Moonless

by Crystal Collier

  “Who, Alexia?”

  “Dana.”

  His brow crinkled. Muscles tightened beneath her hand where it lay in the crook of his arm.

  “She never blamed you—f-for how things turned out.”

  He stared far away, a light glaze of moisture forming at the corner of his eye.

  “She truly loves you.”

  He turned so she couldn’t see the grief crinkling his brow.

  “But it was more than a dream. She wants you to know.”

  He reached for support and missed the rowan trunk. She slid to his side and steadied him. She attributed his weakness to a recent zeal for any remedy that might drown out the losses—mostly found at the bottom of a bottle.

  “Dana knew she would die.” She gazed up at him.

  His brows rose in confession.

  “But she did not fear. She gave herself for a cause, for me. She, she wishes you not to be sad, just as,” here it came, “as I do not wish you to be sad.”

  His gaze sharpened, face reddening. “He cannot have you.”

  She went to protest.

  “No.”

  She glared back. “What did you mean—when you said no one is destined to fall in love?”

  He flinched. “You heard that?”

  “I could not help but hear it when it was being shouted over my bed.”

  He looked away. “It is nonsense.”

  “Do not lie to me, Father.”

  His dark eyes flashed dangerously. Fists tightened. “How did she know? How could she possibly know?”

  “You want the truth?”

  “No.” A quiet moment passed. “Maybe.”

  “She dreamed the future, like me.”

  He cringed. She felt bad for telling him, like she’d betrayed a deep family secret, like he should never know his Passionate mistress possessed abilities, even if her blood flowed through his daughter.

  He straightened up. “How did you meet him?”

  “Are you referring to before or after you requested he remove all my memories of him?”

  Father huffed.

  “He saved my life.” She pulled him around to look at her. “And yours.”

  His grimace tightened. “So that entitles him to your hand?”

  “He came to protect me. Nothing more.”

  “Nothing more!” Red plumed through his face, his nostrils flaring. “It is never that simple with them! They see what they want and they take it. He bewitched you so you would never accept a decent prospect, and then he deliberately intervened so he could validate taking you for his own!”

  “What if I detested all of those pigs who offered themselves to me?” she shot back.

  “Did you detest Rupert?”

  She rocked back. Poor, dear Rupert, who to this very hour believed her dead . . .

  “They are conniving, manipulative, irresistible and relentless—especially him!”

  “Is that how you felt about her?”

  He quieted. They both knew what it meant to be invariably drawn to the Passionate, even when logic and fairer prospects loomed.

  “If you knew,” she barely voiced, “knew I would love him, then why did you try to keep him from me?”

  “You should not have any part of this insanity!” He turned her to him, brows low. “You should have the chance to live life without their curse.”

  “But you—”

  “Forget what I have done or not done!” He caught her cheeks. “This is your life, your future.”

  “How can I forget when it is a part of who I am?”

  “It is not who you are.” His face crumpled. “I have fought too hard and too long to secure you a bright prospect. It is foolishness to wish away everything because of a beautiful face.”

  “Is that how you see Dana? A beautiful face? Nothing more?”

  He stammered for a comeback.

  “I have gifts, Father, rare talents—you have seen them! You know I am different.” She worked to keep her voice steady. “I am a part of something bigger.”

  “We are not going to discuss—”

  “What I am?”

  “You are all I have left!”

  Her heart ached for him. They stood watching one another a long moment as the ideas settled between them.

  She came down apologetically. “And I will always be your daughter. I love you, Father, but he is my future.”

  He paced angrily.

  “And despite what you believe, he tried to stay away from me—for the same reasons you kept him at bay.”

  “Hah! Did he now?”

  “Dana told you I would fall in love with him?”

  He faced her, dark eyes a brewing storm. “No one is destined—”

  “Because you could not have your precious Dana?”

  “That is enough, Alexia!”

  “Yes, it is.” She had spoken her mind. “My place is with him, and if you cannot accept that then we will occupy two separate worlds.” She stormed into the garden.

  ***

  Her head felt numb from thinking and not thinking. She didn’t know which was worse, trying to keep the mental strain at bay or pondering over all that had happened. She sat under her favorite tree letting the warm summer wind blow by her, watching the clouds and trying to avoid any greater cognition.

  She couldn’t help the guilt over Sarah, over Miles. She had failed them both, and now they’d lost all they loved—because of her—because she had to fall in love and forget everything but herself.

  “Hello there.”

  She looked up and sucked in a breath at Kiren’s stunning eyes.

