Daughter of the Dark Moon: Book 3 of the Twin Moons Saga

by Holly Bargo

  The sleek head swung to look at the dim cabin, then back at Uberon. “What have you need of then?”

  “Her.”

  The unicorn chuckled, but Uberon did not smile. “I never thought to see the day when mighty Uberon whose veins flow with ice succumbed to his libido.”

  “Mate,” he corrected.

  “Mate?” The razor point of the horn bobbed. A cloven hoof stamped once. “You were already once mated.”

  “Aye.”

  “The fae get but one true mate each, if that.”

  “Aye.”

  The unicorn’s laughter rang out, inaudible to the ears of mundane humans who did not believe in such mythical creatures. “You want us to transform her for you.”

  “If you won’t, I will.”

  “Do you really think you have that power?”

  “Aye.” Uberon knew he did. All those thousands of years of scholarly immersion gave him the knowledge to access and exploit the power he’d need to effect the metamorphosis necessary for his mate to live in his world. Whether she would consent to it was another question, and not one that bothered him all that much.

  The unicorn eyed the calm, assured male standing unafraid before him and understood that the former king of the Unseelie Court most likely did have the power to convert his little human into fae.

  “We have never had two moon-borns at the same time. They are catalysts. The result may be unpredictable and possibly catastrophic.”

  “She need not be moon-born, merely fae. She has her own power.”

  “A human with power? How extraordinary.”

  “Bring her to us at the dark of the moons.”

  “No. I will bring her to you when she consents.”

  “You dare defy us?”

  “I will persuade her; but she will come at her decision, not yours.”

  The beast shook his heavy mane. “You play dangerous games, Uberon.”

  His lips curled in a smile that offered neither joy nor humor. “I’m a dangerous fellow and I don’t fear you.”

  And that, the unicorn decided, was the problem. Uberon respected little and feared nothing. The Unseelie king turned his back on the dawn swift and returned to the cabin, his elegant bare feet making no sound on the naked wood floor.

  Hearing the creak of the door open and shut, Corinne lay awake, covered only by a light sheet due to the heat of a summer’s night and the lack of an air conditioner. When she’d bought the cabin from her parents, she’d not thought of such mundane considerations as heating and cooling. Lying on her bed beneath an open window, she wondered if she ought to take out a loan and hire a contractor to insulate the thin walls. Winters in Ohio could get brutally cold and the fireplace in the center of the cabin provided the only source of heat.

  That thought brought to mind a brother’s naughty suggestion of “plugging in” to his fiancee on a cold winter’s night and the attendant vision of what she imagined Uberon looked like without his weird, medieval fantasy costume. He wouldn’t have appeared out of place alongside Viggo Mortensen in The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

  A shiver ran through her body. It felt like thrill, not fear, certainly not cold.

  When the hinges creaked again, she rose and padded barefoot across the bedroom floor. She pulled open the door a mere inch or two and goggled at the sculpted male beauty standing in her cabin. As though he heard her soft intake of breath, Uberon turned to look at her and met her gaze. His eyes narrowed, the corners crinkling, and he smiled. Another shiver rippled through her. That smile had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with lust. Heat pooled low in Corinne’s belly and the tissues between her thighs felt swollen and somehow achy. She took another breath and found herself suddenly and acutely aware of the gentle rub of her hardened nipples against the loose fabric of her pajama shirt.

  This, she knew, was arousal.

  Uberon’s thin nostrils flared as he inhaled, taking in the scent of her. He caught a hint of uncertainty, a fragrance of innocence. By the twin moons, his fated mate was innocent. How she had remained untouched both puzzled and delighted him, feeding his possessiveness and the urge to protect her from every inconvenience, every hurt, every ill.

  “You’re a virgin,” he whispered into the darkness, just loudly enough for her to hear.

  “Don’t remind me,” she retorted in a sour tone, belatedly remembering to close her mouth after speaking.

  “There is no shame in that.”

