Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
The Jewel
Avelyn McCrae
Published by Abbie Zanders, 2017.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE JEWEL
First edition. December 26, 2017.
Copyright © 2017 Avelyn McCrae.
Written by Avelyn McCrae.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Jewel
Before You Begin
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Thanks for reading Viktor and Gemma’s story
About the Author
Also by Abbie Zanders
The Jewel
Dark and Sexy Paranormal Romance
by
Abbie Zanders (as Avelyn McCrae)
Before You Begin
Hi, and thanks for selecting The Jewel! I love reading paranormals, especially those that are edgy, sexy, and a little bit on the dark side, so I thought I try my hand at writing one, too.
Avelyn McCrae is the naughtier alter ego of Abbie Zanders. Since this story is a bit darker than what I usually write and doesn’t have the usual snark and smart-assery people have come to expect from Abbie, Avelyn was willing to step up.
If you like what you see, feel free to check my other titles and click the link at the back of this book to sign up for my newsletter, receive a free ebook, and get a chance each month to win a $25 gift card, just for being your awesome edgy-read-loving self.
Happy reading!
WARNING: This book contains some adult language and situations, and is intended for mature (18+) readers only.
Acknowledgements
Premade cover by Marisa @ www.covermedarling.com
Stock photos from www.depositphotos.com and www.pixabay.com
Professional editing by the incomparable M. E. Weglarz of megedits.com, a woman with a true gift for spotting plot holes, character anomalies, black holes, and other potential WTFs. Thank you, Meg, from the bottom of my heart.
Additional editing provided by C&D Editing (cdediting.weebly.com). A special thanks and shout out to Kris, who continues to amaze me with her mastery of tenses and how much she can accomplish in such a short amount of time.
Special thanks to my readers group, the Zanders Clan, and my awesome team of ARC Angels. I don’t know what I’d do without all of your support and encouragement.
... and THANK YOU to all of you for selecting this book. You didn’t have to, but you did.
Chapter One
Gemmalyn closed her eyes and arched her back as Viktor withdrew and plunged deep. His thick, hot length stroked and stretched her in the most wondrous ways. Her soft, feminine sounds of pleasure were punctuated with breathy sighs of bliss as she lovingly matched his rhythm.
She dug her nails into the hard ridges of his shoulders as he moved inside her. Muscles, honed from years of hard labor in the fields of his father’s land, bunched beneath her fingertips as she breathed in the scent of his ardor, a heady mix of male sweat and sex. There was nothing better than the feel of his heavy weight pressing her into the soft grass. Nothing sweeter than the way her Viktor made love to her.
His rapid tempo and the increasing force of each thrust meant he was close. Her anticipation rose as she wrapped her bare legs around him wantonly, lifting her hips to take even more of him. She squeezed around him in encouragement, wanting to intensify his pleasure, as well as her own. She craved the feeling of him emptying deep within her. She would never get enough of it.
With a final grunt, he shoved deep, sending a blaze of white hot heat right into her core. She cried out softly as she held him close, wishing they could remain like this forever. He held on just as possessively, embracing their passion as they rode out the waves together.
Once they surpassed the sharp peak, she began to descend slowly on a cloud of ecstasy while his cock pulsed out the last of his satisfaction. She stroked his back, loving these quiet moments after when she could feel his heart pounding against her naked breasts.
“I love you, sweet Gemma,” he murmured into her ear.
“And I you, Viktor.”
She soaked in every moment, memorizing every detail to hold on to until they would meet again. These stolen afternoon trysts had been fewer of late. Autumn meant long hours of reaping grain for him and gathering herbs and roots for her. Her mother had predicted a particularly bleak winter, and her mother was never wrong about such things.
Viktor brushed gentle kisses upon her lips. “As much as I would love to linger, my love, I must make haste. My absence will soon be noted.”
“As will mine,” she said on a sigh. Still, it was difficult to release him. Each moment away from him was spent in longing until she would see him again. Their love was the stuff of legends, pure and all-consuming. The only time she felt whole was when they were together.
With one last kiss, Viktor used those powerful arms to push himself away. She immediately missed the weight of his body and the kiss of his hot skin.
Turning slightly, she drank her fill of his beautiful, masculine form. Her sex continued to weep and tingle, craving his touch yet again. It was always like that. As incredible and satisfied as he made her feel, she would always want more.
Firm, masculine lips tilted in a knowing smirk as he caught her ogling. “Do not look upon me with such blatant desire, beloved, or neither of us will complete our tasks this day.”
