His eyes found hers, up where she stood upon the promontory. Grey light with flecks of gold smote Layla upon her high perch, shining out from his achingly handsome face. Far below, he smiled softly to see her – a winsome smile full of bold pleasure and oceanic desire.
And then he opened his lips. A song emerged from his throat, colored by all the orchestrations of the sea. Impossible harmonies flooded Layla; beautiful melodies as ephemeral as the crashing waves far below. As she listened, her body began to melt into that sound, becoming spray and salt, sand and pearl.
And as he wooed her, she fell forward off her rocky promontory – down into the crashing surf below.
Layla woke with a start, the taste of brine and the smooth flesh of the oyster in her mouth. Reginald’s oceanic scent from her dream drowned her and she gasped, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to struggle beneath that towering wave and lost. Gasping for air, she felt him rush in – kissing her like the entirety of the ocean rushing into her body, dark and darker. Layla struggled for breath; she struggled for consciousness.
Falling beneath the enormous weight of Reginald’s passion.
She gasped, clutching her throat as Reginald’s kiss and his magic drowned her from afar. There was motion in the hall – Tempeste suddenly rushed in, throwing himself to the bed and ripping Reginald’s choker from her neck. The clasp broke; pearls scattered through the room with a terrible rattle as Layla finally gasped a clear breath. Cradling her close, Tempeste poured a freshening breath in through her lips in a similar way to Adrian, until she could breathe again.
Layla’s heart hammered in her chest. Fear burned through her as she gasped in Tempeste’s arms, as he flicked on the bedside light and cradled her face in his hands, gazing from one eye to the other. With a growl, he slipped both earrings from her ears, and Layla’s breath came easier. He set them aside on the bedside table, and though he inspected her eyes again, he didn’t reach for the bracelet.
“Are you all right?” He spoke softly, intent.
“I don’t know.” Layla gasped, rubbing her neck where the choker had been – so tight and pleasurable in her dream of Reginald that she’d wanted it to take her down. “What happened?”
“You were resonating with my brother, strongly, through the pearls.” Tempeste’s pale gaze was intense as he scanned her eyes again. “He was dreaming and so were you. You connected, through the jewelry. Reginald has always had terrible control in his dreams. He nearly drowned you with his unrestrained power.”
“The choker…?” Layla glanced around. Seeing the choker laying upon the coverlet, she picked it up. Five of the six strands of pearls were intact; only one had broken. But the clasps were ruined; there was no way it was going back around her neck without a jeweler to fix it.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to take it off properly.” Tempeste’s gaze was sad as he looked down at the choker also. “I’ll find the pearls and store them safely. They call to me; even if they rolled far, it won’t be any trouble to collect them.”
“Is it safe to fall asleep again with these things on?” Layla glanced at the bracelet doubtfully.
“Your irises are back to their normal color.” Tempeste smiled. “They went ice-blue for a moment there, full of my brother’s power. If your power is once again dominant, it should be safe to sleep with just the bracelet. I’ll store the earrings and the choker in my briefcase until tomorrow.”
“Good plan.”
But though Layla was relieved, something inside her also felt bereft. The sensation of Reginald kissing her in her dream had been so profound, so hot with passion and deep with his oceanic pull that she found herself slipping back into the sensation after Tempeste gathered up all the scattered pearls from the coverlet and the floor. Saying his goodnights, he turned off the light, stepping back to his own room with the broken choker and earrings in his palm.
But like a command had been left inside her with the fury of the sea behind it, Layla found herself drifting back into dreams of the ocean after Tempeste left. Though they were still vivid, they were also calmer – intimately pleasant as Reginald’s soft lips found hers again on the edge of sleep. Falling hard into his power though she didn’t choke on it now, Layla surrendered to his kiss – tasting oysters and ocean water and sunlight with every breath.
Feeling the surge of his body all around her in the night.
CHAPTER 18 – PHOENIX
Layla woke early; too early. The sun was barely up over the mountains, lighting a screen of mist that coated the morning ocean. As waves crashed outside in the harbor, Layla could still feel the crashing of her dreams. She lingered in bed, staring out the misty window; feeling Reginald’s passion surging around her still. She didn’t think she’d dreamt of anything else, all night. Being in his arms, moving with him, kissing him – a thousand pleasures still washed through her, making her heat and shiver.
It was confusing, and as Layla pushed up from bed, she could feel her vast unrest. As if Reginald had somehow gotten under her skin, he lingered all around her with the fresh scent of the morning ocean. Going to her purse, left the night before in her room when they’d gone out for dinner, Layla found the phone Dusk had given her, magically encrypted to connect her to the Hotel. Pulling on her now-dry sweater from the back of a chair, she dialed Dusk’s direct line, then padded out to the main room.
Glancing into Tempeste’s room, she saw he was still asleep. Sleeping naked, he’d cast the covers off his upper body, and Layla couldn’t help but stare. He was chiseled perfection just like Reginald, though Layla could see how his skin was slightly thinner; more mature. He stirred as if he felt her watching, and as the phone continued to ring, Layla stepped quickly to the patio doors, unlocking them and stepping outside.
As she did, the phone was answered. “Layla? Are you all right?”
“Hi Dusk.” A relieved smile blossomed over Layla’s face to hear him. Everything suddenly seemed alright with Dusk on the line. Her twisting, heated dreams of Reginald were banished as Layla inhaled the fresh salt air, feeling her connection to Dusk strengthen now that his voice was on the other line. “I’m ok. Just checking in. I forgot to do it last night.”
“Understandable.” He murmured gently. “You had a long day of travel. Thanks for calling me now, though.”
“Sure.” So many unsaid emotions breathed between them in that moment of silence, until Layla spoke again. “How are things at the Hotel?”
“As well as can be managed.” Dusk’s voice was low, and Layla got the feeling he wasn’t alone. She heard him move as if going to a quieter location, before he spoke again. “In all honesty, it’s a shit-show. The Owners are demanding to see Adrian, and we can’t produce him. Thankfully, the Intercessoria haven’t told any Owners that they have Adrian in custody, but they’re still pouring all over this place looking for clues about Hunter, and there’s not much we can do. Reginald’s brother Bastien is causing trouble, and meanwhile, Reginald’s conveniently begun to explore his independence as Head Courtier.”
“Independence?” Layla thought again of Reginald’s kiss, and his exquisite nakedness in her dreams. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he’s just doing as he fucking pleases in the last twenty-four hours.” Dusk sounded peeved, but also impressed. “He’s wandering around like Hugh Hefner at the Playboy mansion, and no amount of cajoling is changing his mind to act just exactly how he wants to right now. The Madame is fretting. She believes it’s a power play against his brother Bastien, but I disagree – I think Aldo’s facing some intense identity crisis. And to make it all worse, we still don’t have Sylvania’s body back to do a memorial as the Intercessoria are holding it for investigation. I wish you were here, Layla. Things are just so convoluted right now.”
This last was said with such a sigh that Layla’s heart went out to Dusk. She rarely heard him so stressed. Dusk was the consummate problem-solver, yet it seemed that he’d finally met his match – too many problems of too great a magnitude that couldn’t be solved.
