Eyes of Glass Read online

  Eyes of Glass

  by

  Raven Li

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Eyes of Glass

  Copyright ã 2003 Raven Li

  ISBN: 1-55410-000-3

  Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2003

  Look for us online at:

  www.zumayapublications.com

  www.Extasybooks.com

  To Kate, thanks for the encouragement!

  Chapter One

  She was the one.

  She had to be—surely nothing less than her longing could have pulled him out of the sleep that had confined him for so many years. And if he was correct, if she was indeed the one he had waited for, then she would free him from this limbo he was trapped in. Soon, soon, he would taste again, touch again, feel again.

  The woman lay in the center of a large, four-poster bed carved from dark wood. The windows were tightly shuttered, denying the entry of any moonlight, but that made no difference to his eyes. Long hair, the color of sweet honey, flowed across her pillow, framing a heart-shaped face with an upturned nose and a sprinkling of freckles. Although she had flung back the covers due to the heat of the night, she still wore a confining gown of heavy linen with long sleeves and a high, tightly-buttoned neckline.

  He longed to undo those tight buttons, to expose the creamy flesh beneath. Her breasts would spill out and fill his hands with their lushness. But, to his intense frustration, he couldn’t, at least not yet. He was still caught in the limbo between worlds, only partially in her reality.

  That had its advantages, though. If he could not remove the gown, at least it could not hinder him...

  He drifted above her, ephemeral as a ghost. His lips brushed hers, tantalizing. She moaned in her sleep, lips parting for his exploration, and he smiled at the passionate nature that so clearly lurked within her. He wanted to seal his mouth against hers until those lips were swollen with kisses, but it was impossible in his current state. Instead, he kissed and licked his way down her neck, knowing that she felt only a light, erotic touch.

  His hands slid over and through her gown, finding the nipples beneath. At his insistent ghost-touches, they began to harden into tight nubs of flesh. She whimpered in response, her back arching, demanding more. Pleased by her reaction, he lingered, teasing her by running his fingers lightly over the smooth mounds, approaching the taut nipples, then backing away again. The soft sounds coming from her throat became more insistent, and her head thrashed on the pillow in her sleep.

  His mouth sealed over one nipple, and she cried out in pleasure. The salty taste of her sweat-soaked skin came to him faintly, and eagerness surged through him. Yes! Her desire for his touch was already drawing him closer to her world.

  Even trapped in limbo as he was, his cock began to ache for her. Her body was so soft, so ripe, almost begging him to pin it beneath his own weight. Her breasts would feel so good against the hardness of his chest, and he wanted to bury his cock in the tight, velvet heat of her.

  A growl of frustration escaped him, and he left off teasing her breasts to trail a line of kisses down her belly. She moaned, spreading her thighs eagerly, and he turned his mouth to them, licking and nibbling his way up from her knees to the musky depths at the apex between her thighs. He ran his tongue up along her slit, tasting her—Goddess, even in this state he could taste her! She moaned eagerly, and he sucked on her swollen labia, then thrust his tongue deep into her. She cried out, her hips rocking, opening, beckoning him deeper, needing more, until he fastening his sucking mouth onto the engorged bud of her clit.

  She cried out as she exploded in orgasm, her juices flooding out of her hungry cunt. He lapped at them frantically, wanting, needing to taste her. But he had spent his strength relentlessly, and he could feel himself being pulled back from her, back into limbo even as his heart and body cried out for him to stay.

  His last glimpse was of her eyes fluttering open, their look one of satiation. They were green, he noted, hungry for any sight of her, any scrap of knowledge.

  Until tomorrow night, my love, he thought.

  * * *

  Sasha awoke feeling drowsy and content. For a moment, she floated on a tide of well-being...until she became aware of the brush of her nightgown against her tight nipples and the wetness between her thighs.

  Blushing furiously, she sat up quickly, clutching the bedcovers. Thank Osan that she didn’t have to share a room with anyone else like some of the other, less wealthy girls! If anyone realized that she’d been having impure dreams, she knew that the punishment would be harsh. Only last week, one of the male apprentices had been flogged in the courtyard for the sin of self-pleasure. Although she knew that it was for the good of his soul, Sasha had found herself pitying his pain and mortification. Certainly, she didn’t want to end up like him.

  Rising, she went to the small shrine in the main room connected to her bedroom. The statue of the God could not help but draw the eye of anyone entering the chamber, for no other forms of decoration were allowed to any member of the Order. The furnishings were simple, their cushions unadorned white, and no rugs softened the harshness of the stone floor. Kneeling before the shrine, Sasha bowed her head and prayed to Osan to take away these sinful longings that her flesh was prone to more and more often.

  It was hard, though, to regret the pleasure the dream had given her. At the memory of the feel of a man’s hands and mouth on her body, her nipples tightened again. Sasha bit her lip, hard enough to taste blood, and struggled to keep her mind on the repetitious chants that were meant to help keep desire at bay.

