“You could stay and mingle, introduce yourself some more,” Rikyava shrugged. “But most people here recall their first day. It’s long and grueling, and many fly in from international locations just as you did. No one cares if you tuck in early, really.”
“Actually,” Layla glanced out one of the massive windows, seeing the sky turn cerulean and rose outside as the sun set, “can we walk the gardens?”
“Bring your drink.” Rikyava smiled, sliding off her barstool and offering her arm. Together, they meandered through the foyer, slipping out a side-door and onto a gravel path in the settling evening. Topiaries in fanciful shapes were interspersed with fountains filled with lotus along the sculpted gravel walks, and Rikyava and Layla wandered, taking in the beauty of the setting sun. Many folk strolled the gardens in the early evening, and as Layla watched, pedestals of marble began to swirl with silver-blue lights all through the massive greensward. The fey lights sighed with a gentle wind like swirling fireflies, and Layla watched it with a peaceful feeling, enchanted.
Pausing in a secluded bower of topiaries before a fountain of a gryphon, they watched white carp move through the pond as rivulets of water cascaded down. Firefly pedestals ringed the pool, their reflections dancing in the water. But three Guards in crimson livery suddenly crunched over the gravel, stepping up to the topiaries behind them and pausing a few paces distant. One cleared his throat with an urgency to it and Rikyava frowned, glancing back at her Guardsmen.
“Layla… you’ll have to excuse me, I think we have a situation. If I’m not back soon, you think you can find your way back to your room?”
“Yeah, I can find my way back.” Layla nodded, wondering what was going on. “I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
“So do I. Sorry about this. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
With a smart bow to Layla, Rikyava turned to face her Guards, all business now. They spoke a few low words and then her blonde eyebrows raised in alarm. Departing at a swift trot around the sculpted topiary animals, the four were soon out of sight.
Swirling her drink, Layla turned back to the pond in her secluded bower, gazing out over the water and wondering what had happened. Security at a place like this was probably a never-ending series of situations that got dealt with as swiftly and privately as possible. Layla found she missed Rikyava’s no-nonsense company once the Guardswoman left, though it was nice to finally have some time out of sight for a while. Watching the pond, she took another sip of her drink, feeling how it mellowed her as the evening swept in – a sensual delight that deepened her inhalations in the twilight, casting her into a blissful kind of trance. Standing hidden in the topiary-alcove, Layla was so relaxed and the world so serene around her that when a touch of hands slid down her bare shoulders, she hardly startled at all.
But that desert-spice scent of cinnamon and jasmine curling through the evening breeze was all she needed to know who it was.
“Adrian,” Layla breathed, heady and mellow from the drink in her lungs and his desert-spice scent in the twilight.
“Hello,” Adrian spoke softly by her ear. Slipping his hands down her shoulders, he drew her gently back, stepping close so their bodies touched. Layla drew a deep breath of the twilight and his musk, sensuality filling her to the brim. Turning one hand over, Adrian stroked the backs of his fingers down her bare arm and Layla shivered, caught in his exquisite touch. Her chin rose and she found herself cheek to cheek with him as he lowered his chin, nuzzling his nose over the curve of her ear.
Layla’s eyes rolled up; her eyelashes fluttered closed as heady sensations swept her in their secluded nook. Lifting his hand to her neck, Adrian stroked the front of Layla’s throat and she gave a soft moan, the cumulative sensuality making her body pound for him. Wetness flooded her for the second time tonight – and this time, she didn’t mind. Caressing his smooth lips over her neck beneath her earlobe, Adrian bit down softly upon her skin and Layla cried out, arching in his arms. He was breathing hard behind her now, one hand caressing her bare arm, the other wrapping around her waist and drawing her close.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Layla Price,” Adrian breathed by her ear, hot and chill like desert zephyrs. Scents of anise and heat rolled out from his body, perfuming the bower and mingling with the fresh night air.
“I missed you at the ball.” Layla spoke softly, reaching back and sliding her hand up his neck; stroking her fingers into the impossibly soft hairs at his nape and pulling him closer. “I wanted to sit with you.”
