allowed him reign.

He impaled her in one swift stroke.

The gathered crowd gasped in time with her hoarse cry of pain and pleasure. Adriana rested her
forehead against his, gasping raggedly. Her insides ached from the forceful intrusion. She was invaded but
not conquered … until he began to move her on his erection.

She bit her lip to stifle the whimpers, needing to move on him, unable to help herself or stop the
ceaseless motion. She had to rock or she would die.

She flexed her thighs and used her arms to leverage herself on and off his thickness. He groaned, pushing
harder, until his hips were rising up to greet her when she came down. She could feel her womanhood’s
response to too much, too soon--the seepage of her cream coating her crevice in abundance, as if it
could somehow ease the girth of his manhood.

Nothing could disguise that monstrous beast pumping her core, and the tight stretch of each thrust soon

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became a hypnotic madness she craved more than life itself. Again the crowd disappeared, until her
senses locked onto only him, thrusting, groaning, his hands digging into her cheeks. Her clit throbbed in
time with her wildly beating heart. Her muscles clutched him in desperation. Small whimpers seeped past
her lips.

Burning, searing waves of pleasure lapped her insides, ricocheting through her nerves like lightning. Her
whimpers became cries. Her cries became screams as an orgasm exploded inside her.

His cock jerked within the clutch of her muscles, spewing his seed inside. She arched, throwing her head
back, clutching his shoulders as she rode the rapture. He kissed the hollow at the base of her neck,
shuddering, closing his arms around her waist to crush her against his chest.

“You tempt me to madness,” he ground out, his deep voice gravelly, wounded.

Adriana felt the sting in her soul--knew she’d done something wrong. She looked at him, met his dark
gaze just as blackness swam across her vision.

* * * *

Morpheus withdrew from the dream, his psyche weakened beyond his ken. He found himself atop her,
between her legs, with naught but his breeches between him and the ultimate treasure. Her back arched.
She was ready for the taking. He could feel the heat between her thighs, smelled the light sweet fragrance
of her arousal.

The scent curled his nostrils, drove his mind and body increasingly toward insanity--the crazed need to
ravish and rape, to take what he had no right to take. It would be rape. She could never want him. To
know him was to fear him. He’d ceased fighting his destiny long ago and embraced solitude. Why did she
haunt him so?

Was she so powerful? Or was it his own weakness that doomed him to failure?

He buried his face against her neck, unable to prevent the thrust of his hips against her. Pressure against
his cock tightened, the blood rushing from his head to his groin, weakening his resolve. His body and
mind were in turmoil with the need to take her in truth. Dreams had done nothing but heighten that driving
need to desperation.

What a fool he’d been to think he could control her, that he could resist his own desires.

He was inches from plunging into her, his leather little barrier. His fingers found the opening to his
breeches, pushing aside the cod piece until his cock spilled out. A single thrust would put him inside her.
He had only to move and it would be done. What little resistance remained would crumble under that
sweet lure.

She moaned, closing her arms around his neck. No longer did she sleep. She’d broken the spell that had
held her in thrall. Had the entire keep awakened? Had he lost his power entirely?

“Kiss me, Morpheus,” she whispered, opening her eyes in the dark, looking at him blindly. “Make love
to me.”

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The soft utterance of words made the numbness inside him disappear. Her trusting, imploring gaze set his
body afire. One thrust. One move. One….

She writhed beneath him, spreading her legs wide, moving her belly until she rubbed her wet cunt across
the tip of his cock.

His body went rigid, every muscle strained to remain still. Sweat popped out along his pores, a sheen of
dampness sprinkled his skin.

“Move not,” he said, groaning.

“I need you,” she said, whimpering, rubbing against him, clutching his shoulders. Her legs wrapped
around his hips, pulling him toward her, until his tip nudged her opening.

“Do … not … move,” he gritted out, drawing in ragged gulps of air. Every fiber of his body strained
against his will, making him mad with need. She was so close … so close … so sweet and willing--for
now.

He dragged himself off her, jumping from the bed, growling in pain. He felt more than saw her sit up in
bed, sensed her distress and knew he’d put it there. He could not look back. To do so would be the end
of him. He could not resist her again, and he knew that deep down she did not truly want him.

Morpheus leapt through the window, whistling for his mount. Despair caught him mid-air and turned
toward his realm, to his abandoned keep.

He vowed not to succumb to her summons again. Even should it kill him.

* * * *

Adriana gasped when he leapt from the window, fearing he’d killed himself. Something burst inside her,
crushing her chest. She jumped off the bed, rushing to the window, expecting to see his broken body on
the bedrock below. Instead she saw him caught by his horse and watched as he flew away in a stream of
fiery light.

Sobs lodged in her throat, but she held them back. Fleeing back to the shelter of her bed, she collapsed
on it, shuddering with unexpressed emotion. Her body ached with need, but it was nothing compared to
the pain in her heart. He’d rejected her. She couldn’t fathom why he would resist her, not when he so
obviously wanted to make love to her.

He’d resisted her in her dreams and tried to frighten and repulse her. She couldn’t understand his
reasoning for that either. Nor could she understand why he wished for her to remain ignorant of his visits.
Sheer will had broken through and allowed her to remember him.

The only rational explanation she could come up with was that he was trying to be noble, to not disgrace
her. She wouldn’t have it. She wanted to be defiled, to be ravished by him in any number of ways,
however he wished. Adriana felt the need to be with him so deeply, so profoundly it was more than a
need--he was a balm to her soul. He needed her as much as she needed him. His loneliness echoed in
her heart, irresistible.

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Too upset, she couldn’t sleep after he’d left. She lit a candle and paced the room, discovering he’d
abandoned his cloak and gloves. She gathered them into her arms, wondering for a wild moment what to
do with them, where she could hide them that they could not be discovered.

She stood with them hugged to her chest, looking around her small room. His scent lingered on the
cloak, warming her insides. She calmed, bringing the cloth up to her nostrils to breathe deeply, reassured
that she wasn’t losing her mind.

He was real. He’d been here. He’d touched her.

She sat on the bed, burying her face in his cloak. Unbidden tears stung her eyes. For the first time since
her imprisonment, she cried.

Chapter Five

Morpheus did not come to her again. She prayed for him to come to her, to love her, to forgive her
foolishness, but no amount of begging would bring him to her. Night after night she called him, until even
her dreams offered no respite from the nagging emptiness that consumed her when he did not come.

She grew despondent. Her father noticed the change in her mood, and it broke his heart.

John Bordeaux pulled a chair up beside her bed, gathering her lax hand into his cool, dry palm. He
kissed the back of it, and she felt the dampness of tears.

“My daughter, pray, forgive me. I sought only to protect you. What must I do to make you happy once
more?”

Adriana could not look at him. Her mind was full of Morpheus and his suffering. She could bear no one
else’s. “Leave me to my sorrow,” she murmured, pulling her hand free. She turned onto her side, putting
her back to him.

“Your door has been unlocked and unbound this week past, and yet you will not move from your room.
What must I do?” His voice broke. She could hear the exhaustion in it, the years that had piled onto his
stooped shoulders.

Despair was killing him as surely as it did her.

She couldn’t leave though. What if Morpheus returned and couldn’t find her? One moment away from
her room would be all it would take. She couldn’t miss him if he came back. And happiness did not exist
for her if he was not in her arms.

But her poor father … he was so old now. She had to do something. “Father, please go. I can not bear
your suffering. I will try on the morrow to be better.”

He sniffed and cleared his throat. The chair scraped the floor as he stood. He bent over her and kissed

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her temple before straightening. “There’s my beautiful girl. Try to get some rest. We’ll take a ride
tomorrow and see the countryside. You’ll enjoy that.”

He moved quietly across the room and closed the door behind him.

Poor Father, he had no idea what she was going through, and she couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. Far
better to play at being her normal self than to break his heart, she thought. One broken heart in the keep
was enough.

Hardly had he gone when a chill wind burst through her window, fluttering the curtains and knocking out
the fragile candle flame. Adriana had rolled over to relight it when a voice stopped her.

“Are you the maiden, Adriana Bordeaux, sister to Lady Cerise Erlansson, wife of Lord Daegon
Erlansson?”

She whipped around with a gasp to see a man standing inside her room. The window curtains streamed
around him in a brisk and sudden wind, as if he conjured the very air to his command.

“Who are you?” she demanded, jumping off the bed to her feet. “I’ll scream if you come closer!”

He snapped his fingers and the candle lit, burning with a flame many times brighter than normal. In the
light he appeared normal, but the air sizzled with magic. The scent of lightning permeated the room.

His black hair remained still despite the tendrils of wind creeping around him into the room--another sign
of magic if ever she’d seen one.

He was handsome, but that did not mean she should trust him.

He smiled as if reading her thoughts. “You can be no other than that she-cat’s sister. I am Drago Kadar.
Your sister’s husbandpersuadedme to come to your rescue.”

Adriana regarded him with suspicion, but her movement toward the door eased. “How am I to know
you tell the truth?”

“She expected this.” He removed a wax sealed missive from the inside of his jacket, tossing it onto the
bed.

Adriana snatched it up and backed away again, scanning the contents quickly lest the move prove to be
a trick. As she quickly read, though, she saw he told the truth. Cerise, worried over her stay in the tower,
had persuaded her husband to find a man capable of bringing Adriana safely to her husband’s lands.

Oh how she wanted to go! She desperately needed her sister’s guidance. Though Cerise had ever been
headstrong, some help was better than nothing at all. And Cerise had succumbed to her own dark lord
only months before, as had Bianca, the eldest. They would both empathize with her torment.

But Morpheus … what if he should come and she had gone…? “I wish I could, but I dare not.”

Drago frowned. “Why not?”

She would have to tell him so that he could inform her sister, she quickly realized. There was no other
choice. She didn’t want to risk this man’s discovery by going down into the castle in the middle of the

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night to search for quill, ink, and paper. “I must await Morpheus’ return.”

His brows lifted in surprise and more than a little disapproval. “Morpheus Dragunas?”

Adriana tensed. “Yes.”

“I know the name well. You have summoned him before? And he answered?”

A sick feeling invaded her stomach. Something in his look and tone of voice boded ill. “I have. He has
come to me many times. How do you know so much?”

“All men of Hellsing realm know his name. You must not call him again. If it is as you say and he has
come many times before it can only mean that you are his weakness. ‘Tis death that awaits his return.
Morpheus Dragunas can not fall in love with a mortal woman.”

Pain and dread enveloped her at that, but also disbelief and suspicion. She frowned, shaking her head.
“You’re mistaken. I have a book of legends. It says a pure maiden can summon him.” She looked down,
found the book and opened it. “He falls in love with her and takes her to his castle to live for eternity. It’s
right here.” She flipped through the book, trying to find his story.

“That is not how the legend goes,” Drago said quietly.

“It is.” She found the story, her fingers marking the words as she held it aloft for him to see. The page
slipped under the pads of her fingers. “What is this…?” She set the book down, touching the last page of
the dream guardian’s legend. A slight tug freed it completely from the binding and she saw that other
pages were missing, as well. It was not the final page after all. Why had she not seen it before?