  “Says you,” she sighed with envy. How anything so utterly masculine and gorgeous could entertain an interest in her was bewildering. Of course, having five overprotective brothers and her father around hadn’t exactly encouraged romantic relationships. Hence, the cabin. Dad and her brothers trusted her ability to take care of herself more in relative isolation than if she were plopped in the midst of a busy city teeming with the dregs of humanity—or so they assumed.

  “It means you respect yourself,” he whispered, pride and possessiveness thrumming through every syllable of his charming, foreign accent. “It means you did not not waste yourself on an unworthy male.”

  “And you’re worthy, I suppose?” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

  “More than you know,” he answered as though stating mundane fact. The utter lack of pride puzzled her. “But you will understand.”

  She sighed and shut the bedroom door.

  Arrogant man thinks he can have me at the crook of his little finger, just because he looks like God’s gift to women. Her own grouchiness surprised her. Corinne attributed it to PMS and a history of watching her own handsome brothers reel in woman after woman with seemingly no effort at all. The frequency with which women threw themselves at her brothers disgusted and exasperated her, as did the cocky pleasure they took in taking advantage of what those women offered.

  “They’ll settle down when they find the right girls,” her mother had tried to reassure her. “Your father was the same way.”

  “Ugh,” she muttered and climbed back into bed.

  Uberon paid no mind to the closed door and his mate’s displeased reaction to his certainty that she would give herself to him, body, mind, heart, and soul. Fate exerted an influence nothing could escape. One might dodge fate for a limited time, but not forever.

  That was a lesson every immortal learned.

  He dropped the towel and lay down on the lumpy sofa. As Corinne had predicted, his height and the sofa’s length did not match. He paid that no mind either. Nothing as ancient as he endured life without learning to ignore minor annoyances. Pleased to be ensconced in his mate’s home, however temporarily, Uberon drifted off to sleep.

  When dawn sent its pearly light through Corinne’s bedroom window, she woke and again lay in bed and contemplated the man who had taken up residence in her living room. With the grumpiness that accompanied early morning and a lack of caffeine, she hoped he’d passed an uncomfortable night and woke up with aches and pains from having endured that lumpy sofa. With a groan, she levered herself off the bed and padded from her bedroom to the bathroom. A peek at the mirror had her grimacing. She washed her face and ran a brush through her hair and did not see a marked improvement.

  “Huh.”

  Corinne gathered her hair and wove it into a tight braid, securing the stubby end with a rubber band. She tilted her head to one side as she considered her appearance, then frowned with disappointment. Why did she care? Why was she suddenly worrying about how she looked just because a weird man in a fantasy medieval costume had shared a meal with her and spent the night on her couch?

  “I must be desperate,” she murmured to her reflection. With a sigh, Corinne squared her shoulders, stiffened her spine, and headed for the kitchen. She glanced at the sofa as she passed by. He wasn’t there. The blanket had been folded and set aside. But somehow she knew that he hadn’t left, not really.

  Years of experience lent her a certain economical grace as she filled a kettle with water and set it on the burner, took two mugs from the cabinet, and foun
d her tin of tea bags. She pondered the limited selection of tea, then decided that Uberon could either accept what she gave him or get the hell out of her cabin and not let the door hit him on his very fine ass on the way out. She shook her head, bemused at her unwonted preoccupation with the man’s physique.

  Soon, the kettle whistled. Corinne poured the boiling water over the tea bags, turned off the burner, and set the kettle back on the stove. The water would keep hot for a while longer. While the tea steeped, she sliced some bread and popped the slices in the toaster. She pulled out the smaller of her two skillets and set it on the stove. A few minutes later, she had two plates of scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

  “Your timing is impeccable,” she said as the cabin door closed behind her guest.

  Uberon raised an eyebrow at her carefully neutral tone and took a seat at the table.

  “There’s honey for your tea, if you want it,” she said, gesturing to the mason jar half-filled with honey—the wax comb still in it—that she’d purchased off a local beekeeper. “I’ve got milk and grapefruit juice if you want that.”

