Temple of Luna 2: Savage Need

by Moira Rogers

  “Sorry, Zahra. The high priestess outranks everyone within the walls of the Temple, even you. And my orders were clear.” Boots scraped against the floor, and Jarek lunged, diving between her and the intruder with an angry growl.

  “No!” She came to her knees and pounded the floor with her fist. “Damn it, wait outside. Leave the door open if you must, but go away.”

  Balthasar had a dart gun aimed at the wolf. For several endless moments there was no sound but the low, angry rumbling from the wolf and the harsh breathing of the guard. Then he sighed and lowered his hand. “By the Goddess, girl, you’re going to get me killed.” But he backed away until his footsteps took him out through the doorway.

  She breathed a sigh of relief and held out a hand to Jarek. “Please.”

  He trembled but he came to her, inching across the intervening space with most of his attention still fixed on the door. Only when Balthasar stayed safely outside did he bump his nose against her hand.

  Sadness welled in her again, and her hands trembled on his fur. “My Goddess, Jarek. What did you see?”

  Terror. Desperation. I’ll never be enough.

  The thoughts echoed in her head, and she started as she realized they’d formed a bond, a telepathic link. Images flashed in her mind, memories that must have belonged to him, and she covered her face with her hands. “No.”

  Blood, so much blood. Disjointed cries, pleas. Screams. A sob tore free of Zahra when she realized the memories were of children, wounded and dying.

  Dying.

  I’ll never be enough.

  Magic swelled, along with the pained sound of another transformation. Too soon to be smart, too soon to be safe, but when she opened her eyes she saw Jarek through her tears, kneeling on the floor and panting for breath.

  He looked up at her with eyes shot through with pain, and struggled to speak. “Don’t look — you shouldn’t see —”

  “I’m sorry.” She threw her arms around his neck. “No one should. I’m so sorry.”

  His shoulders shook. He curled in on himself as if he hurt — and he had to hurt with two transformations so close together — and bent until his forehead rested against her thighs.

  Zahra bent over him, barely noticing when the door closed quietly and Balthasar’s footsteps receded. She cried with Jarek — for the things he’d endured, for the women and children who had died. For the atrocities he hadn’t been able to stop or change. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  The connection between them hadn’t closed, and she felt the wave of revulsion that threatened to drown him. “My fault twice over. My fault every way that matters.”

  Because the men who had lost their grip on sanity had been under his care. “Even the priestesses can’t always stop the animal from taking control, darling. No one can, not with so much bloodshed. It isn’t possible.”

  “If I’d forced them out of combat earlier…” His voice broke on a ragged growl. “I was tired. I was tired, and two dozen people died for it.”

  No one was perfect. Unfortunately, as healers, their imperfections all too often led to death. “You’re not infallible, Jarek. Not one of us is.”

  The sharp ache inside him wouldn’t be easily soothed by words, not when the black depths of it threatened to swallow her whole. Jarek shuddered under her hands, and one thing became clear.

  He wasn’t headed back to the front lines anytime soon. He needed help, the kind she couldn’t offer as a priestess of the Temple of Luna. The kind she couldn’t even offer as a healer.

  “We’ll find someone to help you,” she whispered against his hair. “It will be all right. Someday, it’ll be all right.”

  She only hoped her words were true.

  Chapter Three

  Sanctuary.

  To the east, Jarek could see the Temple of Luna, set up on its hill as if the priestesses who lived there needed to be just a bit closer to the Goddess they served.

  As a healer, he’d always found the duality fitting. The House of Sanctuary and the Savage Temple, built on the same earth and serving the same purpose. But only the strong made the trip up the mountain to heal their souls.

  The broken stayed with their feet firmly on the ground.

  Having the Temple looming over him was its own brand of torture. Jarek tried. He went through his daily routine, met with the therapist who picked at his emotional scabs until they bled.

