"Laurell K. Hamilton - Meredith Gentry 5 - Mistral's Kiss" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

тАЬYou will not command me?тАЭ

I shook my head again.

тАЬThe princess has some very American views on freewill,тАЭ Rhys said.

тАЬI take that as a compliment,тАЭ I said.

тАЬButтАж,тАЭ Abe said, softly.

тАЬYes,тАЭ Rhys said, тАЬit means itтАЩs all on you. Your choice. Your fate. All in your hands. Enough rope to
hang yourself, as they say.тАЭ

тАЬOr save yourself,тАЭ Doyle said, and he came to stand on the other side, like a taller darkness to RhysтАЩs
white. Abeloec and I stood with white on one side, black on the other. Rhys had once been Cromm
Cruach, a god of death and life. Doyle was the queenтАЩs chief assassin, but once he had been Nodons, a
god of healing. We stood between them, and when I looked up at Abeloec something moved in his eyes,
some shadow of that person I had glimpsed on the hill inside the hood of a cloak.

Abeloec raised the cup, taking my hands with it. We raised the cup together and he lowered his head.
His lips hesitated for a breath on the edge of that smooth horn, then he drank.

He kept tipping the cup back, until he had to drop to his knees so that my hands stayed on the cup while
he upended it. He drank it down in one long swallow.

On his knees, releasing the cup, he threw his head back, eyes closed. His body bent backward, until he
lay in a pool of his own striped hair, his knees still bent underneath him. He lay for a moment so still, so
very still, that I feared for him. I waited for his chest to rise and fall. I willed him to breathe, but he didnтАЩt.

He lay like one asleep, except for the odd angle of his legsтАФno one slept like that. His face had
smoothed out, and I realized that Abe was one of the few sidhe who had permanent worry lines, tiny
wrinkles at eye and mouth. They smoothed in his sleep, if it was sleep.

I dropped to my knees beside him, the cup still in my hands. I leaned over him, touched the side of his
face. He never moved. I placed my hand on the side of his face and whispered his name: тАЬAbeloec.тАЭ

His eyes flew open wide. It startled me. Drew a soft gasp from my lips. He grabbed my wrist at his face,
and his other arm wrapped around my waist. He sat up, or knelt up, in one powerful movement, with me
in his arms. He laughed, and it wasnтАЩt a mere echo of what IтАЩd heard in my vision. The laughter filled the
room, and the other men laughed with him. The room rang with joyous masculine laughter.

I laughed with him, them. It was impossible not to laugh with the pure joy in his face so close to mine. He
leaned in, closing the last inches between our mouths. I knew he was going to kiss me, and I wanted him
to. I wanted to feel that laughter inside me.

His mouth pressed against mine. A great cry went up among the men, joyous and rough. His tongue
licked light along my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth to him. He thrust himself inside my mouth, and
suddenly all I could taste was honey and fruit, and mead. It wasnтАЩt just his symbol. He was the cup, or
what it contained. His tongue shoved inside me until I had to open my mouth wide or choke. And it was