“Wedding night sweet soup,” the cook said, carrying a tureen toward the table.
The white porcelain piece was beautiful, with two delicately sculpted, wrought-iron doves nested on top of the lid. The doves cooed and moved their wings, adjusting their position on the dome, their tiny gears rotating. Only once, when Mirella was a child, she had seen a mechanical decoration that pretty. Mechanical artisans didn’t make clockwork art any longer, and it was a pity in her opinion.
To make space on the tablecloth, Valentine hastily removed some of the empty dishes and took them to the sink.
More than once since they had left the mansion, Mirella wondered who the man in front of her was. The image of Master Lobo cleaning tables would be memorized in her secret vault and categorized under pleasant surprises.
“Enjoy,” Mama Bee said, leaving the fine tureen between them and taking away the rest of the dishes. She then rummaged inside the cupboard and came back a moment later with a white ceramic ladle and two small bowls.
The dove theme was repeated on the ladle’s handle and on the bowls’ sides, making the china pieces a matching set. Their delicate and subdued elegance looked out of place in Mama Bee’s kitchen.
Valentine removed the lid, uncovering a thick, milky broth. The scent of flowers, freshly ground cloves, and ginger wafted up, tickling Mirella’s nose. Swimming atop the sweet soup, pink and red rose petals gave the dessert a splash of color. When Valentine plunged the ladle into the soup, globular berries resembling orangey-red raisins popped to the surface.
“That’s jujube,” Valentine said, pointing at a cluster of berries. He spooned a few ladles of the broth into one cup, filling it halfway. “Highly aphrodisiac.” His hoarse voice had dropped to a whisper that caressed Mirella’s senses. “It enhances the couple’s pleasure.” His long fingers curled around the small bowl.
Her heart drummed a fast rhythm in her chest. Mirella blinked, but the spell he had put on her didn’t vanish. Valentine raised the bowl to her mouth, applying the smallest of pressures. It was but a suggestion to part her lips. Yet she reacted to it as if it were a command and yielded to his will.
Sweet and spicy, the aromatic broth coated her tongue and filled her throat.
“It makes you taste sweeter.”
Her lungs stopped pumping air. She wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly.
“As sweet as the nectar of a dewy jasmine blossom,” he continued in his low, sensual whispering, pouring more soup into her mouth. “A flower bud I’d take my time to open, petal by petal.”
Suddenly, the bowl was lifted from her lips. His penetrating gaze never leaving her, he brought the soup to his mouth and drank from it. Mirella watched him swallow, following the movement of his throat, and wishing they were alone.
Her skin tingled with desire, and she closed her legs tight, painfully aware of her naked flesh.
“Taste the softness of the jujube,” he said, filling a spoon with the berries and feeding her a few pieces from it before having some himself.
When she bit into one of the small globes it exploded in her mouth, releasing spiced juices that inflamed her senses furthermore.
“The morning of the wedding, the dry berries are soaked in Laurum. Blessed by a midwife, the jujubes are kept covered while they swell in size, saturated by the spirit. The broth is cooked and it slowly simmers the whole day until the berries are bursting and the soup is ready to be consumed.” Valentine’s husky voice ignited Mirella’s imagination.
Shivering, she accepted his next offering and then the next as well, as he alternated between serving her and himself, until she ached for want of him.
“Swallow, kitten,” he said, coaxing in her mouth the last drop of soup and licking his lips at the same time. He placed the bowl on the table, then stared at her for a few seconds.
Mirella recognized the feral intensity in his eyes because it mirrored her want. Her chest heaved in short breaths while her entire body burned. She hoped he would do something outrageous next, like asking Mama Bee to vacate the room. Her addled brain concocted images of her naked body sprawled over the table as he towered over her still dressed. She would open for him and her husband would taste her and…
“Mama Bee, thank you so much for the best meal I’ve had in a long while,” Valentine said, abruptly awakening Mirella from her daydreaming.