  He even allowed himself to be manipulated. The healers attempted to draw him into complicated cases, prodding him to consult on patients who required little personal interaction. As deft as the attempts were, Jarek was no fool. They were rebuilding his confidence, one brick at a time.

  Or so they thought. They had little way of knowing they were building on a foundation of sand. Something inside him had snapped, had shattered so completely he doubted anyone could find enough of the pieces to put him back together.

  But he tried. He tried because every few days he’d glance up at the Temple, and the reminder was enough. Zahra’s duties as a priestess and the traditions of Sanctuary kept her away, but she’d made it clear during their last brief conversation that if he needed her, she’d come to him.

  He needed her. He needed her with an intensity that terrified him, especially when he knew he had nothing to give in return. No brilliant career, no warrior strength…

  And no money. No position. His status in their world had come from the sharpness of his mind and the skill of his hands, from the healing magic inside him that he could no longer bring himself to use. Without it he was nothing more than a lone wolf, the poor son of a farmer who had never been strong enough to fight with tooth and claw.

  Jarek had promised himself he wouldn’t call for her. But they were sending him home in the morning, back to the quiet of his family’s territory, where no one needed his skills for anything more serious than accident or illness. A place to heal his soul.

  A place where he’d never be good enough for her.

  He was leaving, and he was too weak to go without seeing her one last time.

  Her shoes made no sound on the stone path, but he heard the whisper of her robes even before he caught her scent on the breeze. “Good afternoon, Jarek.”

  “Zahra.” He loved the way her name sounded. Hated that he might not get to speak it again after today. He turned and found himself smiling as he caught sight of her. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome.” She stopped in front of him, her hands on his arms in lieu of an embrace. Her smile was friendly, but something warmer burned in her eyes. “How have you been?”

  “Better. Better every day.” He lifted a hand to cup her cheek because he couldn’t stop himself, and he didn’t care what rules he broke. It wouldn’t matter tomorrow. “But they don’t think my mind can heal here. They want me to go home for a while, and I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”

  Her smile didn’t waver, but her eyes darkened. “That should be very relaxing. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  “It’s a farm, Zahra.” And the fact that she thought it would be relaxing emphasized the stark differences in their upbringing. “I imagine I’ll work very hard and be tired at the end of the day, but no one will need me to save them.”

  “I suppose I don’t know much about farm life.” A bit of rueful self-consciousness crept into her smile, but she tensed as she spoke again. “Can I keep in touch? Write or call?”

  He needed to tell her no. He needed to cut all ties, because the leading healer in their world might have had the slimmest of chances, but a poor farmer too scared to use his gifts had none. In a few short days she’d be as out of reach as Luna herself.

  And his beast didn’t care. His beast had claimed, so he groaned and did the same. The fingers brushing her cheek dropped, slid around the back of her neck until he could fist his hand in her silky hair. He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her, plying her lips with his tongue until she slid her arms around his neck and opened her mouth with a moan.


  Zahra clung to him, kissing him desperately, her body pressed close to his. Finally, she dragged her lips to his ear with a soft cry. “One word,” she whispered. “Say it, and there will never be anyone else for me, no matter what happens.”

  A bride of silence. Fully half the men in their world went to war until they were forty. Those fortunate — or unfortunate — enough to fall in love before their twentieth year had two choices: take a mate he’d spend the next twenty years separated from, or break all ties and let her find happiness with someone who could be there.

  Ten years ago, he’d left Zahra behind. He’d let her go without saying a word, without planting false hopes that might prompt her to wait for a man who might never come home. She’d had men. He’d had women. They’d moved forward.

  He knew in his heart neither of them had moved on.

  Jarek drew in a deep breath and curled his arms more tightly around her. “Six months,” he whispered, already hating himself for his selfishness. “I can’t handle forevers, but… I need six months. Six months where I know you’re still mine.” Six months to become a man who dares ask a King for his cousin.