Terror filled her as it sank into her mind that she could be the one to fulfill the legend, to bring death to
the man she loved. Dizziness rushed her eyes, making her head swim. Her knees went weak, and she
collapsed in the chair her father had left beside the bed. Tears filled her eyes. “What have I done?” she
whispered brokenly.

“Hush, sweeting. You could not have known.” Drago crossed the room, stopping behind her to
awkwardly pat her shoulder, as if he was unsure exactly how to calm her down. “I do not remember the
exact wording of the legend, for it is old, but I know this, Morpheus will die if he falls in love with a
mortal woman. Each time he is forced to answer the summons of a pure maiden, he must answer--it is a
part of his curse--that one day he will succumb to the maiden who summons him and find his death.”

Adriana buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Drago ceased patting her, as if the great
shuddering of her body terrified him.

She ignored him, wallowing in her own misery and stupidity. That was why he’d resisted. She’d risked
his immortality--nay, she could be the death of him. Her persistence had nearly killed him.

It occurred to her abruptly that she must go with Drago. She had to hide herself away. She couldn’t risk
him returning. He had withdrawn, refusing to answer her pleas, and she comforted herself that he could
be in no danger now, that he had not succumbed to her love for him. However slight the chance might be,
though, she would not risk the possibility that he might come back for her.

Slowly, she poured her tears out. Feeling drained but resolved, she mopped her face as best she could
before turning to Drago. “I will go with you. Give me a moment to collect my things, and I shall be

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ready.”

He nodded, looking shaken as he sat on the windowsill.

She wished she could bid her father farewell, leave him a note, but she knew he would not allow her to
go if he knew. She would send word once they reached their destination. It was the only way. She took
only a few gowns, resolving to start over fresh once she left Raedan Keep. The sewing would take her
mind off her troubles--or so she hoped.

When she was finished packing, Adriana went to Drago. He wrapped his cloak around her and they
lifted off the floor, flying out the window into the night. She buried her face against his chest, inhaling the
scent of man. Remembrance flooded her, making her feel weepy all over again.

In a few minutes he eased them down into the forest where two horses awaited.

“My magic cannot sustain lengthy flight,” he said as way of explanation.

She merely nodded, watching as he packed her belongings onto the horse. She looked up into the
moonless night, wishing to see him one last time. “Morpheus, forgive me. You need not suffer my
summons again,” she whispered into the cold darkness.

Was it true love or only the idea of it that had enchanted her? Would she forget him if a month slipped
by, or would his memory linger in her mind for eternity?

Those questions and others plagued her mind as Drago helped her onto the horse and they disappeared
into the darkened wood.

* * * *

Her calls ceased to come. Silence reigned through his halls once more, leaving him in peace--if hellish
torment could be called such.

Time had held no meaning for him until now. Her voice had sung in his mind, torture, yes, but a pleasure
as well. With it gone, he felt the emptiness of his existence a thousand times over.

Morpheus imagined her going on with her life. Loving another man … bearing his children … growing
old. The mere thought was enough to set him into a rage.

His emotions had never spilt to the surface, and never had they shown themselves physically. He vented
his spleen, destroying everything that had given him joy before, for now nothing could hold his interest,
nothing could distract him from what he’d willingly given up. Nothing could dull the pain that gnawed his
insides.

He told himself it was for the best--for them both.

He didn’t truly believe the hollow words.

They became a litany he spoke each time she’d beckoned … until she stopped calling him.

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The silence…. It drove him mad.

He withstood it for a day, and then another. At the dawning of the third night he could take no more.

He whistled for Despair, climbing atop the beast. Together, they tore through the countryside, leagues
crossed in minutes.

He covered Raedan Keep with a sleeping spell, stealing inside to see her.

She was not in the castle. He knew it the moment he set foot inside, yet he hoped his senses betrayed
him. He climbed the tower, bursting inside her room. It was empty. Devoid of her life force--something
only immortals and those of magical blood could recognize.

Adriana was gone.

The realization that he’d lost her sent him further over the edge. He realized now he was obsessed, but
he could no more contain the desperation than he could cease breathing.

He scanned the room once more, looking for some sign, some reason why she was absent.

A snatch of white caught his eye, tucked beneath the bed as if forgotten in haste. Her father could not
have turned over the room else he would have spotted it. Perhaps his own grief prevented him from
seeing it. Whatever the reason, it mattered not. Morpheus seized the slip of paper, scanning it quickly.
‘Twas a letter from her sister. He knew the husband’s name, knew where he lived.

She thought he’d abandoned her. There was no other explanation why she would choose to leave. What
a fool he was! She had every right to think it--he had. He’d tried to forget her.

He couldn’t. And he wouldn’t allow her to forget him.

Morpheus left the tower, calling Despair to him once more. He climbed atop the beast, spurring him into
motion.

He would find Adriana and bring her to his castle, whether she wished it or no. He was confident he
could sway her mind in time. He would prove himself worthy of her love.

Easily picking up their trail, Morpheus followed their tracks. Despair’s speed allowed them to cross
great distances within minutes, and the beast did not appreciate being reigned in when Morpheus spotted
his quarry. He dropped off the night-mare, tethering the animal to a tree with a simple spell so that he
could approach the camp quietly and unhindered.

They were deep in Hellsing wood. An enchantment had lain over the land for hundreds of years.
Spell-casting was difficult here unless in close proximity, and he couldn’t chance alerting them to flight
and risk losing her. He had to make certain his magic would work on her escort--Drago Kadar
according to the missive he’d read.

Though he was not familiar with Drago Kadar, he knew Daegon Erlansson was no fool. He would not
send a novice to rescue his wife’s sister.

Their campfire encircled their sleeping bodies. Morpheus recognized the magical barrier at once. He
murmured words of magic, crossing into their camp with ease, quickly laying a sleeping spell over the

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man before he could stir.

Kadar resisted, but none had ever broken his spells … save one … Adriana Bordeaux.

She slept a fitful sleep. He knelt beside her, touching her temple and cheek, easing her dreams. At once
her frown disappeared, and she lay still.

He scooped her into his arms, enjoying the weight of her, her nearness. He dipped his head, raising her
up until he could smell her skin, kiss her forehead.

Already his tension eased, slipping into nothingness.

“You will be happy with me,” he murmured.

Chapter Six

Adriana slowly awakened to alien surroundings. She lay in a bed not her own, in an unfamiliar room.
Gauze draped around the bed like a thick, cloying mist, clouding her view. She sat up and pushed the
lushly embroidered bed covers off, dragging the curtains open. Standing on sleep weakened muscles, she
walked unsteadily around the room, wondering how she’d gotten to be here.

Had they made it to Cerise’s home already? She couldn’t remember traveling any more, and Drago
insisted they would not reach it before tonight. Unless he’d been mistaken.

There had to be a reasonable explanation, but she couldn’t think of one at the moment. Sleep still fogged
her mind.

Adriana crossed the room to the vanity, where sat a ceramic pitcher and bowl. She poured water into
the bowl and washed her face, surprised to discover someone had thoughtfully heated the water.

After drying off, she surveyed the room once more. The décor seemed old, but that was not
unexpected. Daegon Erlansson was an ancient lord, after all, and his tastes were more likely to oppose
modern sensibilities than embrace them.

She moved to the window, drawing aside the embroidery drenched drapery to look outside. She could
see nothing but a heavy mist, gray with weak light. Even the sun seemed obscured from her sight.

They didn’t live near a body of water large enough to cause so must fog. At least, Cerise had never
mentioned it. But then, she’d not had much time for discourse with her sister since Cerise had left--even
less since being locked in the tower. She puzzled it over, wondering if another facet of the landscape
could produce the ground cover.

Adriana turned from the window, the scent of food catching her attention. A covered silver platter sat on
the small table beside the bed.

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That hadn’t been there before.

Were their maids so well trained that they could come and go without sound? Or did Daegon use his
magic?

Her stomach rumbled, signaling a desire to be filled. Feeling uneasy, she ignored it and crossed the room
to the door instead. It opened easily, and she sighed, not consciously realizing she’d more than half
expected it to be locked.

She poked her head out, looking up and down the stone corridor. She saw no one and could hear no
retreating footsteps.

“Hello? Cerise? Is anyone there?”

No one answered.

She went back inside and uncovered the platter, revealing a succulent, aromatic array of sliced meat,
cheese, fruit and bread. Never one to overindulge at first light, she nibbled at the delicious food until she
felt comfortably satisfied, then set out to find her sister.

She didn’t think she could rest easy until she beheld a familiar face.

The door swept open with ease, and she ventured out into the hall. No tell-tale signs showed the way to
the main hall, so she went right, hoping to find a stair that would eventually lead her down, or some
passing servant.

Despite being carved of stone, the narrow hall was strangely quiet. Even her footsteps seemed
swallowed by the stone, sounding hollow. There was no echo to betray her movement. In fact, there was
no sound to be heard anywhere … at all. She wondered if the ancient build had something to do with the
strange acoustics.

She soon found a winding staircase at the end of the hall, most likely used mainly by the servants, but at
this point she didn’t care. Descending, she found herself in a narrow hallway that seemed to bear up her
suspicions of before. Regardless, the servants would have to have access to the living areas as well as
servants’ quarters, she knew, and she chose a direction and moved quickly along it.

The great room she found at the end was plainly the kitchen. Sighing in irritation, she turned and retraced
her steps, passing the stairway again and hurrying on until she came at last to the room she had sought,
the main hall.

To her consternation, however, it appeared as empty as the rest of the castle. Wondering a little uneasily
if she was caught up in a dream, she moved into the room and looked around. “Cerise? Is anyone
there?” she called.

“There is no one here but you and I.”

His deep voice resonated through her like a physical caress as it had from the first. A thrill went through
her, but it was followed so quickly with dread that it made her feel lightheaded even before she whirled to
face him.

She knew him, and yet she scarcely recognized the man she saw. Before, night had veiled him, or her

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dreams. He was far more handsome than she had realized, so handsome it made her ache for his touch
only to look at him.

Hair the color of night fell across his brow and framed his angular features, the swarthiness of his flesh
emphasizing the intensity of his deep blue eyes.

He seemed taller, more massively built than she had thought as he stood before her now, his legs braced
wide, his powerful arms folded across his chest. His sheer size and the hard, bulging muscles of his body
should have made her weak with fear. Instead, it made her weak with need.

“I am--dreaming?” she asked uneasily.

“Nay. I brought you here.”

Adriana swallowed with some difficulty against the knot of dread that threatened to close her throat.
“You should not have done that!” she cried, without thinking.

He frowned, his lips tightening with anger. It glittered in his eyes, but puzzlement dwelt there, as well. “I
am Morpheus. I do as it pleases me,” he ground out.

Misery and fear--for him--threatened to deprive her completely of her wit. “I don’t--understand,” she
said finally. “I did not summon you.”

That comment seemed to anger him more than the last. He tilted his head quizzically. “Is it possible that
you believe that you control me?” he asked, his voice quiet with carefully controlled anger.

Dismay filled her. “The legend--I only wished to be freed from my imprisonment. Drago Kadar rescued
me.”

Before she could say more, she found herself imprisoned against the cold stone wall of the main
hall--though how he had managed it she had no clue--with Morpheus’ body pressing tightly against her
own. Rage seethed in his eyes as he gazed down at her. “So you used your beauty to enthrall him, as
well?” he asked, his voice a dark rumble of dangerous emotions. “You are very accomplished, my dear,
otherwise he would not so lightly have dismissed my wrath.”