  “May I join you?”

  “Please.”

  He sat and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Exhaling loudly, he smiled at her. “How are you feeling today?”

  She laid her head against his chest. “Wonderful.”

  A chuckle escaped him. “And your head?”

  “Better.”

  He kissed her through her curls, settling his cheek against them. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You looked so sad.”

  She swallowed back the sorrow for Sarah, for Miles, nestling closer.

  His brow crinkled. “You have made so many sacrifices.”

  “No.” She turned on him. “I have not made a single one. You, your friends, my family, they are the ones who suffer.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Miles, Sarah, the servants . . . If I had not chosen this path—”

  He grunted impatiently. “We are all a part of this dynamic. Somehow you seem to think you could prevent the way our lives unfold, as if you are to blame.” His admonishing frown persisted. “Remember, Sarah and Miles are Passionate. They face the same odds as you, and they made their own decisions.”

  “But if not for me—”

  “I would be a much different person.” His arms tightened around her, frown softening. “Never forget that. You have given me something I never dreamed to find.”

  “Trouble?”

  He chuckled. “Hope.”

  She squeezed him back, warmed by the tenderness, the optimism, the vulnerability in his tremor. “How is it possible you’ve survived centuries, and yet a mere bullet could do you in?”

  His soft laugh warmed her. “It would take more than a mere bullet to keep me from your side.”

  She blushed.

  “But I suppose you have been the tiniest bit of a distraction.” Fingers tickled up her side. “I can assure you, I will not let my guard down again.” His gaze lowered, brows furrowing. “It nearly cost us both everything.”

  She tipped his chin upward, meeting the crisp azure sky of his gaze. “If I am not entitled to bear the blame, then neither are you.”

  He nodded. They watched the clouds for a time, and she listened to his heart, grateful it beat, grateful at least he believed some good had come about by her existence.

  Something had been bothering her for a time now,
and she hadn’t dared address it in the presence of anyone else. “Miles did not know your name. Why? And who are you truly?”

  His smile slipped away. “I am the man who loves you.”

  She shifted to face him. “But where do you come from? Who are your parents? Who else knows your true name?”

  Pain creased his brow. His mouth worked, the ease and assurance in his demeanor replaced with something primal and terrified.

  Startled, she wrapped her arms around him. “Hush, there is no need to tell me now.”

  He exhaled. “I want to.”

  “When you are ready.” She settled against his chest. “How soon will you return home with the others?”

  He stilled.

  “Kiren?”

  His eyes harbored gloomy clouds. He looked away. “You are my home.”

  “Yes, but what about Ethel, Edward, and Lester?”

  “They are happy here.”

  She laughed. “Happy? I swear the help are driving them mad!”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps some.”

  “What about Miles?”

  He stiffened.

  “Has he . . .” She brushed her palm across the grass. “Has he gone?”

  He nodded.

  She watched a butterfly flit past and land on a lazy blossom, struggling not to be sad. “Where?”

  “He will find his own way.” He leaned back. “I have given him all the necessary tools.”

  “But I will never see him again?”

  He went to answer and stopped. His eyes turned to the ground. “Maybe.” And then quietly to himself, “Maybe.”

  They sat a long moment, gazing at puffs of white trailing through the sky. His encircling arms made her only too conscious of his nearness.

  “I am sorry to have come between you and him,” she whispered.

  “Alexia, you did not come between us.” His gaze lowered to hers. “Each life that touches ours leaves an eternal impression. He is a part of us, just as we will always be a part of him.” His incredible eyes penetrated hers, washing away any resistance like waves lapping the shore. “Perhaps his road will lead back home, and perhaps it will lead some place better. Change is a part of our existence, a good part. I have never been so certain of that—never until you entered my world.”

  She nodded, heart fluttering.

  His lips came down. She met them, pleased by how they enveloped her own. His fingers stroked through her locks, settling her gently in the grass as he persisted. She couldn’t escape him, didn’t want to. Part of her realized she should be frightened by how intensely his mouth pressed hers.

  He pulled away, propping next to her on one elbow, staring into her eyes, breathing heavily. She reached for him but he caught her fingers.

  “You gave up so much for me, your father, Sarah, your home. You nearly gave your life.”

  “You asked if I would be willing.”

  He smiled sadly, touching her lips. “Yes, but I would rather you live your life with me than sacrifice it for me.”

  A shiver of elation ran through her. He shifted up onto his knee, pulling her after him.

