by Rosalie Redd
“Saar, please rise. Your formality is appreciated, but isn’t necessary.” Noeh’s voice held a tinge of sadness.
Saar straightened. Dark circles colored the skin under his king’s eyes, and he seemed tense and fatigued. The knot in Saar’s gut tightened. “Your Majesty, what—”
“Waaaahhhh.”
Saar glanced at Melissa. Anlon, the new prince, struggled to get down from his mother’s lap. Melissa stood and placed him on the ground. He crawled the few inches to his father, gripped Noeh’s pant leg, and sucked on the material. Melissa smirked. “Why does everything have to go in his mouth?”
The babe turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. An arresting smile lit up his face.
Anlon brought much hope into the Keep, and Saar couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. After centuries without children, the young prince served as a beacon of optimism for many.
Noeh leaned over and twirled his finger in his son’s blond curls. He looked at Saar. “Old friend. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
A rush of nausea washed over Saar, and he placed his hand over his mouth. His other curled into a tight fist. To admit to Noeh he’d failed was harder than he’d anticipated. He couldn’t speak, his words trapped behind his closed throat.
Noeh’s brow scrunched. He straightened and took a step toward Saar. “Now, you’ve got me concerned. Tell me.”
At the command, Saar’s throat relaxed. Forefront in his mind was the need to respond to the king’s request. He met Noeh’s gaze. “I’ve failed you, Your Majesty.”
Noeh glanced at Saar’s mouth, then returned his attention to Saar’s eyes. Noeh didn’t speak right away, but then raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
He doesn’t hear me. I forget…he’s completely deaf.
Saar shook his head. “After several days of searching, I was unable to locate either Tanen or Mauree. They should be easy to find, but…” He shrugged. What else was there to say?
“Saar, no one expects you to be perfect.” Melissa’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. He took pride in his tracking ability and fighting skills. That’s how he’d earned his status as Noeh’s Commander of Arms. Nothing less was acceptable.
Unable to hold either the king’s or the queen’s gaze any longer, he turned around. He shoved the toothpick into his mouth, gouging his lip. Such was what he deserved. One of the elegant paintings caught his attention. A group of Stiyaha in beast form—brown fur covering their skin, claws extended—battled against their enemy, the Gossum. How he hated the evil hairless creatures. Saar paced between the statues of warriors long gone to Noeh’s ornately carved desk, flipping the toothpick from side to side in his haste. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Noeh’s firm grip on his shoulder halted him in his tracks. Saar turned to face his king.
“Just because you haven’t found them yet, doesn’t mean you won’t. I have faith in you, my friend.” Noeh’s eyes reflected his determination and belief. “They’re out there. It’s only a matter of time.”
Saar spoke quickly, his fear pulling the words from him. “My concern is Ostrum—the spring ceremony at Roan’s Rock. I wouldn’t put it past Mauree to try to attack you there. She’s obsessed with revenge.”
Noeh shook his head. “She wouldn’t be that brave or that stupid.”
“But she might be that crazy.” Melissa’s words were tight.
Silence.
The quiet in the room was eerie. Only Anlon’s soft coos broke the stillness.
“Let her try.” Noeh’s tone left no room for argument.
“I shall continue to search for them, but I request additional guards at the ceremony.” Saar held Noeh’s gaze. He wouldn’t back down, not from something as important as the king’s safety.
Melissa placed her hand on Noeh’s arm. “I think that’s a fabulous idea. Thank you, Saar.”
The king glanced at his queen. A knowing look passed between them.
Noeh pursed his lips, peered at Saar and nodded. “Be sure to alert your warriors to be on the lookout.”
Melissa picked up Anlon, and the baby giggled. The soft laughter pierced its way into Saar’s heart, warming him to the little guy.
“As you wish, Your Majesties.” He bowed before the royal family and turned to leave.
Jax opened the double doors, and the breeze blew a few wisps of hair over Saar’s cheek. He gritted his teeth as a new resolve coursed through his veins. Mauree would get her due, and Tanen, too, he’d make sure of it.
