MOONDOCK

by Jewel Adams

  “Come Melane, we must go. Wylan is in the great hall with his generals.”

  “The war?”

  “Yes.”

  “But should we do this there? I mean, it isn’t exactly the best time.”

  How could she tell the girl it was the only time? Wylan had his own plans for the evening. There would be no challenge to delay his claiming of Melane. If Melane didn’t move first she would not have the chance. Besides, should her son disappoint her, his generals were the finest men in Moondock. Melane would at least be claimed by a man of quality.

  “There will be no better time.”

  ~*~

  Wylan sensed her presence before the men about him stopped talking.

  She looked like a goddess. Dressed in white silk. Knowing the reason for the gown’s obvious statement didn’t detract from the enchantment of her ravishing beauty. The long tight sleeves fell away from her bare shoulders and chest. The shimmering material molded itself enticingly over the full, graceful swell of her exquisite breast. Beneath them a gold braid was tied, letting the gown find its own lines about her sleek ribs and full curved hips. Each step she took through the tall admiring men announced the vitality of the beauty in their midst. Wylan’s fingers flexed in yearning, the way her hair hung in a shiny black rope over her shoulder from the braided crown, played havoc with his male instincts.

  Behind her, like a regal entourage, were his mother and her old elamies. Witnesses no doubt to the claim Melane would soon declare. Wylan thought himself prepared for his mother’s manipulations, but seeing the elamie again rocked all his resolves.

  Stepping forward to meet her approach was a protective jester that made his jaw grind down. Wylan wasn’t capable of ignoring the meaningful stares that silenced his generals. He had the strongest desire to order them all out of the room, only his position and what all suspected was coming, forbade such an outburst.

  Stopping, Wylan let his eyes race over her once again. Bowing slightly in an unexpected show of respect, Wylan knew above all else she deserved this from him. She was after all, a stranger that he brought into their world and was now facing a fate she had no way of escaping. Knowing what he did of her, Wylan didn’t believe she would accept any of this as gracefully as she appeared to be doing. Though one would never expect the turmoil in those aquamarine eyes was anything but the reflection of their jeweled brilliance.

  Bestowing Wylan with a proper curtsey, she’d been taught since childhood to give in respect of his station, Melane said a silent thank you when her knees didn’t fail her. She did regret her formal act when her gaze rose, filling with the full sight of his overpowering presence.

  The change from his leather hunting briefs was shocking upon her equilibrium. Tight, black satin pants covered the thick muscled legs and thighs, telling her rattled senses about every taunt line of his dominant power. At his iron waist a wide gold sash of metallic threading spanned the corded flatness. About his board chest was a white satin shirt with full flowing sleeves that cut deep, exposing the tight bronzed flesh.

  Melane couldn’t make herself look any higher, knowing his eyes held the answer to the question yet unspoken. To voice it, she had no choice except to confront him. Calling on the courage that sustained her in battle, she raised her gaze and faced her destiny.

  Black as Moondock’s night upon the waters reflecting the moon, his eyes captured her in their seductive power. Melane felt the rush of familiar weakness seeping into her body. The night heavens couldn’t be as overwhelming nor endless, but it was the reflection of his arrogance that finally brought her own pride forward. As she feared, Wylan was showing her exactly what she would face should she dare defy him.

  The devastating promise tore through Melane at a wrenching velocity. In its wake, something took hold of her. Something unyielding, that said she could never let him see how deeply his rejection hurt. No matter what happened, Melane vowed he would never behold what this cost her.

  Before her determination could speak out, one of his generals stepped forward.

  Wylan forced himself not to move when Majok came to her side.

  Melane gave the man a tentative smile. Brown flakes floating on gold instead of black were watching her. The man’s eyes held no less confidence in their striking depths. Her military training judged the man quickly, declaring he would be a worthy opponent. The smooth handsome features gave a hint of the fierce warrior that could come forth in a breath.

  “I am General Majok, I don’t believe I have ever seen you before, elamie?”

  Chancing a glance at Wylan’s stern features, her chin rose in defiance over the dark warnings his gaze held upon her. Catching Tarra’s nod of approval, Melane prayed the woman was right as she returned her attention to the General.

  “I am sure that I, Melane, would not have forgotten if we had met.”

  When he raised her hand and turned it over and proceeded to kiss her palm, Melane’s cheeks flushed in rosy heat for what he just implied.

  Her breast rose sharply, pressing dangerously against the flimsy material over Majok’s blatant seduction. Was Wylan mad to feel such rage? This was ridiculous, never did an elamie earn his slightest concern for her flirtatious behavior. The burning truth that Melane didn’t compare to the others drove like a blade into his chest.

  Before this went any further Wylan stepped forward. Every fiber in his body vibrated under the control he exerted not to reach out and pull her to his side. Where by all the gods she knew she belonged!

  Melane almost faltered under the violent rage coming from Wylan’s dagger glare. Tarra’s hand at her elbow was enough warning to make her go on.

  “Melane, it would be my pleasure to…”

  Wylan cut off Majok’s next words before this went any further. “Majok, do you not have something pressing to attend to?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her surprised gasp over Wylan’s obvious anger. Oh, he was furious. Tarra was right, and the knowledge gave Melane back some of her failing courage.