She wasn’t able to utter a word.
Giving Mirella a wink, Mama Bee chuckled. “You honored me with your visit.”
“How long have you been cooking the wedding soup?” Her husband asked the cook as if they’d just had lunch, nothing more.
“Since the day you abducted your bride from the Vestal House, of course. I’ve been starting fresh new batches every day. Fortunately, it didn’t take you long to visit me.” Laughing, Mama Bee addressed Mirella next, “And I am a midwife, in case you were wondering, so I did the blessing myself.”
Laughing as well, Valentine shook his head. “Thank you for the special gift.”
“My pleasure, cub.” Mama Bee reached her hand to Valentine’s head, and he leaned against her touch for the briefest of moments.
Mirella found their interaction familial and wondered about their relationship.
Next, Mama Bee took Mirella’s hands in her warm, calloused ones. “Blessed Bride, you are everything I thought you were going to be and more so. It’s a true pleasure having met you.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Mirella said.
A few minutes later, Valentine escorted Mirella outside, and she wondered what kind of sorcery had happened back in that enchanted room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Instead of heading toward the square, Valentine led Mirella further inside the dark alley. Then when he was sure nobody could see them, he grabbed her by her waist, pulled her up, and pressed her against the wall. He muted her surprised gasp with his mouth, his hands working on the strings of her corset, loosening the garment until he could reach the pearly-white shirt underneath. With his fingers he moved the bra lower, pushing her breasts up and against the silk fabric of the shirt.
Mirella wound her legs around his waist and her skirt bunched up to her tummy, exposing her garters.
He left her mouth, trailing kisses down her throat, then stretched the shirt over the swell of her breast and latched his lips to her nipple, wetting the silk that became transparent. Leaning away, he admired the sight, then repeated the ministration on the other breast. A mild breeze moved into the alley, cooling the wet fabric over her nipples, stiffening them. Moaning and pressing her hands over his head, Mirella pushed her breast against his mouth.
Valentine freed one hand and reached between her legs, where her blossoming bud was waiting for him. “And this is why I forbid you to wear knickers,” he said, plunging his finger inside her wet softness.
Leaning her head against the wall behind, Mirella arched her throat, her lips parted in a low cry as she moved against his hand.
He pinched her nipple between index finger and thumb, then pulled the stiff peak as he caressed her channel. Mirella was already closing around him, her moans coming faster and faster.
With a growl, his wolf demanded to take control. Valentine tried to resist the mating call, but his own body betrayed him, robbing him of his will power. Unable to stop himself, he yanked his belt open, lowered his pants, and united their bodies with a deep thrust. The pleasure was immediate. Inside her, he felt whole. A sense of belonging he had never experienced before swept him away to a place where only Valentine and Mirella existed.
With his arms, he circled her back to protect her from the coarseness of the wall, and kissed her with abandon. His tongue pushed inside her mouth mimicking his hungry thrusts that became rougher and deeper until her channel contracted in a long release that triggered his.
Only when Valentine’s Vital Essence was spilled completely inside his Blessed Bride did his wolf release him. The overwhelming pleasure he had felt but a moment ago was marred by the though
t that his seed might have already taken residence in her womb. With a shudder, he lowered his head to her shoulder.
“Valentine,” she whispered to his ear in between short pants, her body still quivering around him.
“Kitten—” He hugged her tightly, one hand splayed between her shoulder blades and the other pressed over the small of her back.
Her small hands roamed through his hair, undoing his plait with her fingers. “My wild wolf,” she said, driving the blade deeper inside Valentine’s heart. “My husband.”
The pride in her voice made him want to shout that she was mistaken about him, but he didn’t.
His wolf ears caught the sound of approaching steps from the mouth of the alley. He kissed her, then lowered her to the cobblestones.
“Am I presentable?” She tried to pull the corset closed, but the shirt underneath was all wrinkled and the bra was askew.
