“How did he escape the stables?”
“Someone opened its stall and wounded its wings.” Valentine looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Who would do something like that?”
“I told you I have enemies.” His mouth closed in a hard line.
Aware he wouldn’t add anything to the topic, Mirella asked instead, “Will your draglet fly again?” Shifting against the pillow, she sat straighter.
“The medicus for the animals is confident Dallian will be whole again in a few weeks.” Leaning closer to her, he reached his hand to her cheek for a tender caress.
She closed her eyes, rejoicing in his nearness. “Lie with me.”
Valentine’s eyes shone red for a moment, but they were soon back to their bright hazel verging on green. “You should rest.”
“I rest better when you are by my side.”
He scoffed. “I can barely keep my hands off of you when I am at your side.”
“Then don’t.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“I’m cold.” She moved the sheet aside, showing him she had goosebumps all over her skin.
Valentine shook his head, then stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be back later.”
Laura entered the bedroom soon after he left.
“Stock the fire, bring me a heavier blanket, lower the dust-screens, and close the curtains,” Mirella commanded of her lady’s maid.
Coral’s pink rays were too cheerful, and Mirella was feeling blue. Despite all the cuts and bruises all over her battered body, her heart was the place where she hurt the most.
She drank the cucumber juice laced with the opiate powder prescribed by the medicus and slumbered the whole day. Every time she opened her eyes, Laura would be standing by the bed, asking her if she needed anything.
Mirella needed her husband, but in a universe where she could ask for the most extravagant services, the only thing she wanted was out of her reach.
A few days passed.
One afternoon, a knock on the door woke her from an oppressive dream. In her slumber, the Fifth Moon was shining, she was sitting atop a rock, and water lapped at her small island all around its perimeter.
To her further disappointment it was not Valentine, but a servant girl entering the bedroom, carrying a large square box wrapped with a white bow and a smaller one on top. Held in place by ribbons, a long stemmed wild rose had been placed in the middle of the larger box. The flower’s petals were mottled at the edges, white and deep carmine, resembling fresh blood spilled over white skin. The stem of the wild rose was full of thorns.
After leaving Mirella alone for so long, Valentine had sent an object instead of taking the time to visit.
“Put it there,” Mirella instructed the servant, pointing her chin at the low table by the arched window.
“Don’t you want to open it, Blessed Bride?” From the corner, Laura asked, looking at the box with curious eyes.
“Not now.” Even the mere sight of her husband’s gift caused Mirella’s heart to bleed anew. She turned on her side unable to escape the pain. “Take it away,” she murmured with her back to her lady’s maid and the box.
“Do you want me to store it in the closet?”
“Yes, please.” Mirella should’ve had the gift thrown away, but couldn’t find the strength necessary to utter the order.
Dinnertime was a silent affair.
Mirella nibbled at her food without tasting anything. Every time she brought a spoon of clear broth to her mouth, images from her last meal with her husband played back for her. Sad tears threatened to spill forth and she soon had to ask Laura to take away the tray.
Her lady’s maid didn’t leave the room, sitting on the chair by the bed and jumping up every time Mirella as much as sniffed. “Do you want me to call the medicus?” the girl finally asked, after Mirella tossed and turned, complaining it was too cold when the fire had been roaring bright yellow and orange for the last two hours.
“No, thanks.” Since the box had arrived, Mirella had only answered with either yes or no followed by please at every question Laura had thrown her way. To assuage the girl’s preoccupation with her wellbeing, Mirella turned one more time on her side, closed her eyes, and faked she was resting.
She eventually fell asleep, but nightmares kept her company and the wounds on her legs still pained her, rousing her from time to time. In the wee hours of the night, Laura convinced her to take a few sips from the glass she had prepared with the opiate. Afterward, Mirella went back to sleep, but her slumber wasn’t peaceful despite the medicine.
