The Fifth Moon's Wolf (The Fifth Moon's Tales)

by Monica La Porta

  The captain grabbed Mirella’s elbow, impeding her approach to Lobo. “I apologize, Blessed Bride,” he said, then addressed her husband, “Master Lobo, I can’t allow you to remove the Blessed Bride from the Vestal House—”

  “Do not touch my wife.” Lobo’s voice was low, but his eyes glowed red and his body simmered with rage.

  The captain immediately obeyed, and Mirella was hoisted by her husband’s strong arm onto his lap. Reaching around her, he revved the airbike’s engines and released the wings.

  “Stop!” The High Priest appeared at the top of the staircase. “What foolishness is this?” he asked, hurrying down the steps. His face was red and sweaty.

  “You failed my bride. I’m taking her to my house where she will be safe,” Lobo answered.

  “No Blessed Bride has ever left the Vestal House before giving birth. It’s against the Brotherhood Canon. It’s sacrilegious!” The High Priest reached them and gestured toward the captain. “Remove her from the airbike.”

  The captain gave the High Priest a shrug. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  At the man’s refusal, the High Priest turned to the werewolf and opened his arms in supplication. “Please, Master Lobo, you must listen to reason—”

  “I am.” Then Lobo whispered to Mirella, “Hang tight,” and propelled the airbike forward, taking off with a loud roar of the engines.

  She didn’t need to hang tight though because he crossed one arm over her chest and pressed her to him. A moment later, they were flying over the Vestal House, leaving behind the High Priest’s outraged cries.

  “Are you okay?” Lobo asked her, loosening his hold as he stabilized the airbike to a slow pace.

  “I’m fine.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’ve never ridden an airbike before.”

  She thought she saw a small smile tugging at his lips, but it soon disappeared.

  “I’ll go slow then,” he said.

  “I’m not scared.” She relaxed against him, and when he flexed she shivered.

  He remained silent for a moment, then he whispered, “I’ll apprehend and punish whoever dared order your attack.”

  “Why would anyone want to hurt me?”

  “I have enemies.”

  “So I have been told, but—”

  “I don’t want you to worry about what happened any longer. I’ll deal with it.” He sighed and squeezed her tighter as if to reassure her. “Don’t ask questions I won’t answer. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

  She didn’t like to be kept in the dark, but years of training on how to be the perfect wife made her nod.

  “How do you like your first airbike ride?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “I’ve never seen an airbike that looks like an animal before. The clockwork alone is amazing,” she marveled, pointing at the silver gears showing under the glass porthole between her legs.

  “I had a mechanical artist create her for me.” He stroked her waist with slow movements. “Are you cold?”

  “No, you are warm enough for the two of us.” She inhaled his scent and closed her eyes. His smell evoked in her the wilderness of the Great Plains. The only way she could describe it was unbridled freedom.

  “Are you tired?”

  “No, I’m just restless.” She burrowed closer to him, moving both legs to one side and resting her head under his chin. Between the large seat and his larger thighs there was enough space for her to sit comfortably, and even nap if she was so inclined. But his presence was intoxicating, and she doubted she could’ve slept even if she had been dead tired.

  Mirella swore she could feel his body tingling with energy and it affected hers as well, robbing her of her ability to properly breathe. Several minutes into the ride, she realized that she hadn’t been paying attention to the scenery passing by. All her focus had been on her husband’s every little movement, on his every word, on his scent, on his hands now slowly roaming all over her.

  “Turquoise is a lovely color on you,” he commented after a prolonged silence. His hand skimmed the softness above her bodice.

  It was but a brush, and yet Mirella gasped, feeling her body burn for more.

  Lobo played with her long necklace, sliding the pearls in his hand and letting them fall over her chest and in between the hollow of her breasts. He pressed himself against her bottom, making her wish her gown had fewer layers of fabric. His fingers traced circles over exposed skin. She arched her neck in response and he took hold of her mouth. His teeth nibbled at her lips, demanding she open. She did and he plunged his tongue inside her.