“You look utterly ravished.” He gently moved her hands to the side and pushed the bra down, then flattened her shirt, and finally pulled the strings tighter, closing the corset with a small bow at the top. “Still ravished.” He brushed the corner of her mouth. “Your scent alone would give us away.” He pressed his hand over the fabric above her mound between her legs. “So warm.”
As expected, Mirella blushed, making him smile.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “My Blessed Bride—”
Incoming traffic interrupted him. Instinctively, he stepped in front of Mirella to protect her from prying eyes. Two men walked past them. As soon as they realized who Valentine was, they bowed low, then moved along.
Valentine wound his arm over Mirella’s shoulder. “It’s late. Let’s go home.” He led her back to his airbike, passing through several lateral alleys to avoid the still crowded square. He wasn’t in a talkative mood and didn’t want to see people who thought so highly of him. They were soon flying over the neighborhood, but riding didn’t improve his dark mood. He doubted even racing Dallian at breakneck speed over the Great Plains would’ve made any difference. A good, bloody fight might have done the trick, but he was far away from his gymnasium. So, he closed himself behind a wall as he was used to when there was nothing handy to break.
For most of the ride, Mirella respected his silence by keeping to herself, even though they were touching. Only when they reached his property did she finally speak. “Are you not pleased with me?”
“Why would you ask such a question?”
“Every time we are together—” She hesitated, her body stiffening, leaning away from his. “Afterward, you’re angry.” Her shoulders sagged.
He lowered his chin to the spot between her neck and her shoulders, inhaling her scent that still carried the mark of their passion. “You please me, kitten.” He brushed her skin. “You were made for me.” His tongue licked the contour of her earlobe. “Everything about you is perfect.” Leaving the handle, he enveloped her in his embrace. “Your body calls to mine.”
She turned in his arms, straddling the seat backward so that she was facing him. Her eyes were rimmed with unshed tears. “I know I’m not your type—”
Her statement made him scoff, but he smiled at her as he asked, “And how would you possibly know that?” It had been true once, but he had changed his mind since the very first night he met her.
“Your favorite—” Her mouth trembled, but it was only the weakness of a moment, because she immediately steadied her features and raised her chin.
A stronger gust of wind moved the airbike sideways.
He leaned forward to reach the handles behind her, correcting their course. “My favorite?” he asked with his mouth to her ear.
“Your favorite courtesan is different from me,” she said all in one breath.
“Who, Ronda?”
At his question, Mirella’s body froze.
“Would you prefer that she looked like you?” He flew the Desert Fire higher and out of the wind’s trajectory.
Mirella didn’t answer.
He looked at her. “It doesn’t matter what she looks like.”
“But she’s your preferred type—”
“I don’t care about Ronda,” he said. “And we’ve wasted enough time talking about her already.”
Taking advantage of her position, he pulled her up, raising her skirt over her garters, then pressed her down to him. “This is what you do to me.” Raising his loins against her, he made sure there was no doubt in her mind of what he was talking about. Her warm scent reached his nostrils, and his wolf made him growl. “I can smell the sweetness of the jujube berries already—”
It might’ve been genetics, it might’ve been his wolf’s desire speaking through him, but Valentine was at a distinct disadvantage when it came to his kitten. His usually steely resolve crumbled before the small slip of a woman in his lap. Only an hour ago, he had felt guilty for succumbing to his senses, and now, at the first occasion, he was about to take her again.
Yet the look on her face lit his heart. Her former sullen expression had been replaced by excited anticipation as she rocked slowly against him. His wolf was already howling, and he knew he would soon be powerless to stop his inner beast from taking over.
The most unlikely of saviors appeared in the sky. Coming from his house, Dallian was flying toward the airbike.
“What—” Valentine helped Mirella back on her original position, then secured her against him with his arm. Throttle wide open, he pushed the airbike ahead, trying to intercept his draglet.
Dallian’s wings flapped at a strange angle, and its body was dragged to the right by a fast current.
