by Rosalie Redd
The figure eluded him only for a moment then stopped. The unexpected reaction caused him to plow into the intruder, and he reflexively wrapped his arms around the person. Soft, tender flesh teased the skin on his arms. Even in the dark, vibrant red hair reflected the moon’s meager light. A female.
He relaxed his grip and turned her to face him. Still wrapped in his embrace, he stared upon her features for the first time—vibrant green eyes, a pert nose, and full, inviting lips. Her spiced apple scent intoxicated him, sending a shot of adrenaline through his body, lighting up his nerves.
Her panted breaths caressed his cheek, and an overwhelming desire to kiss her lips washed over him. He held himself in check and curiosity got the better of him. “Who are you and what are you doing out here?”
“My…my name is Eleanor.” She trembled in his arms and licked her lips, inviting him in. “Please…I saw you leave. I couldn’t help but follow.”
He furrowed his brow. “Why?”
She blushed, her cheeks reddening, endearing her to him. “Because…you are a powerful male. Forgive me for tracking you. I couldn’t stay away.”
He studied her, taking in her soft features and her warm, curvaceous body. Against his will, his fangs erupted from his mouth. “You play with fire.”
She met his gaze then lowered her eyes to his mouth. “Please…” With delicate care, she trailed her fingertip over his chin to his lips. “Kiss me.”
His panther roared with the need to claim this female. Even though they’d just met, he couldn’t deny the intensity of the mating call. Rough and possessive, he kissed her, taking her with a ferocity he didn’t fully understand. She mewled softly, stoking his desire all the more. Coming up for air, their combined pants echoed among the trees.
She nudged her nose under his chin. “If I were to be yours, I would submit to you, fully.”
His cock strained against his pants, showing his eagerness for what she offered. His need rose to a fevered pitch, and he bit her on the shoulder, marking her, claiming her as his mated female. Even as his panther relished in the claiming, a morsel of doubt crept into his mind. What have I done?
Demir woke in a cold sweat, his eyes still shut. Remnants of strange dreams with Eleanor flitted through his mind, but as he grasped at the memories, they eluded him—and were forgotten. All he was left with was a strange feeling he couldn’t identify, but one thing he clearly understood, no one could ever replace his Eleanor.
He lay sprawled on his bed, the satin sheet tucked under his chin. The material moved up and down with his breaths, scraping against his goatee. He couldn’t help but focus on the irritating sensation and that only intensified his annoyance. A low growl built in his mind. He fought against his lifeless body, pushing, screaming, until the frenzy nearly broke him. A single bead of sweat ran down the side of his face.
He needed to concentrate on something else, anything to distract him from his misery. His first thought—Aramie. Her strawberry scent, her soft voice, and the way her fingers had trailed over the sensitive hairs of his mustache were memories he couldn’t forget. The skin around his mouth tickled, as if she still touched him. Instead of a sense of peace, the strong need to be near her washed over him. His inner cat howled, but no sound escaped his lips.
Over the past few days, Aramie had only stopped by for brief visits. She hadn’t told him what she’d done, but from her prior conversation with Sidea, he knew they searched for the blue sunstone. From the strain in her voice, she seemed exhausted. When he’d originally heard of the possibility of a crystal with magical healing power, hope had sprouted inside him. With each new visit and no news, his belief in the sacred stone waned. Without it, he’d waste away, die trapped in his body.
Another round of anger built within, and he lashed out once again. The silence in the empty room welcomed him into its embrace, and a cold shot of fear lanced through his chest. When he died, Aramie would take over the Pride. The males wouldn’t like it, and sooner or later, she’d lose to one of them. What would become of her? A protectiveness he hadn’t felt since before Eleanor died skittered along his nerves. His reaction to Aramie was unexpected—and unnerving. She needed to be second in command, nothing more.
The sheet rubbed against his chin once again. He fought to ignore the irritation, but couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. His pulse rose. How could such a small movement bring such torment? He didn’t know, but his helplessness left him cold.