In the early hours of the morning, she felt the mattress dip on her back. From over the blanket, a large form shaped itself all around her body, spooning her in a warm embrace. Soft lips caressed the base of her neck while strong arms circled her waist. Finally comforted, she murmured Valentine’s name and relaxed into a serene nap.
When she woke the next day, she was alone. She would’ve chalked out the whole nocturnal experience as a pleasant dream, but a fresh cut, thorny wild rose was resting on the space behind her, where a big dent in the mattress confirmed her large husband had spent time in her bed.
The next two days were a faithful repeat of the last few.
If not for Balenus’ visits and Laura’s presence, Mirella would’ve been completely alone. She would fall asleep in her large bed, dreaming of her husband’s big hands on her hips, only to find in the morning a freshly cut rose where he had lain. He came during the night when she was deep in her dreams and left before she awakened.
Meanwhile, her bruises had become a shade of dark purple, and the wounds on her legs were healing nicely. The pain had abated and she didn’t need the opiate any longer.
On the morning of the third day, she ordered a bath to be drawn, and washed away her melancholy, deciding to have words with Valentine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A familiar tick-tick echoed in the hallway, and Valentine raised his eyes from the ledger he had been studying for the last forty minutes. His mind was elsewhere. The investigators hired by his security chief hadn’t been able to discover who was behind Mirella’s attack and Dallian’s accident, and he couldn’t relax. Snapping the mechanical cover closed so that it would lock numbers and secrets inside, he exited his studio, knowing who would appear around the corner in just a few heartbeats.
Valentine would’ve recognized his bride’s short but hurried steps anywhere.
When Mirella walked into view, the whole hallway lit up because of her presence. She carried herself like a queen, with her back straight and her chin high, and Valentine knew from the fire in her eyes that she wasn’t pleased with him. Her lady’s maid followed a step behind. At least Mirella had decided to obey him on that matter.
Instead of waiting at the door, he stepped toward her and smiled. His good mood surprised her. Excellent. When they were facing each other, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “Good morning, kitten,” he whispered, causing Mirella’s cheeks to redden as she nervously threw a look over her shoulder.
The lady’s maid immediately lowered her eyes.
Mirella’s lovely blush spread to her throat and reached the soft swell of her breasts. “Good morning, husband.” Her eyes locked with his. The fire was still there, sparkling with light-blue speckles in the expanse of green. But her chest rose in short, sharp intakes of breath, betraying her inner turmoil.
He looked at her parted mouth, then licked his lower lip and enjoyed how her eyes widened at his provocation. “Did you wish to talk to me?”
She cocked her head, pushing her chest forward. “If you have a moment to spare.”
Valentine wasn’t sure if his bride realized how adorable she looked when she acted all mighty and angry. He opened his arm to show her into his study.
“You can take the hour for yourself,” he said to the lady’s maid, who had stayed behind.
Holding the door for Mirella, he stepped
aside to let her pass, but couldn’t resist the impulse to grab her elbow and pin her to the wooden surface. His mouth hungrily descended upon hers and he pressed his body against her small form. Her scent and inviting softness spurred him into a frenzy as he pushed his tongue against the barrier of her teeth. His wolf whined in frustration because Valentine hadn’t torn her gown already. Only when she yelped did he remember the deep cut on her sternum.
“I apologize, kitten.” He kissed the point of her nose. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Mirella’s lips were red and swollen, and her hair was in disarray. In the heat of the moment, his hands had roamed all over her. His fingers had done short work of several of the barrettes holding her tresses in place.
“You’ll have to ask your lady’s maid to redo your hair.” He fingered a curl that had come loose from her severe coiffure. “Also, tell her to never repeat this style again.”
Without saying a word, Mirella’s hands went to the braid running from the top of her crown to the base of her neck and removed pins and barrettes with expert movements. A moment later, her auburn curls fanned all over her back. She looked wild. “Better?”
“Much.” Taking her hand, he closed the door behind them, then walked her to the sofa under the window.
