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  • Home > Anne Bishop > Black Jewels > The Shadow Queen (Chapter 63)      Page
  • The Shadow Queen(Black Jewels,Book 7)(63) by Anne Bishop
  • Lucivar sat back on air, as if he were sitting on a stool. “Most of the time, I think of myself as Marian’s husband, or I think of her as an independent woman who lives with me and is the mother of my son. But when Marian and I first became lovers, she moved into my bedroom—and into my bed. So there’s not a night that goes by that I’m not saying ‘Mine.’ ”

    Daemon turned to look at him. Lucivar couldn’t tell what was going on in his brother’s mind or heart, but he knew what he said here and now would matter. Really matter. So he took a moment to choose his words.

    “Marian comes to my bed every night, but some nights it feels different. Occasionally I’m in bed before her, and when I see her walking toward the bed, watch her get into bed, I feel . . . different. I don’t have the words for it, Daemon. I just feel different. More . . . dangerous. It’s not like the rut. When this happens, I’m still there. My brain is still there. But something changes inside me, and I don’t see her the same way.

    “I don’t know what she sees in my face, in my eyes. Sometimes when she gets into bed, she’s nervous but excited. Aroused. And sometimes she’s scared. Of me. Of whatever I am when that feeling fills me.”

    Their eyes met. Held.

    “What do you do?” Daemon asked softly.

    “On the nights when she’s nervous and excited, the sex is . . . more. It has a flavor it doesn’t have any other time.”

    “And on the other nights?”

    “I’ll kiss her once, because I need to. And I’ll hold her while she sleeps. But I won’t have sex with her. Even if I’m ready to burst and she says she’s willing, I won’t have sex with her when I can smell her fear.”

    Lucivar took a breath and blew it out. Not an easy thing to talk about, even with a brother he loved.

    Not something he’d ever admitted to anyone before.

    “Want some advice?” he asked.

    “Yes.”

    “Some night soon, when nothing is riding you, when you’re feeling easy, invite Jaenelle to your bed. To the bed that’s yours, not hers.”

    “To prove that the Sadist won’t always be there?”

    “Oh, no. No, Daemon, the Sadist will rise in a heartbeat to defend your most private bit of territory. But I don’t think he’ll hurt Jaenelle. He’ll play games. That’s what he does. But he won’t hurt her.”

    He felt a change inside Daemon, pieces that would never be completely whole settling back into place.

    “I’ll take the yarbarah to Dena Nehele,” he said. “I’d like to get a look around, and this is a good excuse. And I’d like to get a look at this demon-dead Warlord Prince.”

    “Which means you won’t be back until later tonight.”

    “I’ll let you know when I get back to the Keep.”

    “All right. Anything I can do here?”

    Lucivar gave Daemon a lazy, arrogant smile. “You feeling brave?”

    Daemon groaned.

    “It’s market day. I was going to entertain the little beast for a couple of hours so Marian could go down to Riada alone.”

    Daemon groaned louder, but this groan sounded less sincere.

    “Fine. All right,” Daemon said. “For Marian.”

    “Of course.”

    Daemon laughed, and the sound had Lucivar breathing easy again.

    “Will you be all right going to Terreille?” Daemon asked.

    “I’ll be fine.”

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire