Shivering and hurt, Mirella folded her arms under her chest. Suddenly, it was colder than a moment before. A thick blanket of deep purple clouds hid the orange and pink sunrays. The warm tones of the afternoon were gone, replaced by a chilly twilight that was getting less luminous by the minute.
Then the sky opened with a roar and it started hailing. Heavy, globular pieces of frozen water hit her head and arms, hurting her. Mirella looked around. It was only her and a dense forest of cacti. She ran toward the closest plant. It had paddle-like leaves that were fleshy and large enough to provide shelter.
Under the natural canopy Mirella experienced a moment of respite from the pelting hail, but the wind picked up strength again, whipping the ground without mercy.
Lupine’s climate was affected by its moons, and the Fifth Moon was known for being capricious. During the peculiar moon’s influence, the weather could change rapidly, from winter to summer in less than an hour. Temperatures could drop and rise. Rain, snow, hail, sleet could happen before or after a perfectly sunny and breezy spring morning. The changes were so sudden that it was impossible to forecast what would happen next.
Of course, Mirella had never had any occasion to experience the Fifth Moon’s tempestuous nature before, because she had never left Adris, and she was never allowed to even stand outside her balcony if it was raining.
So many times in the past, she had dreamed of being free to walk outside during a summer storm. Her wish had been granted with a vengeance.
Rain started soon after the hail covered the grounds with purple gems as big as apple-cherries. For several minutes the clouds above sent down water in both frozen and liquid form. Mirella couldn’t see or hear anything above the din.
Even squinting, she couldn’t tell where Valentine or the draglet were anymore. They had been swallowed by the deluge.
She braced herself against the storm, but the squall was stronger than her and she lost ground. Dragged away from the cactus, she gathered all her strength and put up a fight. Her hands shot up, trying to reach the trunk. She could feel the slimy bark covered with needles under her tentative fingers. With great care, she took hold of the smoother portion of the plant, avoiding the thorns. When the wind changed direction, she was pushed to the side of the cactus.
Needles pierced her already wounded skin and she let go of the trunk. Her arms flaying over her head, she didn’t see the hole opening under her right foot until it was too late. Another gust of wind hurled her inside the chasm, but she latched her hands to the edge and refused to let go. Her feet dangling into the abyss, Mirella tried to hoist herself up, but the terrain was muddy and the falling rain made her fight even harder.
Her fingers slipped through wet soil more than once, but she rocked her lower body to give her enough leverage to hoist herself over the edge. A low rumble vibrated through the ground, radiating through her hands. In the distance, a dark purple river moved toward her.
Geography lessons came to mind, providing the answer to her silent question. After torrential rains, the Lupine desert would be inundated by floods.
From under her feet, different sounds echoed, like something moving on large paws.
Mirella redoubled her efforts to lift herself above the hole, but she was too tired already. Fur brushed her leg. She screamed and kicked, losing her balance for a moment and almost falling down. Renewed fear gave her arms the extra boost though, and she was able to clear up to her waist.
From below, the creature slapped her leg with a trunk-like limb. Mirella remembered the name of the beast trying to snatch her. It was a beed, and beeds were pack animals. Her swinging boot hit something soft, producing an angry cry followed by a snarl.
A shadow danced over Mirella’s head. In between kicks, she looked up. An airbike hovered close.
“Valentine!” she called, dreading that he couldn’t see her half-swollen by the beeds’ nest.
But he must have seen her, because the airbike spiraled down in large circles, and finally landed several meters away from her, in a clearing between the cacti forest.
“Thank the Goddess—” she started when the large form of Valentine jumped down from the airbike, only to realize that it was Dragon who was running toward her.
“Blessed Bride,” the Solarian called, his booming voice barely audible from over the din.
Beneath Mirella, the beast roared and slashed at her legs with its claws. She lost her grip on the edge and sank lower, hitting her chin on a rock. Strong arms reached down and grabbed her by her shoulders, raising her above the hole. Once her boots hit solid ground, her legs gave up under her. Dragon didn’t let her fall, but supported her with one hand on her elbow, then when he saw that she couldn’t stand, he took her in his arms.
