MOONDOCK - CAPA NomineeMoondock has been nominated for a CAPA award from The Romance Studio in the Erotica Fantasy category :) I'm so thrilled, thank you very much.
MOONDOCK By Jewel Adams
Chosen by the High Council to find the ancient Selams and save the Nemow race from destruction, Melane melds the inherited magical powers of her Syron birth mother and her training as Captain of the Lamar Grand Guard, to confront the men of childhood myths. Melane learns that neither magic nor her warrior skills can protect her from Wylan, King of Moondock, the man that now claims her as his own in a ritual as old as time.
http://classactbooks.com/bkpgMoondock.htmlEXCERPT - GENERAL AUDIENCE
Selams
The ground lay heavy with dew, sparkling under the fresh morning sun. Melane pulled up on the leather reins halting the easy gait of the Kaymog. His sharp horn cocked in his usual manner as if he too searched for hidden danger. Running her fingers through his thick fur, Melane massaged the great bulk of muscles in the thick neck. “All seems quiet, hey Rolley?”
Her soft laughter over his great snorted reply preceded the long powerful strides as they continued north. “Am I right to go north, Rolley?”
When his head rose and fell it made her wonder if he could really understand her. She talked to him enough. He had been with her since Shemon gave her the Kaymog when she turned thirteen. A fine strong mount, he taught her how to ride that first month. She still wondered over her own stubbornness on remounting him every time he dumped her on her backside. She even conquered his deliberate shifts in directions. The Kaymog’s ability to maneuver at their highest speed in any direction, made them invaluable in battle. Rolley’s great size gave Melane an additional advantage, allowing her to tower over all other riders in battle. His powerful hind legs stretched out, doubling most Kaymog’s strides. Not a one in the stables could best them in a race.
His upright height, when moving, was Melane’s only problem, for he rose into the trees, threatening to unseat her against the limbs. Rolley always seemed to duck low enough to include her in his avoidance. She felt better having him with her. He was also a good guard. Kaymogs hated all other beasts and Kibras more than any other. He could smell them before she could see them. All the hairs about his neck would bristle out in alarm if one were near. The Kibra’s inability to break any Kaymog as a mount became the one advantage the Lamars still retained. Having these animals meant a Lamar’s very life.
Melane’s feelings for Rolley went deeper than those associated with weapons or mounts—he was her companion. She felt he cared for her, too. Many times in hand to hand combat, Rolley actually fought the Kibra. Though his small, stubby front paws didn’t extent far, the long claws could rip through a tree to get at the nourishing sap and did mortal damage to an enemy that came too close. She never witnessed another Kaymog act in such a defending manner.
“Is it the power, Rolley?”
Shemon’s words went long into the night. Melane learned many things about the council and her foster mother last night. More than once, she actually heard Shemon’s acceptance for what she found fault with because of necessity for the whole.
Many of Melane’s own questions began to see the light of truth, but she still felt confused over the answers. Like the Syrons, and what made them the life givers in the eyes of the council. Why not the Weavers or Begonés? If Shemon knew the answer, she held her silence, she said only that the ancients decreed it so. To Melane’s young mind it was a lame excuse. Reasons. Yes, she wanted answers for so many things.
Like Narmar’s hate. Even Shemon still feared its reach for Melane. She knew that was why she placed Lamar guards with her until they reached the boundaries of Nemow’s kingdom. It was also why they left under cover of darkness, before the other questors.
Melane decided on going north to find the Selams. Always the Kibras came up from the south. She did not think an equal force would tolerate the Kibra’s presence anywhere near their lands. For that reason, she decided on the farthest direction away from the beasts. The north was an unknown wilderness beyond the great forest. The Nemows were not explorers or conquers, having no need to venture beyond their vast holdings. Whichever way any of the others decided upon, Melane’s heart felt heavy over their survival. All were facing unknowns, few possessed the abilities to deal with nature’s dangers, be it elements or beast.
She thought again over what the Selams would be like, shivering when the ugly image of Kibras couldn’t be dismissed. The huge, barreled hulks, were thick and coarse, with dark tufts of hair on their shoulders, chest and legs. Like the beast they behaved like, their unkempt mane of hair and long rutted beards could never hide the snarling male beneath. Should the Selams come close to these hideous features, Melane knew, she would not find the courage to confront them. She held little fear of bringing shame to Shemon, sure they would end her life.
They traveled on past the great forest, over the rolling green hills and gentle stream clustered tree groupings. The land was much like Cibrac, until the terrain became steeper and Melane saw the ominous mountains ahead. Almost purple against the afternoon sky she thought the high peaks appeared like formidable guards. Rolley sensed the threat as well, slowing his steps in caution.
“It is what hides in their folds we must prepare for, my friend.”
Was this the Selam’s land? The closer they came to the fierce cliffs and giant trees thrusting out of the jagged rocks, the more she felt the foreboding over what the inhabitants would be like. The Weavers taught that the exodus of the Selams had taken many directions. Very few Nemows accompanied the fleeing Selams as most mates perished from the illness that struck only the males.
Mates? The word conjured up images of wild beast, making Melane shudder and push away the idea.
She had seen very little animal life since entering the ravine between two large mountains. There could be new dangers behind the thick tree trunks that could hide her twice over. Every noise caused her to tense and get ready for what might jump out.
Their tedious travel during the warm afternoon exhausted her, making her seek out an early shelter for the long night ahead. The large contorted tree beside a stream afforded the lofty retreat she preferred to the ground. Rolley seemed content with his foraging. Melane never lost sight of his raised horned head as his great grinding jaws devoured the brush. Daring not to light a fire, she ate the cold provisions of grain and nuts, washing it down with the cooling handfuls of the clear running water.
Before the light failed, she whistled for the Kaymog. Using his great height, she climbed from his shoulders onto the thick supporting tree limb. Tying a rope about herself to the trunk, to prevent any mishap, Melane settled into the hard perch. Rolley curled up beneath her at the tree’s base, looking more like a docile mog, some pet of a child, than a warrior’s steed.
Sleep wasn’t a luxury that night. Rolley’s low growls and Melane’s own stiffened senses followed the dark lumbering shapes in the night shadows. Darting yellow and red eyes circled about the strangers in their midst. Melane’s hand never relaxed its hold about the sword, her other laid close to the knife and sling hanging from her hip.
* * * *
The trim legs were planted apart to hold the lithe stretching form as Melane worked out the night’s stiffness. Rolley bent down beside her. “Impatient to be away my friend?”
Mounting his wide bulk. “Can’t blame you, the night was too long. Shall we follow the creek?”
The huge clawed paws splashed loudly in the small stream. Disliking the prospect of facing many more nights like the last, she tried to imagine where, within these mountains, the Selams might settle. As the morning stretched out Melane found no signs of any presence, other then tracks of unfamiliar beast.
Conquering a difficult climb that forced her to dismount Rolley, letting him find his own way over the boulders, she came upon a large sparkling pool. A soft sheet of water fell over the high cliff surrounding the inviting pool. Dark green trees bent low along the deep edge as if they too sought the cool water.
Feeling tired and dirty, the decision was easy. The armor and weapons dropped quickly around her tanned bare legs. Only the knife belt remained about her waist, making the white smock flare out about her hips. Unable to resist the waiting pleasure she pulled away the helmet, releasing waist length waves of thick, midnight rich hair.
Her dive was clean and silent into the deep blue water. The strokes expert as they glided across the mirrored surface.
Startled by the unexpected vision, Wylan’s black eyes heated over the impact. Unable to tear his gaze or senses clear of the ethereal movements, he gave up the struggle and savored the rare event. Like mystical wings, the slim arms and delicate hands cut soundlessly through the water, making him look at his own massive ones in comparison.
“An elamie?” The breathless admission caused his muscles to ripple in stunned awareness. The flowing cloak of black silk above the sleek white, cloudy shape of her body, firmed the proud arrogant features of his chiseled face. The hidden beauty was not a vision, the whimsical laughter floating across the pool to his hiding place proved all too real. Awareness ripped through his corded body, forcing his eyes to search the opposite bank for her protector. The strange large beast he found instead, didn’t diminish the warnings silently bombarding his senses.
Never taking his attention away from the elamie, still enjoying her believed privacy in the pool, Wylan made his way soundlessly through the brush, freezing when the obvious large guard on the opposite bank rose up to his full height. The beast’s large black nostrils sniffed and vibrated in the air. Knowing he was down wind from the animal, he again checked the elamie, almost faltering when finding her to be floating atop the water. Full, twin peaks bobbed in languid motion, enticing his virile male body. The fresh pale globes could fill his palm. The truth painfully tightened his lions, setting his determination on the prize within his reach.
Whatever prey his planned week of hunting might have brought, Wylan knew could never touch the treasure he stumbled upon. How she came to be here, alone, was unimportant. All knew the claiming laws, Wylan better than most. He did not intend to lose this prize, scoffing that any Selam could be so careless. He had not seen her close enough to be sure, but this elamie definitely held virtues beyond any he glimpsed upon in the past. The wealth of possessing one such as this would be unequaled; the promised pleasure a private haven.
Before his dreamy musing destroyed his concentration, Wylan faced the formidable task before him. Stopping her creature could prove as challenging as fighting the night’s Mylar. The beast actually stood taller than Wylan’s great height and was wider than his broad shoulders. The great claws on the short stubs and powerful hind paws told of the animal’s potential. The way the beast paced about in alert strides said he would defend his swimming mistress, with his furred life.
Wylan’s fingers released the tie holding the whipple at his thick belt. Holding the sturdy cords, he positioned them with expert ease between his strong grasp, ready to send the weapon to its mark.
The whirling sound cut through the still air, swirling Melane about to search for the threat. A shrilling shout froze her in the water as Rolley’s cry shattered in her ears. His crashing body drew a painful groan from his shocked lips.
Busting through the brush Wylan’s massive arm raised to silence the beast struggling to rise and break free of the cords wrapped about his powerful thrashing legs.
“No!” The screamed plea halted the downward thrust of his thick blade.
His senses came alive to the elamie staring at him with wide blue eyes. Winning her without a fight never crossed his mind. Seeing the unexpected feelings she carried for the beast gave him a new advantage.
In slow caution, his stance eased back from the threat still struggling at his feet. If the great beast’s strength had not severed the whipple by now, it would not happen. She did not know and awareness made him curious over her reaction. “Come out elamie!” Wylan’s sword lowered, its point directed at the animal’s chest. “Now!”
Treading the water her eyes filled with the awesome bronzed image. Tall as a tree and as tough, the male stood with his thick muscled legs spread wide. Full golden shoulders bulged over the powerful expanse of the contoured muscles that moved and flexed across his great chest. Melane’s head shook in frightened denial. Worse than the Kibra.
She wanted to flee from the battle. All Lamars faced the weakness and conquered it, or died. But this…this was an instinctive panic against an unknown danger. He was male!
“Do I kill the beast?”
Her stunned eyes dropped to Rolley’s pitiful form now stilled in exhaustion. “No!” The admission barely passed her tightly held lips. Thoughts of escaping made her cautious eyes dart about, but she was in the middle of the pool. This enemy could easily span any distant bank she headed for. In slow unwanted strokes, Melane started towards him.
His sword eased away from Rolley as she advanced, coming to a stop in mid air before her. Her weapons lay on the bank in front of the bush. Had the obstruction hid his awareness? Melane forced her eyes to remain on his massive form. Melane tried hard not to let the power and strength in his golden form defeat her courage.
A vision in the water as she stood, rising out of depths she became a mythical goddess. The lure to his senses grew fierce, the way the transparent barrier clung to her honeyed skin and the soft alluring curves, enticed that savage desire all males ultimately faced. In twenty-seven years, Wylan knew none before possessed the invisible power this elamie emanated. His admiring gaze halted at the weapon resting at her slender waist. “Take it off.”
Was she too willing in obeying his command? Why did her docile appearance send warnings blaring inside him?
Holding out the sheathed knife dangling from the belt, Melane stepped fully out of the water. Only a step to her right to set the sword down. Keeping her eyes to his fierce black ones, she moved the offending weapon out arm length. Bending forward as if to place it down, Melane moved without thought, changing one for another before he could blink at her trickery.
Crouching low before the giant, his blade held as much a threat as his own matching stance.
“A foolish move, elamie.”
Her confidence rose in stature to the weapon now in her possession. “We will see who is the fool.”
Her attack obviously surprised the male and Melane pushed her advantage, striking fast and sure, with expert maneuvers. His defending blows were jerky as if stunned and unsure how to deal with her. Keeping him off balance was her only hope of succeeding. The male’s reach was twice her own and to question the power he’d yet to use against her could mean death. Why he held back confused Melane, but she refused to let her attention slip.
“Your protector trained you well, elamie.”
The taunt infuriated Melane. “I am my own protector.”
Her answer lit his expressive eyes, making them sparkling under the sun like tiny diamonds floating in the dark pools. For a second Melane became lost in the spell they cast, forgetting all but the night heaven’s fathomless depths. The lapse earned his lunge, driving her back with his sweeping blade. When their swords clashed, the impact vibrated up her arm, alarming her over the obvious physical difference between them. She was a warrior; no doubt he possessed the same skills. Unlike the clumsy Kibra that relied on brute strength, this man moved with cunning and expertise, wielding it in unmatched power!
When his blade danced about her own, the pulling release from her grip was almost gentle in the taking. Immobile and defenseless, Melane waited for the killing blow.
“Only a fool would destroy such beauty.” She was that and more standing bravely before him, wishing to slay him with those striking blue eyes. He never encountered such effrontery in an elamie. She was a rare one as well as very pleasing to the eyes. The thick wet lengths of her hair reached past her waist, one he could easily span within his hold. The gentle curve of her hips were firm and smooth, leading to delicately trimmed thighs and legs. There was almost a regal air to her beauty. The unexpected defiance in those exotic eyes caused something inside him to ripple to life. He did not believe for a moment that she accepted her defeat, not when those cool blue eyes shined with bold arrogance, refusing to look down before his own fierce stance.
A pitiful wail came from the fallen animal. His sword stayed her movement.
Melane never felt such rage. “You’re a cruel beast!”
“Shall we try that again, elamie? The name is Wylan or…master. Either will do.”
Stepping back, her eyes grew large in their incredulous glare. “Male arrogance!”
Melane’s lips curled over his roaring laughter.
“Maybe my new elamie is not such a prize after all. Did your protector let you loose on purpose?”
His sarcasm didn’t miss its mark, but Melane refused to humor him any further. Holding silent, she folded her arms across her chest for emphasis.
Tipping his sword to her in salute, the male started a guarded walk around her.
Biting her lip she held fast when he retrieved her sword and knife. The loss made her extremely uncomfortable before him. When he lifted her armor and clucked in distaste, she turned her head away “And where, prey tell, did an elamie obtain warrior garb?”
“If by your word, elamie, you refer to me, the answer should be obvious. I am as you say, a warrior…a Lamar captain of the Grand Guard, to be exact.”
“Arrogance, now pride, what other surprises do you hold from view, elamie?”
“None…unless it is to kill you at the first opportunity.”
Where were her thoughts, to warm him such! She inwardly screamed, he annoyed her so. His laughter was like a lash upon her ebbing control.
“Already you add flavor to the pleasure I have but sampled from afar. No doubt you drove your previous protector to the edge. Tell me his name so I might relieve the poor soul of his burden.”
Spinning about to face her tormentor, she herself straightened at his own return to a fighting stance over her action. The knowledge brought her full lips up into a slight, satisfied smile. Wary of me, as you should be…male! And such a one she never expected; a formidable species, so large and strong. His skin was smooth like polished brass.
Berating her foolish thoughts, she knew it unwise to antagonize him, but he pricked something rebellious inside her that refused to be tamed. “You must think me weak to continue insisting I need or have a protector. The prospect not only is loathsome, but absurd. I, Melane, am my own Nemow, no other would dare lay claim to a Lamar.”
“Then I have no one to thank for your unexpected presence? Other than yourself of course.” Wylan forced himself to breathe evenly under her watchful gaze. Keeping up this maddening banter was difficult and if not so very informative he would quickly end the game.
“The head must be muscle bound as well, to have taken the truth so long to penetrate.” The control she used not to show her fear, under the thunderstorm filling those midnight eyes, nearly exhausted her.
“Curbing your sharp tongue will be my first priority.”
“You assume much, for a male spawn!”
Melane didn’t wait for the bull to charge. Her feet moved with the lightening urgency necessary to avoid his reaching clasp.
The black satin slipped through his fingers. Cursing, Wylan moved to block her flight towards the beast.
“Rolley!” Turning from his massive form, she spun again and away from the cliffs. Melane growled when she saw he stood between her and the only escape. The pool was her only path. With a running dive into the pool, she heard him follow before she broke the water. All her strength could not outdistance the great strokes overcoming her. Melane’s furious scream was silenced as he pulled her by the ankles beneath the water.
Holding the thrashing wildcat down, not even the threat of drowning mellowed her fight. Feeling panic overtaking her anger, Wylan drew her up to the surface for air.
Gasping for breath, once gained, her fury broke loose, but his iron solid arms locked about her, ending her pitiful attempts to break free.
“Let me go…you foul beast!”
“The prospect is intriguing, don’t tempt me.”
“Ooh…”
All kinds of wild thoughts, beyond his anger, came with the squirming form pressed against his own. She actually fought him in earnest! Had the old ones not trained this elamie in the ways? He heard of rare instances when an elamie needed to be reschooled, but she was wild, hardly civilized.
Lifting her up before him, Wylan kept her feet from touching the ground. She needed no advantages in delivering the blows she attempted to inflict. Even bare footed she had the strength to injure a man in the most effective manner, and the knowledge, if her well-aimed efforts proved anything. Putting her none to gently on the ground face down, Wylan straddled her hips, pinning her arms with one hand behind her back. Pulling the tether strips lose from his belt, he quickly tied her arms and her legs, hindering her freedom.
Her angry growl, when he rose off her, earned his guarded smile. He’d wasted enough time; it would be almost nightfall before they reached his camp.
Going back to the pool, Wylan retrieved the weapons, placing hers inside his belt. His own still had unfinished business to tend to.
His rage at her should have ended Melane’s fight. Her fear of this male, was no longer a simmering tease, the danger he posed became all too real. Rocking to her side she watched him in wary concern, swallowing hard over the sword once again in his steeled fist. She would not cry out when the deathblow came. Above all else she would die with honor.
When he walked past her a new fear seized Melane. “Nooo . . .!”
His intent kept her moan from reaching him. Falling back onto her stomach she fought to raise her head. Through the dark veil of fallen hair, her dread was confirmed when she saw him standing above…Rolley!
“No please! Oh please don’t kill Rolley. I swear…I will behave, please…Wylan!” He’d refused to look at her until she called out his name. Ignoring the pain in her cry he raised the sword. Groaning, a rage took hold of Melane so fierce that it rocked her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, her mind filled with only one thought…stopping him.
A low almost inaudible sound came from the elamie. With its drone came a force that stayed Wylan’s hand in mid air. Bringing his other hand up to the hilt, he pulled with all his strength to fight the unseen force that he knew she controlled. Her cry cut through the air shattering both the force and drone, violently flinging him away from the beast.
Finding himself sitting on the ground, Wylan shook his head to clear away his shock over what just happened. His eyes darted to the elamie. What he saw tore through his very being. She laid curled up on her side, her back to him…weeping?
Going slowly to her, he stood behind her expecting another attack. From a tied elamie? Had he imagined what had just happened? “No!”
Kneeling down beside her, Wylan drew her onto her back. Brushing the curtain of hair away, he exposed the river of tears glistening her honeyed cheeks. No longer did she look proud and arrogant, but like a young child. She was young, he did not realize how much so. The feathery tips of black lashes struggled to open as if a heavy weight held them down. “Please, can you bury him? A friend should not be left to be torn apart.”
Did she not know what she’d done? It was her force, he was sure of it. A sorceress? No, she would have killed him. Wylan had much to learn about this particular elamie. “Tell the beast to behave and I shall spare his life for your promise to behave.”
Through half closed eyes that wanted to widen in surprise she answered. “Thank you.”
Did the exhaustion, he saw and sensed in her, come from using her powers against him? For now, she was no longer the troublesome elamie of moments ago. Releasing her ties, Wylan gathered her up in his arms, carrying her over to the beast. “Elamie, can you stand?”
“Yes.”
A touch of her remaining pride gave the skeptical answer. Lowering her feet, Wylan held her until she seemed capable of remaining upright. “Tell him, I will release him.”
“Do not draw your weapon, he will not listen.”
Wylan understood what she didn’t say. The beast would protect her as she had him. It was a strange relationship. He could be making a mistake, but he decided to take the chance. He let her go to the beast, stopping himself from reaching for her when she practically fell on the great red bulk.
“Rolley, my dear Rolley, be a good boy and let the male live.” Even through the haze surrounding her, she knew the one called Wylan was listening. Looking into the Kaymog’s large brown eyes, she wasn’t sure if Rolley understood, nor if she wanted him to. She felt too strange and weak to sort out her thoughts. “Please be good.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the large hand beginning to unravel the cords about the drawn claws. The gold hairs on his large forearms glistened under the sun. Her hands pressed into Rolley’s chest to still his struggles. “Easy boy, you’ll soon be free.”
Those same large hands lifted her forcefully away from Rolley as he came to life under the fury of being held captive too long. A great rocking roar filled the air, raising even Melane’s hairs on her neck. When the great red beast lunged forward, Wylan pulled her back behind him. Only her hand covering his own prevented him for drawing out the sword.
“Rolley! Stay!”
The beast fought against the elamie’s order, rocking his great form to control the vicious rage leveling against Wylan from those enormous eyes.
“Stay!” Melane knew Rolley was too angry to listen. Stepping before the male, she pushed his hold away. “Bad boy, down before Melane! Now Rolley, down!”
Amazingly the animal seemed incapable of disobeying the girls command. He looked pathetic bent over before her, but releasing his humor over the scene was forbidden. Wylan brought his attention back to her in time to see her stagger under an alarming wave of weakness. As soon as Wylan touched her, the beast started to rise.
“I…Rolley, no. You must help me mount, then get on behind me. Once you’re on, take the reins, he will try to unseat you. If you fail…don’t.”
She sagged in his arms, ending his arguments before they started. Lifting her, Wylan placed her on the round back, gaining his own seat just before the beast rose. Only his strength kept him from falling. Grabbing the reins he cursed the situation he found himself in.
“Alright beast, a war I will wage if you insist, but she has no strength left to stay my hand this time.” To enforce his threat, Wylan dug his heels brutally into the beast’s flanks and jerked the reins in a firm hold towards his camp. The beast moved begrudgingly, snorting his protest. Wylan had good cause to believe his control was only because she rode before him within his hold. He’d not turn his back on either stranger now in his midst.
After deciding an amicable truce had been drawn between rider and beast, Wylan shifted the elamie into a more protective hold, preventing the limbs from whipping her. His concern for her well being increased when he realized it was not an exhausted sleep she’d fallen into, but that she was unconscious. He urged the Rolley on. The unexpected rush of speed took his breath away. The surprise would have been exhilarating at any other time. Now he was only grateful that the beast made the distance in record time.
Because of the elamie, Wylan dismounted without thought, taking her to the fire. Settling her into the bed of furs, he stirred the coals until they caught and flared. With no fresh game to cook, he put last night’s quib stew back on to heat, along with a kettle of water. He needed to get some nourishment into her and decided to see what she had in the sacks on her saddle.
It wasn’t until the great hulk reared up before his approach that Wylan remember the deadly threat. Holding back from drawing his weapon, he stepped forward. “Down Rolley! Now!”
The beast had more intelligence than he had ever encountered in an animal. Wylan was relieved to see he also had a dose of common sense or fear. “Down boy.” When he dropped, Wylan didn’t hesitate, knowing the animal was capable of sensing his wariness. Taking the sacks off the saddle, he moved to release it from the animal for the night. When the horned head turned in his direction Wylan gave him have a sharp blow between his eyes. “I’m not the elamie, beast. You’d best learn that soon enough.”
Pulling the heavy burden away, “Now go and guard your mistress, and let me tend her. Go on, get!” Wylan’s scolding earned a low snort from the retreating Rolley. “You’re as arrogant as she is.”
Her stores lent little more than his own. The only surprise came in a large sack of dried leaves. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, he crushed a few into the steaming water for a tea. Holding her head, Wylan forced the strong smelling brew past her protesting lips until she took a full cup. Doing all he could, he sat back and waited.
She didn’t look real, lying there with her black waves spread out over the furs. The brew had a calming effect on her, making her breathe deeper as if in a healing sleep that even allowed him to relax. The events of the day replayed in his thoughts as he watched her. Soon Wylan’s lips lost their frown to a pleased smile. “You’ll raise many an eye when we reach Moondock.”
Remembering her cutting remark about his intelligence over her lack of a protector, after everything else she had done today, he almost believed her. If there weren’t anyone to challenge his claim, he would only be out a good fight. What did concern him was the possibility she was as she stated. “Never claimed before?”
It was a heady thought. Had he actually stumbled upon a pure elamie? Even he, King of Moondock, never expected such a gift when he finally decided to claim an elamie. If it was true, Wylan vowed to give homage to the gods for their blessing. A quiet laughter escaped him. “Your gift, great father, may not be all sweetness, but I accept the honor bestowed and will do my best to correct her failings.”
CHAPTER 3
Rude Awakenings
“Where is my armor?”
Wylan didn’t turn from scattering the coals.