“I had business to attend,” Adrian sighed by her ear, his strong hands winding around her – tighter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your debut. How was it?”
“Embarrassing.” Layla spoke honestly. The mellow drink mixed with Adrian’s scent and the curling wind was like a truth serum tonight. “I’m not used to being the center of attention. All those eyes on me…”
“Everyone should see you. You’re beautiful.” Adrian’s breath was hot upon her neck; the small shudder that passed through his body was as annihilated as Layla felt. Some kind of alchemy existed between them, and through all the pleasures she’d experienced today, none could hold a candle to this. Layla sighed as he held her close, as she stroked her fingers through his short, silken hair, indulging in the texture.
“You’re golden-tongued tonight,” Layla sighed, reveling in the moment. It seemed so similar to her dream suddenly, with the evening fading all around and the stars beginning to pop out in the velvet sky far above. But rather than walking toward her, Adrian was behind her, cradling her as they watched the night fall together, reflected in the fish-pond.
“My tongue isn’t even the best part of me.”
Suddenly, Adrian’s heat sighed out around Layla like a soft wind, touching her bare collarbones; caressing them like fingertips. She gasped as that heat slid down her skin, stroking with invisible hands around her breasts beneath her sleek beaded gown. His real hand slid up her waist, cupping one breast through the beads and silk, and then he stroked his thumb over her nipple and she arched for him with a soft cry. Holding her firmly at her waist, he eased his hand up, sliding the thin strap of her gown off her shoulder and letting the weight of the beaded silk take it down from her breast.
Currents of evening air licked her skin as Layla relaxed back into Adrian’s strong arms, shivering with pleasure; throbbing with it. Gripping his nape, pulling him in closer behind her, waves of heat coursed through her – her own passion at Adrian’s touch. Slipping his fingers down her shoulder, he stroked his knuckles over the mound of her breast. And then over her nipple as he nuzzled his soft lips into her neck.
Biting down gently at her neck again, he teased her nipple between his knuckles – making her spasm and arch back into him. Annihilated with need, the pleasure was too much. It was too heady, and Layla cried out again through softly-parted lips as he continued to pull her breast with his knuckles and press her neck with his kiss. Her beast turned over inside her, languid, flowing through every vein with a slow, driving need – needing Adrian’s scent on her tongue more than she needed breath.
Needing his heat in her body more than she needed blood.
“God, I want you…” He growled by her ear, echoing her thoughts and shivering Layla to her core. Heat roared through her, wetness seeping through her thong to her inner thighs now as he stroked his impossibly soft lips over her neck. She arched again, breathing hard as he teased her nipple more, then slid his hand beneath the swell of her breast, easing the fabric down further and gripping her bare ribs. Digging his fingers in, he palmed her ribs – possessive. Making her struggle a little in his strong hands with the flooding passion that scalded them both.
“Adrian…” Layla sighed, succumbing to his heat in the night.
“Layla…” Adrian slid his smooth lips to her nape, kissing beneath her pulled-up curls, gentle and firm. Layla shivered in his arms, in his intense possessiveness, wanting him as she felt his fingers massage into her ribs now. Their heat began to take her, and Layla wanted to succumb to it. She was already there, already sinking beneath his pleasure – when an errant thought rose inside her. But as suddenly as it rose, Layla knew she needed an answer to it. That she couldn’t move forward into this with open eyes without asking him at least once.
“Who are you, Adrian Rhakvir?” Layla breathed in the settling night.
“What do you mean?” Massaging her breast, Adrian kissed her neck, biting his pleasure into her again, oh-so-gently. Layla bucked against him and cried out softly, needing him, feeling him hard with his own need pressed up behind her. But the thought wouldn’t go away – and even through her overwhelming pleasure, she had to know.
“I mean, who are you really?” She breathed again, holding his nape as he kissed the side of her neck. “Are you John, or are you the Adrian I saw in my interview? Or are you this one… the one I met in the gallery who speaks poetry and comes to me in the twilight of my dreams?”