  Her parents had been so proud when her magical talents proved great enough for her to be accepted into the Order. The tester who had come to their estate had proclaimed her a Summoner, a rare talent that allowed her to draw objects to her in the natural world, and to draw elementals to her in the supernatural one. She had promised them that she would excel as an enchantress, that she would be as perfect as they had always expected her to be.

  She couldn’t do that with such evil thoughts in her mind. What sort of failure was she, to dream of being pleasured by some anonymous man? If anyone found out about her base desires, she would be punished. Word would surely get back to her parents, and they would be horrified. Beyond horrified—Sasha felt sure that they had never had such wicked thoughts in their lives. What was wrong with her that she had them?

  * * *

  Sasha sat on the uncomfortable bench, trying to stifle a yawn, while the Hieromancer droned on from behind the lectern at the front of the enormous room. As with most of the rooms in the castle, there were no hangings or other forms of decoration to distract the mind from holy thoughts. The plain white marble of the walls, floor, and benches blurred in her tired gaze, and she wondered how much longer the Hieromancer could continue.

  While in theory anyone was allowed to speak at a Gathering of the Order, these weekly meetings typical
ly featured only the most powerful mages, who spent their time castigating the sinfulness of their underlings and extorting them all to greater heights of self-denial. When she had first come to the castle where the Order lived and trained, Sasha had found the long, meandering speeches riveting. But after hearing the same thing week after week, the novelty had worn off, and now it was all she could do to stay awake.

  Maybe if I fall asleep I’ll have another dream.

  That thought woke her up fast. Feeling a blush creep over her cheeks, she glanced around, trying to discern whether or not anyone noticed her embarrassment. Fortunately, the rest of the gathering seemed as listless as she. Despite the fact that it was high summer, the women around her were uniformly dressed in heavy white robes with long sleeves and high necks, elbow-length gloves, and demure headdresses that allowed not even a hair to escape from beneath them. A high wall split the room down the center, dividing the women’s section from the men’s so that the sight of the opposite sex couldn’t serve as a distraction from the sermon.

  Sasha sighed, wishing desperately for a nonexistent breeze that might at least dry some of the sweat from her face. Her best friend, Jacie, gave her a quick smile from where she sat at Sasha’s side. Sasha grinned back, then hurriedly schooled her expression before anyone else could notice. Not paying attention when a higher-ranking mage was talking was almost as grave a sin as physical desire. By Osan, the way her sins were accumulating today, before long she’d fall in love and be truly damned!

  Of course, the very idea was silly. Love—romantic love, anyway—was the Hag’s greatest weapon to lure the pure from the divine path, but to Sasha’s relief she’d never felt even the faintest stirrings of temptation in that direction.

  Uncomfortable with the path her thoughts were taking, Sasha returned her attention to the Hieromancer. He was a wizened old man, a contemporary of the great Arath himself, who had defeated the Dark Mage and purified the Order into the stronghold of righteousness it was today. A little to her surprise, the Hieromancer wasn’t off on his usual rant about the evils of romantic love, but instead seemed to be recounting the climatic battle that had taken place between Arath and the Dark Mage.

  “The Dark Mage called upon the powers of the Hag, the forces of Night, and led his depraved followers into damnation,” the Hieromancer was saying. “Yet one among them repented, and came to Arath, who at that time was but the son of the First, the head of the Order. Arath saw a way to trap the Dark Mage, and gave orders for it to be done. The penitent returned to the Dark Mage, and Osan clouded the sight of the Dark One so that he did not see the true heart of the penitent, but saw only the reflection of his own depravity. Thus the penitent brought him within Arath’s righteous grasp. The Dark Mage was bound, and his eyes gouged out, so that he might not bewitch any of the pure with his serpent’s gaze.”

  Sasha suppressed a shudder. She’d always found the story of the Dark Mage’s defeat a bit gruesome, to be honest. When she’d questioned her parents as a child, asking why Arath had felt the need to torture the Dark One rather than simply kill him, she had been warned not to question the ways of goodness. Such questions could only come from the Hag, after all. Since then, she had not dared to repeat the query, even though it still vexed her mind to this day.

  More proof of my impurity, I suppose, she thought with a mixture of regret and rebelliousness.

  “But the Dark Mage escaped through treachery and fled to his citadel. There he replaced his lost eyes with two orbs of polished obsidian, as black as his foul heart.”

  It was treachery for him to escape, but not for Arath to trick him into being captured in the first place, Sasha noted wryly.

  “At last Osan gave a sign, and laid His hand upon Arath as His chosen warrior. Arath issued a challenge, demanding that the Dark Mage come to this very place, the heart of the Order, for his defeat. Unable to withstand the will of Osan, the Dark One came here and did battle with Arath. And lo, Arath thrust him bodily from the world, consigning him to hell for all time. The Dark Mage’s name was expunged from all records, and his likeness was destroyed, so that no taint of his evil could remain in Osan’s perfect world.”

  The Hieromancer wandered on to other topics, but Sasha’s mind stayed on his tale. There were parts of it she had never understood—for example, if Osan could force the Dark Mage to come to the Order to be defeated, why hadn’t the God done it before the evil sorcerer had corrupted so many souls and sown such discontent?

  The ways of goodness are not for questioning, she reminded herself with a sigh. It was hard, though—her mind was active, and when she had no other task before her, it was difficult to keep it from wandering down such dangerous paths.

  As soon as they were released from the Gathering, she walked briskly from the stifling hall, hoping to go to the women’s gardens where she might be cooler. Not that she could remove any of her many layers of clothing, even in a portion of the castle reserved only for women, but at least she might find a breeze there. Before she had even left behind the common section of the castle that separated the women’s wing from the men’s, however, Jacie ran up and caught her arm.

  “Come help me with my studies!” Jacie exclaimed. Her good-natured face was flushed bright pink from the sweltering heat, but excitement danced her in eyes.

  Sasha grinned at her friend’s good cheer. “Since when do you study on a Gathering day?”

  “Since I was chosen to be tutored by Arath himself!”

  Sasha gasped and clasped her friend’s hands. “Jacie! That’s wonderful!” To study under the First of the Order was a rare honor indeed. Truthfully, Sasha had never imagined that it would be given to Jacie. Not that her friend wasn’t smart—she was—but Jacie had always preferred gossiping and strolling in the garden to studying.

  “I know!” Jacie was practically bouncing up and down. One of the Matrons whose task was to watch over the younger women and make certain that they stayed within the bounds of good conduct shot them a warning glare. Jacie immediately settled into a more staid gait, but was unable to quell the look of joy in her eyes. “My parents will be so pleased. I don’t think they ever expected me to achieve all that much here, you know. I can’t wait to tell them—they’ll be here for the Downfall celebration, so I can tell them in person.”

  Sasha blinked. “The Downfall is soon? I’d forgotten.”

  Jacie rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Sasha, why do you think old Farius the Hieromancer was droning on about the defeat of the Dark Mage today?”

  Sasha winced. “I guess I wasn’t paying that much attention,” she admitted, knowing that her friend wouldn’t tell anyone and get her in trouble. The anniversary of the Dark Mage’s Downfall, when he was banished to hell, was one of the most important holidays for members of the Order, and she couldn’t believe that she had forgotten it.

  Then again, she had been so busy with her studies lately that she could barely even recall what season it was, let alone what month or day. A brief flash of jealousy went through her—she spent all of her free moments studying, but it was Jacie who was chosen for tutoring by the First.

  The sight of her friend’s happy face caused any envy to disappear the moment it formed, however. She was genuinely pleased for Jacie. And, the truth was, Jacie probably deserved it more than Sasha. After all, did she really want to face the First knowing what sort of wanton dreams she was having? She would probably die from embarrassment. No, far better that the honor went to Jacie instead.

  Chapter Two

  Sasha sat on the floor in front of her cold fireplace, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. Even though the Gathering day was supposed to be a time to pursue hobbies, renew acquaintances, or reflect on the strictures set down by Osan to guide their Order, she had spent it immersed in her studies. She and Jacie had been the only ones in the cavernous library, but her ebullient friend had been more than enough distraction from her uncertain thoughts.

  This was her first year with the Order, the beginning of a lifetime of learning
magic, but it was also the most difficult period in any mage’s life. There were so many concepts that had to be learned and understood, so many strange symbols and arcane languages to be memorized, that sometimes it all made her head ache just to think about it. Even so, her mind eagerly devoured every new challenge that was set before it, and she found that she didn’t want to abandon her books entirely even on rest days.

  This evening, she had been studying the concepts surrounding the conjuration of elementals. Because of her power as a Summoner, she was expected to be a powerful Conjurer as well—at least when she was allowed to try. The conjuration of elementals was not allowed until a student’s third year, however, when they would be advanced enough to control and command the ephemeral creatures.

  She looked up from her book and let out a small sigh as she realized that the sun had almost slipped below the horizon. Climbing to her feet, she reluctantly closed the heavy shutters that would keep the evils that lurked in the darkness at bay. Unfortunately, the shutters also cut off the cooling breeze and made the room even more uncomfortable than before.

  With another sigh, Sasha walked back to her place on the floor, pausing to light a host of beeswax candles as she did so. Their flames would add to the heat, but there was nothing to be done about it if she wanted to be able to see what she was doing. Once she was back on the floor with the book in her lap, the stifling air and the long hours of study began to take their toll. Somnolence stole over her; her head drooped, and her fingers let the book slide wearily to the floor.

  As if in a daze, Sasha felt something cool against her neck, as if someone blew air gently against her skin. Sighing with relief, she relaxed further, her mind drifting. The sensation of cool breath moved across the back of her neck, slipped lower, only to be foiled by the high neck of her robe.