“You don’t need it any longer.” He could actually feel her eyes scalding his back. If he’d had the time, he would have tossed the ridiculous cause for her renewed anger into the pool. Regardless, it would not touch her female form again.
The leaves certainly did their magic in restoring her strength. His hand touched the satchel now stored among his things. One would never expect the weakness he encountered yesterday in the elamie.
Rising to his full height, Wylan ignored her agitation. “Call your beast, elamie.”
Meeting his hard gaze, she raised her fingers to those pink lips, betraying their softness with a shrill whistle. The beast’s answering call from the distance could be heard before the onslaught of the thundering body crashing through the undergrowth. Shaking his head, Wylan doubted he would find any game while that animal was around.
He didn’t let her see his caution when she went to the Rolley. He’d soon learn if she remembered her oath. Nothing had been said about the force or the weakness that struck her. It was as if she had no knowledge of the events.
Walking up to them, Wylan picked up the heavy saddle. “Down Rolley!”
He didn’t miss her astonishment over the animal’s instant drop before him.
“Go get the stores.”
Choosing to give her the benefit of his patience when she didn’t move, he waited to learn the cause.
“Thank you for sparing him.”
When he felt her walk away his eyes finally followed her movements, noting the way her shoulders came back. A stance for control, to hold to the promise? Yes, she was, but it told him she honestly didn’t have any awareness of the power she possessed. A sorceress that didn’t know her own abilities? An elamie without a protector and never trained in the ancient way? The puzzle concerning her was getting larger.
Adjusting the satchels and furs on the animal, Wylan passed the girl his cloak. “It will protect you from the limbs.”
Without her armor, she hated her vulnerability. Wrapping the massive garment about her, she silently cursed the words that put her in such a disagreeable position. When the male mounted her steed and held his hand out for her, Melane’s eyes glared threateningly at Rolley’s brown ones that veered guiltily away. Even he had turned on her. Accepting his help she mounted behind him. Melane didn’t know what to do with her hands.
“The beast may scare away all the game, but I do enjoy his speed.”
Her decision came instantly when he sent Rolley into a run.
The unwanted hold about his waist drew Wylan’s smile. Digging his heels into the beast, she had no choice but to tighten her grip, bringing her enticing body up against his back to stay on. Her discomfort made the brisk ride extremely enjoyable.
Melane gave up the struggle, finally laying her cheek into the protective wall of his firm back to avoid the whipping branches. Rolley was in his element in full speed and the man in control didn’t try to hide his own pleasure. It burned Melane to realize that it wasn’t Rolley instigating the ninety degree turns or complete reversals of directions. The male was exerting his expert command over her steed!
Rolley’s betrayal was a small thorn, when compared to the large form so boldly touching her own. His golden hair rested beneath her cheek. It was actually soft. She hadn’t expected it. Nor had she imagined how fresh and clean his invading scent could be. He smelled like the land and something unfamiliar to her, but uncomfortably pleasing to the senses.
Closing her eyes, she tried again to halt the thoughts his closeness evoked. The invasion proved overwhelming. Nothing she believed to be true was a part of this man. He wasn’t coarse, but smooth and firm, like oiled leather and just as tanned. Instead of a hulk, his great form was tall and impressive, massive in build, imposing because of the taut corded muscles. Even now, they vibrated beneath her fingers about his stomach and ribs. She never touched such raw power. This male was the farthest extreme from ugly.
Beautiful…Ah, Melane admitted, he was a dream that reality couldn’t allow her to deny. His face held that commanding portrait of his impressive bearing. Sure and undaunted, the sharp unquestionable lines exemplified the natural authority he bore. Sucking in her breath, she did not fail to see the pride that shined out of those endless dark pools. She had only glimpsed the fury they could ignite to; deciding the sample was enough to sustain her curiosity.
If he were an example of all males, these Selams would no doubt take on the quest. The question she failed to voice pounded in her chest. Was he a Selam? She should have spoken of Cibrac this morning and told him the reason for her presence in his land. Melane felt ashamed of the cause behind her silence. She, a Lamar, actually feared the answer.
The admission confused her. He made thinking impossible. A tremor passed through her as she struggled with her unwanted thoughts. The invasion of his heat mingling with hers, overpowered all logical thinking, leaving her more confused and upset than before.
Wylan’s hand clasped the slim arm, whose hold faltered. The delicate shiver at his back caused a strange reaction in him. The sudden desire never to let her leave his side almost made him push the Rolley on, even in light of the tiredness he felt in her. The animal cut in half the distance that took him three days to achieve on foot. Wylan didn’t honestly want to arrive at Moondock with the elamie just yet. No, he wanted more time with her…alone.
The loving image of his mother came forth. Tarra, Wylan’s mother, Cristare’s…wife. For a moment he pictured his elamie as such, but brushed the ridiculous thought away. A Selam held to one elamie for life! No man willingly allowed such a hold from a mere female.
Cristare had taken Tarra as his elamie. Proven pure by the elder elamies, she choose the honor of wife to King Cristare of Moondock. Few elamies possessed that privilege and the authority that came with the rites. Only a pure elamie had that one time option, only a few Selams allowed the old law to be invoked. Wylan never questioned his father as to why he allowed Tarra to announce her claim. Strange, but Wylan had never seen his father displeased with the ancient restriction. Once the mating rites of Selam to elamie were spoken they were breakable only by the death of one or both.
His father’s death ten years ago devastated Tarra in a way Wylan had not seen in any other elamie. So much so, his mother chose the right bestowed with the title of wife, not to accept another’s protection in Cristare’s place. She told him then, no one could fill Cristare’s essence in her heart. In a way, even now, though he didn’t understand, he was glad his mother remained a free spirit in his household. If he admitted his own feelings, Wylan knew, he would not have found any favor with whoever won Tarra. Though his were unwanted feelings, they hadn’t changed and neither did his mother’s.
Tarra only bore one child from her life as Cristare’s wife. She had only been thirty-three when his father died and was still within the age to bear life. Most elamies bore many children by their protectors. The babes always remained with the fathers should the elamie’s household change. It was the accepted way. No one complained least of all the Selams, who were insured their sons. With so few elamies for the thriving Selam populace, the custom was satisfactory.
The Selam race benefited. Only the strongest survived the claiming fights for an elamie. The result achieved a race of powerful males that no other tribe could vanquish.
