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

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Daughter of the Dark Moon: Book 3 of the Twin Moons Saga Page 4

by Holly Bargo


  “He’s not a warlock.”

  Corinne’s friend sighed with relief. “Good, ’cause you can’t trust them.” Another pause. “What is he, Corinne?”

  “He says he’s fae.”

  “Fae.”

  “Yeah. Fae.”

  “They supposedly died out a couple of centuries ago. Too much iron around for them.”

  “Well, he says he’s not from here.”

  Another pause.

  “Alessia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why is it you believe in stuff like this when even my Great Aunt Helen doesn’t?”

  “I knew you’d ask me eventually,” Alessia muttered. She heaved a breath and answered the question that had been a long time in coming. “My mother’s Wiccan, my dad claims his mother’s father was a selkie. And—you promise you’ll say nothing to anyone?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve seen them. Remember that summer I visited Italy with Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  Alessia’s voice lowered to a whisper. “We stayed for a couple of weeks with his mom in the village where she grew up. It was … educational. And I saw a man walk in from the sea. He was beautiful … and … he promised me gold if I would marry him and bear his children.”

  “You obviously said no,” Corinne said.

  “Um … no, I didn’t. Dad saw me and confronted him. It wasn’t pretty, but he agreed to give me some time.”

  “Some time?”

  Alessia sighed. “I was twenty-one, infatuated with paranormal romances, and the whole thing seemed so amazing, incredible, and romantic.”

  “You’re twenty-four now.”

  “And I go back to Italy in October.”

  “Your twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll go back to Italy. I can’t hide from him … he said my soul called him from the sea.” She sighed, paused, then continued. “As much as I’m enjoying Gio and Sal, I’m not sure I want them, like, you know, forever.”

  “A selkie, Alessia.”

  “Yeah. They’re said to treat their women well.”

  Corinne thought back to a book Alessia had shared with her during their senior year, A Kiss of Shadows by Laurell K. Hamilton. The heroine had an intimate relationship with a selkie who didn’t unleash the force of his pure nature upon her until after she’d been doused with Bronwyn’s Tears. Corinne shivered, thinking about Uberon and the way he’d given her a tiny glimpse of his nature.

  “He claimed you, didn’t he?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Oh, honey, once one of them decides you’re his, there’s no escape. Make the best of it. I intend to.” She hesitated and asked, “Look, if I go to Italy earlier than planned, he’ll come to me. Maybe he’ll figure out who your guy is.”

  “Unseelie Court,” Corinne whispered. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Lessi. Don’t cut it short for me.”

  Alessia gasped, obviously remembering Hamilton’s Merry Gentry series. “Unseelie?”

  Corinne licked her suddenly dry lips. “He doesn’t feel evil. I don’t get those vibes from him.”

  “But he’s not all sweetness and light, either, is he?”

  “No. He’s pretty intimidating.”

  “I’ll bet,” came the dry response. “And what rank does he occupy in the Unseelie Court?”

  “King,” Corinne whispered, her voice hoarse with dread.

  “You realize that Hamilton’s books are fiction, right?”

  “But they feel pretty accurate.”

  “Yeah, they do, but …”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “You know, Corinne, I still read paranormal romance. There’s a general consensus among them that if one of them claims you as his mate, then he’s pretty damned serious. There’s a lot of writing about mates sharing souls and stuff like that. It’s unlikely he’ll treat you badly.”

  “That’s fiction, Lessi.”

  “But it’s pretty much all we got.”

  “It’s said the fae can’t lie. That much I remember. Get your Unseelie king to vow to cherish you and he’ll keep that vow.”

  “That’s the best I can hope for, isn’t it?”

  “Honey, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’”

  Corinne’s giggle carried the sound of hysteria. “That’s what he said.”

  “Fucking Shakespeare.”

