that it would take far more than even a Demon lifetime to ever know everything it held. In the present, Demon scholars were recording as faithfully as their predecessors had done before them. The world was growing by leaps and bounds, and they were scrambling to keep up with it.
But the King, the scholars, and all other Demons were in their beds. The business of their lives hung suspended until the shadows of dusk began to fall. Isabella looked up and around herself. There were windows everywhere and the Great Hall was full of light, except none of it was plain. Every inch of glass was stained. The pictures were breathtaking, an artistry like nothing Isabella had seen before, depictions of everything from mythology to a clever reproduction of Monet’s Water Lilies. The effect was light, but in brilliant rainfalls of color.
Isabella stood in the center of the room, splashed with a kaleidoscope of warm daylight. From what she had been told, and what she had even more recently read, this was what made daylight most bearable for Demons. The direct onslaught of the sun acted like a fast-acting narcotic. Unconsciousness would come with overwhelming speed to the unprotected Demon who found himself caught out in pure daylight. Even these sprays of muted color were so powerful in effect that a Demon could do little more than curl up for a contented sleep within it. The sun, Noah had told her, did not harm them as it did most other Nightwalker species. It made them vulnerable to harm. It was nearly impossible to resist the pull to sleep, making it difficult for all but the most powerful Demons to master any semblance of function during the cycle of the sun. Isabella was pleased the sun did not actually cause harm to Demons. At least they could see the sunrise, provided they had that level of power. From her understanding, most other Nightwalker breeds would burn to a crisp if they even thought about attempting it.
Isabella suddenly sensed she was no longer alone. Jacob watched as she turned her head quickly, her fall of hair fanning out like a black, fringed shawl for a moment before settling with a silken swish against her back and shoulders. She moved her body into the turn as well, the flexible lean of her figure all curves and shapeliness, her back and waist arching as she tried to find him. He felt the throb of his own pulse, deep down the center of his body, the innate response just from watching her move.
She was a mimic, he was realizing. She picked up scents wherever she went and either made them a part of herself or became in sync with them. Mixing with her own clean scent was the odor of books and dust from the library and the soft aroma of ash from the fireplace that remained always burning in Noah’s Great Hall. She smelled enticingly of home and wisdom, earth and familiarity, and an innocence of sensuality that was deeply tantalizing. It was, he realized, the essence of nature that she wore. These were Earth’s trademarks, and to Jacob, a Demon of Earth, it was ambrosia. It tugged at him, beckoning, whispering of how very much it suited him, until every fine hair on his body was stirring with electric interest.
Jacob stepped out of the shadows of one corner of the Great Hall, his long, lean body filling the vast hall with its quiet but commanding presence. Isabella nervously rubbed her hands along the denim on her thighs, erasing the sudden moisture that coated them at the simple sight of him. Her heart doubled in beat, lurching against her ribs as if it were frustrated to be imprisoned away from him. Even knowing all that she knew, even though he himself had warned her she should have a healthy fear of him, her body practically sang for him when he entered the room. Everything about him beckoned her interest. His assured and authoritative aura was a palpable thing, his dark clothes wrapping around his fit body with sexy sophistication and telling tales about the physique they concealed. He wore expensive slacks,
But the King, the scholars, and all other Demons were in their beds. The business of their lives hung suspended until the shadows of dusk began to fall. Isabella looked up and around herself. There were windows everywhere and the Great Hall was full of light, except none of it was plain. Every inch of glass was stained. The pictures were breathtaking, an artistry like nothing Isabella had seen before, depictions of everything from mythology to a clever reproduction of Monet’s Water Lilies. The effect was light, but in brilliant rainfalls of color.
Isabella stood in the center of the room, splashed with a kaleidoscope of warm daylight. From what she had been told, and what she had even more recently read, this was what made daylight most bearable for Demons. The direct onslaught of the sun acted like a fast-acting narcotic. Unconsciousness would come with overwhelming speed to the unprotected Demon who found himself caught out in pure daylight. Even these sprays of muted color were so powerful in effect that a Demon could do little more than curl up for a contented sleep within it. The sun, Noah had told her, did not harm them as it did most other Nightwalker species. It made them vulnerable to harm. It was nearly impossible to resist the pull to sleep, making it difficult for all but the most powerful Demons to master any semblance of function during the cycle of the sun. Isabella was pleased the sun did not actually cause harm to Demons. At least they could see the sunrise, provided they had that level of power. From her understanding, most other Nightwalker breeds would burn to a crisp if they even thought about attempting it.
Isabella suddenly sensed she was no longer alone. Jacob watched as she turned her head quickly, her fall of hair fanning out like a black, fringed shawl for a moment before settling with a silken swish against her back and shoulders. She moved her body into the turn as well, the flexible lean of her figure all curves and shapeliness, her back and waist arching as she tried to find him. He felt the throb of his own pulse, deep down the center of his body, the innate response just from watching her move.
She was a mimic, he was realizing. She picked up scents wherever she went and either made them a part of herself or became in sync with them. Mixing with her own clean scent was the odor of books and dust from the library and the soft aroma of ash from the fireplace that remained always burning in Noah’s Great Hall. She smelled enticingly of home and wisdom, earth and familiarity, and an innocence of sensuality that was deeply tantalizing. It was, he realized, the essence of nature that she wore. These were Earth’s trademarks, and to Jacob, a Demon of Earth, it was ambrosia. It tugged at him, beckoning, whispering of how very much it suited him, until every fine hair on his body was stirring with electric interest.
Jacob stepped out of the shadows of one corner of the Great Hall, his long, lean body filling the vast hall with its quiet but commanding presence. Isabella nervously rubbed her hands along the denim on her thighs, erasing the sudden moisture that coated them at the simple sight of him. Her heart doubled in beat, lurching against her ribs as if it were frustrated to be imprisoned away from him. Even knowing all that she knew, even though he himself had warned her she should have a healthy fear of him, her body practically sang for him when he entered the room. Everything about him beckoned her interest. His assured and authoritative aura was a palpable thing, his dark clothes wrapping around his fit body with sexy sophistication and telling tales about the physique they concealed. He wore expensive slacks,
Similar Books