CHAPTER 7
Sheri’s pulse raced as a strange mixture of shock and desire coursed through her veins. The tall, muscular stranger pinned her against the wall. One second she’d pressed 9-1—on her phone and the next, she was here, in his arms.
His biceps bulged, and she had a sudden urge to run her fingers over them, feel the steel that was below the surface, but her hands were trapped at his hips. She gripped his taut waist, and his heat bore into her, warming her fingers, tingling the sensitive nerves. Although caged in his embrace, he was gentle with her, holding back the strength that ebbed from him in waves. As he leaned in, his breath cascaded over her shoulder, warm and enticing.
“No infirmary.” His gravelly, rough command came out on a whisper.
She should’ve feared him, this stranger in her home trapping her in his arms, but instead, her insides melted, warmed by his touch, his voice, his scent. Something about him made her long for more.
So focused on the man who held her so close, she hadn’t noticed Coop. His insistent barks echoed through the house.
The man tensed, and in the process his lean body pressed tighter against hers. Her skin prickled at the contact.
With a quick glance over his shoulder, she caught sight of her pet. He growled, his lips curled over his fangs.
“No, Coop. Stop!”
His back legs bunched in preparation for his attack.
The man didn’t release her, but turned to face her dog. He held out one hand, palm open. “Halt.”
Coop’s growl faded.
He took a tentative step forward.
His nose quivered, and a small whimper eased from his chest. Her pet, an ex-police dog trained to track and defend, placed his muzzle under the stranger’s palm.
She gasped. If she hadn’t seen this for herself, she wouldn’t have believed it. He patted Coop on the head, and the dog’s tail beat against the floor.
The man’s eyes were red-rimmed, and sweat coated his forehead. “I have to leave…”
His eyes glazed over, and his grip around her waist loosened.
As her hands traveled along the space between them, her fingers trailed over the firm muscles of his abdomen and chest. The strength and power under his skin lit up her nerves. She moved a stray hair away from his brow and focused on his eyes. Bottomless pools of blue, they reflected the pain hidden behind his features.
Her chest constricted. “Please, let me help you.”
His gaze fell to her mouth, and he reached up to stroke her bottom lip with his thumb, teasing her. “How? Like this?”
Before she could stop him, he slipped his hand around the base of her neck and pulled her close. His mouth hovered over hers for the briefest moment. She closed her eyes, aware that doing so was an invitation all its own. Warm and welcoming, his lips tasted of musk and pepper. With unexpected tenderness, he teased her with his tongue, caressing the crease between her lips. The sensitive nerves tingled at the contact and she inhaled, parting her mouth.
Moaning softly, he deepened the kiss, and explored her. His tongue brushed the sore spot in her mouth, but instead of pain, his smooth caress eased some of the ache. The passionate need in his kiss bore into her, sending a wave of desire to her core. Beneath the thin material of her shirt, her nipples peaked, and she couldn’t hide her reaction to him. A slow groan rumbled in his chest.
There was no denying her yearning for this stranger, and she mewled under his onslaught. When she didn’t think she could go
any longer, he broke their kiss. Trailing his lips over her throat, his warm breaths tickled her skin. As she squirmed, she rubbed against him. Between the soft cloth of his pants and her scrubs, his shaft twitched. A shiver raced over her arms.
This is wrong…I shouldn’t do this… Clarity filled her mind and she tensed.
With a swiftness she could barely perceive, he released her. His brow furrowed, his eyes glazed and unfocused. “What’s happening?” He shook his head and glanced at the door. “I must leave…complete…my mission…”
The muscles in his arms visibly quivered, and he lost his balance. As she placed her arm under his shoulder, her legs wobbled to support his extra weight. Her hand landed against his back. Blood seeped onto her fingers.
She peered at the couch. He was far too big for the small love seat. The only place large enough was her bed. “C’mon, big guy. This way.”
Using their combined strength, she led him along the short hallway. Her bed was unmade, rumpled, and had yesterday’s partial load of laundry scattered across the sheet. She couldn’t worry about that right now.
