crystal, and amber. Each a treasure with remarkable history.
But they were old curiosities to him now, and presently not attractive enough to gain his attention.
In the center of the unique museum was a bed. It was roughly three times the size of most large beds, with feather-stuffed ticks full of the softest quills from the most unique and rarest birds. But its true value came from the fact that none of the birds had been harmed or killed because of its creation. Each feather had molted out naturally and been painstakingly collected.
The bedspread was knitted lace made of delicate, strong webbings of silk, in a style used this once and never again.
The Master laid his latest and by far greatest treasure upon the very center of this bed.
Kathryn.
She slept. He had commanded it to be so. Enchanting her into a repose like those of Aurora, Snow White, and countless other sleeping princesses of fairy tales and lore. She was a beauty beyond all their combined beauty—if a bit wan and bedraggled from her exhaustion. But all this would be remedied soon enough and she would far surpass the radiance of anything else on display in the room. He could tell just by looking at her. He was satisfied to see she was exactly as she had portrayed herself in her dreams. Her honesty was just one more sparkling detail to add to her perfection.
“Kathryn.”
The name rumbled from deep in his chest like an ensemble of bass range instruments brought together to serenade a waiting heart.
Her rich, earthen brown hair would be long and naturally coiled, he knew, when not crammed into the vicious twisted tail hanging askew at the top of her head. Her face was long and strong, yet somehow delicately boned with its femininity. The eyes, when opened, would be fathomless and dove gray. She bore the lips of a seductress, able to create a luring smile or a heartbreaking pout, and when parted invitingly they could boil blood. Any and all of these would come naturally without malice, intention, or cunning. Altogether she was the ultimate jewel, made to far outshine the thousands adorning her compatriot treasures in the room.
The Master’s blood churned with awakened intensity, his nostrils flaring as he drew in the true scent of her with greed and unmitigated delight. She smelled of sweetness and salt, a combination of artifice and naturalness. She used some sort of perfume, a combination of differing scents in different areas of her body. In her hair, under her arms, and between her breasts. There he lingered, smelling how sultry sweet she was and feeling the warmth of her radiating against him. He hulked over his treasure as dark, bestial things stirred to wicked life within him.
He suddenly backed off, throwing himself in violent retreat from the temptation of her. A low, animal-like sound, somewhere between a purr, a growl, and a bark, rolled from him as he tried to regain control over the dark urges and twisting images feeding through his mind. His powers had allowed him to taste the desires of hundreds of thousands of women, but with her it had been different. With her there had been so little control. He was afraid that he might lose control and harm her.
He had to remove himself from her now, or he might spoil his new treasure.
It bothered him that he had slipped in his self-control. It was an event that must never be allowed to happen. He was a creature made up of hellish, unruly internal demons. He must always retain perfect order of himself or risk chaos; risk disapproval and censure, perhaps a violent punishment. Or worse, he would cause himself to suffer. When chaos reigned, he was his own worst enemy and it was his treasures that were the first to suffer. It was all things of beauty he would methodically begin to destroy.
Above all else, these treasures—this particular treasure most of all—must be kept safe.
Especially from himself.
Chapter 2
“Adrian?”
Adrian’s malachite eyes darted up to meet his sister’s troubled gaze across the expanse of the table. Candlelight flickered across her exquisite features, licking at her in contrary shadow and light.
“Adrian, why will you not let me see this latest treasure of yours?”
She was suspicious and more than a little upset, he could tell.
“It is not ready,” he said with quiet simplicity.
“But why will you not even tell me what it is? You have always delighted in giving me the histories that make each of your acquisitions so unique.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes on his twin sister. Aerlyn. Known the worlds over as Maya, Epona, Mari, and more, but ever to him she was Aerlyn, his steady, his guide back from the night. It was her wisdom and goodness that tempered his evil and carefully cultured chaos. She was also the frustrating force that held him ever in check, forced him to keep from giving in to the desire to run amok through the minds of the worlds.
For he was Adrian. Angus, Sandman, Morpheus, Bogeyman, all these, but ever Adrian to her. Hers was the mirror of light and healing and dreams. His was of dark fantasies, oppressive guilt, and nightmares.
She, the only one ever destined to love him…and she the only one he might once have felt that alien emotion for. That is, if he could stop hating her for her interference with his desires.
“Aerlyn, the treasure is mine.” His tone brooked no argument. It was his way of warning her to back off.
“Brother.” She quieted a moment to remove the reprimand from her tone. She must tread carefully with him. His was a delicate balance of control, one so easily set asunder. “Adrian. You have never known me to interfere with any of your baubles in the past. I am concerned that you are concerned I might. You have not done something of which I might be forced to disapprove, have you?”
“Your approval is irrelevant.” His voice dropped an octave with a threatening hint of patience being lost.
But he was on the defensive for a reason, Aerlyn mused. She narrowed silver eyes on him, her soft countenance drawing into an image of piercing discernment as she tried to measure her sibling’s motives.
“There are rules, Adrian. Rules we both must obey. And rules we must both guard each other from breaking. You know very well my approval is unavoidably relevant.” She leaned a little closer, trying to probe his thoughts, but he was shoving up a black, guarding wall against her. “That little toad you keep to assist you, the one you call Companion, has been mooning about the fortress in perpetual orgasm for the entire day now. Whatever it is you have brought has obviously made a singular impression on him.”
“Cronos is but a fool, and too easily impressed.” Adrian’s dark lips thinned and parted to reveal a gleaming row of ivory teeth, two of which were long, sleek fangs.
It was Adrian’s version of a smile.
Aerlyn was not so easily swayed.
“That is true.” She nodded curtly. “But I am not. Something is amiss in this house. Did you think I would not be able to feel it? There is a new energy here. A peculiar one.” She leaned forward, candlelight enhancing the silver starlike patterns in the ebony curtain of her hair. “What have you done, Adrian?”
Adrian lurched suddenly from his chair, the last vestiges of his tenuous control of himself gone in an instant. He roared in outrage as his fists crashed violently upon the table. Aerlyn sat back calmly as he shoved
