Lost Moon

by Dana Davis

  “You are hopeless.”

  “Ah, that’s what I like about you, Kepriah, never hold back what is on your mind. Even with someone who could toss you behind iron bars.”

  It did not sound like a threat so she did not take it as one. Instead, she chuckled and stood. “If that is all, I have family matters to attend to.”

  “Right.”

  “Until tomorrow, Royal Damon.” He tilted his head to her and she did the same, the sign of mutual respect. Interesting. Did Damon see her as an equal? More likely, he was trying to entice her to stay and become his wife. Wait until he learns my true identity.

  “Oh, Kepriah?” Damon called as she headed out.

  She turned back. “Yes.”

  “This will set us even again.” From his tone, she knew that once they left Sleep she had better not show her face here again unless she wanted to be arrested. Or worse, wedded to him. Her bounty must be too tempting, even for Damon. His eyes rested on the jeweled scepter again.

  “Understood.” She hurried out, surprised he had not asked more about it.

  The night was still early, so she took her leisure and detoured through several halls. Her sisters’ emotions pressed against her senses all the time now but at least they had relaxed a bit. A hot bath and decent meal had done wonders for them both. All that previous tension had Kepriah worked into knots and she rolled her shoulders as she walked to relieve some of it. But she knew exactly what she needed.

  One guard, a man with graying temples, headed her direction and she remembered him from her last visit here. Ruggedly handsome, he reminded her of soldiers with which she had spent her youth. No doubt, he would be a good sard. Since he was headed away from the nearest post, she took a chance and stopped in the middle of the hallway, right in his path, and gave an exaggerated nod. He stopped about six feet from her and returned the gesture. She then pulled her tunic back enough for him to get a look at her scar that snaked across her shoulder. He lifted his tunic and showed her one across his belly. She pushed the scepter under one arm and made the sign, two fingers laid flat in the palm of her other hand.

  His eyes lit and he smiled as he returned the signal. Three strides brought him to her and he motioned her down the hallway. His eyes drifted to her scepter as they walked side by side but he said nothing. Probably thought she stole it during a raid.

  She kept her strides long to keep up with the taller man. “You off duty now?”

  “Let those younger fellows take care of the night watch.” One large arm motioned for her to make a left turn down another hall. He stopped in front of the second door.

  “You must be important to sleep here.” Most guards slept in the barracks away from the main house.

  “Royal Damon likes me. I remind him of his father.”

  She snickered. Years ago, Damon’s father hired her for an army that never went into battle, and she had seen his portraits around the palace. This man resembled him all right, enough to be a relation.

  “I am Kepriah of Landerbury,” she said once they were in his apartment. Warriors did not lie to one another, not if they wanted to see another day with all their parts intact.

  If he had heard of her bounty, he did not let it show. “Praxon of the Cities of Sleep.” His green eyes became humorous and he smirked. “I am Damon’s cousin.” He removed his weapons and armored vest then began to take off his clothes. “My mother and his father were first cousins.”

  Kepriah leaned her scepter against the wall. “That explains the family resemblance.” She unlaced her tunic and slipped it over her head.

  “Yes. Royals Danuel and Catrin took my mother in after my father was killed. Mother helped raise Damon after Catrin died.”

  “Ah. Then you have a home for life, I suspect.”

  “More than most can say these days. I was grown by then and on assignment with my father’s old regiment. But I always returned here between jobs.” He stood stark naked now, except for a thick silver chain around his neck. Several old scars stood out in various places but the one she noticed most ran along his inner thigh, just missing his family jewels.

  He glanced down. “Yeah. That one almost cost me future pleasures.”

  “I wager it did.” It had to have been a painful slice and her own scar tingled in sympathy.

  Praxon grinned and his eyes locked in on her naked breasts. His muscular body and ample member sent chills through Kepriah and she shed the remainder of her clothes, letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor.