  Majok’s eyes flared dangerously at Wylan, making Melane’s hand touch his arm to break the heated contact. “General, I know how important you must be to be called away. Thank you for sparing me some of your time.”

  His eyes softened back to their earthly tint, easing the hard fighting lines in his proud face. “It was a pleasure, Melane.”

  To her relief he smiled. “If you should need my services, for any reason, just send a message. I am sure our King will see it is delivered.”

  Swallowing her humor over his own dancing eyes, she gave him a respectful curtsey. “Thank you, I won’t forget your offer.”

  Tarra was right, it wasn’t as she expected. These Selams were much too civilized, but the man’s meaning came through very clear.

  Just as bold as Wylan’s gaze had been to her, Melane met his with a declaration of her own growing confidence. Following Majok’s departure, she let her eyes make contact with many of the admiring glances from his other men. Melane deliberately returned more than few nods with her smile of acceptance for their interest.

  Wylan’s patience was breaking new ground. When he reached out to end her maddening display, only the men stepping forward at her defense told him how harsh his touch upon her arm had been.

  “King Wylan, is something wrong?”

  The imp knew exactly what she’d done. His awareness didn’t settle the blinding fury it wrought.

  The vein at his neck was throbbing in a wild beat, reminding her of exactly what Wylan was capable of doing to her.

  “Melane, is there a reason for your presence?”

  Was he so eager to be rid of her, he was actually forcing her to do it?

  For a second Melane lost her concentration.

  Was the woman deliberately provoking him, by remaining silent? What was wrong with him? He was angry because she was refusing to speak the words, he but seconds ago, would have thrown up in her gorgeous face!

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt
you.” She couldn’t do this. Melane suddenly wanted only to run from this…from him!

  Turning from Wylan, Tarra’s stricken look made her stop, but it was Wylan’s threatening tone and the victory in his parting remark that sent ice up her spine.

  “Melane, I will join you…shortly.”

  Taking a deep controlling breath she turned slowly back to stare at his retreating back.

  “Wylan!”

  He stopped and she watched as his shoulders flexed in warning before coming about to face her.

  His eyes drove into her own, commanding her to end this now. Her head shook slowly against his seething demands.

  “I have come to…exert my rights of purity.” He hated her for this, his eyes flashed in all their blazing rage. She was beyond heeding him. “I, Melane, claim you, King Wylan as my lifemate, as is my right as a pure elamie.”

  He stepped towards her in such a menacing way it was all she could do not to bolt. When his fist closed she made her eyes meet his without falling.

  “Do you accept me, Wylan?”

  Tarra stepped up beside her, the women came around them, but he never took his eyes away from her.

  “The elamie called Melane, has passed the purity test, as witnessed by these elamies.”

  Two of Wylan’s generals stepped forward to protest the claim. Before they could speak, Wylan’s hand stayed their loyalty.

  “Melane is pure, I will not contest the witnesses accounting.”

  She couldn’t breathe, waiting for his next words.

  “And I accept the elamie called Melane as my life partner, above all others from this night forth.”

  Numbed by his acceptance, the dark coldness in his eyes made her head reel. Without thought Melane followed Tarra’s instructions. “I too accept Wylan, King of Moondock and the great ocean, as my life partner…forever.”

  The condemning silence hung between them. The rage he held her trapped in, made the air vibrate as if lightening were striking too close.

  The deed was done. He accepted her.

  Melane knew it was a dark victory. The ache of regret tore at her chest. By all the earthly powers, she feared his hatred more than all his fury for what she just did to him.

  “Go with Tarra.”

  Biting her lip she held herself back from calling out when he turned his back to her. The cold dismissal sealed all her trembling beliefs.

  Each step within the old elamies’ circle seemed to confirm the fear Melane did not allowed herself to voice. Wylan might never forgive her. Stopping at the door, she sought him. As if he could hear her thoughts, his eyes turned and found hers. Silently she asked him why he allowed it?

  But, he refused to give the answer her heart desperately needed.

  Chapter 6

  Dangerous Shadows

  The marble felt invitingly cool against the noon sun. Leaning against the massive pillar Melane’s longing gaze went out across the glittering blue waters.

  “…so free.”

  Drawing her gaze away from what was now beyond her reach. “A week? How much longer will you deny I exist, Wylan?”

  Not even Tarra’s excuses could camouflage what Wylan was doing. Leaving that very night, he took his troops out beyond the fortress. There had been no war. Melane was grateful for that. It seemed Gallen finally agreed to talk to Wylan after seeing his advance. Whatever the misunderstanding, Wylan defused the fire.

  He returned to Moondock two days ago. “But still, you refuse to acknowledge me.”

  The truth made her doubt that there had really been any reason for his abrupt departure that fatal night. Oh, he did know she existed. His armed guards were proof that he did not forget she remained in his quarters.