As distraught as she was, it was clear enough that he believed she had seduced Drago into helping her. It
pained her that he would so easily believe that of her, but she realized she could tell him no different. He
would not believe her in his anger and it would be best if he didn’t.

He desired her. There could be no other explanation for what he had done, but she knew that there was
danger to him in it, even if he didn’t realize it himself, even if he believed his immortality would protect
him. She had desired him and succumbed to love. It could be the same for him--and it would mean his
death.

She could not live with herself if she found that she was the woman of legend, the woman who would
bring him love--and death.

But how was she to turn him away, now?

The answer made her feel vaguely ill. “He is--quite handsome,” she responded simply. “When he came,
I knew at once that he was my heart’s desire.”

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Pain and fury twisted Morpheus’ features and Adriana ached to think that she had caused it. It took an
effort to remind herself that it was far better to cause a little wound than his death. “Fickle maiden,” he
growled.

“I can not help it,” she said weakly.

His eyes narrowed. “Nor your desire for me,” he responded evenly, leaning closer and dragging in a
deep breath, as if he could smell the yearning she hid from herself.

Despite everything, it took no more than that to make her body burgeon with need. She fought it, tried to
close her mind to it. Slowly, he released his tight hold on her wrists and slid his hands along her arms,
cupping her breasts in his hands and tweaking her engorged nipples through the fabric with his thumb and
forefinger.

Her heart thundered, threatening to suffocate her. “I don’t--desire you,” she lied, hoping he would
simply accept and release her from his spell.

“Every word from your lovely lips a lie,” he murmured harshly, tracing the line of her jaw with nibbling
kisses.

Need clawed inside her belly. Blood thundered through her veins. She should have been frightened by
his aggression. Instead, she was desperate for his kiss. She’d longed for it, dreamt of his caresses until
she was feverish. She tried to remain aloof, defiant, told herself she was stronger than this, that she could
and would resist him, no matter what he did to her body….

She barely registered his intent when he closed over her mouth, kissing her so hungrily it snatched the
strength from her knees. His lips slanted, forcing her mouth open, for her to accept his invasion. A hand
tangled into her hair, holding her still for his mouth. She whimpered, gasping at his ferocity, and his
tongue, rough voracious, plunged past her lips to tangle with her own. His mouth was hot, hard. She
tasted the anger in his kiss, like a ravaging storm. He caged her, his tongue spearing into her mouth,
leaving no crevice unexplored, allowing her no chance for retreat, no opportunity to escape. She bucked
against him, wanting to be free, but his taste and touch drove her need to dizzying heights.

Heat snaked through her. He claimed her with lips and tongue. Nibbling, gently biting, his hand holding
her possessively.

Her jerky, weak struggles seemed to strengthen his resolve, heighten his own lust. He dragged his hands
down her body, eliciting her excited moans. He swallowed her protest, grasped the edges of her bodice,
snatching it open. Cloth ripped, sounding harsh and alien compared to their all too primitive moaning. He
pushed her dress down her shoulders, freeing her breasts to his rough, massaging hands.

He continued his feast down her neck, burying his face in the valley of her breasts. She grabbed his
massive shoulders, trying to steady herself. The stone behind her offered no support compared to the
rioting weakness he created in her. She felt that any minute her legs would give out.

Before she could so much as gasp, he was plucking one nipple with his lips, teeth scraping, tongue
scorching and teasing the hard tip. He rolled her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, allowing
her no respite from the onslaught of sensation.

He hiked her skirts up with his free hand, found the slit in her pantalettes and tugged, ripping a wide hole

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in the garment that let cool air touch her feverish skin as he caressed her.

He made a rumbling sound of satisfaction as his fingers slipped through her creamy seam, delving into
her tight hole. She writhed helplessly, thighs clamping on his hand, chest heaving with ragged intake.

She was free of any impediment now save the turmoil of her mind, and he paid it no heed.

He straightened from his stoop and kissed her, crowding her against the cool stone. Her body reacted to
the pressure of his rigid, muscled flesh with violence--a torrent of emotion saturated her insides. Desire
flooded her sex, betraying her mind. Her pulse thundered like a stampede of horses, galloping
desperately in terror and excitement.

He dragged his rough hands down her sides, taking her gown with him until it bunched around her waist,
fingers touching her as if reveling in her submission. She trembled, whimpering as he yanked her skirts
high and found her hips, curling around her buttocks with a possessive grip.

He bent his legs, pushing a knee between her clamped thighs until they parted around him. He lifted her,
until the crux of her thighs cradled his hot, hard erection. It took him only a minute to free it and return his
hands to her cheeks, cupping her, hauling her closer.

His proximity seared her naked nether lips. The mouth of her womb watered in hunger, desperate for
sustenance.

He broke from her mouth, covering her jaw and neck in ravenous kisses, threatening to eat her alive,
devour her with his passion. She wanted to beg him to stop. Knew it was useless.

Her mind wailed at her submission. Her body cried for him to ravish her.

She couldn’t control the creep of her arms as they encircled his back, couldn’t control the tightening of
her fingers at his shoulder blades.

He groaned at her surrender, ground his hips against her. Pleasure erupted from her clit, making her belly
spasm. She moaned, mindlessly rubbing herself against him, wanting that thick length deep inside her.

He tensed, gripping her buttocks tightly, rocking his hips until his cock seared her entrance. He clenched
his jaw, his breath harshly expelling past gritted teeth.

She went rigid, moaning at the invasion. “Morpheus!” she gasped.

Her breathy plea provoked him. He thrust inside her, rending asunder virginal flesh. He reacted by going
deathly still.

She screamed in pain, pleasure fleeing, scarcely noticing the halt of his movement. It was too late. He’d
ruined her body, destroyed whatever pleasure she’d derived from him before. She squirmed in agony,
impaled on his rod, great shudders wracking her body.

Morpheus ground out a curse, kissing her lips. She sobbed against him. He shuddered, running his
fingers delicately along her sides. Magic, like sparks of lightning, sizzled across her bare skin. The pain
vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only the tight stretch of her muscles around his
incredible girth.

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She tensed around him, ecstasy blooming like a fragile blossom. Impatience hastened his actions. He
thrust deep inside her, yanking her flush against him, bearing her against the wall.

The thick head and fleshly column stretched her to an overflowing, burning her. Exciting her beyond ken.
He groaned her name against her lips, her cheek, kissing all over her face as he worked a driving
momentum into her womb. Her inner muscles clutched him with desperation, agonizing pleasure building
with each powerful stroke.

He was pounding her, mindless to the bliss hovering just out of reach. She could ignore it no longer.

His ragged breath seared her neck and ear, his savage groans making her shiver with excitement. Her
sex screamed for release, nerves stretched taut, focused on attaining orgasm.

She cried out his name, clinging to him as he ground his hips against her pelvis, so rough, so exquisite.
Her clit throbbed until it was like a second heart beat between her legs. She tingled everywhere, her
arms, legs, even her hair seemed electrified. Her teeth ached from the clench of her jaw, lungs burned to
compete with the rigor of his loving and her excited breathing.

Pleasure bloomed, radiating from her center until every muscle went rigid. She bucked against him,
digging her nails into his shoulders. He arched his back, groaning as his cock jerked violently and semen
burst inside her, coating her womb, his jerky movements setting off a chain reaction of climaxes erupting
through her sex.

Adriana couldn’t fight the feeling, so hard won, bliss so brutal to her mind. She should’ve fought him
more, shouldn’t have enjoyed herself. The orgasm seeped into her every nerve, leaving her weak as it
spiraled out of control.

Only the pin of his body held her aloft now. She was spent. Achy. Bruised by rapture.

Chapter Seven

Morpheus found no relief in the sweetness of her body. As soon as his lust was quenched, his body and
mind warred with each other, setting his soul into turmoil.

He’d hurt her.

It hadn’t occurred to him before that pure in body meant a barrier. He’d been too long without the
company of mortals to remember the intricacies of virginal female flesh.

Before she could rouse from her blissful stupor, he touched her temple and placed a sleeping spell on
her. He pulled his flaccid cock from her depths, catching her into his arms before she could fall.

He carried her upstairs to her room, his thoughts little comfort to him. He vowed to leave her alone and
gain some time to himself to contemplate his dissatisfaction.

He paced the halls, his angry strides eating the distance with ease.

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Morpheus did not find the peace he sought. He should have known, he thought angrily, that distance
from her would avail him nothing. It had not before. Despite his resolve to put her from his mind, he had
felt impelled to go after her. Now that he had tasted her sweet surrender, he only craved her more. As
sated as he was, he had to fight the urge to return to her at once and take her again.

It was lust, he decided. He had not tasted the sweet agony of the flesh in so long that he had forgotten
that it was a weakness he would do well to ignore. He had forgotten that it could so easily become a
ravening hunger that ate at his mind and gave him no rest.

He had forgotten, he realized, because he had never felt anything quite like this, even when he had been
mortal.

Feed it and hope that it would burn itself out, he wondered? Or starve it and hope that the craving would
pass?

He was lying to himself to think for a moment that he truly had choice. If he had not yielded the once, he
might have. Now, the choice had been lost to him.

He would satisfy his hunger for her then, whether she willed it or no. He would feed until he had
quenched the fire in his body and mind and then she could go with his blessing.

He did not care that she was as repelled by him as all the others had been, he thought furiously. It
mattered not that she felt no softness in her heart for him. He did not need more than her lust, and he
knew she felt that--against her will--but it was there. He had only to touch her and he could tap into that
desire to feel his possession.

Leaving her for this long ate into his soul. He spun on his heel, returning to her room. Already his body
went hard with longing, his cock straining against his breeches and hungrily demanding more.

He strode into her room. His groin tightened at the sight of her sprawled on the bed, nearly naked, her
hair spilling over her chest and neck like rivulets of wine. He wanted to sup of her lips, taste the nectar of
her body and her inevitable surrender.

Lifting the spell as he neared the bed, he cast off his jerkin with impatience. Her eyelids fluttered open,
drowsiness retarding her reaction to his presence. He stopped in his progression only long enough to rid
himself of his pants, so that nothing could keep the softness of her skin from his flesh.

She gasped then, coming full awake. She turned to flee to the other side. He caught her ankle as she
rolled to her knees, dragging her beneath him as he came onto the bed.

He yanked her back, coming between her thighs, pinning her down on the bed. She struggled but he
subdued her, thrusting against her from behind.

“Nay,” she said on a gasp, grasping the bed clothes. “Free me,” she pleaded, moaning as he ground
against her wet sex.

“Only when I’ve had my fill of you,” he growled savagely against her ear. She whimpered, going rigid as
he forced his cock inside her swollen passage. Her juices gathered, belying her words. She desired this, if
nothing else of him. She moaned as he shoved himself deep, deep inside. More than he thought possible.
Her cunt swallowed his cock whole.

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He groaned at her agonizing tightness, biting the back of her shoulders, wrapping one arm beneath and
around her waist to haul her more tightly against him. Her buttocks ground against his pubic bone, her
thighs clenched around his hips.

She capitulated, crawling to her knees to push back against him as he withdrew and drove inside.

