The Fifth Moon's Wife (The Fifth Moon Tales Book 2)

by Monica La Porta

  Then she recognized the small wooden box lying in the middle of the silk comforter as the one she had bought at the Public Market.

  “It arrived several days ago with a note saying it was a gift from my beautiful Blessed Bride.” He reached for the box and opened it. “It’s an exquisite piece of jewelry, and I can’t wait to see you wear it.” The butterfly came alive at his brush and climbed out of the velvet and onto Valentine’s index finger.

  The delicate white wings covered in diamonds fluttered, catching Coral’s rays and reflecting them all over the room, like a thousand miniature mirrors.

  Valentine’s eyes locked with Mirella’s as he repeated, “Strip.” The intensity in his gaze was as bright as the shiny diamonds and burned her inside, leaving her breathless once again before him.

  “I need something of yours,” he had said, after asking her for one final gift.

  She needed something of his too. One last time in his arms, filled by him as his body glided over hers.

  Her fingers went to the front of her bodice, clumsily releasing the small buttons from the hooks.

  Valentine’s eyes widened, but he didn’t reach for her to help with the garment. Instead, he walked behind the machine he called a camera, butterfly still perched on his finger. With his free hand, he removed a lid from the cylinder protruding in front of the camera, then he lowered his face behind it.

  Her bodice came apart a few torturous moments later. She untucked it from the high belt cinching her waist, then let both drop to the floor. Underneath, she wore a white lace shirt with a high collar and ruffled sleeves. She opened the front of the shirt with much more confidence, revealing a flimsy chemise. At every breath, her green brassiere pushed against the chemise. The friction on her sensitive skin ignited her senses, and she imagined his hands cupping her softness.

  Click-click sounds accompanied her movements as Valentine depressed a button on top of the camera. “You are a goddess,” he commented, his voice hoarse and low, while he looked at her from behind the machine.

  Next, she moved her hands to the back of her gown to untie the fastenings and let the voluminous fabric slide down her hips. She stepped out of her gown, exposing her stocking-clad legs. Her green garters were visible from beneath the flimsy fabric of her chemise.

  The clicks of the camera intensified when she picked the straps of the chemise and lowered them one at a time over her shoulders. Then she was facing him in only her brassiere, stockings, and garters. The balconette bra opened in the front. She hooked her finger under the clasp and released her breasts to Valentine’s stare.

  Fire and ice ran through her veins, warming her core and making her shiver at the same time.

  “Leave the stockings and garters on and climb onto the bed,” he ordered.

  Mirella backed to the edge of the bed, then slowly raised one leg to the frame. She was shaking again, but it was in anticipation of feeling his hands on her skin.

  “Lie in the middle with your hands over your head.”

  His voice caressed her, teasing her senses as effectively as his touch would have. She closed her legs, slightly bending her knees, but raised her arms up.

  “Grab the headboard.” He moved away from the camera for a moment, his gaze raking her slowly.

  Her fingers found the slim columns decorating the headboard, and she clutched the cool ironwork.

  “I want you to keep your hands there.” He pressed the button on the camera a few more times, before finally approaching the bed. “Open your legs slightly.”

  Mirella obeyed, and he carefully arranged the butterfly over her mound. His fingers didn’t even brush her skin, but she felt his ghost touch, and her breath hitched.

  “So beautiful.” He admired her a moment longer, then walked to the headboard and pushed one of the columns.

  The bed whirred and part of the mattress rose so that Mirella wasn’t lying flat anymore, but she was slightly upright. Satisfied she was in the position he wanted her, Valentine brushed the butterfly, activating it and stoking Mirella’s desire to an ache.

  The clockwork jewelry’s feelers burrowed between the apex of her legs, massaging her petals, slowly seeking entrance. At Mirella’s first gasp of pleasure, Valentine resumed his watch behind the camera. He kept taking pictures of her as the butterfly caressed her to a frenzy.

  “Please,” Mirella whimpered when the pleasure was too intense to bear. “I need you inside me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The whole time, Valentine hadn’t touched her.