  Yes, he would know her desire to flee this place. Why should he care? If she succeeded, he would be relieved of the unwanted burden. He even forbade her from seeing Rolley. Melane’s rage over that discovery could be heard throughout his fine palace. Even Tarra managed to avoid her until she exhausted herself in a violent tantrum. It wasn’t like Melane to give in to such a show of emotions. “Damn you Wylan! Ever since we met you have ignited a fire inside of me I cannot combat. Why won’t you let me go?”

  The vibrant blue eyes dimmed to a dusky blue. More than just her heated emotions had shown themselves these last days. With the display of her temper came another more worrisome event.

  When she lost her control over Rolley, Melane’s fury rushed through her, turning into a physical anger. Things beyond her reach in the room flew against the wall and crashed. Wylan’s things!

  Looking about his chambers, her prison, she closed her eyes over the missing pieces. No one, including Tarra, saw how the destruction came about. Again she fought to still the uneasy quiver over the truth. The power inside her was making itself known in a most demanding way, forcing her to seek answers.

  She found that by concentrating she could move objects at her will. After practicing with pillows, Melane tried larger objects. She paled the old servant who came in after one of her rearrangements of the furniture. Melane could actually lift chairs and the bed, without any more effort than a cushion.

  There were problems. More than once an object under her concentration flew out of control and bashed up against the wall or tumbled over the slick marble floors. Having nothing else to occupy her isolated hours she kept practicing and learned how to harness the power, making it work by pure thought. The effort became almost a natural part of her, as if she always possessed this gift.

  With its ease came other discoveries of her abilities. It appeared as if she opened a long locked door. One that once opened allowed everything to come tumbling out. And like a child with a new toy, Melane played with each new treasure.

  The most amazing of her new abilities was to make someone play out a suggestion she silently put in their mind. She tested it on the servant, giving a harmless thought that made her pick up a pillow, throw it across the room, and then ignore the act as if someone else had done the deed. Melane felt terribly naughty, but her excitement soon took hold.

  Tarra was her next challenge. Melane wanted to do this without igniting the woman’s suspicions. Wylan’s mother was already aware of Melane’s potential and Melane caught the woman’s knowing gaze on her, more than once, over the odd events these last days. She obviously suspected more than Melane’s temper had been at play.

  Melane choose the time carefully. They were having lunch on the balcony. At first she used a small thing. Tarra absently told her one afternoon how she abhorred the succulent sour melons that Melane found so refreshing. Mentally telling the lady she now loved the dreaded fruit, she watched as Tarra took a large satisfying bite from a juicy slice. Shamefully, Melane experimented further, making Tarra leave and change into a blue dress she’d worn the day before. They were harmless suggestions, but they had been her own. It was a powerful feeling to know you could control someone’s mind.

  A more startling gift came unexpectedly to Melane.

  Longing to be away from the trouble surrounding her, she somehow made it happen. It was similar to the waking dream, but Melane was fully awake and in control of where she or her spirit went. She only used the power twice, because it was an awesome experience. She was more than a little wary of this ability and still unsure of its potential and the dangers…to herself.

  Her longing to be outside with the open waters made it happen the first time. She found herself walking among the breaking waves as they rolled wantonly over the warm wet sand. The water felt warm and exciting against her skin, sending joyous tingles all over her as she raced through the foamy water.

  At first she felt that maybe she only wished it to be so and imagined the whole experience. When she returned to herself, she found that her dress was dripping wet and her feet were caked with wet clinging sand.

  Tarra happened to walk in at that same moment and discovered what Melane had only begun to realize. In stunned amazement the woman walked a full circle around Melane as she stood in the middle
of the room dripping all over Wylan’s white fur rug.

  Maybe it was Melane’s own astonishment or the lack of incriminating footprints, but Tarra immediately knew what happened.

  “Child! Are you alright?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Helping her change, Tarra bombarded her with questions. Melane’s own excitement flowed in the telling, catching Wylan’s mother up in the marvelous accomplishment.

  “Please Tarra, I want to try it again.”

  “But you mustn’t, what if someone sees you?”

  “Can they? No one saw me in the dream.”

  Tarra was silent for some moments, while Melane anxiously searched the bright dark eyes, clapping and spinning about when they warmed in conspiring agreement.

  “Alright we will test it. I will go to my chambers, you use this power and come to me. I will see you, if I don’t, take something from my dresser and bring it back with you, if you can.”

  Pacing in nervous excitement, she waited to give Tarra the time to reach her room. Closing her eyes she willed herself to be in Tarra’s room, blocking all other thoughts and sounds away.

  It happened so quickly Melane almost thought it didn’t worked, but she arrived, standing in front of Tarra’s searching eyes.

  “Tarra?”

  The woman jumped, her hands came out groping at the air. “Melane? I hear you, but I can’t see you. Can you hear me?”

  Melane walked up before her. “Yes, I am right in front of you.”

  “Touch me.”

  She did as she asked by placing her hand on the woman’s flushed cheek.

  “Like a fluttering breeze…Melane can you pick up something, my comb?”

  Going to the dresser, she lifted the object Tarra stared at, paling the lady.

  “Tarra please tell me?”

  Breathlessly she answered. “I can see you, like a dreamy vision, not real, but there as a transparent image.”

  When Melane released the comb, Tarra sucked in her breath. “You are gone.”

  “No I am still here.”