He pumped her, his impetus growing, strokes short, fast and hard. He sucked a mark on her shoulder,
simultaneously sliding a hand down to her mound to play with her clit. He found the small bulb easily--it
was swollen and begging for his caress. He plucked it, groaning in satisfaction as she moaned and her
muscled flexed around his cock.

Too much. He could take no more. He pumped harder, vigorously flicking her clit until she was sobbing
her climax. He groaned again, spewing his seed inside her, allowing her body to wring him dry.

He rolled off her, his breathing returning slowly to normal. She immediately began fighting him, kicking
his legs in a mad scramble to escape.

Tired but unwilling to allow her the best of him, he moved to catch her yet again. There would be no
relaxation around her, not until he’d secured her complete surrender. He didn’t trust that a spell would
work on her as thoroughly as his powers had once before.

He straddled her hips, facing her. She glared up at him, teeth bared, eyes flashing with anger and
indefinable emotions.

“Release me!” she grit out, pushing at his thighs until he was forced to pin down her wrists.

“Never,” he ground out, moving down her body until he was between her thighs again. His cock
hardened at the sweet, lingering scent of her arousal.

He closed over her, trapping her with the cage of his body, holding her gaze as he thrust inside her hot,
wet opening. She arched, tension radiating through her muscles. Her sex clutched him.

The thunderous look she gave him drove his lust to insatiable heights. A desperate hunger gnawed his
belly, craving the cessation of her resistance. He kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth, receiving
a nip as reward.

He ignored the slight pain, his tongue near matching the stoking rhythm he pursued in her silky depths.
Within moments, her body echoed his need. Her hands clenched and unclenched, arms straining at his
hold.

He released her wrists, gratified when she didn’t strike him, but instead clutched his back with questing
hands. He dragged his lips across her mouth, jaw, neck, breathing harsher as he increased his tempo,
riding her until bliss claimed them both.

He could move no more. Every ounce of strength had been wrung from his body. Still feeling the tremors
of his climax in the jerking movements of his cock, he pulled free of her body, rolling to the side and
pulling her to him. She was already half asleep when he touched her temple to place a simple spell on her
to soothe the aches and pains he had wrought on her body this day so that she could sleep easily until
morn.

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“So sweet,” he murmured, cradling her against his chest as slumber consumed them both.

* * * *

Despair filled Adriana’s dreams. It took no name. Just as she had oft known terror in her sleep without
quite knowing why, this was no less powerful. When it became so unbearable that she found herself
struggling to sob, she woke. Her chest was tight with unshed tears, her eyes moist.

She struggled to thrust the pain from her chest until at last it eased. When she sat up, she saw that she
had not dreamed that she had found herself in a strange place. The room she awakened to was the same
as the one she’d awakened to before.

But, perhaps, she thought hopefully, that part of it had been a dream? Perhaps she was in her sister’s
home after all?

He was gone, but there was no comfort in that. She saw when she turned to look at the bed beside her
that the impression of his head still dented the pillow beside hers.

She had not dreamed it, she thought with a sense of hopelessness. Morpheus had come for her and,
despite her love and fear for him, she had not been able to resist him.

Her body protested with pain when she climbed from the bed, telling its own tale.

That part had not merely been dream either.

He had crossed the boundary of her dreams and taken her in the physical world.

Real fear clenched at her belly then. Was that worse? Or no worse than succumbing to him in his own
realm of dreams would have been?

She did not know, truly. She knew almost nothing about the world of magical things, but the certainty
grew in her that it was a very bad thing.

Like an unkindness of ravens, her anxieties circled her again, but a solution to her problem did not
immediately present itself to her.

She found the proof of their doings on her thighs. Dried blood coated her tender lips and the insides of
her thighs. She was a virgin no more.

The knowledge that he’d taken it made her insides go soft. She flushed with remembered pleasure and
fleeting pain.

When she had bathed and dressed in the ragged remains of her gown, she found food awaited her as it
had the day before. Her stomach cramped with the need to assuage her hunger and she realized that she
had not eaten at all the day before except to break her fast.

And Morpheus had made love to her over and over again, she thought, more than a little embarrassed to
recall how gladly she had welcomed him, how easily he’d conquered her resistance. How many hours
had they made love? All day? All night? The thrust of his body and the blinding pleasure were a blur to

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her.

Small wonder she was starving!

Small wonder, she added as she settled on the edge of the bed to eat, that she could not convince him to
take her to her sister.

She frowned at that thought, realizing that she hadn’t actually asked him to. Mayhap it would take no
more than that, she thought a little hopefully? After all, it was her pleas that had summoned him to begin
with. He had been compelled to respond to her. Wouldn’t he be compelled to give her the boon she
asked of him?

It was not her heart’s desire, she realized almost at once. Would he sense that?

Maybe he already had sensed her heart’s desire and that was why she was here, she thought glumly.

Would there truly be harm in it, she wondered? He desired her, but she could see no sign of softness in
his caresses, nothing that spoke of love. Lust and love might always go hand in hand--one could not feel
love without desire--but it did not necessarily follow that one could not feel lust without also feeling love.

Was there substance to her reasoning? Or was it, as she suspected, the sort of thing one told oneself to
justify yielding to one’s desires against better judgment?

She thought most likely that was the case. She wanted so badly to believe that it would be alright if she
gave in to her own yearning that she was willing to ignore the possibility that it could bring harm to him.

Could she truly love him and allow harm to come to him only to satisfy her own needs?

She sighed. Her love weakened her when it should have given her strength. She would have to find it
within herself--for his sake. It might well be that she was torturing herself for no good reason. She could
be right and he might feel nothing more than lust--ever, but she cared too much to take the chance.

She must try to reason with him, she decided, leaving the little food that remained on the plate and rising
purposefully.

That sense of purposefulness began to wane as she searched the castle for him and found only one
empty room after another. When she had climbed to the top of the castle and walked the battlements,
staring out at the fog shrouded grounds of his realm and still seen nothing of him, she stopped to rest and
consider the matter.

It occurred to her after a time that he was Lord of the Night. Perhaps he was forced to seek his rest
during the day?

Her heart seemed to turn over in her chest at the implications of that thought.

Did it mean he held no sway over her except at night? Was it possible that she could flee, now, escape
from him and hide herself in the woods?

The thought of it scared her. She had no idea how to find her way to either of her sisters. She could be
lost in the Hellsing wood until she found her own death.

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She shook that thought off. She was looking for excuses again. Drago Kadar would know that she had
been taken, and by whom. He might well be searching for her even now. He might have gone back to
enlist the aid of Daegon Erlansson, her sister’s husband. For that matter, her father would know by now
that she had been taken. He would almost certainly look first in Hellsing, where dwelt those he most
feared would spirit her away. It seemed to her that he would be the least likely to be able to rescue her,
because he was only mortal, but someone was looking for her. She need only escape beyond Morpheus’
domain.

She should chance it--now--she decided, before she lost her nerve.

One problem almost immediately presented itself. She could not judge the time of day. Beyond her
window lay a world that seemed shrouded in perpetual gloom or complete darkness. It was not night
time, but she could not tell if it was early morning or nearing dusk.

She pushed the anxiety aside. Likely, she would never be able to tell. This was the realm of the Lord of
the Night after all. She must dismiss cowardly qualms and do what she knew was right--and best for
Morpheus even if it would break her heart to leave him.

She would take nothing, she decided. It was a risk, but she knew she couldn’t face creeping around the
castle in search of victuals for her journey. It was a pity the tray and food had disappeared as
mysteriously as it had appeared to begin with. She might at least have taken the remains to sustain her
until she found help--or was found, but it was not something she could change now and the very thought
of being caught filching from Morpheus’ larder made her heart quake.

Resolutely, she left the bed chamber and crept down the stairs. When she had reached the main hall, she
peered inside. Relieved when she saw that it was as empty as before, she hurried across the room and
struggled with the great doors.

“Going somewhere?”

Chapter Eight

Adriana let out a squeak of fright and whirled at the voice, her hand clutching at her painfully pounding
heart. After staring at him guiltily for a full minute, she blinked, forcing a smile to her lips. “I--uh--I was
looking for you,” she lied.

His brows rose. His expression looked almost pleasant--like his voice. Almost pleasant. “Truly?”

Her smile wavered. “Yes. Truly.”

“Why?”

Adriana blinked. “Why?” she echoed, dismayed.

“You had no particular reason?”

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She sucked in her lower lip, thinking frantically. “I thought that you might show me around,” she said on
sudden inspiration.

His brows rose. “I thought you had thoroughly explored the castle earlier.”

Adriana reddened. There seemed little point in lying when it was obvious he knew everything that went
on inside the castle. On the other hand, the alternative of simply confessing did not particularly appeal to
her. As torturous as it was to play the game of cat and mouse with him, she could think of nothing to do
but dig the hole a little deeper with another lie. “Uh--I was looking for you. But then when I didn’t find
you I thought that you must be outside.”

His lips curled, but there was no amusement in his eyes. Hunger gleamed in his eyes as he raked his gaze
slowly over her. “I was only waiting for you to rest so that we could resume our interesting little game.”

“Game?” Adriana asked doubtfully, feeling heat surge through her.

“Mmm.” He moved closer, caging her against the door with his body. “I slake my lust on your sweet
body and you pretend you don’t want me to.”

Adriana’s breath snagged in her chest, but embarrassment colored her cheeks, as well. “But--I
don’t--not--not really,” she gasped a little breathlessly as he caught her waist, lifting her, and nuzzled his
face into the valley between her breasts.

He lifted his head. “No?”

Adriana swallowed a little convulsively.

He pushed his knee between her legs, settling her on his thigh and dragged her skirts up. She felt his
hand skate lightly over her bare thigh and her heart began to hammer a little more frantically. When he
lifted her slightly and pushed his hand between her legs, dragging one finger along her damp cleft it was all
she could do to keep from moaning at the pleasure that coursed through her. Her fingers clenched
spasmodically on his shoulders as he pushed his finger slowly into her body. “This tells a different tale,”
he murmured in satisfaction.

She closed her eyes, trying to close her mind to the way he made her feel.

Darkness settled over her. When she opened her eyes again she discovered that she was no longer
standing by the door. Instead, she found herself standing before Morpheus’ throne. He was sprawled
comfortably, his eyes slumberous with desire as they moved over her.

Confused, she glanced around and finally lifted her hands. There were manacles on her wrist--just as
there had been in the dream she’d had of Morpheus.

“Except this time, it is no dream,” Morpheus responded as if she’d spoken aloud.

She looked up at him when he spoke. “You made me dream it before.”

“Yes. You enjoyed it.”

He’d been with her. He had to know that she had. Instead of trying to lie, she said nothing at all.

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“I found it--interesting. On the other hand, in the world of dreams it isn’t the same as the physical
world.” He untied his cod piece, pulling his engorged cock out. With his other hand, he beckoned her.
“Pleasure me.”

Adriana’s mouth went completely dry. She swallowed, trying to work wetness into the orifice, but all her
body’s moisture seemed to have fled down to her nether regions. She was stunned to stillness by his
enormity, by the fact that he’d claimed her with that beast. It seemed so much larger now, more real.

When she didn’t move, he twisted his hand and pulled her chain, forcing her down on her knees. She
stumbled forward until his cock was eye level, the weight of the chains making her awkward.

