Moon's Flower: A tale of Hidden Kingdom

by Marie Hall

  It was an innocent question, she didn’t expect for the light in his eyes to dim, or the sadness that crept across his features. Cocking her head, she cupped his cheek. Now that she could touch him, she wanted to continue to touch him. It was almost an obsession. He’d be leaving soon and she wasn’t sure she’d ever see him again.

  She nibbled her lip.

  “That is a convoluted and twisted tale and if I had more time…” he sighed, the sound was loud and long and full of regret. It pained her to hear it.

  “How much longer do we have?” she asked.

  “Ten minutes at most.”

  “So soon? Will I see you again?”

  “As long as you want to, Calanthe, I’ll never stop coming.”

  And this time, he was the one to close the distance between them. Yanking her onto his lap, he rubbed her back, paying particular attention to her highly sensitive wings. It made her body feel as if it’d gone up in flames. She shivered in his arms.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” she whispered. Godmothers had always spoken of the myth. Fairies of course had laughed, because while a few of them worked to develop love matches between humans and nonhumans, fairies could hardly conceive of the notion as being truly real.

  They loved their animals and flowers and fun… but love of one for another, in a sexual way… it simply wasn’t a part of them. But what she was feeling now for this man, this virile, mysterious Jericho was definitely not what she felt when she was around June.

  His lips were on her forehead and she felt the stretch of them as he said, “I’ve seen it enough to know it is real.”

  Pulling back, she gazed at him. “I am not a proper fairy, Jericho,” she whispered her most painful secret to him.

  His eyes blazed and she hoped he understood what she implied.

  Tipping her chin up with his finger, he pulled gently, tugged her toward his lips and she fell into the kiss with the ardent passion of a virgin in love.

  She didn’t know what she was doing, or if she was even doing it right. But she kissed and kissed and kissed him and when he growled and his tongue skated between her pinched lips, forcing her to open them and he slipped inside, sounds she’d never in her life made spilled from her.

  Purrs and mewls and her hands were frantic to touch him, all of him. His tongue tasted like heaven and the chords of his muscle flexed beneath her manic hands. After a moment, he laughed and pulled away and his eyes glowed and she knew hers did too. That’s when she noticed that in her frenzy to touch, she’d actually scratched his face so hard there were now welts.

  “Oh, my… I’m… I’m so sorry, Jericho.” She covered her mouth in shame.

  But he pulled her hand away and kissed her lips once again. No tongue this time, which made her pout. But only a little.

  “I’ll wear it like a badge of honor, my beautiful, sweet Calanthe.” And with a long sigh, and one final kiss to her brow, he made to stand.

  Jumping off his lap, she scrabbled to her feet. “You’re leaving?”

  Even as she said it a glimmering blue veil shimmered beside him. It was a long tunnel that drew up into the very heavens.

  “I don’t have a choice, or trust me, I wouldn’t.”

  “Then let me come with you.” She grabbed his hand, bold in her declaration of love.

  Brushing his knuckles along her cheeks, he sighed. “I wish you could. But the magic would never allow it.”

  Where just seconds ago her heart had been ready to burst with joy, it was now squeezing with pain. “You will come back to me, yes?”

  Releasing her, he walked toward the veil and her heart was literally breaking. It felt like ripping a part of her soul in two and watching it float away, helpless to stop it.

  “Always,” he whispered and then he was gone and there was nothing to show he’d ever been. There wasn’t even a footprint in the grass.

  Calanthe stood in the middle of the woods with a dumbfounded expression. Jericho had excited a passion in her, a desire that (while she couldn’t completely understand it) made her want to be reckless and free and now it was all gone.

  Just gone.

  There’d been so many questions and not nearly enough time.

  The rustling of a bush snagged her attention. She didn’t turn because she already knew who it was. “June,” she whispered.

  June’s eyes were bold and bright. “Calanthe.”

