The Fifth Moon's Lovers (The Fifth Moon's Tales Book 3)

by Monica La Porta

  “Genevieve knows how to design a sexy gown,” Valentine commented, helping her with the bow on the back of her walking habit. Leaning down, he kissed the spot where her neck and shoulder met. “This dress accentuates your curves, and it makes me want to—”

  Mirella stopped his roaming hand before his fingers skimmed the swell of her breast, then she turned in his arms to face him. “About this surprise of yours?”

  “Let’s eat something first,” he said, and when she gave him a raised brow, he chuckled and kissed her lips. “You have a dirty mind, kitten.” He then grabbed her hand and escorted her to the Green Parlor where they had a breakfast prepared by Mama Bee.

  “Nobody cooks like Bee.” Valentine filled his mouth with one of the lamouris pies the colorful woman prepared especially for him.

  Under his insistence, Mama Bee had remained at the manor to keep an eye on Mirella and cook for Valentine, while one of the ex-courtesans proved to be an excellent cook and kept her restaurant running.

  After eating more than her share of the savory pie and several jujube scones, Mirella decided it was time Valentine answered her question. “So?”

  Valentine dabbed his mouth with a snowy white napkin, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “What is it?” Mirella asked, standing up to look down at him. Although, he was so much taller than her that even sitting he was at her eyes’ level.

  Instead of answering with another suggestion as he had done until now, he took his clockwork pocket watch and made a great scene of looking at the thin hands moving against the numerals.

  Mirella was about to explode when he tilted his head to the side as if he was listening to something. And sure enough, a moment later, she heard the stepping sounds too. Her pregnancy-enhanced senses told her who was walking toward the Green Parlor—her sisters. She couldn’t help but throw herself at Valentine, eyes filled with joyful tears.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in between small kisses.

  “Vera and Lucilla can stay as long as they want,” he said.

  “You are the best husband.”

  A moment later, her sisters burst into the room, followed by Dragon. Lucilla and Vera hugged Mirella with their usual enthusiasm, worrying Crea whose horrified expression said what her mouth couldn’t.

  After disengaging from her sisters’ fierce embraces, Mirella turned to her lady’s maid. “I’ll be fine. Affection has never hurt anyone.”

  “Relax, Crea.” Vera patted the lady’s maid’s arm as Lucilla winked at Crea.

  Crea closed her lips in a tight line and gave Lucilla and Vera a dark look, but she was prevented from saying something by Mama Bee’s grand entrance. The woman filled the Green Parlor with her presence and commandeered everyone’s attention with her most extravagant turban yet. Even the sisters remained speechless before the gold and purple cone on top of Mama Bee’s coiled tresses. Flying around the headpiece, two clockwork hummingbirds chased each other, their iridescent plumage sparkling under the chandeliers’ light. The moving artwork wasn’t the only dazzling detail of Bee’s ensemble. Her black eyes were framed by golden lashes elongated at the corner of her eyelids, providing a perch for the hummingbirds to rest on every few turns around her head.

  “Mama Bee, let me introduce my wife’s sisters, Vera and Lucilla,” Valentine said, barely containing his mirth.

  Greetings were exchanged, Crea warmed to the sisters, more food was brought to the breakfast table, and the party resumed amidst amiable chatter, filling Mirella’s heart with joy.

  Life could not be any better.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Valentine watched as Mirella strolled under his studio’s window, taking a turn around the hanging gardens with her sisters and her lady’s maid who never left her alone. He waited for her to see him, and a moment later she raised her eyes and smiled at him. A playful gust of wind billowed her skirt, making her laugh. Her voice carried to the studio, and Valentine laughed as well, her happiness infectious.

  Blowing her a kiss, he said, “Isn’t she the most beautiful expecting mother you have ever seen?”

  “She is, Master Lobo,” Balenus answered from his seat across the desk, nursing a mug of steaming aleroot.