Incredibly, she hungered to taste him. He wanted to dominate her, but she was eager for the experience
without the unreal fog of slumber affecting her memory. She gripped his cock, mimicking the clutch of her
sex, flicking her tongue across the tip.

He tasted better than she remembered. More intense, supremely male. He tensed, his belly jerking as
she sucked the mushroomed tip inside her mouth. Rubbing her hand up and down his engorged length,
barely moving his almost too tight skin, she lubricated him with her tongue. Nibbling him like a confection,
she knew she did as he wished when he groaned and clutched her head, fingers tangling in her hair.

She smiled against him, suckling, nibbling with lips, flicking her tongue, massaging him with her hand. He
went rigid, thighs flexing as his cock jerked violently in her mouth, gushing seed. She swallowed it, not
knowing what else to do, exulting at having brought him fulfillment, at having him vulnerable to the suckle
of her mouth.

He groaned her name, tightening his hand in her hair to force her head back. He moved on his knees,
pushing her to the floor.

“I crave sustenance as you’ve begot from my loins,” he murmured, dragging himself down her body.

Her belly spasmed when he lifted her skirts, exposing her bare legs. Her pantalettes had been ruined
beyond repair. He looked at her from above, his eyes glittering with dark, male intent as he dipped his
head between her thighs.

She flushed with embarrassment, expecting disgust, repulsion by her nakedness. She was far fallen from
grace, a wanton in his eyes.

She was shocked to the core when his hot breath fanned over her mound. Her heart lodged in her
throat, threatening to choke her. She strangled on a gasp, jerking as his lips closed over her clit with
unerring accuracy.

“My lord, no!” she cried, trying to close her legs--too little, too late.

He pried her legs from his cheeks, splaying her wide, his fingers near bruising. “Will you, nil you, I’ll taste
the honey of your body. Dare you deny your want of me?” he said, his voice harsh, breath hot. He
flicked his tongue down, down into her hole.

“Please!” she cried, writhing as he plunged that wet, rough spear of flesh into her opening. She didn’t
know whether she protested or encouraged.

He curled it inside her, striking a spot that erupted in instant pleasure. She bucked against his mouth,

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wanting to writhe away but needing to get closer.

He moved inside her, spiking her need. Just as she felt her orgasm closing in, he withdrew, nuzzling her
swollen lips.

“Do you want me?” he said, rubbing her mound with his thumbs, massaging her thighs with his fingers.

She trembled all over, so close to climax. She clawed her way up from the fog of arousal, until she could
think of an answer to his question. She couldn’t admit it. She had to remember he was in danger. “No,”
she said past the thickness of her throat, her tongue and lips feeling swollen with want, the need to be
kissed.

“Perhaps I should cease…,” he murmured before nibbling her clit. Pulling at the bud, he plucked it with
his lips, making the nerves ripple with impending release.

“No!” she cried, wanting to clutch him, admit her desire to cease the games and allow herself to love him
and be loved.

He moved a hand, parting her lips to thrust one tapered digit inside her. He pushed another in, curling
them into that most sensitive spot, evoking a torrent of feeling. “You want me. You want this as much as
I.”

She shook her head, trying to deny him, at least this once. She had to stay strong. She had to save him,
save herself.

He buried his face in her cleft, consuming her with a ravenous hunger. His lips and tongue and fingers
seemed everywhere, deep inside her, teasingly across every surface. He brought her to the edge again,
until her hips rose from the floor, and then he backed off, cooling her with his breath.

He repeated the torture, asking the same questions again and again, until she was mindless with want.
She lost all sense of time.

Her womb and belly cramped with longing, muscles screaming in protest. Every move was agony, ever
touch mind-numbing.

When she could take no more, she cried out, “Please, no more!”

He said something, but she couldn’t hear him. Every sense focused on her loins. When he finally allowed
her release, it came in a painful gush. Her muscles tensed to the point that they seized on his fingers. She
jerked against his mouth, gasping, crying as he wrung her pleasure out, leaving her emotionally and
physically drained. Exhaustion claimed her in a faint.

When she awoke, it was with dismay that she realized he’d taken her back to bed. There was no
satiating his hunger, and she was just as ravenous. He made love to her again, fast, rough, heedless to
anything but the pleasure they found in each other.

Adriana felt that she’d fallen into a dream world, a reality where pleasure reigned in a dizzying whirl of
ecstasy.

* * * *

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No matter how often he plundered her body, satisfaction eluded him. As sated as he was from making
love to Adriana a vague, unnamable emptiness still plagued him. Restless, he rolled to the edge of the bed
and dressed. After staring down at her peacefully sleeping face for several moments, he leaned toward
her and waved a hand over her. “Sleep.”

Assured that he need have no concern that she would wake while he was gone and use the opportunity
to leave, he left her and strode quickly from his castle, whistling for Despair. Frowning when the
night-mare did not appear at once, he whistled again. With obvious reluctance, the mare answered his
summons, galloping up to him in a rush that spattered his boots in a shower of pebbles and dirt and clods
of grass.

Gritting his teeth, Morpheus grasped the night-mare’s fiery mane and flung himself onto the horse’s
back, clouting the steed on the side of the head for her impertinence. “Even the bloody mare defies me,”
Morpheus muttered, giving the horse its head.

Rearing, snorting with anger, Despair leapt skyward and raced across the heavens at a breakneck pace.
Morpheus paid little heed. His mind was wrapped in the puzzle of his dissatisfaction, but turn it though he
might he could not quite grasp the thing that teased at him.

Dawn was approaching when at last he turned Despair homeward once more. As the first rays of
morning pinkened the horizon, he strode into the castle once more, climbed the stairs and sought the
solitude of his own chamber. It was there, in his dream world that the answer at last came to him.

She did not lift her eyes to him in desire as she had. She did not smile in welcome, offering herself to him.
She desired him still. He could wring cries of delight from her body, but she withheld a part of herself.
Each time he came to her, she fought the need for him. She did not yield willingly and when she looked at
him, there was sadness in her eyes.

He knew it was the answer to the emptiness that he had not understood, but he was baffled still, for he
could not understand why such a thing would matter to him. In truth, it only mattered that itdiddisturb
him, though, that it left him feeling vaguely unsettled, disappointed, but he could not figure out a way to
change it.

He pondered that problem for a time when he awoke, pacing the parapets of his castle and in time he
found the answer to the riddle.

She was mortal. He had forgotten that mortal women liked to be wooed. They wanted a tender lover.

He frowned at that thought, wondering if he could do such a thing. He was not accustomed to
tenderness. In truth, he had not even enjoyed the passions of the flesh in so long that he had difficulty
controlling himself at all when the fever came upon him.

She had not seemed to mind before.

That thought produced an uncomfortable one. If he readily admitted that he had almost no control when
he possessed her, how much might a mindless beast actually notice, he wondered? He frowned, thinking
back, and finally shook his head.

She had enjoyed it. He was certain of that. He might remember very little of the time when he had been

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mortal, but he knew the difference between screams of ecstasy and screams of pain or fear.

The one thing that still baffled him was why that had changed.

He shook it off. He could not understand. Mayhap he never would, but it was not of any importance if
he could have what he had lost.

He would woo her, he decided.

Chapter Nine

Adriana woke with a wistful sigh. Sadness filled her when she looked up at the drapery and realized that
she was still in Morpheus’ castle. She’d dreamed. She could not recall the dream beyond the fact that
she had been happy--and she had been with Morpheus. But she did not need to recall it. The dream
would only make her sadder, because there could be no happiness for her with Morpheus.

When she threw off the covers and sat up at last, Adriana discovered a pleasant surprise. Near the
hearth sat a tub filled with steaming water. Rose petals floated on the surface. The scent of roses drifted
lazily in the air.

Delighted with the treat, Adriana climbed from the bed and crossed the room to the tub, testing the
temperature with one finger.

Perfect. She smiled. Twisting her hair into a knot on the top of her head, she climbed into the tub and
leaned back, enjoying the feel of the rose scented water on her skin. She soaked until the hot water had
soothed her almost to the point of drowsing and finally sat up and finished her bath. When she emerged,
she took the thick towel that had been left beside the tub and wrapped herself in it.

On the bed lay a cunningly wrought gown of emerald green. After staring at it in surprise for several
moments, she moved toward it, fingering the fine silk with pleasure.

It was not her gown. It was far finer than anything she had ever owned.

But it was meant for her.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, for she knew it could only be Morpheus who had conjured it for her, she
donned her underclothes and struggled into the dress. Morpheus appeared behind her when she had
moved to the mirror to examine her reflection.

Without a word, he acted as lady’s maid, tightening her corset and then snugging the lacing of the dress
at her back and tying it. Startled, Adriana watched his reflection as he worked. “You’ve done this
before.”

He glanced up at her, his gaze capturing hers in the mirror. “I was mortal once--yes.”

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A pang shot through Adriana, but she dismissed it. She had no claim upon him. She had no right to the
jealousy that gnawed at her vitals when she thought of Morpheus with another woman. “Was she …
pretty?” Adriana asked, finding she could not contain her curiosity, but unable to bring herself to ask if he
had loved the woman either.

He smiled faintly. “Since I can not recall, I would guess that she could not have been half as beautiful as
you are.”

Adriana blushed at the compliment, but she was far more pleased that he had dismissed the mystery
woman of his past so easily. He could not have loved her, she thought.

When he had finished with her dress, he urged her to seat herself upon the bench and carefully combed
her hair. She watched him doubtfully until he had begun, but she relaxed at his careful ministrations,
pleasantly surprised to discover such gentleness in such a giant of a man--and suspicious once more of
the woman he had spoken of.

“What brings a frown to your brow?” he asked after several moments, his voice husky.

She met his gaze in the mirror once more. Jealousy. Envy. Forcing a smile, she shook her head. “You
seem--different,” she finally said.

His dark brows rose, then descended in a slight frown. “Is this bad?” he asked finally, helping her to her
feet and offering his arm.

She thought it over. “Just different.”

He seemed to find the comment disconcerting for he said nothing more as he led her downstairs and into
the main hall. Adriana hesitated when she saw a table had been set out for dining. Two many armed
candelabras filled with flickering candles sat upon the gleaming surface of the table. Two ornate place
settings had been arranged at one end. Nearly a dozen covered dishes littered the space between the two
candelabras.

When he had seated her in the chair just to the left of the head of the table, Morpheus served them both
the first course and settled into his own chair.

More than a little unnerved by everything that had happened since she’d awoken, Adriana glanced at
Morpheus. “Is this the way things were done when you were mortal?” she asked hesitantly.

Morpheus frowned thoughtfully. “It is not what you’re accustomed to?” he countered.

Adriana smiled wryly. “Not quite. And not for quite some time. My father was so heart broken when my
two elder sisters were taken by the un….” She broke off, fearful the term would offend him. “…into
Hellsing wood that he locked me into the tower to protect me from the forces there. I have rarely left the
tower since.”

He seemed surprised, although she thought it strange that he would not know. To her knowledge, no
mortal had ever been chosen as wife by an unnatural before her eldest sister, Bianca, and when Cerise
had been stolen away by the vampire lord, as well, she would have thought that it would cause quite a stir
among the folk of Hellsing.

“Your sisters?” he prodded politely.

