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Chapter Three

‘Twas a garden paradise. The dream, the colors, even the scents were sharper, clearer, as though she existed within reality rather than a dreamscape of unimagined beauty. Deep within a valley sheltered within the Whispering Mountains, she found the Valley of Dreams. It could only be there that such beauty existed. It was said that only within that special glade did the soul find its deepest desires.

And within it, she found the Garden of Nirvana.

She inhaled, a slow inhalation, drawing the scents deep within her as she closed her eyes and listened to the soft song of the tweeterlings, the whisper of the caws, the deep baritone call of the sharp-billed macanar. They were all there, the fantastical creatures only told of in legend, their brilliant feathers flowing in the breeze as the sound of their songs filled her ears. Sweet Mercy, what pleasure there was to be found in the sounds. She had known of no other to have ever found this place, either in their searching journeys within the mountains, or within their unconscious journeys. It was said that only the most deserving was given a glimpse of the Sentmarian paradise. Only those that the gods favored could find their way into the joyous fields of blooms.

And such blooms. Deep, rich flora abounded. Tall, feathery stalks of gold phermona grew in abundance, deep petals of the palest blue pansy carpeted the floor of the field. Small trumpet- shaped carlies grew in multitudes, the sweet sound of their unique inhalation of the lands magick filling the air. Trees sheltered the little glade, growing low, their branches caressing the top of her head, bringing a smile of joy to her lips as her eyes opened, and a startled gasp left her lips. There, within the center of the grassy, bloom-strewn valley was an obvious bed of blooms, shaded by the phermona, cushioned by the pansy and carlies. Peace. A night of sleep undisturbed by the nightmares that had haunted her for so many years, the shadows of fear absent. These were the gifts the gods had brought to her.

She stepped closer, then stopped in confusion as she stared around the warmth of the valley. Why? Why would the gods open this place to her, allow her within its beauty when she had done nothing to be deserving of its peace. She had not stopped a great war, nor saved one of great power or promise. She was but a woman, frail, and in the past weeks clearly not in possession of all her wits. Her chastisement of the Sashtain Twins within their suite had been proof of that. Why then would the gods bring her to this place of rest?

She stared around the sunny warmth of the valley, feeling the humid press of the heat against her bare flesh and reveling in the caress of the invisible steam over her skin. It was so rare she could endure even the softest caress, that the natural kiss of moist warmth sent a shiver racing up her back for but a second. The pleasure far outweighed any danger which could lurk here.

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It did not answer the question of why she was here, but the temptation of it was more than she could deny herself. Within the Garden of Nirvana, only peace existed, only the greatest wish of the one invited to sleep within its protection was granted. And the sleep, undiluted by fear and shadows, was her greatest wish, her most enduring need. As she moved for the soft bed of blooms, she recognized with distant surprise her nudity. It made no sense that she would come to this place unclothed. She would have never done so if she had been given a choice. But the rules of the Valley of Dreams were said to be much different. Perhaps this was why she entered it as naked as the day she had been birthed. As she stepped to the bed of blooms, the delicate, silken spears of grass tickled at the soles of her feet, bringing a smile to her face and carefree warmth to her heart. How long had it been since she had allowed herself such simple pleasures? The smell of fresh blooms, the feel of the warm grass, the whisper of a breeze on her naked flesh. It had been too many years since she had known such things, since her heart had opened enough to even realize she had indeed missed them.

But now, she reveled in it. The soft, sweet scents enveloped her, enclosing her senses in a comforting warmth as alien as it was familiar. Honeysuckle, a perfume so rare, so evocative of innocence and joy, teased her nostrils as she moved to the thick bed of blooms, lying back against the sun-kissed warmth with a muted groan of pleasure.

Tiny, tiny pale blue and gold blooms caressed her back with a rhythmic motion that had her eyes closing in bliss. Ah, such pleasure would only exist in dreams, she thought in regret. If she could but find this when she awakened as well, then she would know true peace whenever the touch came. True pleasure.