  They ended the call on that ominous note. Corinne placed the receiver in its cradle and stared at the phone, wondering just what she’d gotten herself into. She rubbed her face, then rose as though every joint ached. Pulling the damp towel from her head, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror while working a comb through the long, damp tresses. As was common for gingers, her fair skin burned quickly, so she kept her exposure to the sun at a minimum, wore wide-brimmed hats, and used sunscreen with religious fervor. Even so, her complexion had a light golden hue right now at the apex of summer. She contemplated braiding her hair to keep it tidy, but dismissed the thought and decided to leave it loose. After all, why bother to have such long hair if she kept it bound all the time?

  Corinne took a deep breath, smelled the mouthwatering fragrance of supper, and gathering her courage to confront the tall, powerful male in her kitchen.

  She wished she could go backward a day when she thought him merely an unusually tall and handsome man. When she had confidence in her small magics to protect her. When she met his gaze without trepidation. When she thought she had a choice.

  The hinges squeaked when Corinne opened the bedroom door.

  “Your friend is correct.” Uberon’s deep voice floated to her. “The selkie will treat her well. They make devoted mates and fathers.”

  Anger sparked.

  “That was a private conversation.”

  “I have excellent hearing.” He turned off the gas burner and moved the skillet to the table where he set it upon potholders. “Sit. Eat while the food is hot.”

  She obeyed, unable to think of any reasonable objection not to do so. He poured them both glasses of water and took a seat across from her.

  “Ask your questions. I shall not lie to you.”

  Myriad questions raced through Corinne’s mind, but she voiced on the one of utmost importance: “Do I have a choice?”

  “For as long as I can give it to you,” came the evasive answer.

  “What does that mean, Uberon? Either I have a choice or I don’t.”

  He met her gaze without flinching. “Free will is sacred to me.”

  She nodded, understanding from what he did not say that free will was about the only thing that he held sacred. “But?”

  “But there are … compulsions … that even I cannot resist indefinitely.”

  “Compulsions?”

  “I lost my son because I allowed him to act of his own free will. I split the fae realm because I refused to coerce my own people.”

  “Why would that split your realm?”

  “Law and its enforcement has limits if it is not to become tyranny: national defense and protection of property.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I gave my people leave to make their own choices, to govern themselves, except for violation of one another’s property and to protect their country. They often made poor choices, and those choices brought darkness and hardship to them. That is one reason why my realm became known as the Unseelie Court.”

  “What has that to do with me? Us?”

  “Mogren, king of the Seelie Court, currently works to reunite the Unseelie Court with the Seelie. We shall once again be one nation, one race, one people.”

  “And?”

  “And I shall have no place there. But I cannot linger here for long, nor do I wish to do so. This realm is … tainted.” He picked up his fork and gestured to her. “Eat. You are weary and need to rebuild your energy.”

  Corinne wished she could argue. W
ith a small sigh, she stabbed a piece of sausage and brought it to her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and said, “I still don’t see what that has to do with me or us.”

  “Your denial will … pressure me until I must succumb.” He blinked. Corinne could have sworn his eyes flashed red. “If that happens, the aftermath will not be pretty.”

  “You’d rape me?”

  “No, I would destroy myself before doing that. I vowed never to harm you and nothing—nothing—could make me break that vow.”

  “So, either I accept your claim or you die,” Corinne said in a flat tone as she jabbed her fork at a green bean. It rolled away from the tines. She jabbed at it again.

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t put that kind of responsibility on me.”

  “I will not force you to accept me.”

  “Don’t you think that telling me that you’ll self-combust if I don’t accept you is a form of coercion?” she snapped.

  “Would you rather I prevaricate and mislead you?”

  “Yes!” Corinne sighed and shook her head. “No. No, I don’t want you to lie—hey, you’re not supposed to be able to lie.”

  “Myths aren’t necessarily true.”

  “So, you can lie. Huh. I’ll have to let Alessia know.” She put the evasive green bean in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “What happens if I die without accepting you?”

  “If you die without accepting me, then, assuming I have not already ‘self-combusted’ as you term it, I will eventually do so.”