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“The black knight, Damian Alessandro had captured my father. When Bianca went to his castle to beg
him to free our father, he took her instead. Cerise decided to go and rescue her, but Daegon Erlansson
captured her.”

“And they have not been seen or heard from since?”

Adriana chuckled. “Very little. They fell in love with their dark lords and wed,” she admitted, sighing
with pleasure. “It was so very romantic.”

Morpheus looked far more disturbed than pleased. “And the dark lords? They decided to keep them?”

Adriana giggled. “Oh yes! For they fell in love with my sisters.”

Morpheus frowned at the soup in his dish, looking a little ill. “You are mistaken. To love a mortal woman
is--not possible for an immortal.”

Adriana blinked several times in surprise, suddenly feeling a little ill herself that she had led the
conversation in such a direction when she had been at such pains to keep her distance from Morpheus.
Instead of arguing with him--although she knew better--she focused her attention on her soup. “This is
very good.”

Morpheus seemed as anxious to allow the subject to drop as she was. He did not mention it again.
Instead, as they enjoyed a leisurely meal that was as delicious as anything that Adriana had ever eaten, he
drew her into telling him stories about her and her sisters as they grew up together.

She was embarrassed when she realized she had talked only of herself throughout the meal, but the
memories had lightened her spirits and even seemed to have improved Morpheus’ mood.

When they had finished, he took her for a tour of the castle, telling her nothing, really, of a personal
nature, but of the castle and the people who had once lived there. They both fell silent as they reached
the battlements at the very top of the castle, gazing up at the beautiful night sky.

Finally, Adriana nerved herself to ask him to tell her of his life before he became immortal.

He seemed reluctant at first, but after studying her for several moments, he struggled to dredge the long
forgotten memories to the surface of his mind and told her the tale of a man who had lived many millennia
ago. He had been an ambitious man, longing for his own lands to rule. He fought many battles, studied
with great scholars, but he could never attain his dream. In studies, he came upon the legend of the dream
stone, a holy relic, which could grant everlasting sleep encased in stone, or to those most skilled,
everlasting power and life.

“A stone powerful enough to make dreams reality--whatever my heart desired.” He glanced at the
grounds. “I found it, here, deep in the bowels of the earth.

He looked at her, his eyes haunted. “Foolishly, I invoked its power, unprepared. I was trapped, much
like a carved statue, aware of all that surrounded me but helpless to change my fate.”

She made a small gasp, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips. “How did you free yourself.”

“I traveled the realms of dreams--the only respite open to me in that form. It kept me from going

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insane.” He moved forward, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Hundreds of years passed before I
unlocked the magic to free myself. I’ve never lost control since ….” He left the words hanging in the air
as he kissed her tenderly, stoking a slow burning fire in her blood.

He covered her lips in gentle, nibbling kisses, moving forward only as what little resistance she
possessed disappeared of its own accord.

He closed his arms around her, cradling her against his warm, solid frame, making her warm inside and
out.

Before she knew what had happened, she discovered they were in her bed chamber. Magic sizzled in
the air, tickling her nostrils. Caught up in his kisses, she could not spare a thought for it, could only
concentrate on him and what he was doing to her.

Placing gentle kisses along her jaw, he leisurely unlaced her dress until it drooped down her shoulders
and dropped to the floor with a soft rustle. Her corset and shift soon followed.

Her skin finally bare, he feasted, tasting every inch of her flesh until she could no longer bear her own
weight beneath his tender onslaught. Sensing her sensual distress, he lowered her to the bed, continuing
his ministrations, licking and suckling her breasts, the hollow of her belly. Nipping her hip bones and
nuzzling her mound. He laved her thighs and gently probed her cleft, stoking her to a fever pitch until she
was begging him to take her.

He removed his clothing then, settling easily between her thighs, guiding his erection into her slit and
penetrating her, slowly. So slowly she thought she’d die if he did not hurry.

He wouldn’t hasten his movements, rocking his hips with slow deliberation, stroking that most tender
part of her until her blood sang through her veins.

Her sex clutched him, shuddering into climax. He felt the tremors, groaned, shortening his strokes until
his own orgasm came.

“My sweet, sweet, Adriana,” he murmured, kissing her.

Sadness pierced her to the core. She could never be his. No matter how much she wanted it. She clung
to him, overcome by emotion. It welled inside her, making her heart ache, her throat burn, spilling out
through the tears in her eyes. “If only,” she sobbed, kissing him back as he rolled and cradled her in his
arms.If only it could be.

* * * *

Morpheus was horrified. Placing a sleep spell on her, he left abruptly.

Greatly disturbed, he paced the ramparts restlessly. Peace was slow in coming to him.

She’d wept!

He did not know which was more disturbing, that she had, or that he could not understand what had
made her weepy.

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Concentrating, he recalled the moments that they had shared, but he could not think of anything that
might have disturbed her. He had been very gentle. He had been pleased to discover that it was not
nearly as difficult as he had thought it would be.

She had responded. He had controlled his ardor. He had watched every change in her expression,
listened for each sigh of pleasure to make certain that he was pleasing her. And shehadbeen pleased.

Why, then, had she wept as if her heart was broken?

Anger and frustration surged through him. “Bah! Mortals!” he growled, pacing as furiously now as he
had before he had found a modicum of calm. After a time, he paused at the wall, glaring balefully at the
night sky. As beautiful as it was, it brought him no pleasure. Darkness was his world. He had not seen a
bright, sunny day in so long he could hardly recall what it had been like to roam the world in the light of
day.

He had not missed it--truly.

Until she had come into his life, he had been content. He had not been particularly happy, but neither had
he felt any of the turmoil he felt now.

He uttered a sound of irritation, wondering if he should forget the tenderness. She had seemed to
respond, but then she had cried. Perhaps it was not what she wanted after all?

After drumming his fingers impatiently on the stone wall for several moments, searching his mind, a
thought emerged from his distant past.

Gifts! Mortal women were always pleased with gifts.

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

He shook his head. So simple an answer, right before his face, and he had missed it! She had been
pleased with the dress. He had been so enthralled with how beautiful she had looked in the color of the
gown that he had failed to notice how pleased she was with it.

Crossing his arms, he tapped his chin thoughtfully with one long forefinger. Simple gifts? Or should it be
only the very finest and most rare of gifts? He frowned. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain what would please
her best. He decided finally that he would try both, the more the better. He would shower her with gifts
and then he would see happiness in her face when she looked at him. And he would be a tender lover,
because he was fairly certain, even though she had cried, that she had liked that.

If that didn’t work, then he would ravish her again, for he found it very tiresome to have to rein his desire
in and proceed slowly.

Chapter Ten

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The scent of flowers tickled at her nose, dragging Adriana from sleep. Yawning, she stretched and finally
opened her eyes a crack. A smile curled her lips when she saw that she hadn’t imagined the smell. A
table had appeared beside her bed, and on it was a vase filled with flowers of every imaginable color.

Morpheus had brought her flowers!

Happiness swelled inside of her in spite of all that she could do to contain it. Throwing her coverlet off,
she scooted off of the bed to examine the flowers more thoroughly, closing her eyes and drinking in their
sweet scent. When she lifted her head at last and turned to the wash stand to perform her morning
ablutions, she discovered another vase had been left beside the bowl and pitcher. This vase was filled
with roses, deep, blood red roses.

For love! She thought, feeling a thrill go through her.

A pang hit her almost immediately. Not love! He could not love her! That would not do at all. As much
as she yearned for it, she could not bear to think of what might happen to him if he fell in love with her as
she had fallen in love with him.

She moved to the roses anyway, lightly touching the satiny petals, breathing in their beautiful scent.

He would not know that red was for love, she realized finally, glancing back at the vase beside the bed,
filled with many colors. As her gaze spanned the distance, she saw more flowers on the other side of the
bed. That vase was filled with forget-me-nots.

Smiling now, she turned in a slow circle.

The room was filled with flowers! Small wonder that she had awakened to their perfume! Chuckling, she
moved from one arrangement to another, examining the flowers happily and enjoying their scent.

It was … magical. Despite her anxieties she couldn’t help but feel more lighthearted than she had felt in a
very long time. Impatient to find Morpheus and thank him for the gifts, she hurried back to the washstand
to wash up and dress.

She found him in the main hall. Seated in his throne, he was staring pensively out one window, his chin
propped in one hand. It took an effort not to skip across to him. She was glad she had restrained herself
to more decorous behavior, however, for he turned to watch her approach. “The flowers are beautiful!”
she said ecstatically, feeling suddenly shy. “Thank you, my lord!”

Slowly, a smile curled his lips. “I am glad they pleased you,” he responded, rising from his chair and
closing the distance between them. “Will you walk in the garden with me?”

Adriana was a little disconcerted, and disappointed, when they reached the gardens and she discovered
that it was dark and there was barely enough light to make out the pathways. She dismissed it, however,
and found that she enjoyed the stroll anyway, because she was with Morpheus.

Later, when he carried her to her bed and made love to her, despite her anxiety of what might come of
it, she found it impossible to resist the temptation to caress him as he caressed her. Touching him thrilled
and saddened her all at once. How long would this last until she was rescued, or escaped? When they lay
together afterwards, sated, enjoying the closeness of two lovers who had thoroughly pleased one
another, the sadness stole over her again that it was not to be. She would have liked nothing better than

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to lie in Morpheus’ arms forever.

His tenderness was almost more than she could bear, for it only accentuated her fears that he might fall in
love her. So long as he had been passionate but had shown little gentleness, she had been able to
convince herself that it was merely lust, that it could not bring disaster down upon them. She could enjoy
it to her heart’s content.

As the days passed, however, and each new day he showered her with gifts more beautiful and
wonderful than the day before, she became more and more anxious to leave him, knowing that it was
already far too late for her.

She had known that she loved him before he had brought her to his castle. She had cared so much for
him that she had not been able to bring herself to risk his life. Now, she loved him far more than she had
thought possible and each day it became more difficult for her to go on pretending that she didn’t love
him.

* * * *

Doubt invaded Morpheus’ mind as he stroked the dark, glossy coat of the gift he had captured and
tamed for Adriana. The winged mare did not have the speed that his own night-mare was capable of, but
she was every bit as fine an animal, spirited without being mean.

His doubts did not concern the mare itself, nor Adriana’s pleasure in it. He could not believe she would
be less than thrilled with the gift.

His concern was that he was not entirely convinced that she would stay if she had a way to go. She
smiled often. She even laughed at times, but a great sadness still lingered in her eyes that nothing seemed
to eradicate.

He could not fathom it.

He had wooed her as any mortal lover would have, he knew. Each day he had filled her bed chamber
with the flowers that seemed to give her so much joy. Each night he had caressed her with great care,
striving to do all the things that gave her the utmost pleasure. He had given her gifts, treated her as a
princess, and still he could see that something troubled her deeply. As hard as he had tried, he had found
nothing that seemed to give her peace, contentment.

Sighing irritably, he returned his attention to grooming the mare. If this gift did not chase her sadness, he
could not think of anything else to try. It was a sense of desperation that had driven him to offering it.

He knew that it was risky, but he had finally decided that he must know one way or the other if he had
convinced her to stay with him. He could keep her a prisoner as her father had--forever if the whim
struck him, but he had finally realized that part of his own dissatisfaction was knowing that she did not
stay of her own free will, that she stayed because he held her captive.

