02 Summer Moon

by Jan Delima

  “I know,” he said. “Don’t fear for Elen.” His voice held calm conviction. “Fear for the Council if they cross her, or threaten anyone she cares for. It’s her choice to stay and I’m grateful.”

  “As am I.” She placed a kiss on the grove of his spine, inhaled his dark scent. “So let’s not talk any more of the Council tonight, and finish our wedding celebration properly.”

  He exhaled softly. Shifting his weight, he turned so her hands now rested on his chest. His gaze held hers with stark need.

  She wouldn’t define the emotion she felt from him—such things were too precious to mark with words—but she would answer his need with her own. Rising on her toes, she gently touched her lips to his. A soft groan vibrated up from his chest, as if her touch had called his deepest ache. He lifted his hands to anchor her against him, turned his head and caught her mouth for a devouring kiss. She felt the wild pounding of his heart as their embrace became a frantic tangle of tongues and limbs and desperate breaths rasping for air.

  Gentle was not his mood this night.

  Trailing his hands down her back, he lifted her—and she was forced to wrap her legs about his waist or be dragged as he pressed her against the outer wall. Stone bit into her back from the open scoop of her dress but she didn’t care, reaching between them to fumble with the closure of his pants while he ran his palm under her skirt and gathered her new underwear in his fist. The weak seams provided poor resistance and the silk material tore with a mere twist of his wrist.

  Locking one arm around his neck, she helped him ease his shaft into her opening. “Luc—”

  His mouth swallowed her words as his flesh invaded her core. “Shhhh . . . No more talking tonight.”

  “Easy—” she hissed, and he did pause, waiting for her body to stretch to his size. This position was starkly invading, with no footing to use as leverage against the pressure of his size. All her weight surged down only to shove his shaft higher, pressing against organs that were not meant to be pressed unprepared.

  But he smelled like untamed power, and his forehead rested on the wall behind her head while the corded muscles in his neck strained from his will to wait for her.

  It was not long before her body softened and prepared to take him. Squirming, she gripped her arms around his neck and whispered, “Move.”

  And he rode her to pleasure, surging without restraint, and shaking with the raw urgency of his claiming. And when his release finally gripped him, he roared her name.

  She could only hope that Pendaran did have ears in the wind.

  * * *

  Two days later, in the Council chambers as scheduled, Merin clenched her teeth as Pendaran trailed his hand up her arm, resting his fingers by the curve of her breast. Darkness was seductive and he had mastered the allure.

  His musky autumn scent cloyed to the air like the rotting husk of a broken tree, a once-beautiful thing wasted by power-hungry greed.

  He leaned down and whispered, “Explain to me, Merin, why you chose to allow Rosa to refuse my gift?”

  She ignored Neira’s delighted leer. “I gave her leniency due to Taliesin’s involvement.”

  Maelor glowered at her from across the Council table.

  Undeterred, Merin continued. “I am beginning to find Taliesin’s contentious behavior tedious.” It was not a complete lie, because his silence had now begun to threaten the safety of her children. Moreover, Pendaran would accept no other excuse but the one that involved his foster son. She added affront to her voice to make it more believable. “Also, Rosa suggested we speak with Taliesin on the new developments of the prophecy. Was I to tell her that he does not speak with us anymore?”

  Predictably, when confronted with evidence of Taliesin’s hatred, he lashed his anger elsewhere. “And how did your reunion go with your Beast?”

  “As unpleasant as you would expect,” she said dryly.

  My heart is still weeping.

  Pendaran chuckled, amused by the second revelation. “We are at a quandary, then, are we not?” His grip tightened momentarily before releasing. “And I understand your frustration.” He walked around the table, pausing behind the back of each member as a reminder of his authority. “Taliesin’s fascination with peasants is getting tiresome, and his association with our dissenters is unacceptable,” he exclaimed like a weary father with a misbehaved child. “We can only continue as planned. If Taliesin has an opinion on the matter, then he had better come to me personally.”