The feathery phermona rustled at her side, bending against the delicate breeze wafting over her flesh as heated warmth wrapped around her, inside her. Relaxed her. She could feel each muscle falling victim to the magickal caress of each bloom. Like tiny fingers, calloused at the tips, smoothing over her.

They reminded her of Caise and Kai’el’s touch. She frowned at that thought. They were forever stroking their fingertips along her arm, her shoulder, touching her hair if she wasn’t quick enough to jerk away. But she didn’t have to move from this touch. This touch knew no design, only pleasure. What harm could there be in enjoying the tender motions of the blooms?

She stretched against each touch, raising her arms until they curled above her head, her breasts lifting to the breeze, her neck arching as the soothing warmth washed over her tender nipples, ruffled the soft curls between her thighs.

Insidious heat filled her, a slow, sensual wash of pleasure that she refused to allow to intrude upon her relaxation. She would rest here, nap for as long as the gods would allow her. She wondered if they would allow her to stay.

A whispering brush of silk over her nipples had her eyes flying open. A surprised laugh trickled from her throat at the sight of the phermona, its featherlike branches brushing over her breasts, bent in half by the breeze cooling her. She allowed her lips to curve in pleasure as a trembling moan left them.

How completely sensual. There was no need to fear, no pain to expect. There was only the tenderness, the warmth surrounding her, the sensual beckoning pleasure beginning to overtake 18

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her. Like firelight on a clear night, heating her first on the outside, then sinking into her bones. Effervescent, a hint of sizzle as it beckoned, the welcoming touch of the phermona tickled her nipples, hardening them further as others brushed over her body. Beneath her, the blooms massaged, reaching muscles she had not known were tense, tired from her vigilance, even in sleep. Marina drifted, only half aware as the blooms and the feathery strokes of the soft branches shifted beneath her, raising her arms further, spreading her thighs, moving further along her body as the stalks of the phermona wrapped about her wrists and ankles, massaging those muscles a bit deeper while fingers and toes relaxed as they bid. How incredible, sprawled beneath the sun’s warmth, hedonistic delight sizzling in her veins as the blooms began to manipulate the insides of her thighs, brushing against the dewy curls on her aching mound.

Aye, her mound ached. She could feel the slow clenching within her pussy, the heat springing to her clit as her senses awakened to the sensual pleasure beginning to fill her. What heat, what extreme sensation. She moaned again as the blooms moved further, working against the lips of her cunt as they stroked the sides of her breasts. Like soft kisses, the trumpet-shaped blooms suckled at her flesh as the pansies kissed with a ghostly caress until she was undulating beneath their touch, the heat moving inside her now, tempting her to erotic thoughts. What danger was there here? No Wizard Twin could follow her into the Valley of Dreams. Only the Sentinels could bring her here, and only they could watch over her. Here she could safely fantasize of the Sashtain Twins. Why she chose those arrogant males over the warlocks she could have chosen, she was uncertain. But now was not the time to think, now was the time to feel. And ahh, such sensation in the feeling.

The feathery phermona brushed over her pussy, parting her swollen lips as the silken brush of its lighter than air stalks began to probe and stroke the moist folds within. Marina licked her dry lips as they parted, a whimpering keen of need surprising her as she felt yet another bloom, she knew not what, cup over the swollen knot of her clitoris, even as others attached to her nipples.

The stems holding ankles and wrists stretched her further, opening her thighs wider as the lips of her pussy parted more so. Mercy, the thought was but a hazy plea as she felt the air-light stalks caressing her as the blooms suckled at her. Her nipples, her clit, slow drawing movements that had her arching, gasping, then writhing as the velvety stalk slid further below, probing at the tender opening of her anus.

