Melisse did not break her stride. After the threat of her own death so close at hand, a ghost posed little danger to her.
As she drew close, she saw he was simply dressed, if not raggedly so, and appeared far more substantial than phantom had any right to be.
She walked steadily toward him and as he stepped free of the foundation’s shadows, he turned squarely to face her. What Melisse saw then made her stop in her tracks.
The man looking back at her looked very familiar, only far older with a deeply lined face and snow white hair. The eyes, though, they were the same steel grey that haunted Melisse as she never stopped reminding herself of her refusal of a good and noble man.
The two of them stood there a long moment before Melisse chose at last to speak.
“He believes you died that day.”
The old man nodded his head, sadness welling and blurring the hard steel of his gaze.
“I should have. Both of us should have. What I unknowingly wrought that day was nothing less than a crime against nature herself and the wound bleeds on and on.”
Melisse did not respond and the old man looked away, surveying the bleak, barren landscape that surrounded them on every side.
He patted a flat rock next to him and said, “Come sit with me, child. I would tell you a tale about a young man and the young woman who loved him. I would tell you about the folly of the father whose foolish ambition knew no bounds.
“And when I have done, I will ask you for just one thing.”
“Yes,” Melisse said as she moved to sit beside him, “And what will that thing be?”
“I will ask for your aid to end it all. “
The End
The Marechal Chronicles continue with Volume V, The Tower of the Alchemist
The broken tower that stood hundreds of years in the past lies before Melisse like a curse long since uttered and forgotten.
She is a low born woman struggling to come to grips with the fire burning in her heart and the magic she holds in her hands.
Yet she has come to the Tower of the Alchemist in search of the missing past that once belonged to the Marechal de Barristide, a man who hunted her, then saved her as only a hero could.
In return, she would use her power to aid him and find the memories he has forgotten. Little did she realize that she would find so very much more and that it truly is the kind of knowledge that cuts like knives no matter who dares to seek it out.
The tragic past of the Marechal unfolds before her like phantoms resurrected and in the end she is faced with a choice more bitter than she could have ever imagined.
This is Volume V of the Marechal Chronicles, a tale of dark fantasy and magic, a story of passion and of love so strong that it sunders a hero’s heart forevermore.
And concludes with Volume VI, The Crucible
Treachery and subterfuge are all that remain to the man once known as the Marechal de Barristide. Alone, bereft, he plunges into darkness among thieves and criminals, his quest become a deadly threat all its own.
The game he is about to play will be his last and most dangerous. His own soul is at stake while he risks honor and identity in a final gambit to end his centuries’ long hunt.
A grim promise must be kept, but Melisse knows doubt. Little does she suspect that mastery of her own destiny is an illusion as dark powers intercede and twist her to their will.
Both hero and heroine find their paths turned by forces in opposition thus becoming pawns in a greater game of ensnarement and manipulation.
Separately, then together, they will at long last confront their common destiny — a diabolical horror that will stop at nothing to destroy them both.
An Excerpt from The Marechal Chronicles: Volume V, The Tower of the Alchemist
And sooner or later, as he knew he would, he would hear a quiet rustle of leaves or the faint sound of a twig breaking and then he would feel the feather light touch of a graceful hand slip under his elbow.
The scent of her was just as intoxicating as the first time they had walked through the forest together and if there were times when they were content to simply walk, not speaking, then these were moments of grace that the alchemist’s son had come to treasure despite his misgivings, despite what the young woman represented for him.
This day his father had resumed his work in earnest. Etienne had come to recognize the febrility of his movements, the posture that straightened his old man’s stooped back when he had decided to fully take up his useless pursuit once again.
Thus, it had been an easy decision to leave the tower, walk past the forgotten stones lying in wait for him and his hammers, and pass into the dappled light of trees on the path to his heart’s desire.
He was not disappointed.
“Are you real?” he asked in a murmur. He meant it in jest, but felt a tickle of fear that kept his voice low in anticipation of her answer.
The light grip at his elbow tightened momentarily, then relaxed.
“Of course I am.”
Her hand had appeared as if from nowhere and the scent of her, fresh and clean, lifted the corners of his mouth just as a good morning kiss might have done.
Etienne stopped and turned to look down at the woman at his side.
“I would so like to believe you. So very much.”
She nodded, then reached out for his hand to take in her own.
Then she lifted it and placed his hand upon the center of her chest, his palm down and between her breasts.
“Then feel me, Etienne. This is real.”
He heard the meaning of what she said. She spoke of herself and she spoke of them.
Like a young stallion balking before the danger it sensed, Etienne changed the subject.
