Nemesis' hands slid across the sweat of his chest, her sharply manicured nails raking carelessly along the muscles of his stomach. She lowered her face to follow the trail that her hands had traveled only moments before. His body tensed and he released a small gasp. As if this was her cue, Nem pushed the youth to his back and gained a position of power atop him. AvalonÕs hands came up to caress the Black QueenÕs heaving chest, but she pushed them back down and above him. Before he could object, his wrists were bound and tied to the bedposts with silken handkerchiefs. He grimaced at first, but then gave into the swirling heat of emotion that their joining had caused. He watched Nemesis' dark eyes as the tension mounted within her, and at the last moment his hand broke free with a strange metallic whir that he couldnÕt recognize. He cried out, rising to grasp his dark loverÉÉ..but found himself alone in his room. Nemesis rolled languidly from her position atop Robert Maxwell, A.K.A. the Harbinger. The cold metal of his cybernetic hand still lightly holding her heated flesh. Something about the cold of that metal drove her wild and the latest Black Mage knew it. ThatÕs why he never bothered to use his telekinetics to alter the appearance or feel of it. She let out a small grin. It had been a simple matter for her to ÒshareÓ the experience with her two new guests by simply psionically placing them in the position of Maxwell in their dream state. She knew their might be repercussions if Silver questioned Avalon about this, but she suspected the Òoh so proper new Black KingÓ would keep his mouth closed concerning his own nocturnal visitation. She rolled over again and willed her body to relax. There would be much to discuss tomorrow, and she must be in top form to match wits with Silver and his ridiculous allegations of aberrant cerebro readings. What was his real reason for coming to her island home? She could feel Harbinger's penetrating gaze on her back. Could he know the game she had just played? Were his psionics well enough developed to have followed her own and discover what she had done? "Of course not," she thought to herself as sleep claimed her.
Avalon rose from his bed, and pulled the sweat soaked sheet from his body. He padded quietly across the room to the adjoining bath area. Quickly running some cool water in the sink, he splashed it onto his face and rose up looking into the mirror. The shadowed bathroom was well enough lit by the moonlight to see clearly and Avalon studied his reflection in the mirrors located everywhere in the room. His eyes searched methodically across his face. The whisp of hair that never would stay out of his face now stuck damply to his proud forehead. His strong jaw line tensed slightly as he began to remember the dream. He turned and caught his reflection again on the floor length mirrored wall of the opposite wall. He continued to study his body. His hands traveled down his well-chiseled chest and arms. He remembered the drugs that Sinister had given them to drive their bodies into a state of near physical perfection. The price of that gift had been high indeed, so what would the price of this new gift be? He shook his head trying to clear them of the erotic visions of he and the Black Queen entwined in a lover's embrace. Had it been a gift from the Dark Queen indeed or only an extremely real-seeming and sensual dream conjured up by his own subconscious. His eyes again returned to the reflections and his hands followed his eyes gazeÉ.the dark seductress had wanted himÉ..wanted his armsÉ.his legsÉ...his chestÉÉ..
Suddenly there was a sound at the door, and the youth quickly grabbed a towel from the rack beside the tub, and wrapped it around his naked waist. The Black King entered suddenly from the other side of the bathroom. They had been placed in a suite with shared bathroom facilities, and Avalon cursed his own carelessness for not locking the door.
"I'm sorry Avalon," the Black King said somewhat embarassedly. "I wasn't aware that you were awake. I ummmÉcouldn't sleep. Climate control system must be malfunctioning. ItÕs extremelyÉummm..warm in my room."
"M- mine too," the young scribe stammered. "Must be we aren't ummmm used to the tropic heat. Different latitudes and all that."
"Probably so," said Silver as he turned to leave. "You go ahead and take a shower or ummmÉwhatever you were going to do. IÕll go to the bathroom down the hall."
Avalon breathed a sigh of relief after the Silver had gone. What had the Black King been talking aboutÉclimate control? Avalon thought back and remembered his room had been fine, in fact a bit on the cool side. How could Silver's room that was just adjacent to his be having cooling problems, although the Black King had looked pretty hot and disheveled in his wrinkled silk pajama bottoms. The young scribe shrugged as he made his way back to his bed, eager to once again fall asleep and see what dark gift if any Nemesis had prepared for him.
Morph sat bolt upright on the beach. He stood unsteadily, and began to dust the sand from himself. What his hands found, however, was enough to stun even a shapeshifter. As he dusted the sand away, he realized his body had morphed into that of an "earther" female, of extremely sensual proportions. Curiously he tried to transform to his normal state, but was rewarded for his efforts by a sharp pain in the back of his skull.
"Don't even try it, changeling," a voice hissed in his head. "I'm controlling this body now."
Morph reeled and fell to his knees. What was happening? His body now involuntarily picked its way up and began to walk slowly towards the water just up the beach. He fought against it with all his will, but he seemed to be blocked from his own senses.
"Don't struggle, youÕre only making it worse," the voice hissed again.
Morph looked down into the water at his reflection in the moonlight and saw a stunningly beautiful raven haired woman. This other he was living with now, let out a soft velvety laugh as his hands slowly caressed this unfamiliar face.
"I'm back," the voice said, "and I'll finally take back what's rightfully mine."
Morph looked through alien eyes once again, and felt his body respond to commands not his own, as the mirror image of Nemesis the Black Queen laughed softly into the water. The he felt his body turn and began toward the jungle of trees surrounding the compound of Nemesis.
Nytshade's hand hesitated at Gregor's door. As Hazard, the Red Rook, Gregor was afforded similar privileges as she was, but her status as Queen allowed her to by-pass all guards to reach his bed chamber. She pondered her plan. Could she stir sufficient emotion in Gregor to make him want to help her on her quest to gain control of this unidentified mutant power source? Would he harbor enough negative emotion towards the Blacks to make him a trusting ally or a willing pawn? The White Queen knew her own powers were formidable, but when going to face unknown danger, a back up was always a good idea. She finally knocked and Gregor's sleepy yet forceful voice came from the door.
"Who is it?" Hazard bellowed. "By gods, itÕs only 3:30 in the morning."
Jon, the White Queen, winced. What would she have to do to calm down this mountain of a man and win him to her side? Was this new mutant worth opening emotional wounds for both of them that had just recently begun to heal? Would this adventure force the issue of what still burned between them just under the surface?
"It's me, Gregor," Jon said breathily. "Can I come in?"
The change in the Red Rook's voice was immediate. "Yes, Jon, by all means come in," he said.
Nytshade turned the latch and pushed the heavy mahogany door inwards. She saw the thickly haired, well muscled upper torso of Gregor as he sat up in his huge poster bed.
"What can I do for you, Jon?" he said. "Or better yetÉ.What can we do for each other?"
The White Queen slowly pushed the door closed behind her.