He was Band. He was not commanded by causal lust. This Queen had stirred something deep within him that he wished not to recognize. Joseph backed away, while his body fought him to get back to her. He all but ran out of the circle and away from Clara.
That left Philip, his brother Bracus, and Matthew. She looked behind her at Clarence, who scowled back.
Marvelous.
Bracus clapped Philip on the back, and he approached her. “Queen Clara.” He inclined his head.
“Philip,” she said, noticing his side was without scar. “You are healed.”
He nodded. “It is always such with the Band.”
Then he pulled her to him and the moment their lips touched the heat came upon them and his eyes snapped open. He pulled her closer. As the largest of the Band, he had to awkwardly maneuver her around until his hand found her hair, and then he wrapped his fist in it, with his arm he lifted her off the ground.
“Philip!” President Bowen interceded.
He pulled his head away, his breathing harsh and stared down at Clara, eyes gone wide with shock and surprise.
Two of Clara's guard entered the circle and he turned in a crouch, jerking her against himself and growled at the guards.
Growled.
“Get back,” Clara said with a tremor in her voice. It was one thing to see the Band fight from a distance and quite another to be intimately pressed against one of them.
Bracus did not cross the border of stone but said in a low, clear voice, “Let her down, brother.” He put a palm out in supplication.
They stared at each other for a long moment, his forearm jammed underneath Clara's ribs, her body against him, heat coming off his body in waves.
Gradually, he lowered her to the ground and said, “I will not look upon you now, Clara. I fear it may be my undoing.”
He backed away from her and made his way outside the stone perimeter. It was only when he exited that he looked at her, a sheen of sweat coating his face and arms.
Clara stood alone in the circle, wondering when it would be over. Matthew and Bracus paced outside the border, never taking their eyes off each other.
When Bracus crossed the border of stone, her body reacted with a dizzying rush of power, rising up out of the ground and flowing up her as if she were plunged in water. And he had not yet touched her.
Everyone close to the border gasped at the reaction, and Bracus's face changed. He did not approach tentatively, but like a man drowning. He came for her almost at a dead run, and she fought to remain where she was, telling herself that he had never offered her harm.
She had not considered what it looked like to her guards, who swarmed the circle when their Queen was threatened.
However, they came too late. Bracus was upon her and snatched her up, taking her by the thighs and lifting her right to his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His mouth was all over hers with bruising force. She opened it for him, and still he pressed his lips down harder, making her gasp. He took that as encouragement, and with one hand under her legs, he forced her head to meet his. She leaned into it so her neck was not broken.
With him kissing her that way, Clara could not think. She could hear the guards trying to pull him off her. It was about then that Clara realized she could no longer breathe and began to feel dizzy with her mouth pressed to Bracus's straining to reach him at the same time her breath was not coming.
Strong arms grasped Clara, and she saw Bracus's eyes open. Lifting his head, he roared in a primal bellow, throwing three of the guard off his back and dropping Clara. But Clara did not fall. Instead, she was turned in one fluid motion.
It was Matthew.
He kissed her, and the whole world melted away. It was only Matthew in a searing fire, washing away every other sound, noise and tactile sensation except his lips and hands roaming her body. Matthew was raggedly panting, his hands moving everywhere they could, her shoulders, her waist, skimming the sides of her breasts, moving to each side of her jaw, his hands overlapping into the hair by her temples, his lips eating at her like a man starved.
She was torn away from him, and she only needed to see Matthew's expression to know who held her.
The two men roared at each other and Bracus shoved Clara behind his back and charged Matthew, who used his momentum against Bracus. Taking the sprint full tilt, grabbing Bracus's forearm and swinging him in the direction he was running, stepping out a laced boot and throwing him as he tripped, Bracus flew several feet into a landing roll.
He popped up off the ground and swung around to charge when President Bowen yelled, “Clara! Leave the circle.”
Clara needed no urging. She lifted her skirts, and skimming the ground she ran the five feet to the edge with both men chasing her down. She did not turn but kept running.
They were upon her in no time, one grabbing each arm. And she looked at them both, fear choking her.
Suddenly, Philip was there and spoke directly to Bracus. “My brother, have a care. Would you tear her asunder?”
They all stood there quietly, Matthew's chest heaving, his grip on Clara almost bruising in its intensity.
Clara watched sanity gradually begin to seep into eyes that but a moment ago had been wild.
Bracus loosened his hold and his hand dropped from her arm. Matthew loosened his crushing grip but did not drop his hand.
President Bowen strode over and bowed. “I cannot apologize enough for this, Queen Clara. We have not had a rite in many years.”
Bowen was visibly tense, but it was Clara who spoke with the royal guard at her elbow surrounding Philip, Bracus, and Matthew, “I gave my word that I would cooperate in this, and I did. I have not suffered injury.”
However, it was the oddest thing she had ever participated in.