“Where do you go each night, Myri? I find myself lying awake safe and warm in my father’s tower, and I can’t help but wonder about you.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled with the smile she gave him then and it was a thing just as intoxicating as the perfume of her presence.
“Why, each night the spiders come by the hundred and they weave for me a downy berth upon which I might lie.”
Etienne frowned, then could not help but smile as she went on.
“I have the stars overhead for my roof and if the air is too chill, then weasels, rabbits, and badgers make a truce between their nations and come to nuzzle against me to keep me warm until the night is done.”
Etienne felt her lean closer to him. Her movement was subtle, yet the touch of her body against him was like fire.
“And should the clouds come to fill the starry sky and loose fine rains upon me like tiny jewels pouring down from faraway kingdoms, then all the owls for one hundred leagues round come to shelter me with their great wings, and they whisper to the rabbits at my side that they need not fear for this night they are as safe as I am.”
He reached for her chin with his free hand and tipped her head up to look at him.
Eyes of azure looked steadily back into his own, and Etienne could imagine that what he felt then might have been like what it is to drown.
“I would shelter you, Myri,” he said as he put his arms around her.
“I would keep you warm.”
He bent to her, and she did not turn away.
The taste of her was sweeter than any fruit. Her lips were softer than he could have ever imagined.
“The rains would not have their way with you in my embrace,” he murmured, the sensation of his lips brushing against her lips as he spoke a velvet touch that deepened his breathing and made his heart pound.
Myri’s hand lifted up to Etienne’s chest in a gesture to mirror his.
And then she pushed him away from her, her eyes never breaking their hold, filling all his vision even as she forced him away.
“Yet I must ask myself,” she said, “And the wind, the trees, or anything else that would hear my words other than you, how can this beautiful man break my heart and deny all that is proof to the contrary of the ways of the wo
rld? How can this man who would steal my kisses tell me that no magic exists in this world?”
Myri dropped her gaze, lowering her head as if bowing to his inevitable reply, and Etienne felt the strength of her obstinacy lessen in the face of what he might say next.
"Perhaps, then I must admit at the last that I have been mistaken."
Her breath caught as she looked up.
What she surely saw in his eyes was what he felt. Open, honest sincerity. She searched his face and he did not flinch from her regard.
"I do not lie to you, Myri. What is more, I pledge to you that no lie shall ever pass my lips with you before me."
She shook her head, disbelief plain in her eyes.
"You do not mean this. You say that you would keep the rain from having its way with me, but the truth is you tell me anything so that you might have your way with me."
Etienne sighed.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. For this, you must trust me. But, I repeat that I know now that I have been in error and while I still doubt the kind of magic of which you speak, of another, I am quite sure.”
Myri’s eyes widened as she heard the truth in his words.
“And what is this magic that you have come to believe?”
He did not hesitate to answer her.
“It is the magic of two souls that join. It is the magic of the heart that fills me with such fire that I cannot sleep at night. It is the magic that brings me to my knees before you, beautiful woman from the wild.”
Etienne dropped to his knees then and looked up to her.
“I speak of the magic that no one can deny once they have felt its touch. I speak of love.”
Myri stepped close to him, then took his bowed head in her hands and clasped him to her belly.
“Etienne, do not jest. Do not make of me and what I feel for you a game.”
The alchemist’s son dared not breathe. He felt it as surely as she did, they had come to a pivot point from which neither of them could ever return unmarked.
And then she was sliding down his body, her hands moving to his shoulders. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she went to her knees with him, a willing reflection of the man before her.
He looked at her steadily and murmured, “I would not dare, Myri.”
And then her mouth was on his, hungry, strong, almost violent. She reared her head back in an instant and he saw her blue eyes flash.
“I dare. I cannot help but chance the danger you represent.”
Etienne did not understand what she truly meant, but he understood the message of her hungry mouth all too well as she went to his lips again.
All their hard words washed away from them. The tension that had been building flowed down their arms and into hands that deftly undid Etienne’s buttons and untied the sash at Myri’s waist.
They were like those lost in the desert, the answer to their thirst within reach and they both seized it as they seized one another, in desperation, with a primal need from which all logic fled and they became savage things that cared nothing for the reasoning of men.
And then, as the thought of what they were about to do penetrated their mutual haze of lust, they became a man and a woman once more.
The rhythm of their movements slowed as they forced themselves to savor the moment, to taste to the fullest an experience that they would always remember.
Myri’s skin was unblemished. Pale, creamy flesh that yielded beneath Etienne’s hands. She was soft yet he felt lean, corded muscles within her lithe body in the same way he saw stiff determination barely hidden in her azure gaze.