Sitting properly, as if she hadn’t been pinned to a wall only a moment before and almost ravished, Mirella said, “Husband—”
He sat on the high-back chair next to the sofa to provide some space between them. “Before you tell me what you’ve come here to say, I wanted to ask you if you feel well enough to accompany me this afternoon.”
“To where?”
“Here. Our Solarian guests are leaving in three days, and I’m having a party in their honor tonight. I was wondering if you would like to attend.”
“Of course.” A smile graced her face.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll send my tailor to alter the gown I sent you.” He relaxed against the back of his high-back chair. “You were going to say something before I interrupted you. What was it?”
“It’s not that important anymore,” she said, standing. “I better go back to my apartments—”
“Wait.” He crossed his legs at the knee and rested his elbows on the armrests. Steepling his hands, he drummed his fingers.
“Yes?” Mirella frowned.
“Raise your gown to your waist.”
Startled, she stepped back and away from him. “What?”
He pointed at her voluminous skirt. “Up.”
Mirella’s chest rose and fell, her breasts pushing against the constraints of her bodice.
He raised one eyebrow and cocked his head. “Now.”
Her mouth opened, as if she wanted to say something, but no sound escaped her lips. Then she leaned and grabbed her skirt with shaking fingers, bunching the numerous layers of silk and lace higher. She uncovered her ankles, wrapped in black ribbons that reached her calves. Sheer stockings covered her skin that carried the faint marks of the beed’s attack. Her shapely knees were next. She then raised the gown over her thighs, where the stockings ended, hooked to fine garters.
He watched as she hesitated for a moment. Her eyes met his and she pulled the fabric all the way to her waist belt, baring her naked flower to him.
“You obeyed. Good kitten.” He made a come-hither gesture. “You deserve a reward.”
She stepped in front of him, confirming what he already knew. His wild kitten was ready for him.
“Hold the skirt up.” He splayed his hands on her bottom, pulling her closer to him, then leaned forward and kissed her, opening her petals, lavishing her with soft strokes of his tongue. He kneaded her flesh as he drove her to the edge, then he placed one hand between her legs, and entered her with a single finger. He caressed, licked, and thrust into her until she buckled against him and screamed his name.
“I won’t ever get tired of listening to your melodious voice.” He kissed her core one more time, a gentle brush of his lips over her nub, nothing more, but she whimpered and collapsed on his lap. “I enjoy these private concerts of ours very much.” He rocked her in his arms, leaving a trail of pecks on her temples, nose, lips, then her jaw, her earlobes until he came back to her mouth for a fierce kiss.
They remained in silence for a few minutes as he gave her time to compose herself.
Mirella rested against his chest and he could hear the tempestuous rhythm of her heart.
“Valentine?” she said, snuggling closer still, her hair cascading over his chest.
“Yes, kitten.” He pet her, enjoying her nearness more than anything else.
“Would you like me to kiss you too?” Her voice was small, and her fingers worried the hem of Valentine’s shirt. “Like you did to me—” she added, when Valentine didn’t respond.
“Do you know what to do?” he asked, amused.
She nodded. “Mrs. Claretta gave me lessons.”
“What kind of lessons?” His curiosity was now piqued.
Mirella had mentioned her tutor and her classes before, but he had not realized they might have been more in depth than he had thought.
“In those illustrations she showed me, there were a few where a woman kissed and touched her man… intimately.”
“And you want to kiss me and touch me that way?” He accompanied his words with a brief push of his loins against her bottom.
“Only if you think it would please you.” From the hem of his shirt, her fingers inched toward the leather belt underneath.
He raised her chin to kiss her, then said, “That would please me a great deal, kitten.”
Satisfied by his answer, she smiled.
“Show me what Mrs. Claretta taught you.” After one last peck, he let her slide between his legs and onto the floor, where she sat with her legs folded by the side.