  At her low moans, he chuckled and took his hand from her breasts to bunch her gown up to her thighs. His fingers found her garter’s hook and he traced its contour as he had already done once, sending shivers all over Mirella’s legs and straight to her core. He didn’t remove the garter, but played with it until Mirella couldn’t bear the torture any longer and took his hand, pressing it between her legs.

  “My kitten—” He slipped a finger underneath her lace knickers. “I want you.”

  She couldn’t say anything back, but her short intake of breath and her gasps answered for her. He teased her nub and opened her petals, then finally entered her, massaging her channel with his finger. She was spiraling toward her completion when he grunted and removed his hand. Before she could complain, he spoke.

  “I can’t wait to reach home.” With a curse, he lowered the airbike to the ground. “I must have you now.” He grabbed her waist with both hands, turned her so she would face him, moved her legs to straddle him, then reached between them and opened his pants.

  “Here?” Mirella looked over his shoulder, but her body had a mind of its own and accommodated him as he moved the flimsy lace aside and pushed his length inside her.

  “Nobody’s around,” he answered, thrusting up and lowering her bodice to uncover her breasts.

  When he dipped his mouth to her nipple, she forgot her original question and rode the waves of pleasure he coaxed from her. He suckled greedily and she shattered right away.

  “You’ve missed me too.” He sounded pleased, and still pushing inside her channel he kissed her.

  She sighed in his mouth.

  “You’re so tight,” he said, thrusting harder.

  Soon his fast rhythm stirred her body again, and she began moving on top of him, riding his loins, seeking his lips with wild abandon, her hands on his hair tugging at his long mane.

  “Come for me once more, kitten.” His words sounded like a plea, and that excited Mirella more than anything else he could have said.

  His hands traveled lower and grabbed her gown, exposing her bottom, then he splayed those warm hands over her cheeks and urged her body up and down in a frantic pace. She knew she would have his prints marking her flesh on the morrow, and the image sent her over the edge.

  “Shout my name,” he ordered.

  Overwhelmed by the pleasure he gave her, she screamed, “Lobo!” while looking into his eyes and drinking into the pool of his desire. A moment later, he arched his neck and howled, forcing her down to him as he emptied his Vital Essence inside her still convulsing channel.

  “Mirella,” he whispered, bumping his forehead to hers. “Next time, call me Valentine.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Valentine looked down at Mirella still straddling his lap. At the height of her pleasure she had called him Lobo, but he wanted to be Valentine to her.

  “Where are we?” she asked, fatigue palpable in her voice.

  “Several kilometers away from Adris’ outskirts and prying eyes. It’s just us and a few wildrats under the moons.”

  She laughed. “I’m glad you thought of our privacy.”

  “I’m not the sharing type.” He took her earlobe in his mouth and playfully bit into the skin.

  “I’m not either…”

  He sensed her hesitation and how her body subtly shifted away from him. With his hands still firmly grabbing her bottom, he didn’t allow her to move, ke
eping them united. “Kitten,” he admonished her.

  Her pink and deliciously swollen mouth opened and closed a few times. “Are there women—”

  “There are courtesans in my house,” he said, guessing what she wanted to ask. “It’s the custom. People in my position have harems.”

  She nodded, then she looked down. “My father never had one.” Her voice was but the softest of whispers, quieter than any human ears could have picked up on.

  He raised her chin with his fingers. “But I do.” When she was about to lower her eyes again, he crushed her mouth with his.

  Her response was different this time. If she had been pliant before, now she was angry and her tongue conveyed her battle of will. He aroused her body, but her mind wanted to fight him. Her struggle was evident in her movements and he decided to let her get away from the battle with her dignity intact.