If her eyes softened then as she watched him spread his shirt out upon soft ferns for them, he could not forget the force of her, the power she seemed to have over him, telling him all the while that he had been wrong.
But for this, he knew there was no mistake.
He could never regret the truth that burned in him then.
The woman who slipped the tunic from her shoulders at that moment had magicked his heart away from him, and all that he saw in her was a reflection of the same.
She burned for him as much as he did for her.
Etienne admired the nuances of the woman before him. Her lips were a rich, deep red, while the nipples upon her breasts were of the palest rose, a delicate color that aroused him more than the sight of any woman ever had.
“Your beauty ... ” he began to say before she interrupted him.
“ ... is at your disposition,” she finished...
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Other Books Available by Aimélie Aames
Divine Fornication--The Complete Collection (An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves)
Episode 1--Seduced by the Angel
Claire Sawyer's life is about to change in a way that she never could have imagined.
Blind since a terrible childhood accident, she dies for the second time in her relatively short life only to find herself in the arms of an angeli being.
Is he her guardian angel, or the monster responsible for the deaths of her parents so many years ago?
Claire will search for her answers as she is swept up into events involving the divine and their relation to the vampires and werewolves that she encounters in her incredible journey to discover the truth.
Episode 2--Taken by the Vampire
Claire awakens in a hospital room to find a man sitting quietly, waiting for her.
Except that he is no ordinary man, adorned as he is with dark wings and burning in black flames.
Is it the angel of death, come to take her away at last? Or is he the lord of all vampires, come to steal the prize from his adversary, the Messenger, the being who has healed Claire's blindness?
Flying high above the city lights in his cold arms, Claire shall find herself brought to a lonely fortress where blood drinkers await her and werewolves roam the darkness, all of them waiting for the ravishment to come..
Episode 3--Claimed by the Wolf
From certain death at the hands of vampires, Claire Sawyer finds herself surrounded by hundreds of wolves.
Are they her saviors, or the culmination of the doom that follows her at every turn?
Cursed or no, Claire must fight for her survival, even if that means becoming one of them, wolves in heat with just one thing in mind.
Episode 4--Redeemed by the Conqueror
In the stunning conclusion to the four part series, Divine Fornication, Claire Sawyer finds herself caught between vampires, werewolves and angels. Three races of beings willing to battle for the one thing they value most--Claire's eternal soul.
Will Claire's guardian angel return at last, in her final moments? Or, will she be lost forever to eternal damnation?
An excerpt from Divine Fornication--The Complete Collection:
....Claire seized the opportunity and slowly crawled away. If she could manage to put some distance between her and the fighting wolves, she might stand a chance.
As she eased her way forward, practically crawling upon her belly through the high grasses, Claire saw the edge of the clearing not far away. She gathered her legs under her, readying herself to jump up and run for the cover of the trees when someone stepped directly into her path.
"Going somewhere, are we?" said a young man's voice and Claire looked up to see him grinning down at her.
He was a wolf, but younger than Clash and Braze, she surmised. He had not yet filled out his frame, appearing gangly and awkward due to his height and long muscles that had not yet taken on the heavy mass of the adult wolf shifters.
Claire froze, not daring to move a muscle. The young wolf was in near full human form as he lifted two fingers to his mouth. A shrill whistle sounded, to be quickly followed by two wolves loping to his sides.
They lifted up, their limbs stretching and smoothing into human form. One was dark skinned and scowlin
g, the other blond and fair with a smile that stemmed from true humor and not the irony of the situation before them.
The darker of the two newcomers spoke first, and said, "Rend, you have to take her back. When the leaders finish...and you know they will soon...they'll come looking for her."
The other, the one for whom it seemed all a joke, chuckled and said, "Shard's right. Besides, she's not that special. In the city, we can get all kinds of human chicks. It's really no big deal."
The first wolf, the one the other two had named Rend, replied, "Yeah, but out here in the wild, human bitches don't happen every day. I might never get another chance."
Claire could feel her blood boiling as the young wolves spoke. as the young wolves spoke. She did not want to be simply an object to their adolescent desires, but she could not deny that the three young men standing above her were making her thighs part of their own volition.
"Now wait," she said, "You...you're from the city?"
The comic blond wolf nodded and said, "Yeah. My name's Flair. I came with Braze and the rest of our pack to help get you from the vampires."
"Ok," she said, "Just give me a second to think."
Claire desperately searched for a means of bargaining her way back to the city with the help of the young, blond wolf. Afterward, she was sure it would be far easier to escape from him than from the huge man called Braze.
The Marechal Chronicles: Volume IV, The Chase: A Dark Fantasy Tale Page 10