  “So, you don’t know how long you have?”

  “No.”

  “Then you can’t give me, say, twenty-five years to make up my mind?”

  “There is no standard time table or schedule for this, at least none that I have ever discovered.”

  “Damn. That’s not helpful.” She looked up from her plate. “And you won’t just go away until you’re ready to explode?”

  He gave her a shark’s smile. “No.”

  “Figures.”

  The conversation died for a moment. Corinne forced a few more bites down her throat before she voiced another question: “Will I be able to come back and visit?”

  “Unfortunately, no. In order to make the transfer to the fae realm, you will need to be transformed. The transformation disallows your return here.”

  “That’s hardly fair.”

  “I can ask a boon of the swifts. Perhaps they could assist.”

  “The swifts?”

  “The dawn and midnight swifts, the most ancient and most powerful beings in my world.”

  “Swifts? Like birds?”

  “Unicorns.”

  “Unicorns,” she echoed. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  But he didn’t look like he was joking or pulling her leg.

  “You’re serious.”

  Uberon nodded.

  Corinne sighed and set down her fork. Raising her gaze to his, she asked, “Is there anything else you want to tell me tonight?”

  “Your hair looks beautiful left loose like that. I cannot wait until I see you wearing nothing but those tresses.”

  Heat immediately blossomed between her thighs and a rosy flush rose from her upper chest to spread over her neck and face. Her heartbeat quickened and her breasts suddenly felt swollen, heavy, and aching. Her center throbbed. Her breathing turned shallow. The scent of her sudden and powerful arousal filled the air. Corinne watched Uberon inhale deeply of it. His silvery eyes glittered and he seemed to expand and coil at the same time. The sharp musk of his arousal rose in the sultry air. It made her mouth water and played havoc with her need for independence.

  “Ask the swifts. I won’t abandon my family. I need to come back, to visit with them,” she rasped, unable to deny the compulsion to accept this male as her mate and equally unable to simply yield to their reciprocal need.

  He nodded and shimmered into nothingness.

  “I will have your answer tomorrow,” came the soft whisper. “And then I will claim you.”

  She bowed her head and pressed her lips together to keep from answering with a needy yes.

  CHAPTER 5

  Corinne did not see Uberon until the next evening. She spent the day working and taking care of her clients’ projects, glad to have the flexibility and opportunity to work on a remote basis. Otherwise, she would have been stuck in a cubicle farm or department store floor somewhere regretting every minute of her employment. Working remotely, clients neither knew nor cared about her young age: they only cared about the results of her efforts on their behalf.

  At the end of the day, she logged off all social media, closed her web browser and software, and shut down the machine. Rolling her shoulders and head to work out the stiff kinks, she rose from her small desk and padded barefoot to the kitchen. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she took a moment to decide whether she wanted to wait for a roast or whether grilling made the better option. A waft from a cookout rose from a neighbor’s yard over the next hill decided for her: grilling it was. Corinne pulled out a couple of pork chops, figuring Uberon would show up sooner or later and bring his appetite with him.

  After seasoning the chops, she lit the grill and then walked back into the kitchen to chop vegetables for a salad.

  “Damn it!” she muttered as a radish rolled away and the knife nicked her index finger.

  A newly familiar masculine hand covered hers and raised it. Corinne wanted to lean back into the male heat she suddenly felt behind her, but Uberon moved aside and brought her bleeding finger to his mouth. Eyes gleaming, eyelids heavy, he sucked on it. Corinne gasped at the rough velvet of his tongue against her skin combined with the heat of his mouth and the pull on her finger. She watched open-mouthed as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow and thought that, surely, he couldn’t be sucking that much blood from her finger.

  Corinne shivered as electricity zinged from her hand through her body. Uberon pulled her finger from his mouth and gave the wet tip a slow lick.

  “All better now,” he murmured and turned her hand so that she could see the healed wound.