  “Yes.” She didn’t argue or offer him more, though she trembled in his arms and he knew she wanted to. “Six months.”

  “Trust me.” It was foolish to ask when he barely trusted himself.

  Her lips feathered over his cheek. “I do.”

  “And call me?”

  “Every day.”

  “Zahra.” He turned his head and caught her mouth again, kissing her hard enough to fall into her, to brand her taste in his memory.

  She molded to him, her feminine softness the perfect counterpoint to the hard planes of his own body. He smelled the salt of the tears tracking down her face before he tasted them, and he groaned and pulled back. “Don’t cry.”

  She nodded and bit her lip. “I have to go.”

  And he had to let her. He smoothed the tears from her cheeks with his thumb and smiled. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “As soon as you’re settled.” She caught his hand and kissed his palm. “Goodbye, Jarek.”

  If he didn’t let her go now, he’d forget how. So he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles in return, then released her. “Be safe, Zahra.”

  She nodded and turned away. “You too.” Her shoes whispered over the path as she hurried off, leaving him wrapped in her scent and aching for her.

  Six months. If he wanted to be worthy of a King’s cousin in that time, he had work to do.

  ———

  Zahra laid her napkin over her plate and rose from the King’s table. “I need a favor, cousin.”

  Rais arched an eyebrow from his seat at the head of the table. “So that’s why you finally came to dinner after all my invitations.”

  “Your summons, you mean.”

  He waved a hand. “Same thing.”

  “Rais.” The young blonde seated at her cousin’s side had the same easy smile and open friendliness Zahra remembered from her days at the Temple, but Avani also seemed possessed of a short patience for her new mate’s ego. “We’re all very impressed that you’re the King now, I promise. So stop being an ass.”

  Zahra’s own nervousness kept her from sharing her new Queen’s smile. “It’s about Jarek.”

  He finished his wine and nodded. “The healer? The one you went to school with?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her for several long moments before a small smile began to play at the corners of his mouth. “And what about Jarek the healer?”

  “Rais.” Zahra’s cheeks burned at the teasing, but that wasn’t what made her hesitate. Suppose he said no? “I’ve promised myself to him, and I want your blessing.”

  He said nothing.

  After several tense moments, Avani sighed and gestured impatiently at the chair Zahra had vacated. “Sit down. That’s his stubborn face, which means you might as well be comfortable.”

  Her cousin’s jaw was tight. “When did this happen, Zahra? When he visited the Temple?”

  “Then,” she admitted carefully, still standing. “And — and a long time ago. I’ve always…” She clenched her hands into fists. “You don’t have to be all right with it, Rais. I’ll stay away from him if it’s my King’s wish. But I’ll be alone.”

  Rais rose and walked over to stand in front of her. He grasped her upper arms and bent until they were eye to eye. “I didn’t say no. I only wanted to make sure this wasn’t too fast for you.”

  It had been so many things, but not fast. “I’ve loved him for years.”

  He glanced at his wife, who smiled gently. “If she went to school with him, she’s loved him longer than you’ve known me.”

  “Indeed, she has.” His eyes softened, and he kissed Zahra’s cheek. “You have my blessing.”

  Relief made her weak, and she sank back into the chair after all. “That’s all? You don’t have questions?”

  He laughed a little as he refilled his goblet. “You’ve never been the type to need to answer to anyone, cousin. I lay my trust in your judgment, as always.”

  He offered her more wine, and she didn’t refuse. Now that her impossible question had been answered, she didn’t quite know what to do.

  But Avani did. She lifted her glass with a laugh. “You’ll forgive me if I wish your intended all the luck in the world. Your family has more in the way of good looks and charm than is entirely fair.”

  Zahra smiled. “Jarek still has some healing to do. But when he’s ready for me…”

  She’d be more than ready for him.