Mother Sentinel! It was entering her. Slow, precise movements parted the hidden entrance as another branch moved to the rapidly slickening portal of her vagina. There it probed, teased, never entering, never bringing an end to the torturous pleasure suddenly filling her, whipping through her like strokes of lightning crashing over her nerves. Heat enveloped her, stretching her on a rack of pleasure so intense she could not but help to fill the glade with her strident cries for ease. There must surely be an end to the tension tightening her body. Or was there?

A soft, heated strike of a branch at her rear had her bucking, rearing up as an electric thrill of forbidden sensation shot through her mind. The next wrapped about her thigh, a heated lance of pleasure striking into her pussy at the hot slap. Then she was being moved once again, turned to 19

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her stomach as the blooms cushioned her, pouting against her flesh until it seemed a thousand mouths suckled her at once as the stems began a heated series of sharp little taps over her buttocks and thighs, as the one probing at her anal entrance began to slip inside her, opening her as she tightened on it, swelling marginally within her as she gasped in pleasure-pain. Intense. Blinding. Perspiration began to coat her body as she gasped against the careful slaps of the feathery stems, the stroking caress of its wafting limbs, the overwhelming sensations, the heated fury of arousal unlike anything she could have imagined. Was it possible to even imagine pleasure such as this? Pleasure that sent a wicked heat burning through her senses, filled her mind with images so dark, so erotic it left her writhing against the suckling pressure of the blooms at her nipples and her clit. The lancing eroticism of the feathery phermona stretching her anus with delicate strokes was yet another caress. One she did not wish to delve into, for the very darkness of the act pricked at her conscience and incited fear, she wanted neither of those to intrude upon the incredible pleasure controlling her.

She was bound to the bed of blooms, legs and arms spread wide, the sun bearing down on her with merciless heat, just as the flora of the valley ate at her with greedy delight and probed her anal recess with curious thrusts.

It was too much. She was crying out hoarsely, the tension tightening in her womb, building, so close… Whatever awaited her at the end of this journey was so close… And then it was gone. Her eyes flew open, her gaze meeting the candlelit warmth of her own room and the knowledge that she was naked, as she had been in her dream. Her arms and legs were spread wide, her body heaving against the quilts, her dew slick and hot upon her thighs. And she ached.

A whimpering cry left her lips once again as she rolled to her stomach, pulling the quilt with her, wrapping it around her sensitized body as she choked back a desperate, despairing moan. Sweet Mercy, what was wrong with her? She could feel magick burning in her blood, pounding at points where she should feel no such desire, no such hunger.

But she ached. Sweet, white-hot hunger of a sort she could not explain clenched in her pussy, pinched her nipples into tight hard points and had left her anus, that forbidden nether-hole, aching to be filled.

It was sexual hunger. She knew it for what it was, for what her sister Brianna had described with such a self-satisfied, intent look in her violet eyes. Bri had not lied, as Marina has suspected, that such impossible to imagine desperation could fill a body until it was writhing for release. But how did one attain such release? She could not imagine how to go about it, how to end the ache searing her senses. Bri would know, surely. But she was no longer on Covenani land. She had returned to the Veraga castle, taking her place as Queen Consort between her ruling Twins. And Marina dared not attempt to reach out to her. Even though her sister’s magick was now by far stronger than any sorceress known, her Wizards were still yet more powerful. They would know the needs striking at her helpless body and inform those infernal Sashtain Twins of her weakness.

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God help her if they ever realized it had been their image that came to mind within the Valley of Dreams. That it had been their fingers, their touch, their suckling mouths possessing her. Should they ever learn the truth, she would never escape them.

* * * * *

Kai’el’s eyes flew open as he jerked himself from the dreamscape he and Caise had built for Marina. His flesh was covered in sweat, a chill racing over his body as a hard, near-violent shudder racked his frame. His fingers were clenched around the width of his cock, holding back the silky semen demanding release. Vibrant pale blue and violet swirls of power licked over him, drawing his mesmerized gaze as the misty threads of feminine power curled along his chest and scrotum like a lazy lover. Marina’s power. And still it had not yet dissipated. It was faint, hazy, but the visions she had built in her mind of her lovers’ caresses had sent her power winging out to them.