  Corinne’s throat worked, but no sound emerged. Her tongue couldn’t form words. Her brain felt like so much melted butter.

  Uberon’s heavy eyelids lowered even further and his mouth stretched in a satisfied smile. He took the butcher knife from the counter and slashed his thumb. A hiss escaped his teeth as the steel burned his flesh.

  “Open,” he commanded as he brought the bleeding digit to her mouth.

  Feeling helpless to resist, Corinne opened her mouth just enough for him to slide his thumb inside. Her lips closed over the knuckle and her mouth suddenly exulted in the strangely sweet and spicy effervescence that filled it. She sucked and swallowed, basic instinct taking over. Heat fizzed through her body and made her clit tingle. She shivered again as erotic pleasure rippled through her.

  That feeling had to be better than sex.

  “Not even close,” he murmured as though he’d caught her thought.

  Before she could voice a retort, he leaned down and, pulling his thumb from her mouth and covered her lips with his. Inhaling deeply, she surged against him, rising to her toes and clutching at his shoulders with both hands, desperate for more, more, more. A low chuckle of triumph and satisfaction floated on the sultry summer air, and the deposed Unseelie king slanted his mouth over hers. Without breaking the kiss, he dipped a shoulder to scoop an arm underneath her thighs. He straightened, holding her body in his arms.

  “Accept me,” he whispered, his wet lips moving against hers.

  She reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of his head, fingers tangling in the long, coarse silk of his black hair, and tugged, lost in the passion he aroused in her.

  “I need your words,” he insisted, his voice guttural with the effort to allow her the freedom to choose him.

  “Yes,” Corinne moaned in reply.

  Triumph surged. Uberon slanted his mouth across hers again, deepening the kiss to sweep the hot,
wet velvet of her mouth with his tongue. She moaned deep in her throat and stroked her tongue against his, demanding her own taste of him as he carried her to her bedroom and, more importantly, the bed that awaited them. A whisper of his will made their clothes vanish as he lowered her to the mattress. Corinne mewled as he dragged his lips along the pristine line of her jaw to the sensitive, tender skin behind her earlobe where he paused to nibble and suckle. She undulated beneath him, hands alternately clenching the defined, lean muscles of his upper arms and shoulders and smoothing across the satiny skin marred by the occasional scar of a long-ago injury.

  She would learn that such scars indicated nearly mortal injuries, for nothing short of lethal could leave such an enduring mark on his silver-engraved hide.

  Uberon wedged a knee between her legs and made a place for himself there. Kneeling between her legs—which had the added advantage of opening her to his gaze and touch—he bent over Corinne and cupped the side of her head with one large hand and stroked her silky skin with the other. She sighed as his warm hand caressed her and gasped when he cupped the soft weight of her breast.

  Corinne thought she’d never felt anything so delicious as the gentle kneading of her breast until Uberon’s thumb swiped across the rosy, beaded tip. Without conscious thought, she arched into his touch in nonverbal demand for … for … she wasn’t quite sure for what. Oh, she knew what sex was. No modern woman could avoid that, especially one who enjoyed reading romance novels. She knew that climax lurked beyond what she had already experienced, but she could not imagine anything feeling better than Uberon’s touch upon her skin, Uberon’s kisses, the heat of his body hovering over hers.

  Dimly, she realized that she moaned and mewled and whispered hoarse pleas for more. She bit off a yelp when his fingertip glided through the slick petals between her thighs. Her hips bucked, seeking more of that scintillating, exciting touch.

  “So lovely,” Uberon murmured as he stroked her thighs and feasted his eyes upon her sex. He slid backward and bent downward, inhaling deeply of her musk. He brought his hands inward and opened her with his thumbs. Her incoherent cry made him smile as another surge of triumph mingled with lust, affection, and a compulsion to claim this female as his for eternity. He slid his thumbs along the wet lips of her sex and, resting his forearms across her thighs to hold her captive, he moved forward and ran the flat of his tongue the length of her weeping slit.

 

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