“I’ll take you home,” Dragon said, walking toward his airbike.
She could only nod.
He had taken a few steps, when she heard a second airbike approaching.
“It’s your husband.” Dragon pointed his chin at the vehicle flying too fast toward them.
“Mirella.” Valentine’s anguished voice echoed in the air, brought forth by the wind blowing in their direction.
Once he landed, her husband jumped off the airbike, leaving it still running, and reached her a moment later. His eyes darkened at the sight of Dragon holding her. “Give her to me.”
Mirella felt the sigh resonating deep inside Dragon’s chest.
“She’s injured,” the Solarian explained.
“I’ll take care of my bride.” Valentine snatched her from Dragon’s open arms, cradling her to his chest.
His leather jacket was soaked through and he was cold, but in his arms she finally felt safe.
“Where are you hurt?” Valentine asked, looking at her with tenderness and concern.
“My legs. A beed tried to drag me down inside its nest—”
He moved her in his arms, checking her. A long curse escaped his mouth when he saw the state of her legs. “I must take you home now.” He then looked at Dragon. “Thank you for saving her,” he said, but his words were clipped.
Dragon nodded. “The weather is clearing. I’ll stay behind with my crew. We’ll look for Dallian.”
Sure enough, the purple blanket opened, letting orange and red rays of light through. Puffs of purple vapor wafted from the ground. Cactus flowers bloomed under the warm cones of light. Small rodents scurried around, and birds chirped, flying from plant to plant. If she hadn’t been on the verge of dying only a moment before, she would’ve found the sight beautiful.
As Valentine carried her to his airbike, she noticed how stiff his body was, and how unyielding his embrace felt around her, even though his voice was soft when he spoke to her. “Everything will be all right. Balenus will fix you in no time.”
“I didn’t break anything. It’s just blood from the beed’s claws.” Mirella felt the irrational need to reassure him. “I only need a good warm bed.”
His breath hitched and his arms tightened their hold on her, then he repeated, “You’ll be fine,” as if he hadn’t heard her talking.
Tired and cold, she burrowed in his embrace, resting her head over his heart. Even from over the jacket, she heard his tumultuous heartbeats getting faster instead of slowing down.
“I am fine, really,” she heard herself saying before a great heaviness closed her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Having yelled at everyone in sight and sent everyone out, Valentine paced back and forth inside Mirella’s bedroom by himself.
His bride was asleep. She looked frail, small and white at the center of the big bed. Under the linens and the warm blanket, her legs had been cleaned and the wounds disinfected. After a look at her legs and the rest of the bruises and cuts covering her everywhere, Balenus had given Mirella a strong opiate, and she would be resting for several hours. When pressed by an agitated Valentine, the medicus reassured him that the beed hadn’t done any lasting damage to her tendons and muscles. Her new leather boots had taken
the brunt of the damage from the beast’s claws, saving her legs.
After the medicus had left, Valentine personally bathed her body with a soft sponge, then he dried her skin carefully. Fearful servants brought him food when he refused to leave her side.
She had almost died.
If it weren’t for Dragon, she would be dead.
The two thoughts ran circles in Valentine’s mind, tormenting him. His kitten was alive, but not because of him. He had been too late. Dragon’s stricken expression had told Valentine all he needed to know. And instead of being grateful, envy and jealousy had blinded him.
Envy because the Solarian had been her savior and not him.
Jealousy because he couldn’t stand the sight of another man touching her, even if the dire circumstances more than forgave the dragon shifter. And if he were honest with himself, Valentine had to admit that his wolf had to do with his visceral reaction, but only partially. Sure the beast had snarled at the sight of their mate being cradled to the shifter’s chest, but it was Valentine who, deep down, wanted to hurt Dragon.
Mirella moved on the bed and he hurried to her side.