Wylan had not sired any babes and honestly refused to consider the matter. As king, he was cautious not to achieve an unwanted or unsuitable heir. His elamies were for pleasing his young loins. His eyes grew languid over the sweet memories. Elamies were lovely creatures. The only failings he encountered were their increasing demands upon him. As always, his male senses would rear against the possessive light in their ardent gazes. Eager commanders did enjoy the gifts he bestowed upon them for their brave and not so outstanding deeds.
Pulling Rolley to a halt, Wylan reached around and brought the elamie down, deliberately molding her fine body over his sensitive thigh. When her cheeks unexpectedly flamed over his act, he felt as if he had been struck. His desire to bed her was becoming an insistent throbbing in his virile veins. The mystery as to why he had not accomplished the pleasurable deed started to feel like a hot fire in his stomach. He didn’t like the increasing strength of his own questions regarding her.
If she were pure, he was risking the threat his own father surrendered to by not vanquishing the possibility immediately. Once he reached Moondock, Tarra would, as she always did, insist upon the purity confirmation. For all the love he held for his mother, in this one thing she tested his patience to the extreme. He, Wylan, did not intend to be trapped by any elamie, no matter how beautiful her aquamarine eyes were against her dark exotic essence.
What was he concerned about? He would just refuse the rite should she dare to intone such an outlandish claim. The act would mean losing her. Wylan’s jaw vibrated under the fierce conviction settling inside him against allowing such a possibility.
Was he angry because she failed to hide her unwanted reaction to his touch? Melane cursed the Kibras for their part in putting her here!
She hadn’t the knowledge to guide her in dealing with this awesome male. The weavers never taught anything about what a Nemow faced with a Selam. She scoffed at the thought. There probably wasn’t a Nemow, Priestess or Syron that would be able to deal with the likes of him! She, a Lamar captain, who should be back protecting Cibrac, was expected to accomplish the feat? The battle rules and her opponent were unsettling her warrior instincts. Her legs wouldn’t be still. “It is ludicrous.”
Was his peace so short lived? She looked ready to bolt. He almost relished the challenge, at least he wouldn’t be pondering such foolish notions. Rites, indeed.
She should concentrate on the quest, not the male. Remembering Shemon’s words didn’t help…do whatever is necessary. The prospect was frightening. She didn’t even know what whatever was!
When she turned, Wylan was ready, but he’d not expected the impact she could unknowingly have upon him. Wild as a black gar that hunted in the cliffs, her long waves fell in a madding display about her petite body. Her crystal eyes unconsciously darted about him as if judging the best path to escape. His body tightened in denial, waiting. She intrigued him beyond all others, making him impatient to discover her intimate secrets.
She’d waited too long already, but the words came hard. By all the forces he stood there looking as if the sun just touched him. Bronze to gold, and all that power. A strange tingling sensation started deep in her stomach, spreading like wildfire, scorching everything in its path.
Nothing about her escaped his senses. The nervous way her tongue skimmed her lips and made them glisten like a flower heavy in dew. The way her hand fell away, when finding no defense at her waist to hold to, no he had all the weapons.
“We will make camp here tonight.” Neither of them moved. “I will unsaddle the Rolley.”
“He is a Kaymog, Rolley is his name.” Once released her words rushed out. “Are you a Selam?”
The odd question made the muscles play across his chest. “Why do you have cause to ask such an obvious question?”
Melane faltered, he was right. “I…I was sent to find the Selams.”
“Sent? In what manner? By whom?”
“The high council of Nemow, Priestess Shemon sent me to confer with your rulers.”
“Why didn’t you speak of this before?”
Melane’s arms held her waist, she drew a strained gasp. “It was a long journey…it matters not, I am now.”
Wylan already knew why she appeared so flustered and enjoyed her dilemma. “And you, why did this council send an elamie?”
“I told you, I am Melane, a Lamar Captain of Cibrac’s grand guards.” The way his lips cocked infuriated her. Scolding the emotion and him for causing her loss of control, she reminded herself why she stood here suffering his gloating stare. “I request you take me to your rulers.”
“We have but one in Moondock.”
It wasn’t what she expected, but it would have to do. “Alright, then take me to him so I may present the council’s request.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Wylan relaxed his stance against her. “By all means present it.”
“Your ruler will hear of your insolence. Do you treat all visitors to your land in such a rude manner?”
“Not all, only young, unschooled elamies that seem to have forgotten their place.”
His voice never rose to deliver the calm, chilling threat.
Melane hissed out with her increasing unease. “The Nemow priestesses were wrong in seeking the ancient Selams.”
“Maybe their only mistake was in sending a mere girl, in place of a man.”
The insult cut like a blade across her pride. “Nemows haven’t needed males for five life spans. We will do fine without the Selams. I will leave and convey my disappointment for…” her eyes scathed the male before her, “…what I have found.”
A suppressed tremor of rage raced down to his feet. When she started walking righteously past him. “You need more than just schooling.” The hand closing about her arm prevented her intent to leave. His other one drew her slowly up in front of him.
Staring at his chest Melane fought to breathe. The nerve jumping at his neck filled her vision. Each raging pulse drummed with the anger she foolishly called forth. Should he strike her, he would surely kill her. Not even the admission of her fate could keep her eyes from rising to face the fierce ones demanding her attention. He was so close; his charged breath fanned her face. Confronting the mastery in his glare’s raven brilliance, she struggled to back away, earning a harsh jerk for her efforts. One that made her body touch his rippling form.
Melane bit her lip in order not to groan over the contact. A touch that let her feel the power racing throughout his massive form. All her abounding fear didn’t give her the strength to break away from his captive hold.
“Where is your bravado, elamie?”
Her head slowly shook against the mysterious control he claimed over her. When he leaned down towards her, her eyes fell to his parted lips, fascinated and frightened in the same stilted breath.
Was she a sorceress? Defeating his anger with something more vital? Plundering the pink blossoms that his lips held captive was like touching the edge of enchantment. Awakened to what laid quivering in his embrace, Wylan wanted only to ravage the radiant beauty, seek and devour the sweet essence she valiantly protected.
Her resistance fell away like a crystal shield before a sweeping steel blade. Lips to lips, ah, the fire it lit. The tingling changed into a fierce hunger. One so wild, Melane swayed dangerously under its life force, whirling in a wave of pure sensations.
Her tiny whimper broke through the spell Wylan fell into. Drawing back, he looked upon the swollen evidence of his mark upon her. Miniature black wings of feathery lashes rested helplessly over the light blue jewels.
“What was that?” Was that husky voice her? Was he smiling? He didn’t look as fierce when his lips relaxed like that…such nice one, ah what their touch could do.