  Without another word, he retrieved a pig bladder from his side table and tossed it on the bed. He then grabbed Kepriah and pressed her body close to his. They kissed hard as hands ran up and down each other’s naked flesh, squeezing and pinching. Kepriah’s womanhood throbbed and Praxon’s touch sent fire through her blood. But they would not rush this. This was a dance, one warriors everywhere knew, and it got more exciting as it went along.

  He shoved her onto the mattress and trapped her wrists above her head. She brought one leg around his thighs and pushed with her body weight to flip him over. Here, she sat on top of him, her wrists still trapped in his strong grip. There were still several moves to go before he would enter her, and she looked forward to the rest of the dance.

  ****

  After they had spent themselves, Praxon discarded the pig bladder and collapsed back onto the bed. Kepriah rested her head on his strong shoulder. Bruises would appear soon, if they had not already started to show, and she smiled. “Just what I needed.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “Me, too.” Not many women here and I do not believe in sarding children. I like my women full-grown. With muscle. Or at least a good amount of flesh to grab onto. I thought it would be me and my hand for a very long time.”

  Kepriah sighed. “I know what you mean. Much better with a partner. And I prefer partners with hard flesh between their legs.”

  “Even better with a fellow warrior. City women are fragile. Even some of the whores do not appreciate our dance.”

  That got another smile from Kepriah. She had never been one for tenderness in bed. Flashes of Jakon’s touch popped into her mind and she wondered what it would be like to bed him. Interesting, at the very least.

  “Oh, by the way,” Praxon said. “I do not believe the drivel about you killing Rochar’s family. I have known Damon a long time and he is a good judge of people, like his father was. When he heard about it, he told me that he did not believe you did it. That was good enough for me.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Even though she believed in a warrior’s word of truth, her heart raced. And he was Damon’s cousin. Everyone knew blood was thicker than a stranger’s accusations. Well, if the family has any honor. She would do anything for her sisters. Even die for them. Jakon, too. They had all become her family.

  She glanced at the rust-touched clock on Praxon’s hearth and sat up. “I should get back.” She dressed and retrieved her scepter.

  Praxon showed her to the door in just his skin. “I am here anytime you want a good sard.”

  “We are staying a few days. I might take you up on that.”

  He grinned and tiny lines appeared around his eyes and mouth. “I look forward to it.”

  She waited until he shut the door before sauntering back to her apartment where, much to her surprise, both her sisters were sitting on her bed. The doors that connected her apartment to each of their rooms stood open. Patrice had a grin on her face but Larisa’s cheeks blushed as red as a royal tapestry.

  “What are you two doing here?” She shut her door and leaned the scepter against the wall.

  “As if you didn’t know,” Patrice uttered. “You could’ve warned us, Kepriah. Not that I’m complaining. But what if we’d been in public or at the dinner table or something.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kepriah let out a hardy laugh when she realized what Patrice meant. “Oh, jabber shit! I did not even think.”

  “Obviously.” Patrice joined in on the laughter.

&n
bsp; After another minute or two, Kepriah composed herself enough to notice Larisa again. The woman sat with her mouth open, staring as though her sisters had gone completely mad. Her embarrassment waved against Kepriah’s senses. “Larisa? You okay?”

  The woman nodded and her golden hair caught the firelight. “I would have preferred to find out on my own,” she said in a soft voice. “But at least now I know what to expect.” Her cheeks reddened again. “Is it always that violent before the pleasure?”

  Kepriah did not feel angry that her sisters had felt her tryst with Praxon. “I figured you for a virgin.”

  A horrified look crossed Larisa’s features. “Kepriah!”

  “What? We are sisters now. And no, warriors have a special way of doing it. I will find you a nice tender man to—”

  Larisa sprang to her feet. “You will do no such thing!”

  Kepriah held up her hands in defense and smirked. “All right, you can find your own man. But you had better do it soon because I plan on visiting Praxon again.” Both sisters’ eyes widened and Patrice grinned. A wave of anticipation crossed her senses from her youngest sister and she raised a brow. “What bird did you eat, little cat?”

  “I like that librarian I met at dinner. Maybe we should all get laid at the same time. That way there will be no surprises for any of us.”

