“Misunderstandings,” I said.
“Yes, Meredith,” he said, and kissed higher on my neck, just under the line of my jaw. His lips were so warm, almost hot against my skin, as if he were fevered. I didn’t remember his skin being hot like this last time, and just thinking about that last time made me remember coming to with him on top of me. I remembered the fear, and the pain of the concussion from where he’d hit me. He hit me. He raped me. He did not love me, had never, ever loved me. I wasn’t sure King Taranis could love anyone but himself.
I tensed in his arms, because the fear was back, screaming through every nerve in my being. I wanted him to stop touching me. I spoke around the pulse in my throat and it made my voice have to squeeze out around the fear, “Stop, please, stop touching me.”
“Meredith, you don’t want me to stop.”
My name from his lips began to calm the fear again, but him telling me that I didn’t want him to stop pissed me off. I knew my own mind, and I did not want him to touch me, ever again.
I remembered coming to with him on top of me. I remembered him naked, and on top of me, and I hated him. I hated him with a fine, burning hatred. “You have hurt me too much and too often, Taranis. Your spell will not work, because I keep remembering how much I hate you and what you have done to me.”
His weight was just suddenly more, pinning me harder to the rugs, hard enough that I could feel the hardness of the stones underneath. My fear washed over me so that my skin ran cold with it.
“Will you forgive nothing, Meredith, and remember only the bad?”
“What good memories do I have of you, Uncle Taranis?”
“Meredith, Meredith, hear me, feel me, and know that I love you.”
Even with his weight pressing me into the floor, and my fear almost choking me again, that unnatural calmness started to take me over again. It was magic, it wasn’t real!
“Is this how you seduced them all, Taranis, through trickery and lies? Are you not the great lover, but just a great liar?”
He squeezed his hands around my wrists until I thought he meant to crush them, and then he slid his knee between my thighs, and the fear robbed me of everything. I couldn’t think past the fear as he began to try to worm his way between my legs.
“Stop!”
He leaned his face close, his voice ugly with his rage. “Shadowspawn is already dead. His sluagh will not hunt or protect you now, Meredith. Your Darkness and your false storm lord will be dead soon, and I do not fear the rest of your would-be suitors.”
I knew he meant Doyle, but it took me a second to realize that the third death was Mistral. I was suddenly less afraid, because my anger helped chase it back. “You had Sholto killed. You ordered it.”
“He led his wild hunt into the heart of my sithen. I could not allow that to happen again, Meredith.”
“Stop saying my name!” I yelled it, holding my anger to me, because even now when he said my name, I could feel the compulsion in it, to just give in, to believe him. But he had me pinned to the floor, his weight on me, and that helped me not to believe he loved me.
“If you but kiss me once, Meredith, you will enjoy the rest, I promise you that.”
I kept my face turned away from him. “A kiss, or a willing kiss, uncle?”
“Do not call me that,” he said.
“You are my uncle. You are my grandfather’s brother. Nothing you do will change that.”
“I have never acted as an uncle to you, Meredith.”
“No, you tried to beat me to death when I was a child, and you almost beat me to death less than a year ago, and you raped me after you had beaten me unconscious. A good uncle would do none of these things, I suppose.”
He used his body weight to keep my body pinned to the floor, and wrapped his big hand around both my wrists where they were still pinned under me. He was freeing up one of his hands; nothing good would come of it. I struggled to free the wrist that he was trying to hold with one hand, and felt his fingers begin to slide. His free hand grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back.
I spoke through gritted teeth as I fought to keep my face down. “A stolen kiss will not win you my affections, not even by your magic. You said it yourself, it must be willing.”
“I could have made this pleasant for you, Meredith. I meant it to be, but you are always so difficult!”
“Yes, I am difficult, uncle; you will not win me.”
He pulled my hair tight enough that it hurt and growled his anger in my ear. “I will have you, Meredith. You can enjoy it, or you can fight me and I will take my pleasure and not worry about yours.”
“Are you saying that I can either enjoy my rape, or not enjoy it?”
His grip in my hair loosened slightly, and some tension went from him, as if by hearing it spoken so bluntly, even he heard that it made no sense.
His voice was calmer when he said, “I can leave this dream now, Meredith. I can free us both of this dream, and call back the assassins that are going to kill Doyle and Mistral, if you will but kiss me here and now.”
“I trust Doyle to kill anyone you send against him, and you must fear Mistral very much to target him, so you know what he is capable of; they are not easy to kill.”
“Sholto shouldn’t have been easy to kill either, Meredith, but he was; think upon that as the minutes tick away. Think upon that and decide whether you would rather your Darkness and your Storm be alive but parted from you, or dead and parted from you forever?”