  “This is excellent, thank you,” he replied and helped himself to the honey.

  She nodded and poured herself a glass of juice, emptying the carton. Its acidity offset the sweetness of her tea with honey. They ate in silence.

  While clearing the dishes, Corinne said, “I’m headed to the market today.”

  Uberon nodded and silently helped with washing and drying dishes and putting them away. She wondered why he didn’t ask where anything went, then decided that he’d probably snooped through her cupboards while she slept. No matter. She had nothing valuable to steal, except for her computer.

  If he touched that, she’d kill him.

  She retreated to her bedroom to change into her usual summer attire: khaki shorts, short sleeved shirt, and gladiator style sandals. She liked that style: they didn’t slip off her feet and were comfortable to wear.

  “You’re going to swelter in those leather pants and boots,” she remarked.

  He glanced down at his clothing and shrugged. Before her eyes, his clothing changed to a masculine version of her own outfit. Corinne gasped and felt faint. Warm, strong hands grasped her upper arms and steadied her wobbly self. She felt the heat of him behind her and practically melted into his body.

  “You’re not the only one who has a few special talents,” he whispered, his breath blowing softly past her ear.

  Corinne concentrated on slowing down her shallow, rapid breathing. After a moment she sighed, once again having collected her wits, and said, “That’s a handy skill.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed and released his grasp on her arms.

  She immediately missed his touch and silently berated herself for acting like a ninny. Taking a breath, she said, “I usually ride my bike to the market, but since you don’t have one, I’ll walk.”

  Uberon liked her correct assumption that he would accompany her. She was his, and where she went he would go, too. Any creature, human or otherwise, that dared accost his mate would suffer. He liked knowing he could protect her, keep her safe and all to himself.

  Corinne fetched some cloth shopping bags and her wallet, stuffing the latter into a front pocket. She set off at a brisk pace that he easily matched. Because they walked, she took a shortcut through the forest. She couldn’t help but shoot covert glances at him as he moved with nimble strength, the impressive muscles in his legs flexing. When they came to a wide, shallow creek, he scooped her into his arms and carried her across.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” she laughed after a surprised shriek.

  “You’re mine,” he replied.

  Corinne made a rude noise in her throat and shook her head. She continued on her way and he walked beside her. The trail spilled out onto a two-lane road.

  “Winterset’s just another couple of miles east,” she said and wiped her forearm across her forehead. The day’s heat had already settled in. “We need a good rainstorm to cool things down.”

  Uberon said nothing.

  “There’s a diner in Winterset. We can get lunch there. They’ve got a mean BLT.”

  Uberon didn’t exactly know what a BLT was, but simply nodded and kept a wary eye out for careless drivers and speeding vehicles. Some aspects of this young woman’s culture never made sense to him no matter how many times he visited.

  He had to admit, though, he found humanity’s zest for life fascinating. He supposed that if the fae had such short lifespans, they, too, would suffer less ennui and embrace a more strongly spiritual philosophy. He knew some of the more discontented and self-absorbed fae had enjoyed the adoration of ancient human cultures. Zeus had been particularly needy and exploitive of that adoration, the conceited, bombastic, lecherous imbecile.

  Uberon didn’t miss him.

  However, he did find himself rather … libidinous … lately.

  “Corinne,” he murmured and halted her steps with two fingertips set lightly upon her shoulder. He noticed her responsiveness, even if she did not.

  She glanced up at him, lips opening to ask a question. He stalled the words with a tiny shake of his head. Corinne watched as he tilted his head sideways and listened. A moment later she, too, heard the murmur of voices accompanied by laughter. Three men soon tromped into view.

  “Well, if it ain’t little Miss Corinne,” the oldest of the three greeted with a tobacco stained smile nearly buried in his long, gray beard. “You off to the market this morning?”

  “Well, hello, Mr. Silas. Good morning, gentlemen,” she greeted, smiling and taking a few steps forward. The younger Mr. Silas smiled at her, eyes gleaming with appreciation. The youngest of the three who looked barely old enough to shave gave her a broad smile and a shy wave. “Yes, I am headed to the market.”