He had cleaned her hair as best as he could, but mud and yellow grass caked her tresses. Needing something to do before he drove himself crazy, he walked into her bathroom, looking for a basin and a brush. After rummaging inside several drawers, he found a deep ceramic bowl, a wide-toothed comb, and a brush with soft-looking bristles. He filled the bowl with warm water, then grabbed a linen towel and went back to Mirella.
An hour later, he had managed to remove most of the mud lumps from her hair. She would need a hot bath to cleanse all the grass and impurities from her auburn hair and skin, but he was satisfied with his job. He checked the dressing on her legs, then used some of his healing salve, massaging her arms, and brushing her breasts and belly. The cut on her chest looked painful, and it made him cringe. Carefully, he moved her to the side to apply the ointment on her back.
After dinner, which he didn’t eat, Valentine lay by her side, his head on his bent arm as he looked at her. “You frightened me, kitten,” he whispered to her lips as he leaned to chastely kiss her.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you, wolf,” Mirella whispered back. Slowly peeling her eyes open, she tried to raise her head. “Ouch.”
“Easy.” He placed his hand under her head and helped her rest higher on the pillow. “How do you feel?”
“Sleepy.” She yawned then started stretching, but grimaced and stopped.
“Balenus gave you something for the pain. I expected you to sleep through the night.” He rang the bell on her nightstand to call Aldo.
“Did I pass out?” She tilted her head from side to side, but that too must have been painful because she halted the movement.
He slid a hand under her head and massaged her neck. “You said something about being fine, then went out cold.”
“I was in your arms. I was fine,” she said.
Valentine’s chest constricted.
A knock on the door saved him from having to reply.
“Come in,” he said, expecting Aldo.
But instead of his majordomo, the big Solarian’s head peeked from around the door. “May I?”
At the mere sight of Dragon, Valentine’s blood boiled in his veins.
“Dragon,” Mirella said.
With a frustrated sigh, Valentine motioned for the Solarian to enter.
“Thank you for saving me, Dragon.” Mirella smiled at the man, saying his name for the second time with her sweet, lilting voice that should’ve only uttered Valentine’s.
“Don’t even mentioned it, Blessed Bride.” From the door, Dragon bowed to her, bringing two fingers to his heart. “I’m glad to see that the most perfumed flower of House Lobo looks better already.”
Mirella’s eyes lit at the shifter’s gallant pleasantries.
With great effort, Valentine kept his fisted hands low. “The Blessed Bride needs to rest.”
“Of course.” Dragon nodded. “You’ll be pleased to know that we were able to locate your purebred. It’s safe in the stable.” With a last bow to Mirella he turned and left.
Only then did Valentine realize Dragon was still wearing his long jacket and he was soaked through, leaving wet prints on the travertine tiles. “Wait,” he called the shifter, catching up with him in the hallway.
“You remained out there until now?” Valentine asked.
It was past bedtime by several hours and the Great Plains froze at night.
At a closer look, Dragon’s blond braid was pearled with icicles. When he spoke, his lips were pale blue and his teeth chattered. “We couldn’t leave the draglet behind.”
Fighting contrasting emotions, Valentine tilted his head slightly. “Thank you.”
With a wave of his hand, Dragon made to leave. “Don’t worry about it. There are other things you should know, but they can wait. Go back to your bride.”
“Dragon—” Valentine knew what he had to say, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth.
“Don’t worry, friend.” The Solarian sighed, then patted Valentine’s shoulder. “I understand, really.”
Valentine pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Dragon. “I apologize for my behavior. You’ve been nothing but a good guest and you saved my Blessed Bride. And even after I treated you like I did, you risked your life on the plains to bring me back Dallian.” He reached out his hand.
With a big, trembling smile, Dragon took the proffered hand and pulled Valentine closer for a one-armed hug. “I understand. If I had brides, I would be guarding them like the most precious of gifts. But rest assured I’d never disrespect your flower.”