Chapter Eight
Aramie and her warriors headed to a nearby clearing to call for a portal. She peered at her little sister. Tied in a short ponytail, Sidea’s light brown hair accentuated her pale skin and full mouth. With soft brown eyes and high cheekbones, she’d inherited her beauty from their mother. Aramie didn’t begrudge her sister’s good fortune.
In sharp contrast, Aramie had thin lips and a dark complexion. Their differences in physical appearance were due to their separate fathers, which neither had ever met. A dull pain radiated from Aramie’s chest. The hurtful truth was that after six hundred and twenty years of life on this planet, she would never know him. Often, she envisioned what he looked like and imagined he carried himself with an air of authority.
After their mother had walked out on them, Sidea had cried every night for several months. Without a father, Aramie had grown up fast, becoming the provider and the protector. She’d taught Sidea how to fight, and they’d learned to survive on their own.
The sounds of the forest called to Aramie. A chill ran along her arms. Something was different. The flow from the stream was off, changed somehow, less intense.
Aramie didn’t want to keep her sister out here any longer than necessary, but she couldn’t stop, not now. “Do you hear the stream? It’s different. One more bend. We’ll return if we don’t find anything. I promise.”
Sidea studied her face for a moment. Soft brown eyes filled with trust penetrated into Aramie’s heart. She bit her lip. “Let’s hurry.”
Jonue and Kitani nodded in agreement.
Aramie pushed through the underbrush with a new intensity. The racing water calmed as they approached the edge of the ravine. A small outcropping of rocks appeared through the trees. She clambered past the stones and peered over the edge. Her breath caught in her throat.
There it was—Blue Pool.
Her Panthera vision cut through the dark. The water was a deep, rich blue. Rocks and downed tree branches lined the bottom of the small lake. The source of the stream appeared to come from the pool itself, evidence of an underground spring. In a lip of rock overhanging the water, smooth stones and the lack of vegetation were evidence of a once grand waterfall, now dry.
“It’s beautiful,” Sidea whispered.
“Yes, it is.” Kitani approached and looked over the edge. She shuddered. “I hope we find the stone fast, I don’t relish the idea of getting wet.”
Aramie empathized with her warriors. Feline in nature, most Panthera avoided immersion in water and didn’t like to swim. For some strange reason, she rather enjoyed the feel of the cool water surrounding her body. “I’ll go. I used to swim for fun when I was a youth.”
Sidea glanced at Kitani. “She’s weird, I know. What Panthera does that, right?”
Kitani shivered in mock disgust. “I enjoy a nice shower, but to immerse myself in water… Ugh, it sends a chill down my spine.”
“All right, knock it off.” Aramie pursed her lips in feigned irritation.
“I’ll go with you.” Jonue stepped forward and raised her chin.
The small Panthera’s strength and determination made Aramie smile. “Great. Let’s go.” She peered at Sidea and Kitani. “You two—spread out and keep watch. We’ll return as soon as we can.”
Aramie stared at the beauty of the pool, the moon reflecting off the surface. A mixture of excitement and trepidation ran along her nerves. They were close. The stone had to be here, somewhere.
Using her natural feline grace, she climbed over the boulders and stopped at
the edge. A tinge of energy rippled through the air, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Adrenaline surged through her veins. The stone was here, somewhere under the water.
“Where should we start?” Jonue asked.
“Good question.” Aramie crouched along the bank. Upon closer inspection, the pool wasn’t as still as she’d imagined. Pushed along by the underwater current, a dried leaf from a nearby birch tree floated past. She followed the crinkled boat’s path across the pool and into the beginning of the river. It picked up pace and dived below the surface, swallowed by the raging waters.
She pointed to the water. “We track the current back from that leaf.”
“Perfect. The source of the spring is as good as any place to start.” Jonue crouched on one knee and unbuckled her boot.