She could feel Matthew's warm presence at her back, and Bracus's eyes never left her. She would have quite a row to hoe with these men.
Bowen said, “We have seen what has happened here.” The people murmured amongst themselves, but he continued and the conversations died away. He held up his hand. “There will be two who will court Queen Clara. We will put this to a vote. As we are all aware, a secure union between our peoples is very important. A select guarantees offspring and other benefits.”
What were those? Clara wondered. She felt a trifle insulted, as if she were a special oyster in the field that they would cross breed for a rare color. “President Bowen, there were four of the Band who had an unusual reaction to my person. In that group, two were most profound. A vote is acceptable, but it does not determine who I shall choose.”
There was a great silent heartbeat of total silence, and then Bowen, with grudging admiration said, “As the Queen says, so shall it be.”
The tension in the gathering area was suddenly much less, and Matthew released her.
The crowd was loud, many voices discussing all of it. Finally, Bowen called for silence, and a show of hands was required.
The names were read:
Joseph: there was a smattering of hands but nothing significant.
Philip: twice the hands of Joseph.
Bracus: half the hands were raised.
Matthew: the remainder lifted their hands until every hand was in the air like tree limbs of flesh.
Bracus and Matthew would travel back with her and the guard, and a courtship would begin. Clara had a brutal choice ahead of her: two of the Band and her childhood friend. Her heart and her duty were on opposing sides.
****
Clara was at the portal to receive her guests, thrilled to see Anna and Lillian, as she was sure that Matthew and Bracus were more than ready to see their kinsman, Jack.
The guards slid the heavy door aside, and the group entered. Lillian came to Clara and folded her in a fierce hug. It had been a month since the rite, and Lillian was showing, her precious bundle but a small bump beneath her skirt. Jack hovered about her, fussing over how tired she must be. It was interesting to see the fierce warrior so soft with his mate
.
It was good.
Anna and—there he was! —Joseph had come as well. Clara looked at Anna. She smiled, and Clara knew that all would be well.
They made their way back to the Royal Manse, the long walk made pleasurable by the company. Lillian said, “Clara, I must say you do not look like a Queen!”
Clara laughed. “I do not dress as such except for ceremonial events. It is not who I am.”
Clarence walked beside her. “Some do not need royal garb to be royal, my Queen.”
She smiled at him for he was always formal. “Thank you, Clarence.”
“I agree. It is bearing, not wardrobe, that make one seem royal.”
Lillian looked at her mate amused. “And how many royals do you know?”
Jack blushed and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “Wench, you will learn your manners!” he said playfully, and all laughed at his teasing.
Peter closed the doors of the Royal Manse, sliding the bolt in place.
“Masters Charles, Bracus, and Matthew will be here to receive momentarily, my Queen.”
Clara inclined her head toward Peter. “Thank you.”
The group milled about in the huge foyer, looking at all the strange objects. Clara was sure it looked as unique to them as their dwellings had to her.
It was Anna though who startled Clara with a gasp, her hand going to her mouth. Turning, Clara saw that she was staring at the stained glass rendering of the mermaid, Clara's birth mother.
“Who is this?” Anna asked through her fingers.
Clara was not yet ready to admit her discovery, so she responded rather vaguely “It is a rendering after an actual person. I do not know who.”
Anna stared at it. “I have seen this woman. I know of her people.”
Clara stopped breathing. Anna had just recognized her mother. She may know her whereabouts.
Clara forced herself to remain falsely calm, and Jack and Joseph looked at her strangely. They were sensing something. She tried harder to calm herself. “Where does she hail from?”
“Her people are of the sea.”
“Do you say they live by the sea?”
She shook her head, looking at Clara. “Do you not see the throat slits?” she asked pointing at what looked like seaweed.
They approached the window, Joseph and Jack beside her, as curious as she. Clara could not see it.
“There!” Jack said. “Do you not see how the seaweed curls at the neck, changing color into gold striations?”
Joseph nodded his head. “This would explain much.”
Clara was lost. Charles, Bracus, and Matthew appeared.
Jack explained everything to them.
Charles broke in. “This means, that this woman…” He looked directly at Clara, who felt a wave of fear strike her. Dear Guardian, say nothing, she thought.
“Exists in the ocean?” he finished.
Thank Guardian.
Anna shook her head. “No, that is not what I meant. They do not have a tail and fins, as fish. They can breath on land and in the sea. That is what we know.” She looked at the males of the Band. “They look as you do but can breathe in the waters.”
They were silent, digesting this. But Clara was ahead of them, summarizing what it meant to her. If her father had loved such a creature— her mother, Clara self-corrected—it might explain why she was a select. Born without gills, but an affinity for the water, attractive to males of the Band, as she was attracted to them. She had some biological lock that they had the key for. And at the center of it were the Guardians. Somehow, they had known about the inevitability of it all.