  The medicus had recovered from his kidnapping rather fast and went back to work right away, dedicating himself to Mirella with a zeal that endeared him to Valentine even more. He was most solicitous in assuaging her and Valentine’s fears, and collaborated with Mama Bee without pulling rank or complaining about the woman’s interferences, which were plenty.

  Valentine waved at Mirella, who waved back, then resumed her walk, surrounded by a horde of giggling females who stole glances over her shoulders at him. Since her sisters had arrived two weeks ago, the manor was filled with laughter, and Mirella had never looked happier. He followed her progress toward one of the gazebos, and only when she was out of sight did he turn toward the medicus. “How is her pregnancy proceeding?” Valentine asked the same question every few days. He reached for one of the pastries on the food tray Aldo had delivered a few minutes ago. The baked goods were still warm to the touch, and their sweet aroma permeated the room, whetting Valentine’s appetite.

  As usual, Balenus smiled and in his soft-spoken voice said, “As expected. She is still suffering from severe nausea, which some women experience even in their third trimester, but I’ve prescribed her an herbal tea to mitigate her symptoms and some supplements.” Once in a while, his answer contained a new detail.

  “What kind of supplements?” Valentine, whose werewolf physiology greatly differed from humans, was always wary of medicines.

  “Minerals and vitamins the Blessed Bride and your son need now that she is approaching her final trimester.”

  “Will those supplements prevent another bleeding from happening?” Valentine still felt guilty for not having been at Mirella’s side when she went through such a scare.

  “That was a one-time occurrence.” Balenus picked one of the tarts from the tray. “Since it didn’t happen again, I’m most comfortable saying she’s not in any danger of miscarriage. Plus, between Mama Bee and me, the Blessed Bride is being checked around the clock.” He took a bite from the pastry, then lowered it to his dessert plate, wiped his hand on the white napkin placed on his lap, and after a long, awkward silence asked, “Was your visit to Sidera Prime productive?”

  The medicus’s question surprised Valentine. Although his trip was public knowledge around the manor, he and Balenus had never talked about it, and the man had never shown any interest in the topic until now.

  Raising his mug of aleroot, Valentine took a good gulp before answering, “Usual business.”

  “I know that the Brotherhood can be —”

  “Master—” Aldo called from the open door after a polite knock on the wooden frame. “The High Priest has sent his sculptor for the Blessed Bride’s statue.”

  Like a struck matchstick combusting at once, Valentine’s temper flared, igniting his dormant rage with a sudden burst. “Tell him he can go back to Adris,” he hissed, his hold tightening against the porcelain cup.

  “But it’s custom to have the statue done before the birth of the heir,” Balenus said, with a pronounced frown.

  “Never cared about customs.” Valentine lowered his mug to the desk with too much force, and it broke, what was left of the aleroot spilling onto the surface amidst porcelain shards.

  Aldo immediately produced a handkerchief and proceeded to mop the shiny wood, collecting the fragments with great care.

  Balenus raised his hands in an offer of peace. “I apologize, but I must insist about the s—”

  Indicating the door with a cut of his eyes, Valentine stopped the medicus. “Thank you, Balenus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With a slight bow of his head, Balenus stood and left.

  “I’ll carry your message to the sculptor right away.” Aldo also made to leave, but Valentine signaled for him to wait.

  “One of my drivers can fly him back a
fter he eats something.” Valentine grabbed the teapot and poured aleroot in a new cup, but the beverage had cooled.

  Before he could utter a request, Aldo nodded. “I’ll ring the kitchens for freshly brewed tea.”

  Once alone in the studio, Valentine pushed his wheeled chair against the wall and leaned his head against it. He heaved a hard breath, wanting nothing more but to be left alone with his tumultuous thoughts.

  His wish wasn’t granted. Not a minute had passed when Gabriel entered the studio without knocking.

  “Enraging the High Priest again?” the vampire asked, heading straight to the corner and helping himself from the liquor cabinet.

  “The walls must have ears.” Valentine didn’t bother to move from his position, his eyes staring at the dark paneled ceiling. “And you have no manners whatsoever.”