Blessed Sentinels, but the touch of her magick was like liquid fire. Like the lava that trickled from Fire Mountain. Should she actually find the courage to lay her hands to him… A grimace twisted his face as he moved carefully from the bed, the hard ache in his balls sending waves of uncomfortable sensation shooting up his spine. Mercy. Had he ever known such sexual agony? Surely he had not.

Muting a hungry growl, he unwrapped his fingers from his erection and jerked his robe from the bottom of the bed. His teeth clenched as the ultrasoft material caressed his flesh. Still the whispers of Marina’s power clung to him, torturing the marble-hard erection rising from between his thighs. Why in the Blessed Sentinel’s name did she not retrieve her magick upon waking? Why continue to torture him with it? Was his power still caressing her? Hell no. He pulled back. He played fair. The fact that inducing the dream to begin with had been less than fair was only a distant thought as the wispy magick clenched over his tight sac and gave a single hungry lick to the base of his cock.

He jerked at the touch, feeling the moisture of his semen leaking from the wide crest as he groaned in torture.

“Merciful Sentinel take her,” he heard Caise curse from his adjoining room, his voice rough, as tortured as Kai’el felt.

He smiled tightly at the thought. What miserable company they would make for each other this night. It was obvious there would be no sleep, not as long as her unconscious caresses continued to torment them. And there was no stopping it. To block against her power would be the most effective means of betraying the forbidden journey they had given her.

The Valley of Dreams was a gift only given by the Sentinel Select. The power to give such gifts had been taken from Wizard Twins eons before. Until he and Caise had 21

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found the way during their magickal journeys and their flirtatious expeditions along the darker perimeters of magic.

Sighing in resigned misery, Kai’el moved from his room back to the sitting area of the suite the Queen had assigned them. There, his brother, robed as well, poured himself a healthy measure of the less than strong wine the Sorceresses produced on their lands. He knew he should have slipped in the bottles of Wizard Elixir he had threatened to bring along.

“The next time you come up with such a foul scheme, leave me ignorant of it,”

Caise cast him a furious glare. “Still her magick enfolds me like a hot little mouth, sucking my sanity through my dick.”

Caise’s robe was tented, just as Kai’el’s was. The engorged fullness of their cocks beating at their brains in the plea for release. A release they could not attain, unless they allowed Marina hers. Sentinel knew he had not expected quite this reaction from her.

“Come dawn’s light, I send my warriors back to Cauldaran,” Kai’el sighed. “I will not survive this venture on this weak water the benevolent Queen Mother dares to call wine. I will have something far stronger to dull the ache in my loins.”

“Insanity,” Caise muttered again, swallowing down the drink before pouring another. “We were insane to attempt this. She took to the touch like the owls to the air. Blessed Sentinel, we nearly did not pull free from her in time.”

Had they allowed her peak to reach its zenith, the flesh would have been flayed from their backs, and rightly so. Should she find release without their presence, without their possession, then the strength of her magick would be forever diluted. Kai’el shot back the wine in his goblet, before following his brother’s example and pouring yet more. The taste of her still tempted his senses. The sweet honey of her woman’s cream lingered on his lips, in his nostrils. The silky slide of it upon his tongue had been a paradise all its own.

The Valley of Dreams was forbidden for a reason, he now knew. They had never attempted to bring another into its treasured dimension for fear of discovery. And never, not once had they known such heat and the promise of paradise within that particular garden. Nirvana. It was called such for a reason. As the blooms had taken the nectar of her passion, it had touched his and Caise’s lips, tempted their tongues. The slap of the reeds on her pearl-kissed buttocks had been their palms, the silky feel of her flesh a sharp reminder of their need for so much more. And inside the fisted, tight depth of her anus, stretching her with the lightest touch, his fingers had itched to fuck her in truth.

