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

the floor to writhe on their stomachs, as if they were trapped in the flowing golden liquid, as if it were
liquid amber and they were insects about to be caught forever. And they fought against their fate.

Lines of blue, or green, or red, traced their bodies. I caught glimpses of animals, vines, images drawn
over their skin, like tattoos that were alive and growing.

Doyle and Rhys stood in the growing tide and seemed unmoved. But Doyle stared at his hands and arms,
at lines tracing those strong arms, crimson against that blackness. RhysтАЩs body was painted with palest
blue, but he didnтАЩt watch the lines; he watched me and Abeloec. Frost, also, stood in the writhing spill of
liquid, but he, like Doyle, stared at the tracing of lines that glowed over his skin. Nicca stood tall and
straight with his brown hair and the brilliant spill of his wings, like the sails of some faerie ship, but no lines
covered his skin: He remained untouched.

It was Barinthus, tallest of all the sidhe, who had moved to the door. He stood pressed to it, avoiding the
spill of mead that seemed to creep like a thing alive across the floor. He held on to the door handle as if it
would not open. As if we were trapped here until the magic had its way with us.

A small sound drew me back to gaze at the bed, and Kitto still perched there, safe above the flowing
mead. His eyes were wide, as if he was afraid, regardless. He was afraid of so much.

Abeloec rubbed his cheek across my thigh. It brought me back to him. Back to gazing into those dark,
almost human eyes. The glow of his skin and mine had dimmed. I realized that heтАЩd paused to let me look
around the room.

Now his hands slid under my thighs, and he lowered his face, hesitating, as if he were coming in for a
chaste kiss. But what he did with his mouth wasnтАЩt chaste. He plunged his tongue thick and sure across
me. The sensation threw my head back, bowed my spine.

Upside down, I saw the door open, saw the surprised look on the face of Barinthus as Mistral, the
queenтАЩs new captain of the guard, strode in. His hair the grey of rain clouds. Once he had been the
master of storms, a sky god. Now he strode into the room and slipped on the mead, started to fall. Then
it was as if the world blinked. One moment he was falling near the door; the next he was above me,
falling toward me. He put his hands out to try to catch himself, and I put my arms up to keep him from
falling on top of me.

His hand caught the floor, but my hand touched his chest. He shuddered above me on his knees and one
hand, as if I had made his heart stutter. I touched him through the tough softness of leather armor. He
was safe behind it, but the look on his face was that of a stricken man, eyes wide.
He was close enough now that I could see his eyes were the swimming green of the sky before a great
storm breaks, destroying all in its path. Only great anxiety could bring his eyes to that color, or great
anger. Long ago, the sky itself had changed with the color of MistralтАЩs eyes.

My skin sang to life, glowing like a white-hot star. Abeloec glowed with me. For the first time, I saw the
lines on my own skin, and the writhing lines of color marched over us, neon blue in the glow. I watched a
thorny vine crawl blue and alive down my hand to unfurl across MistralтАЩs pale skin.

MistralтАЩs body convulsed above me, and it was as if the lines of color drew him down toward me; as if
they were ropes pulling him down, down. His eyes stayed unwilling, his body fighting with muscle and
might. Only when he was nearly on top of me and Abeloec, and only the force of his shoulders held his
face above mine, did his eyes change. I watched that frightening storm green fade from his eyes, replaced