Dismissing his misgivings finally, he placed a spell upon the little mare that would allow her to roam the
pasture but no further and returned to the castle to devise the best way to present his gift to Adriana.

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* * * *

Adriana studied the riding dress that had been laid out for her with a strange mixture of emotions she
found difficult, at first, to identify. Dread, she finally realized, was uppermost. The riding dress could only
mean that Morpheus meant to take her riding. It might mean nothing more than that he intended to take
her upon Despair’s back, but it could mean that he intended to take her home.

Perhaps, as she had thought, he had wearied of her?

That thought made her feel like crying but at the same time there was a measure of relief in it. She had
told herself from the first, after all, that Morpheus felt only lust for her and lust without love could not last.
Eventually, no matter how bright the flame, it would consume itself.

It would be easier when she was away from him, for she would not have to pretend any longer than she
did not love him.

It was for the best--for him.

She could not bear to think what life would be without him anymore than she could bring herself to think
of his death. She would endure, though. In time, she knew it would cease to hurt so much. Perhaps, in
time she would even be able to look back upon the time that they had been together with pleasure in the
memories.

She didn’t really believe that, but it was possible she supposed.

Morpheus was grinning broadly when she reached the main hall, waiting for her near the entrance. Her
heart fluttered in her chest as she gazed at his handsome face, more handsome now, youthful in his
excitement.

He produced a scarf.

Disconcerted, Adriana smiled anyway. “Why! It’s lovely! Thank you!”

He chuckled, grabbing her and turning her so that her back was to him. “This is not the gift, little goose!”
he murmured huskily as he leaned near her ear.

“It isn’t?”

He placed the scarf carefully over her eyes and tied it snugly behind her head. “No.”

Adriana’s heart sped as it occurred to her that it was a lover’s game. Before she could get too
breathless with excitement, he caught her hand, leading her. Nervous, Adriana waved her free arm before
her. He pulled her close. “I will not allow you to hurt yourself, sweeting. Trust me.”

Adriana swallowed with an effort, but nodded. She was comforted by his nearness and curious now of
what he meant to show her. For it seemed that he walked with her a very long way before he halted at
last and whipped the scarf from her eyes.

Blinking to focus, Adriana stared hard in astonishment for many moments, struck speechless. She
glanced at Morpheus. “It’s … a winged horse.”

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He chuckled, tapping her chin lightly. “It isyourwinged mare.”

“Mine?” Adriana gasped, turning to look at the beautiful black horse again. “Oh, but--Morpheus! I
can’t…. You shouldn’t have!”

He grasped her around the waist, lifting her from her feet and twirling in a tight circle with her. “You can
and you must. She has spirit, but I have gentled her for you. You need have no fear of her.”

When he had set her on her feet once more, she moved to the mare and cautiously traced the white
blaze on the mare’s forehead that was the only spot that was not inky black, for even the mare’s mane
and tail were dark. “What is she called?” Adriana asked abruptly.

He tilted his head. “She is yours. You must give her a name.”

Adriana’s lips curled up in a smile. “Morpheus. I will name her Morpheus.”

His brows drew together. “It is a mare. That is not a fitting name.”

Adriana chuckled at his expression. “I was only teasing you,” she said, smiling up at him as he caught her
around the waist and pulled her close. Without even thinking about it, she lifted her arms and encircled his
neck.

“That is a dangerous game--teasing the Lord of the Night.”

Her smile wavered. She knew he was teasing her as she had teased him, but the reminder brought her
crashing back to Earth. “Then what do you think I should name her?”

He shook his head. “Think on it while we ride,” he said, lifting her to the mare’s back. She settled a little
uneasily, for she had not ridden in quite some time, and never upon the back of a winged horse.

Morpheus whistled for his own steed, who answered the summons in an angry rush that caused
Adriana’s mare to shift nervously. The mare quieted at her soothing touch, though, and Adriana was
reassured. If the night-mare had not frightened the little winged horse into bolting, she was mild mannered
indeed.

Soaring so high above the ground was unnerving at first, but also exhilarating. Before long, Adriana
found herself relaxing and enjoying herself as she and Morpheus put both horses through their paces.
After a time, Morpheus guided both mares earthward and Adriana found that they had landed in a
meadow near a babbling brook.

A picnic awaited them.

When they had eaten their fill and washed up in the little brook, Adriana sat beside Morpheus, who’d
stretched out on the cloth, staring up at the sky. When she was settled, he shifted, using her lap for a
pillow.

She found she couldn’t resist the temptation to play with his dark hair, stroking her fingers through the
silky strands.

“That feels … good,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed.

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“Does it?” Adriana asked, smiling down at him and yielding to the temptation to caress his face, his
strong square jaw, and soft lips.

Just when she had decided that he had drifted into slumber, he looped an arm around her shoulders and
dragged her down for a kiss, then tumbled her to the blanket and rolled over her. She chuckled at his
playfulness, but the sighs and moans and the heat of desire soon replaced her amusement as he slowly
stripped her clothing from her, piece by piece, kissing each patch of skin he unveiled.

Adriana could not seem to help herself. She could not hold her love for him back any longer. Instead,
she stroked him lovingly as he caressed her, meeting each kiss and returning it. And when at last they lay
sated in each others arms, she knew why.

She could not bring herself to go without saying goodbye.

* * * *

Two days passed before Adriana found the opportunity that she had been waiting for, watching for in an
agony of indecision. She did not want to go. She wanted to dismiss everything that Drago Kadar had told
her about the legend of Morpheus.

There was no saying, after all, that she would be the one to bring about his death, even if what Drago
had told her about the legend was true.

In her heart, though, she feared that there might be some truth to it, and she could not blithely ignore the
possibility. She could not willfully tempt fate to do its worst only for her own happiness.

For what happiness would she have if she discovered, too late, that the legend was true? She would
want to die. At least, if she left, she would have the comfort of knowing that Morpheus lived. Mayhap,
sometime, he would even come to her in her dreams.

She could not endure thinking about a future without him at all though, and that possibility, slender
though it was, gave her no comfort.

She was terrified as she crept from the castle and called her winged mare to her, fearful that Morpheus
would stop her--sick with dread that he would not and she would have no excuse to stay a while longer.

When he did not appear in the pasture, she swallowed against the hard knot of unshed tears that made it
almost impossible to breathe and hoisted herself onto the mare’s back. For several moments after she
had mounted, she simply stared desolately at the castle that had been her home for so many weeks.

Resolutely, she turned the mare and urged her into a gallop across the fields. Her stomach went
weightless as the mare leapt at last into the air and soared to the tops of the trees.

She did not look back again. She knew it was useless to do so in any event, for her tears blinded her.

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Chapter Eleven

Adriana had no idea how she managed to find her way to her sister, Cerise’s home. She had certainly
been of no mind to know or care where she went. She supposed, though, that it was as she’d thought
before. They had been searching for her and when she appeared on the winged mare they had guided
her.

She fell into her sister’s arms and wept. Cerise was furious. Cuddling her younger sister, she guided her
to a bed chamber and tucked her into bed. Nothing she could say seemed to comfort Adriana, however.
When ever she would say what a horrible beast the man was to put her poor little sister through so much,
Adriana would only shake her head and wail louder. Each time she offered to send her husband to slay
Morpheus, Adriana would bolt upright and forbid it, and then begin to wail all over again.

Confused, Cerise stayed until Adriana had finally exhausted herself and fallen asleep, then left to discuss
the matter with her husband, Daegon.

“How is she?”

Cerise shook her head. “She will only weep. She can not talk for weeping. Thathorribleman! I offered
to have him tortured by stripping the skin from his hide in little pieces, but she will have none of that
either. She made me promise that I would not do any such thing, but I can not bear to see her so
unhappy.”

Daegon studied her thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is because she loves him?”

“Pish! You would not think so if you had seen the way she carries on!”

“It is precisely because of the way she is ‘carrying on’ that the thought occurs to me,” Daegon said
dryly. “Drago did say that she had no interest in going with him until he had told her of the legend. Until
that moment, she seemed very determined that Morpheus would come for her and take her to his castle
and she did not seem to dislike the idea, my dear.”

Cerise flopped onto a bench, sighing. “I hate to say it, but I fear you are right. How absolutely dreadful
for poor Adriana! What can we do?”

Daegon shrugged. “There is nothing you or I can do, my love. Time heals all wounds.”

For a week Cerise soothed and petted Adriana the best she could, trying to tempt her with every sort of
special treat that came to mind. Nothing helped. It seemed that almost everything she thought to offer
reminded Adriana in some way of Morpheus and she would burst into tears again. She refused to be
coaxed from her chamber, or even from her bed.

Cerise ran out of patience by the middle of the second week. Instead of trying to coax Adriana from her
room, she sent Daegon to carry her downstairs and settle her on one of the padded chairs in the main
hall. “I have a letter from father,” she announced brightly when Adriana merely sat like a stone, staring
into space.

The comment pierced her self-absorption. “Father?” she echoed, as if she had never heard the word

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before.

“Yes,” Cerise said firmly. “He writes that he misses us both, but he is glad that you and I are having such
a nice visit, for he had grown worried about you.”

Adriana looked conscience stricken. “Oh--oh my! I forgot that I had meant to send Father a letter once
I got here.”

Cerise waved that away. “I had instructed Drago to leave a note for him so that he wouldn’t worry when
you disappeared. I saw no reason to tell him you never made it until we were assured you were safe.”

Adriana’s chin wobbled.

“Don’t youdarestart to weep again!” Cerise snapped.

Adriana sniffed. “I am certain I have cried myself out.”

“I wish I was as certain of it!”

Adriana sent her sister a resentful glare. “I can not help that I am so miserable!”

“You can. You have not tried,” Cerise said bracingly.

“I love him so much! It’s horrible to have no choice at all!”

“You made your choice,” Cerise said quietly, but more kindly. “You loved him enough to give him up so
that no harm would come to him. Now you must go on with your life.”

Adriana stared at her sister, feeling anger slowly surge to the surface. “That is easy enough for you to
say! You have Daegon, who loves you as much as you love him.”

“But I almost lost him. I do understand how you feel, whether you believe it or not.”

Adriana lapsed into subdued silence. She knew Cerise was right. She had thought at first that she would
die of a broken heart. She had hoped for it, wicked as that might be, but it had not happened. She had
no choice but to pick herself up and go on, even if she didn’t particularly want to.

It was still a daily struggle. Each morning when she woke, she expected to smell flowers and she would
lie in bed with her eyes closed for a long time, hoping the perfume would tickle at her nose. Misery would
descend when she at last opened her eyes and climbed from her bed to face another day, but each day it
became just a little easier.

* * * *

Resisting the urge to follow her, Morpheus’ fingers curled against the stone window embrasure as he
watched Adriana call to her mare, Misty. He had decided even before he gave her the mare that he must
know if she stayed because she wanted to or only because he held her captive. He must free her to make
the choice.

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As she climbed upon the mare’s back and rode away, he remained where he was, reminding himself that
she had made love to him the day he had given her the mare. He had finally broken through the barrier
that she had erected between them. She had given herself to him with the same joy that she had in the
beginning, the spontaneity that had been missing since he had captured her and brought her to his castle
against her will.

