Daughter of the Blood

Birthright."
    She tried to shake off the seduction tendrils he'd woven around her, but he'd spun his trap well.
    "We can have a bed there," he coaxed.
    She shuddered. Whimpered. There was no pleasure in the sound.
    An image appeared. A bed just big enough for the game. A bed with straps attached to the ends to tie down wrists and ankles.
    He dismissed the image and replaced it with his own. A large room with deep, soft carpets. A huge bed, its canopy made of gauze and velvet. Silk sheets and downy covers. Mounds of pillows. The only light came from a slow-burning fire and dozens of scented candles.
    Blinded by romance, she sighed and melted against him.
    He held the image, teasing, tantalizing as they rose to the Red.
    As they settled among the silk and pillows, he tried to reach for some link—his body, the Priest, anything—and choked on frustration. So close. So close and there was nothing for him to tap into to finish it—except the power Jaenelle had shaped around his chalice to hold the pieces together.
    Caressing and soothing, loving and lying, he kept her focused on the pleasure while he cautiously sipped the power forming the skin inside the chalice. The skin shrank. The top fragments wobbled but held. Enough.
    He reached for Saetan. Found exhaustion and a killing fury.
    He struck first. "Hush, Priest." He waited a moment, tapped a little more of the power holding the chalice together. "Use whatever you can now to form a tether. And prepare for a fight. I'm bringing her back."
    He reached for his body next. It was still stretched out on the Altar, next to Jaenelle. He strengthened the connection enough so that his body imitated his movements.
    Smiling, Daemon slowly rolled on top of her. Gently pinned her hands on either side of her head.
    He kissed her, nuzzled her as they rose and rose and rose.
    She rubbed against him. "Lover," she whimpered.
    "Soon," he lied. "Soon."
    Up and up.
    He was moments away from slipping back into his body when her eyes widened and she felt the trap spring around her.
    "No!" she screamed.
    Baring his teeth, he slammed both of them back into their bodies.
    Her screams filled the Altar room. Blood gushed between her legs.
    "Heal the body, Jaenelle!" Daemon shouted, fighting to keep her connected to her body while she tried to throw him off. " Heal it! "
    Her fear pounded against his mind.
    "You lied to me. You LIED !"
    "I would have said anything, done anything to get you back," he roared, his nails digging in to hold her. "Heal it!"
    "Letmego letmego letmego."
    Bodies fought. Selves fought. As they tangled furiously, he felt Saetan slip the tether around her leg.
    One flick of the power within her would tear him apart, would set her free. Instead she begged, pleaded.
    "Daemon, please. You're my friend. Please. "
    It hurt to hear her beg.
    "Witch-child." Saetan's voice, cracked and trembling.
    Jaenelle stopped fighting. "Saetan?"
    "We don't want to lose you, witch-child."
    "You won't lose me. I can see you all in the misty place."
    Saetan's words came slowly, as if each one pained him. "No, Jaenelle. You won't see us in the misty place. If you don't heal your body, Daemon and I will be destroyed."
    Daemon's breath hissed through his teeth. The Sadist wasn't the only one who could spin a deadly trap.
    Her wail filled their minds, filled his ears as the child body echoed the sound.
    He felt a tidal wave of dark power rush up out of the abyss, felt it fill the young body he held in his arms, felt it mend torn flesh.
    Her body relaxed, went limp.
    Daemon raised a shaking hand to stroke her golden hair.
    "I'm sick," Jaenelle said, her voice muffled against his chest.
    "No, sweetheart," he corrected gently. "You're hurt. That's different. But we'll get you to a safe place and—"
    The Sanctuary shook as someone unleashed a dark Jewel.
    An angry male voice changed to a terrified shriek.
    Jaenelle screamed.
    Daemon dove into the abyss a second before she did, catching her at the Red as she tried to flee the body.
    Sucking the power from the chalice, he held onto her.
    Pieces wobbled.
    "No, Daemon," Jaenelle shrieked. "You can't. You can't. "Suddenly she collapsed against his chest. "I healed the body. It's still hurt, but it will mend. Let me go. Please, let me go. You can have the body. You can use the body."
    Daemon pressed her back against his chest. He rested his cheek against her gold mane. "No, sweetheart. No one's going to use your body but you." He closed his eyes and held her