  “Patrice Aurora Gray,” Larisa scolded. “Not you, too?”

  “What? I like men as much as the next woman and I’m no virgin, but it’s been a while for me. Don’t be such a prude, Larisa. There’s nothing wrong with sex.”

  Their middle sister just shook her head. “You are both incorrigible.” Then she gave a shy grin. “Though, I have to admit, it was exciting.”

  That sent Kepriah and Patrice into guffaws of laughter again.

  “We will make a woman of her yet,” Kepriah said when the laughter died down.

  Patrice grinned. “You betcha. By the way, you did use protection, didn’t you? Please tell me this world has something to keep women from getting pregnant.”

  “Of course. We have herbs and such and Praxon had a bladder in his drawer. I always carry my own, washed and ready for use.” She patted her tunic where a hidden pocket had been sewn inside. “Just in case.”

  Patrice frowned. “Gross! I mean, I knew back in history condoms were sometimes made from animal parts, but you reuse them?”

  Kepriah shrugged. “Until it leaks. I wash it, so now who is being the prude?”

  “Back home we call them condoms and we throw them away after each use.”

  “That’s pretty wasteful,” Larisa said.

  Kepriah eyed her middle sister. “And just what do you know about bladders?”

  Larisa’s hands went to her hips. “I am the daughter of a healer. Just because I have never taken a man to my bed does not mean I’m ignorant about pregnancy and disease.”

  “You got me there, little sister. Well, since you are so damn knowledgeable, get yourself a man. There are plenty around here. Maybe one of Damon’s elderly servants is your type.” She grinned when Larisa’s eyes widened. “You will not have to worry about him being too forceful.”

  “That is not funny!” Despite her protests, a thoughtful gaze danced in Larisa’s eyes. “Besides, I am not attracted to old men. At least not that old.”

  “Why not? They could probably teach you a lot.”

  Larisa’s face grew dark. “Enough. I will not listening to any more of this.” She stormed out and slammed the door that connected her apartment with Kepriah’s room.

  Patrice sighed. “Now you’ve done it.”

  “She will get over it. I refuse to spend the rest of my life not having sex.”

  “I’m with you there.” Patrice stood. “Well, it’s late and I’m exhausted.” She grinned. “Thanks partly to you.”

  “You are very welcome.” Kepriah was beginning to realize they had more in common than either of them was willing to admit.

  Patrice waved a hand above her head as she disappeared into her room and closed the adjoining door.

  Kepriah chuckled to herself. The thought of her sisters sensing her with Praxon had not even crossed her mind. She could feel each of them right now. Larisa’s irritation mixed with excitement and embarrassment, and Patrice’s blissful yet amused state. Distance did not seem to matter, except that the connection grew a bit lighter. No matter how far they strayed from one another, they would always be linked. This is going to be one hell of an interesting life.

  Chapter 19

  As Patrice slept, she roamed through her Alaska home, searching for something. She couldn’t remember what. The aurora light outside her windows roiled and pulsed. Her bedroom seemed oddly distant and grew darker with each step she took. Finally, she made it to her bedroom, stripped off her clothes, and climbed into bed. The blankets grew heavy and Patrice found it difficult to breathe. She tried to free herself from the blankets but couldn’t budge them. Panic filled her when she realized she couldn’t breathe at all anymore, not even a gasp.

  Suddenly, her eyes flew open to find someone’s hand clamped over her nose and mouth. Panic swelled. She squirmed and kicked but he sat on her chest as another hand moved to her neck.

  “Quiet,” a strained male voice said. “Scream and I will kill you.” It was too dark to make out his features silhouetted against the fireplace, but hair hung to his shoulders and he smelled of liquor and man sweat, a pungent combination that made Patrice want to retch. “Understand?”

  Her bladder felt full and adrenaline roared in her ears but she managed a nod.