  “We’re glad to see ya, Miss Corinne,” the boy volunteered. “Mom’s got eggs fresh gathered this morning. I’ll run ahead and have her set back a dozen fer ya.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Joey. You let her know that I hope she’ll have brought some of her little pies, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” the boy said and jogged ahead.

  “Boy’s got a crush on you,” his father commented. He jerked his head at his father and added, “So does he.”

  “If I was forty years younger …” the older man began and waggled his bushy eyebrows.

  “Who’s that with you, missy?”

  “Oh, this is Uberon. He’s a friend,” Corinne answered, not quite ready to explain just what he was, because she didn’t know herself.

  “He don’t look too friendly,” Silas commented and glared at the Unseelie king. “You do right by little Miss Corinne here, or you’ll answer to us. We’re real fond of her. Ya hear?”

  Uberon nodded, a regal move. “Aye. I am glad my Corinne has such devoted protectors.”

  “You hear that accent?” Silas Sr. commented to his son. “What country d’ya think he’s from?”

  “Well, it’s lovely to see you, but I need to move on before I melt in this heat,” Corinne said and started walking.

  “We’ll walk with ya,” Silas Jr. volunteered and fell into step beside her. “Bears’ve been extra active this summer and Joey saw a rattler just t’other day. Somethin’s got the animals riled up, and you don’t carry no firearms.”

  His father nodded in approval. “Gladdie’s cousin Chester shot a bear two weeks ago. Bear meat’s too sweet for my taste, but mebbe you’ll like it. I’ll send Junior over with a roast.”

  He glanced at Uberon and recognized an elite warrior. He’d seen their like in ’Nam. He had a granddaughter who’d married one of them Army Rangers. Boy strutted like he owned the world, but he had that same alert air of readiness and danger about him. He also noticed that the tall man with the funny name—what the hell kind of name was Uberon anyway?—never moved more than six inches away from the pretty young woman who lived all alone in the cabin way over yonder. The old man caught the stranger’s gaze and held it with
out fear, assessing the danger he possibly posed to Corinne.

  “You watch over her,” he murmured as Corinne and Silas Jr. carried on a lively conversation centered on his and Gladdie’s eight children and fourteen grandchildren with another one on the way any day now.

  “She’ll come to no harm while in my care,” Uberson replied in a quiet undertone, according the old man a measure of respect he seldom gave anyone, much less a human. He decided to be grateful for the family’s extension of protection over his mate. They knew not what treasure they guarded from evil.

  Silas Sr. nodded, satisfied.

  The distance passed without incident. Father and son veered off to join Gladdie and Joey. Corinne paused to gulp some water from the thermos she carried and offered it to Uberon, who accepted it with a murmured word of thanks. He turned the canister so that his lip touched the exact place on its mouth as had hers. But she wasn’t watching.

  Wiping her arm across her sweating forehead again, Corinne said, “Vegetables and fruit first. Then baked goods. Then herbs, eggs, dairy, and meat. We’ll get lunch before I buy anything that needs refrigeration.”

  Because she seemed to expect a response from him, Uberon gave her a small nod. He followed her from stall to stall and waited patiently as she examined tomatoes, summer squash, onions, peppers, corn, and other summer vegetables. As she filled each shopping bag, she handed it to him to carry, saying, “If you’re going to accompany me and eat my food, then you might as well carry the groceries.”

  He voiced no objection. No wild animal would accost her while he was near. Only evil men would fail to recognize his protection, and he could easily deal with them.

  She led him into a diner and paused to enjoy the blissfully cool air conditioning before sliding into a booth.

  “Well, hey, if it ain’t our resident author,” the waitress greeted them, cracking her gum between her teeth. Her bright eyes turned predatory upon examining the handsome elegance of the man accompanying Corinne. “And who’s this? Ain’t one of yer brothers, is he?”

  “No, Tansy, this is Uberon,” Corinne answered with a laugh. “He’s just visiting.”