  “Let’s go home,” he said, kissing her crown and separating their bodies. He saw how her desire had won over her intention to refuse him, and how ashamed she was of her reaction. He gently caressed her face, then raised her bodice and lowered her gown. “I need to rest.” It wasn’t true. He could’ve taken her another ten times and be ready to start again a few minutes later.

  His little kitten energized him.

  The rest of the ride was silent, but after the first moment of awkwardness she relaxed and accepted his caresses. He petted her unhurriedly, enjoying her presence greatly. By the time he drove his airbike to the main entrance of Lobo Mansion, they had started talking again. Inconsequential chat, yet so pleasant.

  Informed by the gate guards of their arrival, Aldo waited for them at the entrance, his brows furrowed at the sight of Mirella in his master’s lap. He immediately donned his professionally detached expression, concealing his surprise.

  “Blessed Bride,” Aldo greeted her with a low bow.

  “My wife will stay in the right wing from now on.” Valentine helped Mirella to the ground, then dismounted his Desert Fire. “Call the stable boys.”

  “Right away.” Aldo kept the large wooden door open for them, then disappeared inside the maze that was Lobo Mansion, carrying Valentine’s orders with the precision that was his trademark.

  Valentine dreaded the moment in the near future when he would have to say goodbye to his majordomo, but such was the curse of a werewolf. People you cared for would eventually die, leaving behind wounds that could never fully heal.

  Mirella stepped to his side and timidly reached for his hand. “I imagined your house was big, but I had not realized the magnitude of it.” Her intelligent eyes roamed the foyer.

  Three stories high, the room was cavernous without being oppressive. In a recent remodel, Valentine had removed all the dark paneling that once covered the high walls and replaced it with light colors and paintings. His paintings.

  Tethered to her by her soft grip on his hand, Valentine found himself walking where she wanted to go, and she directed her small steps toward one of the gilded frames covering the wall between the two triple-arched windows. The painting portrayed a Terran ocean. Lapis-lazuli blue water and white waves under a turquoise sky illuminated by the distant light of a sunflower-yellow sun. A few seagulls circled the sea in large circles while one of them dove into a foamy wave.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said after looking at the big canvas for a long time.

  “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites.” He watched her as she resumed studying the painting.

  Mirella’s eyes took in every detail, lingering on a splash of white cresting one of the smaller waves in the distance, then focusing on the flying birds next.

  She raised her chin to look at him. “It’s outlandish and so foreign, but it makes you wish you lived in a place like that.”

  “We did.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “We did?”

  “A long time ago. That’s Earth.”

  “Oh...” At his revelation, she focused on the canvas once again. “I didn’t know Earth was so beautiful.”

  “It wasn’t all like that.” He pointed at the water.

  Her bright eyes locked with his. “How was it?”

  “There were green valleys and yellow rivers. Blue lakes. Mountains covered in white snow. Animals so strange you wouldn’t believe their existence—”

  “Like what?”

  “Elephants for example. They were several meters tall, built like lamouris, but large like draglets with pillar-like legs and a long trunk they used to breathe and lift objects. And tusks, they also had tusks made of a precious material—”

  Squeezing his hand, Mirella brought her free hand to her chest, her whole face lit with delight. “I wish I could have seen one of those animals.”

  “You can. I have an extensive library filled with ancient texts. Some of them came directly from Sidera Prime and they were copies of the originals stored in the lost library onboard of Valencia. My uncle was a collector and since he died without heirs, his estate eventually passed to me.” Valentine had to fight with his father to keep the collection intact. Marcello wanted to sell the books to the highest bidder, and Valentine had to hire legal help to keep the books in the family.

  “You would show me those relics?” Her question was laced with surprise.

  “Tomorrow if you want.”

  “Thank you!” She raised on her tiptoes and tilted her chin to give him a kiss, but she wasn’t tall enough and barely reached his throat.

  He couldn’t help but smile and took her in his arms, kissing her lips. It was nothing more than a tender peck, but it satisfied him greatly. “I’ll show you to your apartments.” Putting her down, he wound his arm around her shoulder to keep her close.