Valentine avoided the wind, but had to lower the airbike almost to the ground while Dallian’s large body capsized, losing control of its wings.
“It’s safer if you stay back,” he said to Mirella, who nodded and dismounted as soon as he landed. With one last look at her, he took off.
Without the added worry of hurting his bride, he pushed the Desert Fire to its limit and used the thermals to his advantage to ride faster and get as close as he could to Dallian. His purebred cried and thrashed around, making it difficult for Valentine to get hold of the reins dangling from its saddle. At a closer distance, it was evident that Dallian was wounded. Its long, gossamer wings were bloodied, and the draglet was in pain.
Valentine had been able to grab the handle of one of the reins, when a sideway current engulfed the purebred, carrying it away from him. Cursing, Valentine redoubled his efforts, but the wind had grown into a gale, threatening to swipe the Desert Fire alongside Dallian.
Heavy clouds laden with rain covered the afternoon sky, hiding Coral’s sunset behind a dark purple curtain. The temperature dropped several degrees, slowing the draglet’s metabolism. The beast’s heart would soon enter stasis to save energy and Dallian would drop to the ground from its still considerable height. The purebred would not survive such a fall.
Suddenly, the clouds burst open and purple hail pelted the Great Plains, diminishing the visibility.
Turning around, Valentine looked down for Mirella, but he couldn’t see her any longer. He heard Dallian’s cries broadcasting his growing distress, while at the same time its guttural calls became softer.
“I’m sorry, my friend.” With his heart heavy, Valentine flew lower until he was parallel to the ground. Shielding his eyes with his hand and squinting, he called Mirella’s name at the top of his lungs, but the wind and the hail dimmed his voice.
He was sure of the spot where he had left her no longer than ten minutes ago, and she couldn’t have walked far. The purple cacti cast long shadows on the ground, hiding the beeds’ nests. The burrowers lived mostly underground and dug holes next to the cacti.
His heart lurched down to his stomach. Mirella could’ve looked for shelter under one of the bigger cacti and fallen into a beeds’ nest. Those desert dwellers were carnivorous and they trapped their victims by injecting them with a toxin that paralyzed their body while keeping them conscious. Several meters d
eep into the ground, she could have been crying for help and he would’ve never heard her.
He called forth his wolf to borrow its strength and enhanced senses, but his calls were met by silence and his ears didn’t catch anything else beside the roar of the tempest. Even his nose couldn’t find her scent any longer. Rain and hail were now falling down at the same time, hampering whatever progress he could’ve made in finding Mirella. Ten, fifteen minutes passed.
Refusing to succumb to despair, he circled the plain around the spot where he had left her, expanding the area he was overlooking, trying to cover as much terrain as he could in the shortest amount of time. His leather jacket weighed him down as if it were made of lead. He was soaked through and his hands trembled over the handles, but he didn’t stop his search.
Once or twice the thought that Mirella was beyond his reach entered his mind, but he shook his head and focused on the terrain, forcing his eyes to take in every detail. The flash floods would come next and he had to find his bride before it was too late.
Time passed both too slow and too fast. It had stopped hailing, but the rain fell heavier than before. In the distance, rivers of purple water were already flowing through the plain, bisected by the cacti. If the beeds didn’t get to Mirella, the floods would.
A full hour had passed already, if Valentine didn’t find her in the next few minutes, she would be swept away by the unforgiving waters.
He would never see his precious kitten again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A gust of wind caught Mirella unaware and she was shoved against a cactus.
Prickled by a myriad of tiny needles, she recoiled in pain, but her worry for Valentine was stronger than her physical aches. She searched the darkening sky for his airbike. Far away, she could see him executing reckless aerial acrobatics. It seemed that Valentine was in control of the situation, but the draglet kept changing its course, moving in unpredictable ways, its wings thrashing around.
The Fifth Moon's Wolf (The Fifth Moon's Tales) Page 12