“Go, have a warm bath. I’ll tell Aldo to send you something to eat to your chamber.” Valentine saw his majordomo at the end of the hallway.
“Much obliged,” Dragon said, then saluted him with a finger to his temple and headed toward the left wing and the guests’ quarters.
Valentine called him back. “And Dragon—”
“Yes?” The Solarian gave him a look from over his shoulder.
“Never enter my bride’s quarters again.”
Shaking his head, Dragon laughed and walked past Aldo.
Valentine waited for his majordomo to reach him. “Call the medicus. The Blessed Bride is awake.”
“Of course,” Aldo answered. “I noticed the Solarians have returned. I took the liberty to send warm meals to their quarters.”
“Very good.” Valentine couldn’t help but smile.
When he went back to Mirella’s bedroom, his mood had somehow lifted.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The smell of curcuma tea woke Mirella. She stretched her neck, then her arms, but when she moved her legs, dull pain made her stop and she opened her eyes.
Laura was sitting by the bed, her head lolling as her chin hit her chest. Startled, the girl straightened on the chair, and when she saw Mirella looking at her she jumped up. “Blessed Bride—”
“At ease, Laura.” Mirella smiled at her lady’s maid.
The girl seemed to be always jittery around her, but more so this morning.
“Breakfast will be ready in a moment.” Laura moved around the room like a tornado, picking up plates, arranging food, pouring the tea into a cup, spilling the yellow tea when her elbow hit the wall behind, and dabbing the beverage from the damask placemat with a napkin. When she finally had everything on a tray, she unfolded a mechanical bed table and placed it before Mirella. The metal contraption’s clockwork engine whirred before settling its spindly legs on the coverlet.
“I’m famished.” Mirella’s stomach had been gurgling for the last few minutes. With some effort she pushed herself up, pointing her feet over the silk sheets. The cuts on her legs hurt, and she yelped. At Laura’s worried expression, Mirella said, “I’m fine.”
“Let me help you.” The girl fluffed Mirella’s pillow, then added a second behind her back so that she could sit
upright. Her lady’s maid proceeded to butter a slice of bread as Mirella drank a few gulps of the restorative tea.
She had finished her breakfast when Valentine arrived, followed by Balenus.
“How does our Blessed Bride feel today?” the medicus asked, walking toward the bed as her husband waited at the door, leaning against the frame.
“Well rested.” Mirella smiled at Valentine, who smiled back.
Her husband’s eyes were of the color of smoldering amber. He crossed his arms over his chest and absentmindedly passed his hands up and down his bulging biceps.
“Let’s take a look at your legs.” Balenus raised both the sheet and the blanket from over Mirella.
The burnt logs in the fireplace had been replaced with fresh ones. Neatly stacked, they were ready to be lit in the cold evening hours, and her bedroom’s temperature was cooling. She only wore a slip and shivered.
“It will only take a moment.” The medicus removed the dressing from her left leg. “It looks better than I expected. Your nurse did an excellent job.” He checked the right leg as well, then gently pushed the collar of the slip aside to look at a big gash over her sternum. “Is it still tender?”
“It’s painful when I move, but considering that I smashed my chest repeatedly against the jagged edges of a beeds’ nest, I can count myself lucky.”
“Indeed, Blessed Bride, indeed. We all count ourselves lucky that you are alive and well.” Balenus pulled the blanket and the sheet over her. “The cuts on your legs will heal in a week or two alongside your bruises, but all in all, you can leave this room as soon as you feel well enough. I recommend short walks, possibly outside in the gardens, nutritious food, and most of all good company.”
The medicus left and Valentine finally approached the bed.
“How’s your draglet?” she asked him, patting the mattress.
Valentine unbuttoned his riding jacket, then lowered himself to the edge of the bed. “You can leave,” he told Laura, who bowed to both of them, then walked outside. “Dallian is fine—” he let the sentence dangle, his hands playing with the coverlet.
The Fifth Moon's Wolf (The Fifth Moon's Tales) Page 13