  “Good.” The hand covering her mouth and nose moved enough that she could breathe and she took in quick gulps of air, trying to clear her panic, but the sour smell made her gag. “Do as I say and I will not hurt you. Disobey me, and you and your sisters will have a hard time doing anything without your heads.” A cold blade caressed her throat for an instant and she felt a sharp pain, hot, followed by something warm oozing down her neck. She sucked in another quick breath then closed her eyes and fought the urge to whimper. “That’s a good girl.” He discarded the knife someplace and his right hand began to roam down her body, reaching into her slip until it clamped onto her left breast. “Very nice.”

  “Please,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t.”

  “You are so young and firm, you can hardly expect a man to ignore you. Especially in this city.”

  “No, please. Please. I have some money. It’s yours. Just please, leave me alone.”

  Hot breath found her neck as he leaned his face close. “I will take your coin, woman. But I want this first.” He pinched her nipple and a whimper left her lips.

  She had no doubt he would kill her. Reason with him. She swallowed hard. “We should at least use protection. I don’t need any babies.” He froze and she thought she had made a terrible mistake. Oh, shit. Her bladder felt as though it would burst. His hot, acrid breath touched her neck again and she trembled.

  “That’s a good idea. I do not want brats, either.” He kissed her neck. “Glad you have decided to cooperate.”

  She closed her eyes as a tear fled into her hair. “Yes. I’ll cooperate. Just don’t hurt me.”

  “I have a bladder in my coin purse. I will get it after you do something.”

  Her heart thudded against her ribs and she wanted to retch again. “What?”

  “Reach into my pants, woman, and stroke me. Go on. Do it.”

  “Please.”

  His blade returned to her neck. “Do it.”

  Patrice lifted her trembling hand and her ring caught the firelight. She had been so frightened that she’d forgotten all about the ring. She closed her eyes again and moved her hand toward the man’s crotch, all the while concentrating on calming her mind.

  The knife had moved from her neck and a hand squeezed her left breast until she whimpered. “Stroke me, bitch. Or I will ravage you right now.”

  She was out of time. Please let this work. In a sudden burst of clarity, her mind f
ocused in on the ring and her hand trembled with power. She held the ring steady, sent a whip of air lashing outward, and snapped it back toward the man’s face.

  He howled in pain and fell sideways, just enough that she squeezed out from under him. She made for the door but her head snapped back when he grabbed her by the hair.

  “You bitch!” He threw her onto the floor, yanked her slip up around her middle, and forced her thighs open with his knees.

  Patrice’s ears pulsed with adrenaline as she desperately tried to focus on the ring again. He leaned over, putting his entire weight on her. Please work. Please. Tears sprang to her eyes as she willed away terror so she could focus. A flash nearly blinded her and the weight was gone. Someone tried to lift her but she fought, screaming and scratching, as she tried to clear her eyes of the white spots that swam in her vision. Her nails caught something and she heard a male grunt as she shot to her feet. He spun her and trapped her arms against her chest, pressing her back to him. Warm breath touched her neck and she stomped on the foot. Her bare heel hit a boot and pain shot through her leg.

  “Stop! It’s Jakon. You must calm down! Stop now. You are all right, Third. Calm down.”

  The room came into focus and she sank to the floor, Jakon kneeling beside her. A shadowy form was lighting the lanterns. Kepriah. She had the scepter in one hand and a sulphur stick in the other. Larisa sat on the floor and held out her arms. Patrice pulled from Jakon, clung to her blonde sister, and sobbed.

  “Hush, sweetness,” Larisa crooned. “You are safe now.”

  Tears fled down Patrice’s hot cheeks as Larisa rocked her and caressed her hair. Someone wrapped a blanket over her but she kept her face in Larisa’s shoulder, sucking in the sweet scent of bath water and lavender soap. Her sister’s smell, the scent of warmth and safety, and one she vowed she would remember for the rest of her life.

  After a while, her crying began to dissipate and she took in long breaths to clear her head. Anger and concern from her sisters ignited her own rage, hot and furious, and she stumbled to her feet, ignoring Larisa’s pleas to remain still. “Where is he? Where’s that son of a bitch?”