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

like swallowing the thick, golden honeyed mead. He was the intoxicating cup.

I was on the floor with him on top of me, but he was too tall to kiss me deeply and press much of
anything else against my naked body at the same time. Beneath us was a fur throw that lay on the stone
floor. It tickled along my skin, helped every movement he made be something more, as if the fur were
helping caress me.

Our skin began to glow as if weтАЩd swallowed the moon at her ripe bursting fullness, and her light was
shining out from our skin. The white streaks in his hair showed a pale luminous blue. His charcoal-grey
eyes stayed strangely dark. I knew that my eyes glowed, each circle of color, green of grass, pale green
jade, and that molten gold. I knew that every circle of my iris glowed. My hair cast a reddish light around
my vision: It shone like spun garnets with fire inside them when I glowed.

His eyes were like some deep, dark cave where the light could not go.

Abruptly, I realized that for a long while, we hadnтАЩt been kissing. WeтАЩd simply been staring into each
otherтАЩs faces. I leaned up toward him, wrapped my hands around him. IтАЩd forgotten I still held the cup in
one hand, and it touched his bare back. His spine bowed, and liquid poured across his skin; though the
cup had been emptied before, it was full again. Heavy, cool liquid rushed down his body and over mine,
drenching us in that thick golden flow.

Pale blue lines danced across his skin. I couldnтАЩt tell if they were under his skin, inside his body, or on the
surface of his glowing torso. He kissed me. He kissed me deep and long, and this time he didnтАЩt taste like
mead. He tasted of flesh, of lips and mouth and tongue, and the graze of teeth along my lower lip. And
still the mead ran down our bodies, spreading out, out into a golden pool. The fur underneath us flattened
in the tide of it.

He spilled his mouth and hands down my body, over my breasts. He held them in his hands, gently,
caressed my nipples with his lips and tongue until I cried out, and I felt my body grow wet, but not from
the spreading golden pool of mead.

I watched the pale blue lines on his arm flow into shapes, flowers and vines, and move down his hand
and across my skin. It felt as if someone traced a feather across my skin.

A voice cried out, and it wasnтАЩt me, and it wasnтАЩt Abeloec. Brii had fallen to his hands and knees, his
long yellow hair spilling down into the growing pool of mead.

Abeloec sucked harder on my breast, forcing my attention back to him. His eyes still didnтАЩt glow, but
there was that intensity in them that is a kind of magic, a kind of power. The power that all men have
when they spill themselves down your body with skilled hands and mouth.

He moved his mouth over me, drinking where the mead had pooled in the hollow of my stomach. He
licked the tender skin just above the hair that curled between my legs. His tongue pressed in long sure
strokes over such innocent skin. It made me wonder what it would be like when he dropped lower to
things that werenтАЩt so innocent.

A manтАЩs strangled cry made me look away from AbeloecтАЩs dark eyes. I knew that voice. Galen had
fallen to his knees. His skin was a green so pale it was white, but now green lines traced his skin,
glowing, writhing under his skin. Forming vines and flowers, pictures. Other cries drew my attention to
the rest of the room. Of the fifteen guards, most were on their knees, or worse. Some had fallen flat to