Widening his thighs for her, he passed his hand through her hair. Timidly, Mirella’s fingers unhooked his belt and opened his pants, then she lowered the rough fabric only to find him more than ready to meet her. She looked at him from under her long lashes with a laughing light in her eyes.
He shrugged. “I told you I have a strict no-underwear policy.”
Her small hand tentatively touched him, then she looked up again, asking for guidance.
“Caress me,” he uttered as a jolt of pleasure initiated between his legs and radiated to his chest.
Reassured by his low growl, she wrapped her fingers around him and started stroking his length.
“Yes, like that.” He kept complimenting her, and she grew bolder, stoking his desire, exciting him until he felt he would burst.
His wolf howled to be released inside her, to mark her with his Vital Essence, to fulfill his biological mandate. Valentine ignored his inner beast. He caressed Mirella’s head with urgency and she upped her tempo, then when he was about to burst she dipped her head and took him in her soft mouth.
Raw pleasure consumed him. Wave after wave, he rode his release in an ocean of pure sensations. Soft. Hard. Wet. Warm. Tight.
“Mirella—” He opened his eyes to find her licking her lips with a satisfied expression on her face.
“Have I pleased you?” she asked after she delivered one last tender kiss as he had done to her.
“Greatly.” Reaching down, he hoisted her up and sat her on his thigh. “You’ve studied very hard, kitten.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brushing her hair, Mirella smiled at her reflection in the mirror.
She was extremely pleased with herself. Valentine had held her in his arms for a very long time, and they had quietly talked while they kissed and caressed each other. Maybe tonight, after the party, he would summon her to his chamber or would come to hers.
“The tailor is here,” Laura informed her from the doorway of the bathroom.
Closing the lapels of her dressing gown over her chest, she rose from the stool and sauntered toward her walk-in closet.
“Blessed Bride.” The tailor was a tall man in his mid-forties
with a deep voice and a crisp Southern accent. “Master Lobo told me you have a gown you’d like to be fitted.”
“That’s correct.” Mirella hadn’t had time to open the box she had relegated to one of the corner shelves a few days prior and was now curious.
Anticipating Mirella, Laura had already taken the package and placed it on the central island, where there was also the second, smaller box.
“If you could wear the dress—” The tailor gestured toward the larger package.
Laura stepped to the side to make space for Mirella, who loosened the bow and removed the lid of the box. Under a few veils of dust-pink tissue paper, there was a gown embroidered with tiny crystals. Made of the finest silk, the gown was of the deepest azure. She lifted the dress by the bodice and saw that it was strapless with a siren cut that would hug her thighs and flare at her ankles. The back was scandalously low and had a long tail.
“That is a Genevieve Lafrette,” the tailor said in awe.
“Is it?” Mirella asked, incredulous. She immediately looked for the tag inside the bodice that confirmed the tailor’s statement. Shocked, she almost dropped the dress. In her hands, there was a Genevieve Lafrette evening gown.
The Celestian fashion designer only made one gown a year and it was rumored it cost the equivalent of a small planet. The vampire had made a name for herself by catering only to heads of state and royalty. And now, to Mirella.
“I’ve never seen one of her pieces so close.” The tailor eyed the gown with a look that could’ve been confused for love. “May I?” He extended his hands toward the garment.
“Of course.” Mirella handed the dress, and the man reverently accepted it.
“Perfection.” He admired how the front was cut. With his finger, he traced the design of the embroidery. Then he studied the back for a few seconds before saying, “I’ve never seen a declaration of love more beautiful than this, Blessed Bride.”
Confused by the man’s extravagant proclamation, Mirella frowned but didn’t ask for elucidation.
“Please, if you could model it for me.” Arms outstretched with the dress wrapped over his forearms, the tailor bowed and gave the dress back to Mirella, who, speechless, walked behind the screen and removed her dressing gown and the slip she wore underneath.
The Fifth Moon's Wolf (The Fifth Moon's Tales) Page 14