She needed her freedom. She would come back.

As the hours ticked by in an agony of waiting, Morpheus told himself over and over again that shewould
come back. When she did not, anger began to grow inside of him. He tamped it with an effort, thinking.
When it occurred to him that she might have been injured and that was why she had not come back, he
berated himself for a fool.

Imagining her broken and bleeding, he tore from his castle, mounted his night-mare and searched far and
wide for her. There was no sign of either Adriana or her mare, however, and finally, weary, angry, but
still worried sick, he went to the castle of Daegon. There he saw the little winged mare contentedly
grazing in the pasture with Daegon’s horses.

Relief suffered a quick death. Fury washed through him. He would take the castle apart stone by stone if
he had to to find her and when he had found her she would rue the day she had broken his trust! He
would take her back to his castle in chains! He would confine her to her chamber and use her lovely
body until she was old and gray and no man would look at her and then he would cast her out!

Seething, he glared down at the peacefully sleeping castle, as if he could penetrate the walls even from
so far away and watch her slumbering in her bed. “To hell with her!” he growled finally, digging his heels
into his mare’s sides and sending her racing through the night sky homeward.

It was his own castle that he took apart in his rage and pain, first destroying all the gifts that he had so
carefully selected for his beauty, Adriana, and when he had ground them to dust like the unwanted,
discarded nothings they were, he destroyed the chamber he had filled with beautiful things to comfort her.

His pain and anger knew no bounds. Instead of flagging, it seemed to feed upon itself, growing harder
and stronger the more he destroyed. When at last he had expended every ounce of his anger, he felt
hollow, empty. As weary as an ancient, bent old man, he climbed the stairs of his castle until he had
reached the battlements and crossed to the wall that looked out over Hellsing wood, toward the castle of
Daegon many leagues away.

She was gone, he realized finally, and she would never return. Why, he wondered with renewed anguish,
could she not have left him in peace? He had been content before. He had not known loneliness or need
in so very long that he had grown accustomed to his solitude. Now, because Adriana had brought light
and hope and joy into his empty existence, loneliness and need ate at him like birds of carrion.

* * * *

To keep from worrying her sister, Adriana struggled to control her sorrow and keep her misery to
herself. It took so much effort to try to behave as if nothing had ever happened to destroy her world that
even a faint smile was exhausting, and she spent far more time by herself than with anyone, sometimes
strolling along the walkways of the castle garden, sometimes curled up in a chair in the library, reading a
book.

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When Cerise chided her about it, Adriana merely shrugged. “When Father locked me into the tower, I
grew accustomed to having no company but my own. I’m sorry, but truly, I prefer to be alone.”

One dreary day when she went to the library in search of a book, she discovered a copy of the book of
legends. Tears filled her eyes at once. Blinking to dispel them, she pushed the book back on the shelf, but
even as she began to turn away she thought about what Drago had told her about the legend of
Morpheus.

She stared at the book, wondering if she could read the tale without weeping hysterically, but she had to
know the ending. She had to know that, in the end, Morpheus was alright, that he was happy in his
domain of dreams.

Glancing around to make certain no one had seen her, she snatched the book from the shelf and
retreated quickly upstairs to her bed chamber with it. When she had climbed onto the bed, she settled the
book on her lap and merely stared at the worn cover for many moments, trying to work up her nerve.
Finally, she flipped the book open and searched for the story about Morpheus, Lord of the Night.

* * * *

Cerise was worried about her sister and at her wit’s end to think of anything at all that she could do for
Adriana. She had thought it was for the best when she had bullied Adriana to leave her room and rejoin
the world, but she could not comfort herself that Adriana was greatly improved and it had been nigh a full
month since she had come to them. Sometimes, Adriana would actually smile and behave almost like her
old self, but mostly she moved about the castle like a ghost.

Finally, in desperation, she sent word to Bianca, begging their eldest sister to come and help her. To her
relief, Bianca came at once. Cerise greeted her sister at the door. “Thank heavens! Adriana is bound to
perk up when she sees that you have come! Let us find where she has gone off to hide.”

Arm in arm, they went first to the gardens to look for her. Seeing no sign of the girl, Cerise shook her
head. “She has curled up in that stuffy library with a book, mark my words!”

They found, though, that the library was empty, as well.

Cerise looked around the empty room in disgust.

“Perhaps she went riding?” Bianca suggested.

Cerise shook her head. “She has not gone near that poor little mare since she came to us. It reminds her
ofhimand she can’t bear to look at it. Come. She has gone to hide in her room. I am sure of it.”

A worried frown creased Cerise’s brow, however, when she had rapped at the wooden panel and
gotten no response. Turning the knob, she pushed the door open anyway. To her relief, she saw that
Adriana was curled up on top of her bed, reading--just as she had suspected--which explained why she
hadn’t responded to the knock. “Look who has come to see you and help me to cheer you up!” she
exclaimed, dragging Bianca into the room with her.

Adriana looked up at them, but blindly. Her face was white as death.

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“Adriana! What is it?” Bianca demanded fearfully. “Are you ill?”

“I made it happen,” Adriana said in a voice that was little more than a whisper. “I made it happen.”

Cerise frowned, snatching the book from her sister. “You made what happen?”

“Look! Read for yourself. It says it right there in the book! Morpheus fell in love with the mortal woman
and when she left him he was inconsolable. To escape his pain, he entered the dream world--never to
roam the world of light again.”

Cerise and Bianca struggled briefly over the book and finally shared it, reading the ending of the legend
of Morpheus.

“You don’t know that it is you!” Cerise said sharply.

Tears were streaming down Adriana’s cheeks. “The winged horse! He gave his love a winged horse and
she left him! Hedidlove me! And he will never forgive me now!” Dashing the tears from her face, she
leapt from the bed. “I have to go to him, before it’s too late!”

Cerise and Bianca both grabbed her. “You can’t!”

“I have to! Don’t you see! I thought that I could prevent the legend from coming true by leaving. Instead,
Imadeit happen. I have to go back, now, before it’s too late!”

Her older sisters exchanged a look, knowing that it was probably already too late.

Bianca wrapped an arm around her little sister’s waist. “You must see that we can not let you go like
this. You are distraught. Stay. We will send someone to him with a token of love from you and everything
will be fine. You’ll see.”

“I don’t want to send a token!” Adriana said angrily, stamping her foot. “I need to see for myself that he
is all right.”

“You will feel excessively silly if you dash back to him and discover that you have gotten everything
wrong again,” Cerise said.

Bianca gave her a chiding look, but she saw that as unkind as the remark was it had given Adriana
pause. “A few more hours can certainly make no difference,” she added.

“We will send Drago. He will tell you all that you need to know.”

* * * *

Once Drago had been summoned, the sisters went down to the main hall to await his return. He would
use his magic to hasten his journey, painful that it might be to him. Too anxious to remain still, Adriana
paced back and forth across the room until Cerise at last lost patience and swore that she would wear a
hole in the carpet if she did not cease. Chastened, Adriana moved to a chair and sat, but she only
perched for a few moments and then she was up and pacing again.

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At long last, when Adriana thought she could bear the suspense no more, Drago returned. His face was
grim and Adriana’s heart failed her. Weakly, she wilted into the seat she had only just leapt up from. “Tell
me! For pity’s sake do not make me wait to hear it.”

Drago glanced at her sisters and finally spoke. “I did not go in. He has placed some sort of spell over his
domain and I was prevented from entering the castle, but brambles grow everywhere, as if the place has
been abandoned a hundred years.”

Despair settled over Adriana like a cloud. She clutched her chest where her heart throbbed painfully. “I
must go to him.”

Drago’s gaze was sympathetic. “I fear it is too late.”

She sprang to her feet. “Imustgo!”

Bianca and Cerise tried to reason with her but she shut them out, covering her ears with her hands. “I
will go! If you try to stop me I will never, ever forgive you as long as I live.”

Bowing to the inevitable, they asked Drago to go with her.

The little mare was not pleased to have two riders, but Bianca and Cerise had been fearful that Adriana
was too upset to ride alone, that she would fall from the mare to her death and they insisted. Regardless
of the weight of the additional rider, the mare seemed to have little difficulty and within moments they
were soaring above the treetops.

Impatience ate at Adriana, despite the fact that the mare flew at such speed that the wind whipped
around her, tearing the pins from her long hair so that it fluttered behind her like a bright banner. At last
the spires of Morpheus’ castle came into view and Adriana strained forward, as if by doing so she could
make the mare reach it faster.

Morpheus’ night-mare trotted up to them when they alighted at last in the pasture. “Poor beast,” Adriana
murmured, stroking the horse’s muzzle, but her heart failed her, for she knew if the mare was here that
Morpheus was also.

Turning away from the mare, she moved quickly up the long walk that led to the castle doors. She had
already reached them before she remembered what Drago had said about the spell. When she looked
back, she saw that Drago stood where she had left him.

A flicker of hope arose. If the spell had not kept her out, she thought, surely it must mean that Morpheus
had not come to hate her for her perfidy. Thrusting the doors open, she paused on the threshold. Only
darkness greeted her. But as her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness of the interior, her heart sank and
fear seized her.

The main hall was a shambles. Tapestries had been torn from the walls, the furniture destroyed. It
looked as if a great battle had been fought within the walls of the castle. Gathering her skirts, Adriana
moved quickly inside. “Morpheus!” she cried out.

Nothing answered her but the mournful groan of the wind as it whistled through the door she had left
standing wide.

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“Too late! I am too late!” she cried out in despair.

She could not accept that. Crossing the main hall, she rushed up the stairs, nearly stumbling and falling in
her haste and distress, calling to Morpheus again and again. He did not answer and she raced about the
upper floor, searching for him. Each room lay empty--as empty as her heart had begun to feel, and still
she searched, climbing at last onto the battlements.

Defeat settled over her when she found him not. Finally, weary with heartache, she trudged down the
stairs once more. She paused when she had reached the room that had been her bed chamber. She had
not searched it. She had not been able to bring herself to go inside, to face the memories that dwelt there.

Finally, she reached for the knob and turned it, pushing the door wide.

He lay upon her bed as if he waited for her, still as death.

“He sleeps,” she murmured in anguish, unable at first even to command her feet to move, she crossed
the room finally, stopping beside the bed to stare down at his still face. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t
leave me, Morpheus. I love you so much. I’m so sorry I left you.”

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. “Warm,” she whispered
brokenly. “And yet gone so far away.”

Climbing onto the bed, she curled beside him, leaning down to press her lips to his. “Forgive me,
Morpheus. Come back to me,” she whispered hopelessly as she lifted her lips at last from his
unresponsive ones.

His lips parted. A sigh sawed from his chest.

A sob escaped her and she buried her face against his chest, weeping for all that she had lost, all that
would never be. She was so caught up in her misery that she barely noticed the first light touch upon her
hair. A hand stroked soothingly over her head.

She pulled away, looking down at Morpheus. To her joy she saw that he was looking back at her. His
arms came around her, pulling her tightly against his chest. “Adriana, my love. You came back to me.”

“Always, my love,” she sobbed, her heart near to bursting.

Nudging her chin up, he kissed her deeply, with desperation, with all the love he felt for her in his heart.

The End

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