“Only a kiss, my elamie.” Wylan didn’t want to hear his own astonishment in the simple answer. Her head leaned back to one side as if contemplating the revelation. Wylan’s heart was going wild watching the innocent act. The way her hair fell to the side in a seductive curtain called forth a savage longing.
“A kiss? A Selam’s anger is vented in a strange manner.”
“Our battles will be devastating, little elamie.”
Leaning back to seek the flame in his eyes, awareness came like a chilling wind.
“Elamie?”
A cold panic rose over what she almost sought, vanquishing his devastating invasion upon her senses. “I must go.”
His hold tightened painfully to stop her from disengaging his hands. She pulled back trying to break the contact he maintained. “The council expects my return.”
“Enough! You try my patience.” And more. Wylan was furious over the admission, leveling it at the elamie that seemed not to know her own desires. Dragging her over towards the tree, Melane’s eyes grew enormous over his intent as he pulled the ropes from his belt. She dug her heels in, but her strength was no match for the male. “No!”
“Yes! You seem to have forgotten your vow to behave.”
“Behave? How dare you! I have no time for your games.”
How the cords became fastened about her wrist so quickly, stunned her. She tried to kick him when he pulled her hands about the tree, but his body just moved forward, pinning her back against the trunk. Holding her there, his great reach effortlessly tied her wrist together.
Ah, the fire still glowed hot in his blood for what wasn’t finished between them. Cupping her chin in his hand, he stilled her head from getting free. His kiss gentled her in a way no fetters could. Looking down at her, he took her lips again, deepening the taking until even her angry glare softened into passionate violet embers. “A kiss elamie is only one of a Selam’s weapons.” Leaving her to contemplate his veiled threat, Wylan gathered up his hunting gear.
The Rolley’s agitated pacing broke into his vision. Grinding his teeth together, Wylan cursed the hulking mass of red hair. “No game in its right mind will be within a day of you!”
Glaring back at her, her blue eyes held his in a haunting stare. Giving up the arguments pushing at him, Wylan took up the saddle. “Down!”
Reloading the beast he went back for the elamie. Untying her hands he picked her up, slinging her over his massive shoulder. “No game, no peace, I would rather face Tarra!”
Melane’s fist clenched against his back. Striking him would be as useless as everything she’d done so far. She tried to hold herself away from him and the power he ruled over her. A blow from his sword couldn’t have been more conquering than his touch. Even now, the weakness lingered. Did Selams have an invisible power over Nemows? Could Shemon control such a force?
Putting her before him on the beast Wylan pulled her back against him, locking his thighs about her own, daring her to object.
Closing her eyes, Melane silently pleaded for the strength not to display the havoc his closeness struck to life.
“The Kaymog, can he see at night?”
Through pressed lips. “Yes.”
“Then we should reach Moondock by morning.” Wylan’s arm encircled her waist bringing her closer still, noting how well she fit to his form. As if she was made for him and no other. The thought made him send the beast forward, needing the speed to cool the blaze she ignited.
* * * *
Thankfully the darkness didn’t slow their progress. She was as tense as he during the long night. Still she fought his touch, keeping her back rigid in order not to be in contact. Her exhaustion was obvious in the tiny quivers the continued effort generated.
Wylan’s temper cooled many hours ago. The admission came hard, but he did admire the elamie’s strength. There weren’t many Selams that could stand before his rage. What had she called herself? A Nemow, Lamar captain? He felt his own arrogance rear to dismiss the outlandish call. And yet, the spark of doubt was ignited. If she was from this Cibrac, were there no Selams? How could that be? A race of elamies was too ridiculous to consider.
Denial raced through him, causing his body to shudder. The act brought his lips against her hair. Inhaling, he let her exotic scent invade his being. Essence of the night blooming starflower, whose intoxicating fragrance stole away a man’s willpower, clung to her. Ah, she did have such a power in her possession. A sorceress? She could be very dangerous. Also powerful. To have such an elamie would lend great resources to his kingdom. The warnings said she could use her magic to destroy him. Why hadn’t she?
Those priestess she spoke of obviously taught her to fight. Her skills were admirable, she only lacked the strength. Why hadn’t she used the force against him? Wylan was sure he wasn’t being tricked by her innocence. No knowledge of a kiss? It was unheard of. His male awareness of her, told him, she was an infant in the ways. Was she also a babe to her own powers? Had these rulers not trained her to their uses?
Dragon was the only sorcerer in Moondock’s realm. The man’s dark magic caused many problems in the past. Only Wylan’s own power and control over the kingdom held Dragon’s evil at bay. As with his father, Cristare, the man feared the vengeful force that Wylan could unleash against him. Dragon would know how to unveil the elamie’s powers. An uncomfortable feeling come over Wylan. Something almost primitive took hold of him, telling him to keep that man away from her.
Protect her? Ah, but it was so and denials couldn’t diminish the increasing boundaries of that conviction. An urgency to speak to Tarra came over him. He’d warn her of what he suspected in the elamie. Maybe he should give her away and be done with the problem? Even before he contemplated the course, he knew he wouldn’t let her go.
* * * *
Every muscle and bone protested her vigil against giving up. Leaning back into his firm chest would be so easy, so welcomed…No! She’d not let this unaccustomed weakness rule her again. Seeking another’s strength was forbidden, but Melane had all but exhausted her will against his pulsing hold.
Moondock, his kingdom, there she would defy the Selam and seek his ruler. Nothing would stop her from carrying out the council’s wishes. Once done, she could leave and be rid of the insolent male. Melane refused to listen to the growing doubts that she would not be free of him. Remaining any longer than necessary in this Wylan’s presence would be a danger she could not ignore. Fighting the Kibra seemed tame in comparison to the siege he rendered upon her defenses. Every sharp contour of his masculine body burned into her memory. She must break free, before he defeated her will to remain distant to his deceptive power.
Whenever she gave in to the weariness and closed her eyes, the oddest images would form behind her lids. Never had she held such vivid scenes. Many Selams were all around her, there were Nemows, but very few within the crowd. The Selams overwhelming height and breadth make her feel small and vulnerable, making it hard to breathe. Then he would dominate the image, overshadowing all others, filling her heart with a warm stirring that frightened and excited her in unfamiliar ways. Fighting the images, she broke free and forced her eyes open again, killing the dream. The effort to keep the visions away stole her strength more than the physical exercise of holding herself away from him. Fearing she’d not be able to fight the increasing allure, Melane was nearing panic when they topped the next rise.
Endless deep blue water stretched out to kiss the dawn’s pink horizon. The breathless expanse captured the matching blue eyes trying to take it all in.