Aramie did the same and tossed her favorite pair of shoes behind a bush. Dressed in her combat pants and long-sleeved shirt, she unclipped the red barrette from her hair and shoved it into her pocket. The hair clip, a gift from her Gran’ma, was her most precious item and one she wouldn’t risk losing. As much as she longed to search for the crystal in her panther form, her human hands were needed to grasp the stone.
She peered at Jonue. “Ready?”
If not for the slight tick in her friend’s jaw, Aramie wouldn’t have noticed her comrade’s uncertainty. She touched Jonue on the arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
Jonue blinked. Her brow furrowed. “You are my Pride leader. Where you go, I go.”
Aramie’s chest expanded, touched by her sincerity. She grasped her friend on the arm. “Let’s find the sunstone.”
She looked at the top of the rise where she’d last seen her sister and Kitani. They were gone, hidden in the underbrush, and would keep watch until she and Jonue returned.
Aramie pivoted and stepped into the pool. Small goosebumps formed along her arms.
Jonue gasped. “Damn. The water is freezing cold.”
Aramie smirked.
Jonue sighed. “This is torture. You know that, right?”
“You’re doing great.” Aramie waved her friend onward.
They waded deeper into the pool taking careful, measured steps.
Aramie’s feet skidded on the slick rocks, and she almost lost her balance. Standing waist deep in the cold water, the current pulled on her, trying to push her downstream, away from the dry waterfall. She fought with all her might, her legs straining to make headway, but the current was too strong.
Jonue pulled on the back of her shirt to get her attention. “Come back. If we go any farther, the current will pull us under.”
Aramie clenched her fists. She couldn’t give up, not when they were so close.
Per the legend, the old haelen had thrown the crystal into the waterfall, creating Blue Pool. Aramie looked at the spot where the water would have landed had the waterfall still existed. Her gaze rose to the top of the rocks. A lump formed in her stomach. She knew what she had to do.
Aramie peered into her friend’s eyes. “You don’t have to go with me.”
Jonue’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Yes, I do. Let’s do this.”
Aramie nodded. “You’re a fine warrior.”
They crawled to the boulders at the top of the ancient, dry waterfall. Aramie’s nerves rattled under her skin. She inched her way to the edge. A sense of vertigo made her sway. Could she really do this? An image of Demir lying motionless on his bed steeled her resolve. Her hands curled into fists. She’d do it for him. Before she could lose her nerve, she took a few steps back and raced full speed toward the cliff and Blue Pool below. She jumped and prayed she’d survive.
Chapter Nine
A drop of water fell on Zedron’s shoulder, the first sign the silver clouds above were about to release a torrent onto the Lemurian landscape. Standing on one of the pathways in the trees, the leaves would provide some protection, but not enough. He increased his pace, scrambling up the stairs and over the top of a riser. His pulse pounded in his temple, bringing on the beginning of one of his headaches. He clenched his jaw—that was not what he needed right now.
A few stray strands of hair blew against his cheek. Water splashed on his nose and caused him to blink. The drops came faster, hitting him on the back, the shoulders, and the top of his head. He hunched over to protect his shirt as best he could and prayed the droplets wouldn’t leave circular stains on his brand new jacket.
Janala’s Place was visible between the branches of the Etila trees. Lights bordered the doorway, welcoming patrons in for the evening meal. The restaurant was the place where anyone who was anyone went for an evening out. He loved this place and the opportunity it gave him to mingle with others from his class.
An elderly lady took up more than her fair share of space as she walked down the stairs. He pressed past her, knocking her against the bark of the tree. She cried out, but he ignored her. Water dripped onto his shirt, causing a streak to form. He ground his teeth. “Watch where you’re going.”
Free at last, he crossed the wooden slats connecting the last two trees and arrived at his destination. The scent of baked bread and Monton stew emanated from the eatery. He inhaled and the rich aroma calmed his jittery nerves and battered psyche. A glass of muldoberry wine was exactly what he needed—the best they had.
“How many tonight, sir?” The waiter clasped his hands behind his back, a practiced, formal smile on his face.