Given the way Viktor’s eyes gleamed and dropped hungrily to her bare breasts, it would not take much to convince him to remain for a little while longer. A simple roll to her belly, a lift of her arse, and he would not resist, gifting her with another round of lovemaking, this time hard and fast ...
She shook those selfish thoughts away. Viktor was right. They both had responsibilities to be getting on with. Her mother awaited her return to add to their stores before the hard frosts, and Viktor’s father expected him to oversee the late harvest. It was important that Viktor remain in his father’s good favor. Soon, his father would gift him with his own parcel of land, and then they could begin their life together as man and wife. They would spend blissful nights in bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms. Perhaps even entire days ... Just the thought of it wrapped tendrils of warmth around her heart.
Gemmalyn accepted the hand he held out and arose. Her thor
oughly loved body protested, but it was an ache she gladly bore. Each twinge would remind her of her beloved and the wonderful ways he had made her body sing.
Viktor went down on one knee and gently wiped away the spend that clung to her inner thighs. Then he pulled her close and kissed her abdomen. “Someday,” he promised, “my children will nestle here.”
“Perhaps today,” she teased, tangling her fingers in his hair and holding him close.
He looked pleased by the possibility. “All the more reason to be prepared. It shouldn’t be long now, Gemma. Soon, I will have lands of my own, and I can make you mine forever.” He pressed another kiss to her skin. “And the sooner, the better. I cannot stay away from you, and I do not wish my firstborn son to bear the brand of bastard.”
“Are you so sure you will beget a son?”
“Yes.” he grinned. “Many of them, in fact. I’ve dreamt of it. Strong, healthy lads, and beautiful lasses, just like their mother.”
“I think you dream about the making of all those babies.”
“Yes,” he said, grinning unrepentantly. “That, too.”
She laughed, having had many of those same dreams herself. They would have a house filled with little ones. She couldn’t wait. Viktor was going to make a wonderful husband and father.
They scrambled around the glen for the clothing that had been discarded earlier in their desperate passion, dressing quickly. The sun had already begun its descent toward the horizon, which meant they had dallied far too long.
“When will I see you again?” she asked.
“Not soon enough,” Viktor said with one last kiss. “These next few days will be long and hard. An ill wind blows our way, and we must gather as much as we can for the storehouses before the storm arrives.”
Gemma felt it, too, the heavy press of something dark and foreboding in the air. Despite the warmth of the early autumn afternoon, a shiver ran the length of her spine as they reluctantly parted company.
“Think of me,” she called softly as Viktor disappeared into the woods.
“Always,” floated back to her.
She watched him for as long as she could, appreciating the confident gait of a happy, satisfied man. Only when she could no longer see him did she pick up her basket and slip away in the opposite direction.
Chapter Two
The ancient forest was usually a place of solace for Gemma, but not today. Gathering clouds overhead kept beams of sunlight from penetrating the heavy canopy, and the pleasant chatter of woodland life was noticeably absent. Normally vibrant and alive with pulses of natural magic, the cool air felt thicker; the living energy sluggish. Even daydreams of Viktor could not completely lift the invisible weight that had settled upon her shoulders and chest.
As the daughter of a witch, Gemma was particularly sensitive to such things. Her innate skill to sense and draw energy from the things around her was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing when that energy was positive and in harmony, like when she was with Viktor. She had no doubt that his love was pure; it fed her soul like the summer rains fed the crops. And when he loved her as passionately and thoroughly as he had earlier, the essence she carried around for hours afterward made her feel as if she could soar up to the heavens.
Today, the forest’s natural energy was infused with something darker. It wasn’t an entirely uncommon occurrence, as evil forces were always at work in the world. Predictably, negative energy wasn’t nearly as pleasant as positive energy, although being able to recognize it did have its uses. Anger, ill will, and malice often lurked beneath a smiling, false cheer, and being able to gauge someone’s sincerity was a useful ability. The trick of it was being able to recognize a possible threat without allowing the ill will to overwhelm her. Sometimes achieving that balance was difficult, akin to walking a narrow, treacherous path.
Her mother had given her an amulet to help with that, something to boost her natural shields when the darkness became oppressive. Gemma rarely had to use it, but today, she paused several times to rub the smooth stone hanging from her neck and whisper the protective enchantment.
Her unease continued to grow over the next several hours as Gemma gathered the herbs, roots, barks, and flowers commissioned by her mother.
Gifted with white magic, Catriona was the village healer. Many came to her for her brews, salves, and poultices. It was often said that the only ailments Catriona could not remedy were those inflicted by God Himself for His purposes and beyond the ken of any mortal.