  And she knew by the way her friend said it, that she’d seen it all. There was no excuse to give; there would have been none anyway. June’s countenance was practically dumbfounded as she said, “My friend, what are you doing?”

  And though it grieved her that Jericho was no longer here, she could smile, because the mere fact that June had seen him too was proof that he wasn’t a dream, wasn’t a façade of her most secret yearnings, he was a man and he was real and she loved him. Desperately. And in one month he’d be back.

  “Falling in love, June,” she whispered and tipped her gaze heavenward. “Completely, madly, wildly in love.”

  ~*~

  The next month was excruciating for Jericho. Watching Calanthe day in and day out, desperate to touch her. To hold her. To kiss her as he had. To feel her tiny shudders, the way she trembled in his arms… it was painful. The forced separation only increased his need, his obsession to be with her.

  His moods were foul, every night that he had to share space and time with Siria only increased his agitation. He did not want to be with her. Did not want her company… she’d forced this existence upon him, and granted, had she never brought him to Kingdom he would never have met Calanthe but that was a very small consolation prize. Because being unable to have and hold the treasure you craved most in life was a torture all its own.

  Tomorrow he could go back to her. Somehow they’d gone through another month and he was so grateful that Calanthe hadn’t created another moon flower because that would have been so much worse. To have her touch his body, but him be unable to touch hers…

  Gripping the railing, he stared hungrily at the scene below him. Every night Calanthe returned to their woods. To their knoll, she sat and she stared up at the moon and sometimes would even wave.

  One time, she’d laid on her back and held up a thin sheaf of bark with an etching that read, “I miss you,” and it was like someone had ripped his heart from his chest. He’d watch as she’d create the most amazing blossoms of pinks and blues and violets and silver. In short, he was awed and fell more surely and deeper in love.

  He stayed where he was at, until he no longer could. Until the navy blanket of sky began to pierce through with bolts of pink and orange, until his body trembled from the ache of standing too close to the sun. Even in its weak form, the sun was too much.

  For a split moment the shaded mirage of Siria appeared before him wearing a shocked expression on her face because he’d never stayed outside this long. Head throbbing, mouth tasting like cotton he knew he couldn’t stay any longer. Weakened, he shot like an arrow back to the safety of the castle and gulped in mouthful’s of air as his body shook with a run off of adrenaline and pain.

  He slept fitfully all that day, waking from dreams much to real. Panting because he realized he hadn’t been holding Calanthe, hadn’t been inhaling her sweet perfume, and hadn’t been pushing deep into her pliant and silky, wet body. By the time the veil of night called to him, he jumped from his bed and ran to dress.

  It took only seconds. He wanted to take more time, wanted to shave his whiskers and make himself look as presentable as he possibly could, but he’d waited so long and the anxiety of the moment was simply too much.

  Pulling out the same outfit he’d worn the first night they’d met, he tossed it on and brushed his teeth and that was the extent of his primping.

  Running to the railing he knew, damn the consequences, he would not be jumping in between realms tonight. He was going straight to her.

  But in his rush, he’d forgotten all about Siria, which should have told him jus
t how reckless he was being.

  “Jericho!” She called to him as he’d sped by, his name on her tongue made his body freeze mid-step.

  Frowning, he whirled, a hundred different thoughts crowding his head. First and foremost among them, Siria could never know.

  Tonight she wore a scarlet and gold robe that fell to the floor in a silky wave. The sash was tied loose enough that with each step she took he caught a glimpse of her lean, naked form.

  “Siria,” he drawled, then bit the inside of his cheek.

  Was Calanthe even now waiting for him? Had she counted down the days, did she know what today was? He shifted on the soles of his boots.

  Her brows quirked. “Where are you going tonight in such a hurry?” her words were soft but with a flinty edge beneath.

  Grinding his molars, he plastered on a tight smile. If he said he wasn’t sure, she’d know it for the lie it was, since it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that he was in a hurry. But if he actually told her where he was going, he didn’t see it ending well either.

  “To the sea.” He was deliberately vague.

