A Caress of Twilight

Chapter 25

Kitto lay against the dark burgundy sheets like a ghost. His black curls made him seem paler. His eyes kept fluttering open, flashing blue, then shutting, leaving his blue eyes like gleaming bruises behind the thin skin of his closed lids.

I touched his bare shoulder. "He still looks... almost translucent."

"The lesser fey fade in truth," Doyle said. He stood beside me in front of the mirrored dresser.

Rhys stood at the foot of the bed and stared down at the goblin. "He's not up to sex, no pun intended."

I looked at him. He looked unhappy, maybe even worried, but that was all. "You're not going to protest about me sharing my body with a goblin?"

"Would it do me any good?" he asked.

"No," I said.

He gave a weak version of his grin. "Then I might as well start making the best of it. Besides, I don't think we have to worry about you doing the bump and grind with him tonight. There's not enough of him left."

"Merry must share flesh with Kitto to bring him back to himself," Doyle said.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, and Kitto rolled toward me like the sea pulled by the moon. He cuddled against me with a sigh that was almost a whimper.

"He can't take a bite out of me if he's not conscious."

"Put power into him as you did the sword," Doyle said. "Make him aware of you, as you made Kurag aware of you."

I looked down at the tiny man. He seemed asleep, but his skin still had that awful thin quality like it was wearing away. I stroked my hand down his shoulder. He wiggled closer to me, but did not wake.

I leaned over him, putting my mouth just above the skin of his shoulder. I had raised my shields automatically when I'd finished using the magic to contact Kurag. Shielding was like breathing for me. It was dropping them that took concentration. I'd learned to shield about the same time I learned to read.

But this wasn't a spell; this was less, and more than that. The human witches call it natural magic, which means a natural ability you can perform without much training or effort.

I drew magic, energy, into my breath and blew it across his skin. I willed him to wake, to see me.

Kitto's eyes fluttered open, and this time he did see me. His voice came hoarse, "Merry."

I smiled at him, touching the curls on the side of his pale face. "Yes, Kitto, it's me."

He frowned, and grimaced as if something hurt. "What's happening?"

"You need to take flesh from me."

He continued to frown up at me as if he hadn't understood.

I took off my jacket and began unbuttoning my blouse. I probably could have pushed the sleeve up enough to expose my shoulder, but I didn't want to get blood on the white material. The bra underneath was white, as well, but I was pretty sure I could keep it from getting stained if I was careful.

Kitto's eyes had widened. "Flesh?" He made it a question.

"Leave your mark on my body, Kitto."

"We contacted Kurag," Doyle said. "He said that the reason you are ailing is that your mark with Meredith has healed. Her energy must sustain you away from faerie, and for that you need a new sharing of flesh."

Kitto stared up at the tall dark man. "I don't understand."

I touched his face, turned his eyes back to me. "Does it matter, does anything matter except the scent of my skin?" I put my wrist next to his face, then slid my arm slowly, just above his lips, so that our bodies touched here and there. I ended on my knees by the bed, taking my other arm behind his head to bring his face close to the upper part of my free arm, just below the shoulder. During sex, biting is great, even some bloodletting; but this was cold, and I wasn't ready for it. This was going to hurt, so I preferred it be somewhere with some cushioning, some meat.

His pupils had gone to thin black slits. There was a stillness to him, but it was not static. It was a stillness full of so many things, eagerness, need, and hunger, a terrible blind hunger. Something in that moment, as he watched the white flesh of my shoulder, reminded me his father was not just a goblin, but a snake goblin. Kitto was becoming warm and so terribly mammalian, yet something of that reptilian stillness was in him. He was still a small version of a sidhe warrior; but watching his body tense, I was reminded of a snake about to strike. For a moment, I was afraid of him, then he was moving in a blur of speed, and I fought with myself not to flinch away.

It was like being hit in the arm with a baseball bat, like being bitten by a large dog. It was the impact that startled, but it didn't exactly hurt, not right away. Blood poured from his lips down my arm. He worried at it like a dog trying to break the neck of a rat, and I cried out.

I slumped down the side of the bed, away from him, and he stayed at my shoulder, teeth dug into my flesh. Blood dripped onto my chest, staining the white bra.

I drew my breath from deep inside my body, but I didn't scream. He was a goblin; screaming and fighting back just drove them to blood lust. I blew my breath soft upon his face. He stayed locked on my arm, eyes closed, face enraptured. I blew one quick hard breath in his face the way you do on small pets when they bite. Most things don't like having you blow in their face, especially on their eyes.

It made him open his eyes. I watched Kitto flow back into those eyes, watched him fill back up, while the animal receded. He let go of my arm.

I slumped back against the dresser, and the pain was sharp and immediate. I had the urge to curse him soundly, but staring up into his face, I couldn't.

Blood covered his mouth like lipstick gone wild. It dripped down his chin, stained his throat. His eyes were focused, and he was himself again, but he still ran that narrow forked tongue across tiny bloodstained teeth. He rolled back onto the bed and basked in the afterglow.

I just sat on the floor and bled.

Doyle knelt behind me with a small towel in his hands. He raised my arm, wrapping the towel around it, not so much to stop the bleeding, but to catch the blood and keep it from getting all over everything.

The scent of flowers filled the air, pleasant but strong. Doyle glanced up at the mirror. "Someone is asking permission to speak through the mirror."

"Who is it?"

"I am not sure. Niceven, perhaps."

I looked at my bloody arm. "Is this a good enough show?"

"If you do not show pain while we bind the wound, yes."

I sighed. "Great. Help me sit on the edge of the bed." He lifted me in his arms and sat me on the bed. "I didn't need that much help."

"My apologies. I didn't know how hurt you might be."

"I'll live." I took the towel and held it on the wound. Kitto curled around me, his face still bloodstained. He'd kicked off all the sheets, so that with his body pressed up against mine you couldn't see his short-shorts from the mirror. He'd look naked. He writhed against me, his forked tongue licking the blood from his lips, and further around his mouth. His hands stroked along my waist and hips.

Kurag could say what he wished, but taking flesh this way was sex for the goblins.

"Answer them, Doyle, then get me something to stop the blood."

He smiled and gave a small bow. He motioned and the mirror sprang to life showing a hook-nosed man with skin the color of bluebells.

It was Hedwick, King Taranis's social secretary. Not only was he not Niceven, but he was so not going to appreciate the show.