  He knew he would lose his battle against the wolf if he gave in to his senses.

  Beautiful, lying on that bed with her hands grabbing the bedframe, and her legs writhing on the coverlet as the butterfly pleasured her, Mirella was the personification of a sensual goddess. And goddesses were meant to be adored from far away.

  Then Mirella begged him, trembling with a desperate need that matched his, and he was undone.

  Leaving the safe shield of his camera, he moved to the bed, then lowered his knee to the mattress. “Open your legs wide.” He still didn’t trust himself.

  Holding on to the bars, she parted her legs as the butterfly gently bobbed up and down over her flower. Her chest rose, pushing her soft breasts up. He wanted to brush those erect peaks, but kept his hands on the coverlet. Only when he was back in control did he walk his fingers toward her thigh. Still, he didn’t touch her, but let his hand hover over her skin, then lowered his index over the butterfly, stopping the clockwork jewel with a light pat.

  Gently, he picked the shiny insect up by its body. Mirella’s scent invaded his nostrils all at once.

  Her green eyes were bright with the fever only desire provoked. Mirella licked her lower lip, and a deep rumble came out of his mouth.

  Reverently, he lowered his head to her blossoming flower, glistening with the dew of unspent passion. He kissed her petals, satiating his thirst for her, savoring her maddening sweetness. Since the first time he’d had Mirella, her honeysuckle bouquet had intoxicated him, making him an instant addict. But now, her scent had a different and sweeter note, and it was an even more potent aphrodisiac.

  It might have been because she was leaving in two days and that knowledge amplified his senses.

  He wouldn’t be kissing and touching her any longer. The finality of his decision loomed closer and felt like a wall of freezing water pressing against his chest.

  He kissed her deeply, circling her bud with his soft tongue as his hands left the coverlet to caress her curves. She tightened her legs, enveloping him in her warmth, moaning her encouragement. Driven by her reaction, he pinched her peaks as he deepened his kiss.

  “Valentine,” she cried, while her legs entwined over his shoulders and pushed him down to her.

  “Kitten,” he whispered, kissing her trembling flower one more time before resting his head on her soft thigh.

  Amongst the sadness and turmoil that threatened to bring him down into a dark spiral, Valentine found contentment in that bed. Wrapped in her scent and warmth, he closed his eyes, imagining a different scenario. One where he didn’t have to live with regrets.

  Her hands found their way to his shaved head. Her fingers massaged his scalp, sending shivers down his body. “Told you to keep your hands up,” he whispered, nipping the soft skin on her inner thigh.

  Mirella shuddered. “Come here.”

  He obeyed her soft-spoken order and moved up the bed until he was facing her.

  Mirella was radiant in the aftermath of her pleasure. Her eyes were sleepy and a smile graced her face. “Let me please you.”

  He started to shake his head in refusal, but she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “It’s for me,” she said. “I need something of yours.”

  Hearing his words repeated by Mirella broke something inside him. Her delicate hand traveled down his chest, opening buttons, and he let her, unable to deny her anything. When she found his belt, he gritted his teeth in agony.

  “Ki
tten,” he growled low, shivering at her tentative touch that became bolder with every stroke.

  After days without the comfort of her caresses, Valentine knew he wasn’t going to last long. His imagination could not come close to the sheer ecstasy her hand was giving him.

  She paused for a moment, her eyes on him, her gaze suddenly alert and pensive. “I love you,” she said, holding her gaze a moment before kissing his mouth with a desperation that gripped Valentine’s heart in a crushing hold.

  I love you. I love you. I love you.

  Her caresses mimed the nature of their kiss and became fast and a little rough. He roared his release mere seconds later.

  If only I could keep you without hurting you, he thought. Moisture dampened his eyes, and when he opened them, he saw that she was crying too.

  “Valentine—” Mirella whispered.

  “Don’t cry, kitten.” He kissed her tears, then hugged her tight.

  They didn’t need to talk after that and remained in each other arms for the remainder of the night, kissing and cuddling. Coral’s dawn found them embraced.