  Licking her plump, red lips he could just see the thoughts moving like cogs behind her eyes. “Which sea, love?”

  Hot beneath his collar, he slapped at his neck and swallowed the growl that threatened to choke him. “Why does it matter?” he chuckled, pretending as if he didn’t have a clue why she questioned him this way. But it’d been two months now that he hadn’t gone to visit Siria during the lifting of the veil.

  The times he’d gone to see her hadn’t been anything other than an effort to keep their strained relationship from fracturing completely, but he wondered if maybe she’d hoped for more than what he’d offered. Maybe he shouldn’t have done it, but Jericho didn’t want there to be nothing but hate between them either. It was no way to live for the next three hundred years.

  “Because you seem reckless in your attempt to get away.” Her smile was broad, open, showing most of her teeth. “Who is she, Jericho?”

  He didn’t like the insinuation that it was any of her business, nor did he care for the way her words sliced the air. Like she was spitting out a curse.

  “Siria,” he said in his most patient tone, though it was wearing extremely thin at the moment, “we’ve talked about this before. What I do, who I see, it is none of your concern. But if you must know I go to see a friend, that is all.”

  She wasn’t buying it and he knew it. She was too smart and he’d been an idiot to let his temper show.

  Siria’s temper was as fiery as the sun she controlled. The last thing he needed was for her jealous eye to turn Calanthe’s way. Which meant, he’d have to go to the sea first. She would probably send a tracker on him now.

  Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. Wishing he had more power than he actually did, but the sun controlled everything. And Calanthe’s blooms could not grow without its warm rays, so he smiled, and pressed a kiss to her hot cheek, before nodding.

  “Siria, we are friends. And that is all you need to know.”

  “Then come to my bed this eve. Make love to me beneath a blanket of stars, just as we once did.”

  Tired of this battle, and her constant need for him, he rubbed his brow. “I can’t and you know why. We can be friends, Siria. Why do you always make me repeat myself? Why can’t you just accept that things are as they are?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Because you are mine. I brought you here. You loved me, Jericho. Do you know how many others I’ve burned? But not you.” She stepped in closer, framing his face in her hands, tawny eyes searching his. “You were made for me.”

  Gently prying himself from her grasp, he shook his head. “You told me once, there are many mortals capable of filling my role. I am nothing special. You’ve had men in the moon before me, there will be more after me.”

  “No!” She shook her head, as her face morphed into a mask of fury. “None that could handle my heat, my touch. You were made for me, Jericho. You are my match. My only match and I will not let anyone else have you!”

  For the first time, her madness scared him. Not for himself, but for Calanthe. Siria’s obsession could be held in check, so long as he remained unattached. But what would happen if she ever discovered his truth? His love?

  A terrible, slinking feeling burrowed through his gut and settled in his soul. Because the realization was this… to protect Calanthe would mean he’d have no choice but to leave her.

  Siria’s reach was too powerful. He’d seen her capacity for cruelty in many forms. How she’d burn a land to ashes, refusing the skies to open and bring much needed rain. The drought that spread through certain lands like a plague, killing crops and people in an unmerciful path of destruction.

  The glen was so rich with beauty, fairies were nature’s emissary… they could not survive in such a dead place.

  His loathing for Siria grew even stronger then. For so many years he’d tried to set aside his anger and hatred, tried to be her friend again.

  “I have to go,” he murmured.

  Her nostrils flared. “Do not make me angry, Jericho. I only wish to love you.”

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he jumped into the tunnel that had formed and headed to the Seren Seas.

  His disposition was cold and aloof when he took his seat on his rock. The maidens must have noticed, because they all gave him wide berth, casting furtive glances in his direction, but none came to talk to him.

  His thoughts were like dogs chasing after rabbits, chaotic and frenzied. No matter how many different scenarios he ran through, the outcome was always the same.

  He could not continue to seek out Calanthe.

  Staring up at the sky, he noticed the murder of crows circling high above him. Siria had sent her spies as he’d assumed she would.