  “I met both Balenus and Aldo on my way here. And I didn’t know manners were required when among family.” Gabriel uncorked yet another rare vintage and sniffed the bouquet. “Good thing you have great taste in wine or staying here would amount to torture now that the harem is being transformed into a school.” He sighed in contentment. “Fifteen-cycle aged Varenne, an excellent vintage.”

  “You are most welcome.” Valentine scoffed. “And I’m sure you’re keeping yourself entertained.” He decided that aleroot wouldn’t improve his mood. “Pour me some.”

  Crystal flutes in hand, Gabriel sat on the edge of the desk and offered one glass to Valentine. “So, what prompted your latest tantrum?”

  Valentine shrugged. “I sent away the sculptor who came to work on Mirella’s statue.” Shifting his weight, he let the front legs of his chair fall to the floor, then extended his hand toward the flute.

  Two months had passed, but it seemed only yesterday when Mirella placed his hand on her rounded belly, and he felt the smallest of pressures in response to his touch. Tears still wet his eyes when he remembered the expression of pure joy illuminating Mirella’s face. Everything was happening too soon.

  “I understand.” Gabriel rotated his glass in slow circles, releasing the flowery scent of the wine he breathed in.

  “I don’t want to see her effigy exposed in the Goddess Temple. I can’t bear the idea.” Valentine didn’t let the wine breathe, but chugged it like cheap beer. “More.” He opened his arm toward Gabriel, who obliged his request with a generous amount of Varenne. The mere image of Mirella’s statue alongside his mother’s in the Blessed Brides’ Hallway caused his heart to bleed.

  “What will you say to Mirella? She must think of the custom as a great honor.”

  Gabriel was right. During one of their latest conversations, Mirella told Valentine how she used to visit the Goddess Temple to pay her respect to the former blessed brides. Her mother and her tutors had stressed upon her youthful mind how fortunate Mirella was for being among them, and she grew up with the idea that one day her statue would be displayed in the Temple.

  “I’ll think of something.” At the sight of Mirella walking back toward the house, Valentine downed the second flute in one gulp. “Let’s go out. I need some fresh air.”

  Heading toward the door to meet Mirella halfway through the gardens, they were stopped by Martali.

  “Master Lobo, I’ve got a lead regarding the gun used by Mester Rado,” his head guard started.

  Tilting his chin, Valentine motioned the man and Gabriel to follow him back into the studio. “Do we finally know the Berelli’s provenience?”

  Martali nodded, satisfaction etched on his face. “Months of investigations have finally given some fruit. Rado’s gun came from a private armory owned by one of his associates.”

  “Do we know this associate?” Valentine asked.

  After the merchant’s death, he had Martali and his guards comb the whole of Lupine, looking for the vendor who sold the classified guns to the terrorists. Berellis were not only expensive, but they were also custom made for the Royal Army and the High Priest’s Guard, which had slowed the investigation because of the high ranks of the involved parties.

  “A merchant, Morello Vanni—”

  “He’s part of the space-maritime coop,” Gabriel said.

  “And an old acquaintance of mine.” Valentine massaged his jaw. “I didn’t know he was Rado’s associate.”

  “Very few knew. Rado and Vanni kept their ties secret. It took me so long to trace the gun because of how careful they were in hiding the paper trail,” Martali said.

  “When is the coop’s next meeting?” Gabriel asked, moving aside for a servant pushing a cart to enter the studio.

  “Not for a while. In two weeks, there’s an investors meeting, and that’s too late.” Valentine waved for the servant to leave the tray with the freshly brewed tea on the table. “But today, Adris merchants have their weekly reunion at the Gentleman’s Club, and even if Vanni isn’t present, we can always ask his whereabouts,” he added, then rang Aldo on the voice-intercom. “Find Dragon and tell him to meet us at the entrance.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A bout of strong nausea forced Mirella to stop.

  “Are you okay?” Vera asked, taking Mirella’s hand in hers.