While some kept their distance and watched with a wary eye, over time, most of the villagers had accepted their presence. The demand for Catriona’s skills kept a roof over their heads and food on the table. That was quite an achievement in their small village. Women, especially unwed women, rarely kept their own homes, but Catriona was a notable exception, and had become such a familiar sight in the community that few gave it a second thought.
Many of the village men courted Gemma’s mother, for she was still very young and beautiful, but Catriona rebuffed them all. Catriona said no man could ever hope to take the place of her true love.
Gemma didn’t know much about her father; she had never actually met him. Through her gift, though, she felt her mother’s sorrow and believed they had truly been soul mates.
Sometimes, when the moon hung full and round in the sky and they would venture out to collect night blooms, her mother would tell her stories. Stories of a beautiful, golden-haired man with eyes the color of the spiced mead she brewed and a smile that lit up the night.
Gemma once asked where he was, why he never came to see them, and her mother’s wistful, dreamy smile had grown sad. “Gone,” she had said. Then she had cried. Gemma never asked again.
Gemma used to have dreams about him. In them, he was a handsome prince, brave and fierce, and he would come on an enormous, regal white stallion with wings of golden flames and whisk them all off to his castle far, far away. The mornings after those dreams, Gemma would wake up feeling warm and happy, her father’s loving presence lingering well into the day.
It had been a long time since she’d had those dreams. They had been the visions of a child, and Gemma was no longer a child, but a young woman with plans to wed and start a family of her own.
That didn’t mean she didn’t think about him sometimes, though her thoughts were now less whimsical and more practical. Was her father still alive? And if so, why had he never returned? Had he been gifted, as her mother was? And if not, was that the reason he had gone away and left them?
It was a sobering thought. Not everyone was accepting of magic. There were those who believed anything out of the ordinary to be the work of the devil. Gemma had heard horrible tales of people accused of black artistry being stoned, drowned, or burned. That was why Catriona only used her magic for healing. Healers were accepted and respected. Witches were not.
Such ignorant prejudices were one of the primary reasons Gemma had never told anyone of her gift, not even Viktor. She couldn’t take the chance he might respond badly, as her father possibly had. And really, there was no reason to tell him. Her gift was easily hidden. No one ever need know the truth ... unless, of course, their children inherited some affinities of their own.
She rubbed her belly again, thinking of the day she would grow round with Viktor’s child. Ah well, she sighed. She would cross that bridge when they came to it. With the way they loved, babies would come along soon enough.
Chapter Three
It was nearly dark by the time Gemma approached the tiny cottage, and the chill in the air had deepened. She was glad to see the telltale flicker of their hearth, beckoning with welcome.
Voices drifted out of the window, carried on the light autumn breeze. To find someone visiting was not unusual—many people sought remedies of one kind or another at all hours of the day or night. What was unusual was the negative energy pulsing about the place.
As Gemma drew closer, she slowed her pace. The deep sense of foreboding she had been feeling al
l afternoon grew heavier with every step.
“As I have already told you, I cannot help you.” Her mother’s voice carried out of the open window, her tone tinged with annoyance. “What you seek is myth.”
“Do not test me, witch,” responded an unfamiliar, male voice. “I can scent your lie as easily as I can sense your magic.”
Fear gripped Gemma. Icy shivers raced up and down the length of her spine, propelling her forward as the instinct to protect her mother surged to the surface.
Who was in their home, accusing her mother of witchcraft? Were they in danger of having their secrets publicly revealed?
Gemma hesitated before the closed door, now certain that the dark energy she was feeling was radiating from within. Closing her eyes, she took a deep, calming breath and reached out with her senses, searching for the source. She found it easily enough, but it was odd. The energy signature was nothing like she had encountered before. It was cold, really cold, and strangely constant, lacking the normal pulsing ebb and flow of living energy she was accustomed to.
Before she could make sense of it, the door flew open.
“Ah, what do we have here?”
Startled, Gemma stepped back and looked up into the face of one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Tall, with coal black hair and piercing, light gray eyes, his skin was pale and flawless, nearly pearlescent against the expensive black cloak he wore. Handsome and frightening, he thrummed with the unfamiliar dark power. What’s more, he didn’t even try to hide it.
Gemma’s heart beat furiously against the walls of her chest as his eyes bore into hers, glittering and hypnotic. It was impossible to look away.
“A young witch,” he murmured, interest sparking in his colorless eyes.
Gemma’s skin prickled as she felt his penetrating gaze travel down then up the length of her body.
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