  “I’ll come back here often to look at those paintings—” She paused, her whole body seeming to sag, then she lowered her eyes to the travertine floor. “If I’m allowed to leave my quarters, of course.”

  Her sudden unhappiness triggered a sympathetic response in Valentine, but he was unaccustomed to the sentiment and brushed it away. “You can’t leave the mansion, but you are free to go where you please inside these walls.”

  She looked up and he saw her blossom with happiness. “Thank you—” she whispered, her voice getting thick as tears filled the corner of her eyes. She didn’t let them fall though, but smiled and blinked the moisture away.

  In comfortable silence they crossed the whole length of the foyer and climbed the double staircase. At the second floor landing, he steered her toward the right wing.

  “Are all those paintings from the same artist?” she asked after pausing before a few of the frames hanging on the walls.

  “They are.” He was pleased that she had noticed.

  “You must really like this painter.”

  “I have a complicated relationship with the man,” he answered with a low chuckle. “This way.” He pointed at the hallway to their right, resuming their stroll.

  Mirella trailed after him with a curious expression on her youthful face. He noticed how her eyes lingered on the mechanical workers disseminated throughout the whole house. In particular, she slowed her steps when they passed before a window cleaner. Although its gears had been recently polished, it was an obsolete model with a copper, stout body, and long arms, wheeling from glass panel to glass panel, spraying the surfaces with warm vapor and leaving behind a clean cotton scent. They weren’t common on Lupine anymore and he wondered what she thought of them, but she limited herself to watching.

  As they proceeded farther along the high-ceilinged hallways, he caught Mirella looking at her reflection in one of the many gilded mirrors populating the hallway’s walls. The glass surface reacted to her presence by enlarging her image, until it showed a close-up of her eyes.

  Staring at her own green irises mirroring her back in a never-ending loop, Mirella laughed. “Your antiques are beautiful.”

  Used to his house, it was a novel experience for Valentine to see the mansion through someone else’s eyes. “My quarters on Sidera Prime w
ere extensive and I moved my whole property to Lobo Mansion when we landed on Lupine. But with the exception of the paintings, all you’ve seen so far comes from my uncle and my father. Carolus and Marcello both had fine taste and the means necessary to buy anything they liked. This—” he waved his hand around to encompass the entire mansion “—is the result of centuries of collecting items. On Earth, Lobo Mansion would’ve been called a museum.”

  “I’ve heard of them. Mrs. Claretta told me that some of the pictures she showed me came from Terran museums—” She bit her lip as if she had said something wrong.

  He pressed his hand on the small of her back to direct her toward yet another corridor. “What kind of pictures?”

  “People pictures.”

  “Like portraits?”

  “Hmm hmm.”

  He noticed how a pale pink spread from her face to her throat and reached the soft swell of her breasts. “What kind of portraits?”

  “Couples—” Her breath hitched as she passed her hand over the wedding bracelet.

  “Coupling perhaps?” He found he liked to tease her.

  She nodded.

  “I have a few books on the matter, should you be interested in furthering your knowledge.” He caressed her back, then lowered his mouth to her ear. “Would you like that?”

  Before answering, she took a deep breath. “Yes. I’d like you to be my new tutor.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mirella was dizzy. The long and trying day had exhausted her mental and physical energies, and yet her body was buzzing with want for her husband and it made her say bold things.

  Although he didn’t answer her, a smile graced his handsome face, softening the harshness he usually showed to the world.

  Lobo had walked her to her apartments, strolling through the long hallway and several rooms until they entered her new sumptuous bedroom, which was twice as big as the Wedding Chamber. Her sleeping quarters were composed of a master bedroom, the en-suite bathroom, a closet he reassured her would be filled with clothes first thing on the morrow, and the lady’s maid chamber with its own bathroom. A kitchen and a laundry room completed that portion of the right wing.