She had taken their caresses easily, naturally. No taint of fear or pain had marred her dreamscape, or her vision…of them. That had been by far the most satisfaction he had known in his life, despite the tortured length of his cock. To have her hips rise as the reed parted her buttocks, the tiny opening easing apart at the penetration, had taken his breath.

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“Would you stop in the name of Mercy,” Caise snarled, fury building in his tone as Kai’el stared at him surprise.

“Mother Sentinel, in all the years since we have been birthed, never have I felt your thoughts or your own sensations until this idiotic scheme of yours unfolded. I tell you, brother, it is most vexing.” Caise glared at him with dark gold eyes, his magick glittering like small candle-points within the color.

Kai’el grunted. Aye, it was most vexing, and a problem he was sharing. They had never known the bonds most Wizard Twins knew. From the moment of conception, they had been isolated in that regard, knowing a freedom of movement, of thought, that the other could not intrude upon. Until now.

Until this journey with the willful, stubborn Marina.

He clenched his teeth as the faint caress of silken fingers at the base of his cock had him tightening in longing. She still thought of them. Still, even outside the Valley of Dreams, she imagined their touch. Imagined touching them.

“That woman shall be the death of us.” Caise threw himself into a large, wellcushioned chair with a glower, his dark blond hair falling over his face in disarray. Or their lives. Should their vision come to fruition, then she would be their souls. He suspected it was such already. He could think of no other woman, had been unable to touch any other since the moment he first caught sight of her. With her long, sunkissed reddish curls, similar but still unique to her sister’s darker red locks. Her deep, deep violet eyes, nearly black, rather than the lighter shade of the Consort Veraga. There was no doubting Marina shared much blood with Brianna Veraga, but so much was different.

Her laughter was shy, her skin like the softest cream kissed by the rising sun. Her soft little body was compact, lightly muscular, for her social life owed little to parties and frippery. Ho no, this little Princess thought herself a warrior true, battling Seculars and slipping from the castle at each opportunity to spy for the Queen’s guard and her secretive heir-apparent sister, Serena Sellane.

“Brother, I beseech of you, still your thoughts,” Caise groaned, his dark voice vibrating with latent threat. “Perhaps if you think of other things—slugs in slime, the putrid waste of the dacar—then our wayward dicks will surely soften.”

Kai’el grunted. “Order her. ‘Tis her thoughts holding her magic about our flesh, not mine. I refuse to be held accountable for that vixen’s hand in this.”

“Had you not been so determined to tempt her, I would not be in such misery,”

Caise growled between clenched teeth, his sun-darkened expression brooding, though absent the anger in his voice.

Kai’el shrugged his shoulders in negligent disregard. “The choice was made, ‘tis far too late to cry foul. And were I given the choice, I would not change the event in any way. Consider this, Caise. Even now, her magick torments us. It would not do so were her thoughts not with us. It would be my suspicion that our tempestuous little Princess is even now lying with thighs clenched, reliving her heated imaginings. That would not 23

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be the actions of a frigid maid. But rather those of one whose passions run hot and deep, and whose hunger will soon rise past her own control.”

Caise opened one eye, watching him warily now.

“You are plotting.” He snarled the accusation before groaning with resigned displeasure. “Kai’el, Sentinel’s truth, should you be the cause of this torturous agony ever again, I will kill you myself. Cease. For in truth, I would as soon face a dark sorcerer as to face that woman’s wrath should she learn what you have done.”

Kai’el laughed at his brother’s misery. Caise searched tirelessly for dark wizards and sorcerers, so the lie falling from his lips was such a blatant untruth as to be worthy of Sentinel despair.

“It should ease soon,” he finally sighed, sinking into a matching chair and laying his head back along the cushions as he frowned up at the ceiling. “Perhaps next time…”

“Next time?” The shadowed promise of violence in Caise’s voice had Kai’el clearing his throat in an attempt to cover his laughter.

“Be at ease, brother.” He shrugged dismissively, his lips quirking in amusement. “I will perfect the plan, you shall see. Trust me…”

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