Charles and she looked at each other.
She was of both worlds, one of which they had never known about. They looked up at the window, clearly seeing how the artist had used seaweed to twine gills delicately like silver and gold lace against a lovely, pale throat. It was cleverly done, but if one knew what they were looking for, it was quite obvious.
Bracus and Matthew approached her, and Charles stood his ground. It had been a trying month with the three men determined to be her future king. She admired them all and was glad that she had the excuse of royal duties and oyster fields to tend, so things progressed slowly. But the males of the Band were impatient for her to choose, and she realized that it might be some time before she did. She needed to discover who she was, where she came from. She would find her birth people, these strange creatures of sea and earth.
****
She sat at the round table, the rectangular table long put away, as Clara did not liken to having anyone at the head of a table. With Bracus at her right and Matthew at her left, she was left facing Charles. Their eyes met. Clara knew that travel was in her future, as did he. Bracus’s hazel eyes softened as he looked upon her. She met Matthew's intense blue stare. She knew that these men would be a part of it.
Gazing around her, she recognized she was the happiest she had ever been. The drunken Queen, was no more. Her kingdom was ruled with fairness and democracy as her father would have wanted, and an important alliance had been formed. The Prince had not been seen these past months, and it was safe to assume that he had succumbed to the wilderness. With a suitor on each side, what worry could she have?
Yet Clara felt there was more, had to be more. She would journey to this sea, and there she would uncover the remainder of her destiny, with whoever shared it with her.
THE END
Read Book #2, THE SAVAGE BLOOD
OR
THE SAVAGE SERIES, Books 1-3
If you enjoyed THE PEARL SAVAGE, please consider posting your thoughts HERE and help another reader find a new series. Thank you!
The vampires are a dying race, their females sterile. When it's discovered that human females of Druid ancestry can be viable breeders... the harvest begins.
Rachel Collins is a young woman living in the frozen north of Alaska in a dead-end job with a circular life. She yearns for something more.
When murders begin taking place in the city where she lives, she and her girlfriend try to be more cautious, only to be caught in the middle of a dangerous situation in which an unlikely savior emerges.
Can Rachel escape her destiny while two different factions hunt her?
***Note***
Adult Reading Material:
Content within intended for readers 18 years and older. Brutal, violent and disturbing themes throughout; might contain triggers.
REAPERS
A Druid Series Novella
Volume 1
New York Times Bestselling Author
MARATA EROS
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2011 Marata Eros
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Marata Eros Website
Marata Eros FB Fan Page
Font art by Bookish Brunette Designs
Editing suggestions provided by Hazel Novak
CHAPTER 1
I looked at the clock, yet again... and knew that if my boss caught me I'd be toast. Safe in my cubicle, I swung my gaze away from the the dreaded time and looked for Michelle. She'd be hanging by the cooler, which she was.
Michelle caught me looking and lifted her chin up in greeting and grinned. She knew what I was about. It was all about getting out of here and doing something for ourselves. It had been a Long-Damn-Week and I was going to let my hair down and have some fun.
Michelle wrapped up her conversation with one of the petty chicks that lounged all day while we picked up the slack.
As Michelle walked toward me, I thought that maybe w
e wouldn't have to change: pencil skirts, thigh high stockings, stacked heels and blouses that yoked just where they should be to look sexy, nothing too much.
Michelle stood in front of me, tapping a foot. “Watching the time won't help it go faster.”
“Yes, I know, but I feel like the day should have ended already.”
“I've got an idea, let's go to Spinners tonight,” she nearly squealed in delight. I wasn't feelin' the love on that place. It was always packed with a rough crowd and you had to beat the guys off with a bat.
Michelle saw my expression and started to wheedle immediately, “Listen, give it a half hour and if it's super-lame, we'll just bail and go somewhere else. Like that brewery place... what's it's name?”
“Talbot's,” I replied absently.
She snapped her fingers. “That's it!”
“Listen,” she leaned forward and our hair mingled together, “that new gal... with the red hair...”
“Molly?” I said, automatically looking around for her.
“Yeah,” she waved her hand, dismissing the name. “She was talking about that piece of creepy news that's been circulating today.”
I looked at her blankly.
“Oh for shit's sake, Rachel! Don't you pay attention to anything?”
“Not really,” I said noncommittally. My life was beyond boring right now. I worked here, hung out with Michelle, worked out, read, fed my cat. I was dying for some Excitement. Dying. But the news wasn't going to deliver. Excitement... no way.
“You're hopeless! Anyway,” she sounded the syllables out slowly, “there's been another killing. Another bleed-out.”
That got my attention.
It had been almost a month since the first murder and they still hadn't found the killer.
Then there were the rapes.
Somehow, it was all connected. Men were killed and drained dry of their blood and if there were women with them, they were raped.
reflection 01 - the reflective Page 91