  Valentine woke rested and at peace, until the moment he remembered Mirella would be on a ship the next morning. Still, for a glorious, albeit brief moment, he had been the happiest man on Lupine. Then he realized his wolf had not been acting out and let him sleep without its usual pressing demands. With a frown, he tried to remember when it was the last time the wolf had made itself known, but the answer eluded him.

  “Something wrong?” Mirella asked, raising her sleepy head to look at him.

  “Don’t move.” He jumped out of the bed and went to his camera to take one last picture of her, disheveled and beautiful.

  He didn’t need the printed images to retain memories of Mirella, but he was a visual man and wanted to have something to look at when she was gone and he would miss her beyond words. Her memories would be with him always though. It was bittersweet to have that kind of memory when one was cursed to live a life as long as his.

  It is said that infants can’t remember their birth. Valentine could recall his first wail out of his mother’s womb. His wolf had howled, then let out an agonizing cry as Valentine smelled the sweet scent of his mother—

  His mother had smelled sweet.

  A particular kind of sweetness his mind had promptly relegated deep in the musty catacombs of Valentine’s memories. Now that he had summoned the reminiscence, it couldn’t be put away or ignored.

  Dallian’s reaction to Mirella and his wolf’s sudden lack of hostility toward Valentine came to his mind. Unbidden, the thoughts circled each other, forcing Valentine to jump to a conclusion he didn’t want to contemplate.

  “Is everything okay?” Mirella asked, sitting against the headboard.

  Valentine forced a smile on his face and walked back to the bed. Lowering himself close to her, he leaned for a chaste kiss on her crown as his hand caressed her flat belly.

  “I love you,” he said, taking her in his arms.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Valentine had said he loved her.

  Mirella’s heart was too full to properly function and it skipped several beats. She sank deeper in the porcelain bathtub. The water was still warm and the dried red lavender added to the bath released a fresh scent, yet Mirella couldn’t relax.

  She couldn’t fight Valentine on his decision to send her away, and her stomach was tied in knots so tight she had refused to eat or drink anything for breakfast. The result was that she felt nauseous and her head hurt with a migraine.

  Her mind kept wandering back to the night before and the exquisite intimacy she had experienced with her husband. They had shared their love for each other and not only in words.

  Valentine’s hands, his mouth, his whole body had talked to Mirella, serenading her with a tenderness that had melted her reserves. Even though she couldn’t understand his motives completely, she had accepted with relief that he genuinely cared for her.

  Whatever he had said to Gabriel that day in his studio, Valentine had his reasons. The attacks were real after all. And after last night, she didn’t care to replay that conversation any longer.

  Her fierce werewolf’s eyes had filled with tears, and he had not been ashamed to let her see him at his most vulnerable. Valentine had shared with her so much more than physical pleasure. He had opened up and let her in, giving her a glimpse of his tortured soul. Her sentiments for him had reached a whole new level.

  She would leave tomorrow, but at least she wouldn’t have to live with the regret of not having told him, “I love you.”

  Hearing it back from him was an unexpected gift. She would remember the moment he whispered the words forever.

  “What would you like to wear?” Crea asked from the door.

  “The cobalt riding habit,” Mirella answered, emerging from the bath. Her fingertips were pruned and she felt restless.

  Her lady’s maid was immediately at her side with a bathrobe she had previously hung over the brass heater pipes to warm the soft fabric.

  Mirella hugged the robe, then gave Crea a good look. “If you’d like to remain behind, I’ll understand. I’m sure my husband will find another lady’s maid to accompany me to Celestia.”

  Usually, lady’s maids followed their mistresses, but Mirella wouldn’t ask that of the girl who had just entered her service.

  Crea lowered her head. “My place is with you, Blessed Bride.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, and I would never make you leave the people you love.” Mirella entered her closet and shrugged off the robe, donning the brassiere and garters Crea had already laid out for her.