  “What of the rumors?” Neira chimed in, not willing to let Merin escape censure that easily.

  “Maelor,” Pendaran prompted. “Your comrade has asked a question. Are you not going to answer her?”

  “A hound from the Otherworld resides at Avon,” Maelor supplied, his voice a dark grumble that matched his countenance. Snot hung from his bulbous snout as he tried to wipe at it but was ineffective.

  Closing his eyes briefly, Pendaran stroked the crown of his staff as if tempted to rid himself of the man properly this time. “And your investigations into Rhuddin Village? What did you uncover?”

  Merin pinned the troll with a glare. Don’t say a word. If you do, what I threatened on our journey home will come to fruition; this I promise you. Do you want your wife in the Norseman’s company?

  “I saw no evidence of the Serpent,” Maelor mumbled. “I watched from the forest, and listened to the villagers’ gossip. Dylan’s mate kept to the house, but their boy is a shifter. I witnessed it myself.”

  Rhys sat forward. “A shifter from a human mate?”

  Merin gave Maelor a smile that made greater men empty their bladders. Did he not know she weaved convincing lies? “Briallen seemed taken by the Walkers. I even felt one of them respond to her presence. She may be a good overseer to their care at Avon.”

  Pendaran slashed his hand in impatience. “I want to hear more from Maelor. We will discuss the Walkers later.”

  Refusing to look at Merin, Maelor spewed her secrets like a bumbling coward, fearing Pendaran’s sword more than her, or even the loss of his wife. “The people of Rhuddin Village are timid of Elen. Their gossiping confirms Math’s reports. They say she ripped a wolf from one of us and gave it to a Bleidd. We watched Avon before sending the notice of our arrival. Cormack was there, not as a wolf but as a man, and fumbling with a sword like a boy . . . like he had never held one before. I knew his mother. He has the look of her. The hound from the Otherworld resides with them. There is power in this family.”

  Slowly, Pendaran turned his pale gaze on Merin and she knew in that moment her time was limited. She shrugged absently, having been prepared for this day since birthing Luc and begging her sister to give him to Dylan. “Why would you assume that anything that comes of me would be weak? Even my Beast holds more power than many of our Guardians.”

  His nostrils flared. “You have let them run free without our authority!”

  “I did what I was bid to do,” she claimed with inarguable truth. “I have acted on your orders. Even when you demanded I put Elen through the gauntlet to force her change. I tortured my daughter at your bidding.”

  “And she never called her wolf,” Pendaran said absently, deep in thought. “But perhaps she called another power.”

  “The hound may be a sign,” William supplied. He tried to act aloof but his desperation bled through. “I wonder if we are meant to have the ceremony at Avon.”

  Merin laughed bitterly then, unable to gather enough cleverness and lies to fight the idiocy of this Council. William did not give a whit about a hound or signs; it was an excuse to be closer to his lost ward. And Maelor was an oaf.

  Bran was her only ally in this room and he could do naught but hold her gaze with shared misery.

  Pendaran cocked his head, pondering over the idea. “I will think on this tonight. In light of this new information, it may be time to remind our dissenters of our power
before they become unruly.” He waved his hand absently. “You are all dismissed. I will contact you in the morning.” He halted by Neira’s chair and ran his hand around her neck. She visibly shivered with both pleasure and pain. After the death of her mate, Neira’s only release came through other methods. A sinister smirk turned his lips. “Except for you, my pet. I have found this evening most unsettling and I am in the mood for your distractions.”

  Wary, Merin stood to leave; she expected a sword in her back—or through her neck—but only received a final decree.

  “Merin,” Pendaran called after her. “I trust you will continue to be loyal to the Council’s rulings.”

  She refused to look back, almost preferring his sword, because the game continued and she hardly had the will to make another move. “You insult me by suggesting I would not.”