  He held up a glittering ring. “Will you marry me, Alexia ‘Christianne’ Dumont?”

  Gold shimmered in the sunlight, radiance refracting from inlaid diamonds, one at the apex, pink, and the others white; a coral iris with five teardrop petals.

  She gasped.

  “I am hoping that is a ‘yes’.” His eyebrow quirked.

  “It is beautiful!”

  His face contorted with concern. “But do not say yes because you are dazzled by a few pretty stones.”

  She gave him a frown.

  He chuckled. “I always planned to ask you—you should know that—but I wanted you to have a clear enough vision of our life to make that decision. I suppose you have a clear enough vision now, and so do I.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you were . . . unconscious . . .” His struggle to express himself took her by surprise. “I was lost. I did not know what I would do without you. I did not know if I even wanted to do without you. It—” His eyes met hers honestly. “It could have killed me.”

  She shook her head.

  He gazed resolutely deeper. “I love you, Alexia Dumont. I do not think I can live without you, not anymore.”

  She ceased to breathe, tears breaking cover.

  He leaned closer, lacing his fingers gently through her own. “Will you have me?”

  “Can I?” She breathed, very narrowly aware of how faint she’d become. Her heart thundered.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “You could have had me the first time we met. There has never been another choice, never been another path. Yes a thousand times over! Marry me, please!”

  He laughed, one eyebrow tweaking. “You are certain?”

  “Would you kiss me already?”

  He jerked her close, looping his fingers through hers and wrapping one arm, then the other around her back. Her breath caught. The tides of his consuming eyes softened, swallowing her in his sea of love. If she never surfaced for air again, she didn’t care. This was where she belonged.

  His lips tenderly grazed hers. She shivered. A grin broadened his face as he pulled back.

  “You are the most insufferable—!” She tore her hands free and shoved him onto the ground. Leaning over him, she captured his lips. He pulled her on top of him and rolled until she was trapped below him, his incredible mouth taking possession of hers.

  Their shared space opened up. In the back of both their minds echoed worries about the Soulless, Bellezza, and the struggles that lay ahead, but Alexia pushed them away. For this moment alone she was hopelessly free, impossibly happy, and incessantly in love. Whatever trouble lay over the horizon, she would face it with Kiren at her side.

  Dear AWESOME Reader,

  Thank you for joining me on this journey through the world of the Passionate! If you enjoyed Alexia and Kiren’s story, please leave a review. Here’s your virtual cheese basket of thanks. Sign up for the newsletter and you’ll receive the cut prologue. Book two in the Maiden of Time series, Soulless, will be available for purchase summer of 2014.

  Wishing you much cheese and the happiest reading endeavors,

  Crystal Collier

  About the Author:

  Crystal, author of MOONLESS, is a former composer/writer for Black Diamond Productions. She can be found practicing her brother-induced ninja skills while teaching children or madly typing about fantastic and impossible creatures. She has lived from coast to coast and now calls Florida home with her creative husband, three littles, and “friend” (a.k.a. the zombie locked in her closet). Secretly, she dreams of world domination and a bottomless supply of cheese.

  You can find her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter, or visit her blog. Subscribe to her newsletter to receive freebies and learn about exciting new developments.

  Acknowledgements:

  The process to publication has been a long one. Much thanks goes first of all to my amazing husband who may believe in my dreams even more than I do, and feeds me cheese while being grossly ignored. To my three littles (who allow me to chat about imaginary characters and spend half our school time discussing the merits of good writing,) I adore you! And to my super amazing extended family, I don’t know what I’d do without all of you.

  My amazing sister, Cindy, thank you for being my go-to and allowing me to talk your ear off on a regular basis while working through “stuff.” Mom, for your grammatical corrections and pushing, thank you.

  Special thanks go out to my stellar critique partners Rachel Hert and Tammy Mckee. Sharon Johnston, my incredible writing coach from Pitch Wars 2012, thank you for the new title and believing in me! To Bethany Kaczmarek at A Little Red, Inc., your editorial work was invaluable and I will forever have a tender place in my heart for Henry Cavill, just because of you.

  To my bestie in elementary school, thank you Melanie. Without those story sessions during every recess I’m
fairly certain I wouldn’t be where I’m at today. Chris, my amazing first critique partner and prolific shredder, you made a world of difference.

  A huge “I love you forever” to the beta readers who helped me work through the rough draft in 2008. Lastly, to each of you who read this book (and especially those who read it more than once or got through this ridiculously long list of gratitude), I HEART YOU.