  Crea and Lucilla stepped in front of her with matching worried expressions on their faces.

  “I just need a moment,” Mirella answered when she could breathe again. Panting, she let her sister accompany her to the nearest bench.

  “I’ll call Mama Bee.” Lucilla turned toward the mansion.

  Raising one finger, Mirella shook her head.

  “Do you want the medicus instead?” Vera asked, making sure Mirella was comfortably seated.

  “No need to disturb either of them. It’s already passed.” Mirella massaged the top of her belly and was rewarded by a little bump pushing against her hand. She smiled, the pain already forgotten. “Besides, Balenus has already given me something for it.”

  In the last few weeks, fatigue and headaches had become daily occurrences, requiring frequent visits with the medicus.

  “Weren’t you feeling better?” Lucilla sat on the grass.

  “I was.” Mirella frowned. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s not just the nausea. I can’t remember anything and I feel tired all the time, but Balenus told me it’s normal for expecting mothers.”

  “Really?” Vera corrugated her brows. “It doesn’t sound pleasant. What does Mama Bee say?”

  “I’ll ask her the next time I’ll see her.”

  To Valentine’s insistence, Balenus had moved closer to the master apartments and was always available, whereas Mirella had seen less and less of Mama Bee in the last few weeks. When she had asked for the midwife, the answer was always that the woman was busy with some tasks around the manor.

  “Look who’s coming,” Lucilla said, pointing beyond Mirella.

  She peeked over her shoulders and saw Valentine approaching, flanked by Dragon and Gabriel.

  “Your husband must have a sixth sense. You sneeze and—Poof!—he appears.” Vera chuckled.

  Crea tried to keep a straight face, but she was soon laughing alongside Lucilla.

  Shaking her head in mock outrage, Mirella moved both her legs to the side, turning to face Valentine who sprinted to reach her.

  Dragon and Gabriel arrived a moment later and regaled the group with extravagant compliments that made both her sisters and Crea blush and giggle, while Mirella greeted them with a warm smile before her husband commandeered her full attention.

  To the audience’s utmost delight, Valentine kneeled before Mirella and took her hands in his. “Kitten, I must fly to Adris.” The seriousness on his face worried Mirella.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked, bringing his hands to her lips for a soft kiss.

  Valentine leaned against her touch. Her sisters commented that he was the most romantic of husbands, and their excited whispers carried to the rest of the group. Mirella could barely repress her smile when Valentine winked at her, his fingers stroking the edge of her corset, nobody be
ing the wiser.

  “Nothing wrong. Martali found the person who sold the Berellis to Rado, and we’ll go and have a nice chat with him,” Valentine said, then leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “You are such a tempting morsel, I could send everyone away and make love to you on this bench.” His hand roamed over the soft mound of her breast, soliciting a silent moan from her throat and a growl from him that was heard loud and clear.

  Chuckles followed.

  “I’m so hungry—” He nibbled at her earlobe.

  Summoning all her willpower, she pressed her hand against his chest and pushed away. “Go, do what you need to do and come back.” Trembling, Mirella leaned forward again and nudged the point of his nose with hers. “Be safe.”

  “Always, for you.” Valentine tilted his chin up and offered her his lips for a sweet kiss. “I’ll fly back as soon as I can.”

  Amidst a chorus of exaggerated sighs, Valentine and his friends left.

  Mirella loudly harrumphed as she turned on the bench. “You can stop now,” she said, rolling her eyes at her sisters who took turns swooning in each other’s arms.

  “You know that we are just jealous,” Lucilla said with a bright smile. “We wish we had someone like your werewolf.”

  “What about all those dates at the Royal Court? I’m sure you had plenty of suitors, right?” Crea asked. Her shyness around the sisters had lasted the whole of two hours within their arrival at the manor. Lucilla and Vera had adopted the lady’s maid and involved the girl in every scheme they hatched.

  “The Royal Court is full of nice-looking knights and gentlemen, but they are…” Vera said.