  “I am glad to hear your vehemence . . .” His voice trailed off with purpose, a warning not to object or he would have a head more precious than hers. “Because I believe it is time that I met your daughter.”

  * * *

  Lying in bed, Luc listened to the soft breathing of his wife. He wanted to awaken her in pleasant ways. Except on this morning a wolf nestled between them, curled and content, hindering him from their usual morning activities. He eased out of the blankets and was on his way to the bathroom when he noticed flowers sprinkled around Audrey’s paws.

  He stroked his hand across her muzzle. “The day has arrived and it’s time to change.”

  Rosa stretched at his voice, scooting against the headboard into a sitting position. She smiled when she noticed their visitor. “When did she sneak in?”

  “Around four.”

  Tilting her head, Rosa picked up a blossom and began examining it in her hands. “Where did these come from?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Audrey arched her back, peeked open an eye. A cloying scent filled the air, a brief warning before she changed forms right on the bed.

  Luc barely had time to blink. “Is it always this easy for you to shift, Audrey?”

  Her face brightened. “Change is easy here.”

  Luc looked to Rosa.

  “We all shift off the island,” she answered his silent question. “It takes too long to call enough life to change. A child may require less.” Rosa held up a blossom. “Do you know where these came from, Audrey?”

  “I told you this already,” the child sighed with impatience. “I see pretty pictures when I sleep. Elen says the word for them is dreams. The lady in my dreams said you would be sad today. She gives me flowers for you. For hope.” She jumped from the bed and scampered to the door. “I go wake up Elen. I want to wear my princess dress again today.”

  As their Wulfling dashed out the door, Rosa swung her legs over the bed, stood to pull the coverlet up and then sucked in her breath.

  Luc followed her gaze to a red stain and his chest tightened. “Rosa—”

  She dashed to the bathroom as he helplessly waited for her to come out. And when he saw her face, he knew—it was a look he’d seen Koko wearing many times.

  “I’ve not had my woman’s flow in over three hundred years,” she whispered. “Because I’ve never gone this long without taking the potion. I had hoped . . .”

  “I’m sorry.” Such a stupid sentiment for when there was nothing better to say and yet he said it anyway. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “We have a lifetime, Rosa.”

  “But do we?” After a shuddering breath, she withdrew from his arms and went to the hidden alcove. Filled vials of Mae’s potion sat untouched beside the condoms. She retrieved the items she sought and closed the panel.

  “Summer is only a few days away.” She met his hardened glare with one of her own. “I’ll do this now when I know there’s no babe.”

  Luc clenched his hands as anger roiled in his gut.

  “I would like you to leave,” she said. “I don’t want you here if all you have to offer me are doubts.”

  “Wait another day,” he implored.

  “No.” She entered the bathroom and quietly closed the door.

  Unable to sit and wait while she harmed herself, he stormed out of the room. Knowing his wife was in pain and unable to come up with a good enough argument to stop her.

  Mae hovered at the bottom of the stairs.

  Their problem solver, as she liked to call herself, had an uncanny way of lurking in the midst of trouble. Her gaze narrowed as he brushed by. “What has happened?”

  “I ran with her,” he spat, unleashing his frustration on the woman who provided his wife with this noxious solution. “Why did you remake her that potion?”

  “Ah,” she whispered as her scarred face fell with understanding. “I see. This is sad news. I had hoped the run would break this tangled line I see over your heart. There is a strong spirit that does not want to share you even in death.”

  “Don’t,” he warned. Koko did not deserve this blame.

  “Do not look at me so,” Mae scolded. “You know it is true.”

  He growled at the insult. “I know no such thing. I’ve—”

  “You have held on to your old love—that is what you have done. And now you have hurt the new.” Mae’s gnarled finger pulled back the neck of his shirt, slapping her hand against the ink outlines of his tattoo. “It is this thread that hinders your mating knot.”