Wylan’s great arm rose, sweeping across the vision. “Moondock.”
The name encompassed the great water and vast land below them. From their stand above the city Melane’s eyes opened in awareness. No minor village stood before the vast blue waters. The city meandered about the chalky banks and high impressive cliffs, ensnaring great lines of waves crashing and rolling against them in a conquering roar.
There must be thousands of people living in so many buildings. Already she could see many tiny forms moving about the streets as the city came to life under the morning sun. She wished she dared to turn and see his face, sure of the pride she would spy in those masterful ebony stars. She could not fault such feelings, not when facing his grand home.
Melane’s appreciation mounted the closer they came to the high fortress walls seen during their decent. The high massive gates they passed through confirmed the fears she held to concerning this male. Nearly every Selam they rode past hailed the man at her back. Adding to her dismay, she couldn’t shake the nagging suspicions forming, concerning Wylan. The crowd of Selams increased, following Rolley’s progress through the cobbled streets.
Worse, was the shocking sight Melane couldn’t keep her eyes from following until her head would whip back to yet another male…child! Little Selams raced beside the large males or were carried about the massive shoulders. “So many…”
Wylan heard her breathless exclamation. The panic he felt shimmering through her small frame caused his arm to tighten about her waist. The fact she failed to notice the contact, past her enraptured concentration, bothered him even more.
Clamping her teeth down, Melane tried to silence the shivers overtaking her. Not only were there male children, but the surrounding males were as imposing as the one holding her. Only she knew it wasn’t wholly true. Wylan was a head taller than most and none touched his commanding bearing. Their shouts to him echoed the admiration and respect she saw in their own strong features. Hearing the shocking truth they shouted overwhelmed her, making all her prior bravado desert her. “King…King Wylan!”
Yes, those were the hails for her captor. Her own actions against him made her eyes squeeze shut for the travesty she committed. Insulting their king! How could she have been such a blind fool?
Numbed by her horrible error she wasn’t prepared for the hold that pulled her from Rolley. Defensively her fist rose to strike, halting in mid air before the fierce glare of his black steeled eyes. It was only a moment, but enough to make her own gaze fall shamefully away for the first time. When his hands set her down and released her, she felt sure she would fall at this male’s feet, calling on the last of her strength she remained upright. She saw an unfamiliar light in his eyes just then. It wasn’t the well known anger. No, something deeper, something that frightened her beyond all his prior fury.
Keeping her eyes down, Melane struggled with her feelings. None of the other people around her mattered. He was the one she came to find, but suddenly the reason seemed only a shadow beneath the flames of encompassing emotions that he ignited.
Wylan didn’t believe her bold courage faltered because she now recognized his standing in Moondock. Wylan wished he had not brought her here, wanting the elamie he found at the pool to be standing before him. Dismissing her beast, his hand took hold of her unresisting wrist. The absence of her strength made him realize how tired she must be. An unwanted relief came over him. She was only weak from the journey. Once rested, he hoped he would have her back.
The great halls they walked through were amazingly beautiful, an exquisite assault against her unstable emotions. Blue marble walls against white polished floors. No windows prevented the cooling breeze filtering off the sparkling waters she spied past the large pillars on the veranda. Wylan’s palace sat high upon the cliffs, overlooking both his city and the endless moving waves.
So drawn was she by the vast open waters, her steps faltered upon an open corner that allowed a full view of his kingdom.
“Elamie?”
“What is it called? The water that goes forever.”
“An ocean. Do you like it, elamie?”
Her answer came without thought. “It is like you…free, without boundaries.”
Her words had an unsettling effect upon Wylan. When she swayed this time he didn’t hesitate to lift her up in his arms.
“I didn’t realize…how can you ever forgive me?”
Forgive? The thought never occurred to him. How did you forgive that which brought life and vitality into your existence? “You’re tired.”
“I am ashamed.” The admission made her turn her face into the warm sheltering shoulder, wishing she could somehow steal a small bit of his endless strength.
Wylan had little time to cherish the rippling feelings her action ignited.
“Ah, my son, back so soon from…What’s this?”
The elamie didn’t see the mirth in his mother’s dark eyes upon her, but he felt her fingers clench against his chest.
“The forest has certainly changed its ways, to deliver such fair game, my son.”
Wylan saw his mother’s brows draw together in concern over the elamie.
“Is she hurt?”
Shaking his head. “No mother, just exhausted, we’ve been riding day and night.”
“Such haste needs answers.”
“Later.”
Nodding at his stern refusal. “Come, bring her to my chambers.”
Leaving the elamie upon his mother’s bed, she was asleep before they left the room. “Do you have time to tell me about this one, now?”
“As I am early in returning, it would be best, before she wakes.”
Tarra did well to hide her unexpected pleasure over the way his eyes kept drifting back to the dark beauty. She had never seen Wylan show the slightest interest in an elamie, except for the basest of reasons. Was this one special? Her heart raced in hope while she listened to his brief, yet unusual explanation.
Glad when he finally left, Tarra shut the door to all curious eyes before going over to the sleeping elamie. Her fingers brushed back the fallen wisp of hair from the creamy brow. The fine, proud features touched by black satin were a pleasure to look upon. “Nemow? Are you such a little stranger, elamie?”
Tarra’s brow wrinkled in concern over the possibility. “From what Wylan said, you won’t like our ways, little warrior.” Shaking her head, her own silver streaked, black hair shimmered. “But neither can you escape them.”
Her dark gaze deepened in thought as she sat beside the stranger now under her son’s roof. “He didn’t say, but I know him better than anyone. No, he has not claimed you, as yet. Why? What held him back? I certainly wasn’t there as a hindrance.”
Tarra’s eyes widened in surprise. “Could it finally have come? Are you the one I have searched for?”
Rising abruptly, Tarra’s steps hastened for the purpose at hand. Calling to Wylan’s palace guards. “Stand fast at my chamber, no one is to enter. No one.”
She didn’t often exert her privileges in Wylan’s home, but for the little stranger it was necessary. Tarra would have her answers before the sun set. Her steps only faltered a moment over the one bit of information her son had given in parting.
“Sorceress?” Her eyes darted back to the door in caution. Very slowly her lips parted in confidence. “She acted to save a beloved beast, you failed to see that my son. But then most Selams are blinded by a beautiful elamie. She has accomplished much in such a short time.”
Her convictions concerning the girl increased, taking her to do what must be discovered before the night brought Wylan’s attention back to his charge. “This time you may not scoff at your mother’s persistence, my dear son.”
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