  ———

  Zahra pulled her rental car to a stop on the gravel drive outside the plain farmhouse, but there was no one in sight. She gathered the tin of cookies from the passenger seat and headed for the front door, but the sharp ring of an axe cleaving through wood stopped her.

  She followed the sound behind the house and found Jarek, bared to the waist, chopping wood. His muscles tensed and flexed as he swung, and she had to suck in a sharp breath. Though they’d gone no longer than a few days without a video call over the last few months, she’d still forgotten his sheer magnetism.

  She had to shake herself from her reverie as he swung the axe again. “Hello, Jarek.”

  His back went tense. He lifted the axe and embedded it three inches in the stump in front of him and then turned, his face wary, as if he didn’t quite trust his eyesight. For several moments he simply stared at her while the breeze tugged at her hair. His nostrils flared slightly and his gaze dropped to her hands, and a smile curled his lips. “I know I’m capable of hallucinating you, but I doubt I’d conjure up your mother’s cookies, as enchanting as they are.”

  His smile gave her the courage to cross the space between them. “When my mother found out I was coming to see you, she wanted to send her regards. I told her this was the best way.”

  “I was just…” He gestured to the axe, and to the ramshackle farmhouse. “My brother-in-law took my sister and the kids into town to run errands, so I was trying to pitch in. The barn’s high tech, but the house still has fireplaces.”

  She nodded, her hands trembling. “It’s a beautiful place. And it’s — it’s good to see you again.”

  His gaze flicked to the farmhouse again, and something in his eyes tightened. “It’s not much. But it was home, I suppose.”

  It was clear he hadn’t wanted her to see where he lived, and a surprising pain splintered through her. “Should I not have come?”

  He started and covered the space between them in a heartbeat. Strong arms closed around her, pulling her against a solid, warm chest. “I’m sorry. I’m glad to see you, sweetheart. I am.”

  Zahra didn’t want to let go. She dropped the tin and clung to him, her face buried against his shoulder. “I should have called, but I missed you. I needed to see you.”

  “My house isn’t fit for the King’s cousin,” he whispered, the words muffled against her hair. “He told me once to stay away from you. That I wasn
’t good enough.”

  It sounded like the sort of thing Rais would say — a casual, offhand comment delivered without a thought to how Jarek might take it. “He must have changed his mind.”

  Jarek went stiff against her. “He knows?”

  He sounded almost scared, and Zahra pulled back to look up at him, her own heart pounding. “Yes, and he’s given us his blessing.”

  Strong fingers fisted in her hair. He groaned and crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her with the heat and need that had kept her awake at night, wanting.

  It was the first time since speaking to Rais that she allowed herself to really understand what had happened. “I can have you,” she whispered against Jarek’s mouth. “You’re mine.”

  “And you’re —”

  “Jarek?” It was a woman’s voice, followed by the sound of a slamming door. “I thought I heard a — oh.” The woman — his mother, if age and family resemblance were any indication — stopped at the corner of the house and stared at them with wide, shocked blue eyes.

  Jarek kept one arm tight around her body, but he let out a tiny, resigned little sigh and whispered an apology against her hair before lifting his head and smiling. “Zahra, I’d like you to meet my mother, Chandis. Mother, this is —”

  “I have eyes.” Jarek’s mother rushed forward and reached for Zahra’s hands. “Oh, it’s such an honor to have you here. But Jarek didn’t tell me —” A slashing look at Jarek, who sighed again. “— and nothing’s prepared.”

  Zahra’s hands began to tremble again. “I was insufferably rude,” she confessed. “I didn’t tell Jarek I was coming. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “A wonderful surprise.” Chandis squeezed her hands in a hearty grip, and it looked like only sheer force of will kept her from dragging Zahra into a hug. “You just keep her out here for a few minutes, Jarek, so I can tidy up the kitchen and heat up the kettle. And make sure you bring in enough wood to build up a good fire. Can’t have the King’s cousin catching cold just because your father can’t stir himself to pay for modern conveniences.”