  “Your riddles annoy me,” Luc thundered, unable to face the accuracy of her accusations, and the consequences Rosa suffered because of him.

  “I will forgive your insolence, warrior, because I know you love our Rosa. You would not be so upset by her pain did you not.”

  He remained silent because her claim felt accurate.

  “We are human, with human needs and emotions,” she pressed. “But we cannot deny our wolves. Our beasts are too possessive to share. Only two hearts can form one true match, and you are carrying a third. A child of our kind is only conceived with an unhindered pairing.” She gave a disgusted wave of her hand. “The Council has forgotten our ways. They twist prophecies to suit their ambitions.”

  “I’ve seen mated couples who loathe each other,” Luc pointed out, not sure whether he believed her theory.

  “Ah, but that is not how they began. I am an old soul, and I have seen much. Love and hatred are born of the same passionate seed.”

  “You should share your notions with Rosa.”

  “You think I have not?” She huffed with impatience. “She is as obstinate as her mother, that one, and she is young. Stubborn minds do not listen well. They need to experience everything for themselves.”

  His frustration turned to dread. “I don’t know how to help her,” he confessed.

  Mae gave his cheek a gentle pat with her bent hand. “This spirit that tangles you . . .” She paused with empathy that softened her reproach. “Remember her, honor her, but you must let her go if you want to keep our Rosa.”

  Heart-burdened, Luc returned to their room. Rosa sat on the bed, leaning forward with her face in her hands. She looked up and he knew without words.

  The potion had been taken.

  Snagging the end of the coverlet, he wrapped her in a bundled cocoon and carried her out to the balcony, sitting down with her in his arms. He didn’t know what she needed from him, but leaving her alone was too painful to bear.

  So he held her.

  After a while, she whispered, “It’s time to make a decision. The Council is coming for me. We either leave Avon or call our allies for help.” She added with determination, “I want to stay and defend our home as we originally planned.”

  “As do I. And I’ve already made the calls. We’ll make a stance against the Guardians now, or they will follow us wherever we go.”

  “They will follow me, you mean.”

  “Yes.” With acceptance came outrage, and he knew that
Mae was right. The thought of losing this woman in his arms was too agonizing to contemplate. He loved her.

  Burying his face in her tangled tresses, he inhaled a scent that had become more precious to him than life. She had awakened him from a half-lived existence and he wouldn’t fail her now. “We will keep what’s ours safe,” he vowed.

  And I will keep who is mine.

  Koko’s Journal

  —

  July 2, 1945

  Yesterday I journeyed up our great mountain and knelt under the cherished tree of my husband’s people. The night bathed me in moonlight and sorrow. His oak wept leaves that carried unanswered wishes, and still I prayed one last desperate prayer. I dared both his Gods and mine to listen, for this prayer was my first unselfish one.

  I did not pray for a child, my body is too old and broken for that now, nor did I pray for immortality, for a love too pure to end in one lifetime. I prayed for Luc, for I fear my spirit, even as my body passes, will remain with him.

  I prayed for the strength to let him go.

  ~Koko

  Twenty-two

  Trouble always came to Avon in the midst of circles and rain, Rosa reflected with some acrimony. On the eve of summer the Guardians arrived. The sky released angry tears like her mood as she paced on the parapets of her castle. Soaked through from rain, her jeans clung to her skin and her sword swung with her strides.

  By midday, the Guardians began to circle the river, ordered by the Council, she assumed, to prove their loyalty. They waited on the outskirts of her island, across the moving waters. A wall of shifters in their human forms, impassive faces touting a variety of weapons, swords and axes with shields, or simply garrotes and anything that served to separate a head from its body.

  Guns were of no use to their kind and fire would evacuate the island but it might harm the Walkers. If they kindled an aggressive flame, her dead island would burn—so they waited.

  To act openly without the cover of darkness or trees was the most frightening declaration. The Council intended to see this prophecy through with their interpretation at all costs.