Zedron raised his chin. “One.”
The male gave a slight bow and extended his hand. “Follow me, please.”
The restaurant was nearly full, many of the tables occupied with the elite members of the Lemurian society—council members, enforcers, and colonizers. He always wore his best attire to dinner—leather shoes, a soft down shirt that accentuated his sleek torso, and the finest woven coat. To be disheveled in any way was an affront to his stylist nature. He buttoned his jacket and ran his hand through his hair. That was the best he could do under the circumstances—damn the rain.
The waiter pulled out a chair at a small table near the entrance to the kitchen. “Here, sir. This table is perfect for you.”
Zedron furrowed his brow. “Surely, you must have something better.”
With a quick intake of breath, the attendant blinked. “If this isn’t to your liking, we have another. Of course.”
Zedron glanced around the room. A flash of long blond hair from one of the booths in the far corner grabbed his attention. Alora. He’d know his ex-lover anywhere. Her curvaceous body and soft, silky tresses were forever ingrained in his mind. She was with one of her girlfriends, Bellamy. The headache he courted on the way here roared to life behind his eyes.
“Sir? Did you hear me? This way, please.”
A lone booth, one big enough for a party of six, was open not far from Alora and her friend.
“That one.” Zedron pointed at the booth. “That one will be sufficient.”
The male’s brow pinched together ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, sir. That booth is for a large party.”
“Not anymore. That booth is for me.”
“Sir—”
Zedron raised his hand. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”
“Ah…” Confusion lined the waiter’s forehead.
He glared at the male. “Zedron. Colonizer. Son of council member Alcion.”
The attendant’s head jerked back, his eye widening. “Oh, Colonizer Zedron. Of course…you may sit anywhere you wish.”
Zedron headed for the table, his gaze homed in on Alora. Glance at me. Glance at me. If will alone were a strong enough force, she’d have looked his way, but she didn’t. Her attention was focused solely on her friend.
As he pulled into the booth, Zedron scooted to the back, into the shadows. He had a perfect view of Alora. Her pale blue eyes gleamed with determination, her plump mouth pulled into a pout. His lips throbbed with the sudden urge to kiss her. He clenched his fist, hating how he still reacted to her, still wanted her, despite she’
d chosen his one-time best friend, Veromé, as her mate.
The waiter bowed and circled his hand over the table. A small hum emanated from the center and a hologram appeared with different options for the evening’s meal. “Your server will be with you shortly.”
Zedron ignored the waiter and studied Alora. Even from this distance, she teased him—her smile, the way she wrapped a few strands of her hair between her fingers, her plunging neckline. Once she’d willingly given him that gorgeous smile, but not anymore—not after the mistake he’d made.
A young server blocked his vision, forcing Zedron to look at the male. “What would you like tonight?”
Zedron waved his hand in the air, dissolving the menu, scattering the images until they disappeared. “Bring me a bowl of Monton stew and a glass of muldoberry wine.”
“Right away, sir.”
Alone again, Zedron stared at his ex-lover. Visions of Veromé trailing his fingers over Alora’s soft skin, kissing her tender lips, and loving her until she cried out his name made Zedron’s pulse pound in his temple. His jaw ached from the tension, and he curled his hand into a fist. Zedron had money, power, and influence. Veromé had none of those things and yet, Alora had chosen Veromé over him. He still couldn’t accept the defeat.
In a bid for revenge, during a council meeting he’d challenged her for the right to colonize Earth. Radnor, the council leader had honored the challenge, and the competition was on. The battle was fought with characters, like pieces in an elaborate game. His minions called him a god, but he was a colonizer just like Alora—a planet searcher—and one of the many residents that lived on Lemuria. The victor of the game won the right to control Earth’s water.
Alora wanted to barter with the humans for the water with gifts of knowledge and technology. For Zedron, if, no…when he won, he’d enslave the humans and force them to load the resource onto the transport ships that would bring the much-needed water back to Lemuria.