  Thanks to an ingenious cooling and heating pipe system, the room was kept cooler or warmer than the rest of the apartments to accommodate Mirella’s needs. At the moment, the closet was toasty as she liked it. Crea was an excellent lady’s maid and had taken only a few days for her to learn her mistress’s tastes. From how much honey Mirella liked in her curcuma tea to the temperature in each room, Crea knew it all.

  It would be hard to let her go, but Mirella would never force the girl to follow her to another planet.

  From Crea’s silence, Mirella gathered she didn’t know how to communicate her decision to stay.

  Mirella patted the girl’s arm. “It’s okay—”

  “I want to go with you, Blessed Bride.” Crea blushed then shook her head. “Truth is… I want to follow you.”

  Mirella was curious, but decided to respect Crea’s privacy and didn’t ask why she was eager to leave Lupine. With her mind filled with many thoughts at once, she let the girl help her with the rest of her outfit. Once the riding hat was placed on her auburn curls, Mirella sighed and looked at the Chevalier mirror.

  The young woman clad in blue was familiar. She was the same person who had ridden with her husband back to Adris not so long ago. Yet, that Mirella didn’t exist anymore. In her place was an older version of herself. Events beyond her control had shaped young and naïve Mirella into the person mirrored back. Same riding habit, same exterior trait, but a different person inside.

  Aldo knocked on the door a few minutes later.

  “Doc Balenus is here to visit you, Blessed Bride,” the majordomo announced.

  “Let the medicus in the parlor. I’ll be there shortly.” Mirella pressed her hand to her stomach as a bout of nausea made her sway. Black dots exploded before her eyes, and she leaned against the wardrobe island at the center of the closet.

  “Bless—” Crea started, then corrected herself, “Mirella? Are you okay?”

  Stretching her arm in front of her, Mirella nodded. “I’m fine.” Taking a few shallow breaths, she steadied herself, then pushed away from the island.

  With unsteady steps, she reached the parlor where the medicus was waiting for her by the window.

  “Blessed Bride,” he greeted her.

  “Balenus.” She pointed at the settee by the window. “Please.”

  Balenus sat only when Mirella took her place
on the chaise lounge opposite the settee. “Time for our checkup. How have you felt this last month?”

  “Not well actually—” Mirella answered. After daydreaming of being with child since her wedding day, now she was suddenly hesitant to voice her suspicions. What if it was just frail nerves? She used to suffer nervous stomachaches when she was younger.

  “What is afflicting you?” Balenus was studying her with interest.

  She couldn’t help but press her hand over her stomach again. “I’ve been experiencing headaches and stomach upset, but with everything that has happened lately, and with my departure so close I thought it was normal—” She let the words trail, her heart skipping beats.

  “That’s understandable,” Balenus said, then gave her a smile and took her wrist in his big hand to check her vitals. “Going for a trip with Master Lobo?”

  Mirella snorted. “I don’t think my husband is going to accompany me.”

  Balenus opened the front buttons on her dress, then slid the stethoscope inside her shirt. The cold drum adhered to her skin with a soft whirring, recording her heartbeat. “Just a few days’ trip then?”

  “Travelling to Celestia will take longer than a few days.”

  “Celestia?” The medicus abruptly removed the stethoscope with its gears still rotating.

  Mirella felt another bout of nausea coming and closed her eyes for a moment. “I’ll be moving there tomorrow,” she whispered.

  “Blessed Bride?”

  “I need only a moment.” She gave the medicus a small smile. “All gone. Could you give me something to mitigate the nausea? It’ll be highly inconvenient while travelling.”

  “Of course,” Balenus said with a nod. “When do the nausea and the headaches occur?”

  “Usually in the morning, but lately it’s getting worse.” Mirella steadied her trembling hand. “Is it possible I am expecting?”

  Balenus tipped his head to the side. “That would be my first diagnosis, especially if you are late.”

  “I am a few days late, but I’ve never been regular and the last month has been… complicated. In the past, I’ve gone a month or two, even three, without menses, so I thought maybe this time was the same, but maybe I am with child,” she heard herself rambling as her trembling resumed.