  Tossing a pebble into the waters, he called the funnel to him and without so much as a wave good-bye, headed toward the glen. More precisely, to their knoll.

  The emotions fisting his heart were both excruciating and exhilarating. Because she was here, she’d been waiting. For him. Her eyes danced, the rosebud silk of her pale white dress swished about her knees exotically, the long ends of her brown hair blew in the gentle, perfume tinted breeze and his insides were chaos.

  “Calanthe.” Her name was a whisper of breath on his lips. A caress and a benediction.

  “Jericho.” Her lips curved upward. “Sometimes I thought you were only a dream.”

  Her words sped like an arrow through his soul. How could he walk away from her, from this?

  They stopped striding toward one another at almost exactly the same time. Five yards of green grass was the only thing that separated them, but Jericho knew the distance was so much wider than that. He sensed the birds peering at from hidden branches, ready to share his every move with the sun.

  She held out a hand and he curled his fingers into his palms so hard the nails dug at his flesh. And there he stood, a second, two, three, four… just staring at her, drinking in the sight of her, heart thumping wildly in his chest and knowing, knowing he could never make her his.

  “Jericho?” Her brows dipped and her hand moved down a fraction of an inch.

  It ripped him apart that he could not comfort her, could not offer her words of love. “Calanthe, I…” he shook his head, because all the words felt so inadequate, so imperfect to describe, to tell her what he really felt.

  Blue eyes widening, she hugged her arm to her chest and sighed a loud sigh. “Oh.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Oh…” she laughed, but the sound was without humor. “I’m such a fool.”

  And against his better judgment, he rushed to her. Grabbed her small form, and tugged her into her his arms, shivering, because the mere touch of her flesh against his made him forget everything.

  Forget that tomorrow morning Siria would see he’d hugged Calanthe, would see his hand moving up and down her spine. Would see the way her beautiful eyes widened as she tipped her face up to meet his and she would see his kiss.

/>   He wasn’t gentle either. He wanted to be. Knew he should be. Knew this would have to be their only night, Siria would never allow this to happen again.

  Damning the consequences, he tasted her. Inhaled her sweetness, suckled on her tongue and moaned as her hands frantically slid under his shirt. Her sharp nails scored his hot flesh, making him hiss and burn, ache for more of her.

  Calanthe was all that was pure and perfect and she was his other half. He knew it, felt it in her touch, in the way their bodies moved in synchronicity, how their flesh literally began to glow as his moonlight seeped from his pores and sank into hers.

  “I must have you,” he whispered by her ear, before planting warm, wet kisses along her jaw line. If tonight was to be all they had, he wanted no regrets.

  Calanthe nodded and it was all he could do not to tear the roses off her body.

  But the eyes were still there. “Not here.” He panted out. “Not here. Someplace private, where no one can catch us, no one can see us.”

  Face flushed, she licked her rosebud lips and a feeling of “mine” swept through him.

  “I know the place. But you’ll have to shrink.”

  Glancing down at himself, and then back at her, he shook his head. “My magic doesn’t work that way.”

  “No,” she smiled mischievously, “but mine does.”

  And then holding out her hand expectantly, she waited.

  No more thinking. He was through with right or wrong, this was his life, and for once, he would live it as he saw fit. Grabbing hold of hers, he smiled as the brilliant glow of her fairy magic enveloped them.

  Ever since his imprisonment in the castle, he’d yearned for the warmth of the sun. Not for Siria, but for the brightness of her rays. But he hadn’t really missed the sunlight at all. He knew that now, because as Calanthe’s brilliance enveloped him, he realized this was what he’d been yearning for.

  Passion.

  Excitement.

  Love.

  The world suddenly exploded around him. Trees towered eternally toward the sky, flower blossoms were enormous, larger than his face, and everywhere he looked there was life. Giant ants that climbed along the trees, beetles marching through individual blades of grass so long and thick they appeared like jeweled swords shooting up toward the sky.