He landed on the bed in a heap, face down. She swallowed and took a tentative step back. Adrenaline surged through her veins, heightening her senses. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “You still with me?”
Silence. The muscles in her legs trembled. She gripped his wrist, taking his pulse. Normal.
Coop chuffed. He stood in the doorway, ears straight up, his attention focused on her.
“Oh, Coop, this man is in serious trouble.”
Feather light, the man’s eyelashes caressed the skin over his strong cheekbone. His dark blond hair cascaded over the edge of his ear. With the side of his face plastered against the pillow, his puckered lips reminded her of their kiss.
Her face heated. She was in way over her head.
No infirmary. His words echoed in her mind.
What the hell? Was he a wacko, some nut job she’d let into her house, into her bed? How quickly she’d come under his spell. That’s what it had to be, because no one in their right mind would bring a stranger into their house in his condition and not call an ambulance.
Indecision tore at her, eating away at her resolve. “Well, at the very least, I can clean your injuries while I decide what to do.”
She rushed to the living room and retrieved the medical kit. When she returned, Coop lay on the floor at the side of the bed, right next to the man. A chill ran over her arms. He’d never reacted this way toward strangers. With a shake of her head, she concentrated on her task. Pulling out the bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls, she dabbed the solution onto his wounds.
A bear, huh? Although she hadn’t seen any, a string of recent sightings was all over the news. She’d treated a few bear attack victims when she’d interned at the hospital, but the cuts on his back didn’t look like those marks. She stilled, her hand hovering over his shoulder. A drop of rubbing alcohol dripped onto his skin and ran down his spine. She shook her head. A bear was the logical answer…it had to be.
With a loud exhale, she wiped the moisture away and finished her cleaning, bandaging the worst of the wounds. After tossing her clothes off the bed, she placed a towel on the sheet. Carefully, she pushed against him. “C’mon, tough guy, roll over.”
His heavy weight was a struggle, but she rolled him onto his back.
A large scar cut across his ribs, the rugged seam in stark contrast to his smooth skin. She inhaled. What would cause such a wound? A small tattoo covered the skin over his heart—three black teardrops. She’d noticed it briefly when she’d first evaluated him. The raised surface was rough and one mark was lighter than the others. She touched the outline, her fingers tingling at the contact.
“Stop…you can’t…treason…” His brow bunched together and a low moan eased from his lips. “Yes, Your Majesty…”
Her heart skipped a beat. What a strange dream. Who was he?
Despite his weakened condition, he seemed strong, powerful, and his handsome features called to her, stirring a craving in her chest she’d long forgotten. Forget it, girl. Doesn’t he have disaster written all over him? Do you want another replay of Ram, version 2.0? Determination burned in her gut, and she fisted her hand. “No. I won’t open myself up again. It would end in heartache.”
Her marriage to Ram, and his endless problems, was something she’d run from. She wouldn’t take on another head case, yet the memory of the stranger’s passionate kiss filtered into her mind. Her lips tingled in response.
She searched for any other signs of injury. Tall, strong, and beautiful—he was not the type of man she’d imagined in her bed, but an unbidden thought formed anyway. What would it be like to be with him? Curiosity got the better of her, and she lingered for a moment at the bulge between his legs. Wow, what a package. A slow shiver ran over her arms.
She looked him over once more then wiped the cut on his brow. “When you wake up, sleeping beauty, you’re going to tell me who you are.”
CHAPTER 8
F ar above the surface of Lemuria, Alora raced along the platform connecting two giant Etila trees. The scaffolding swayed in the breeze and she tightened her grip on the wooden rail. With a quick glance into the sky, she caught a glimpse of Aridis, Lemuria’s largest moon. Its radiance lit up the night, overpowering the soft glow coming from the lanterns spaced evenly along the path. Although well past nightfall, warmth from the day still lingered, and sweat formed on the back of her neck as much from her exertion as her unease. She’d arrived at her destination.
Carved into the thick bark of the largest Etila tree on Lemuria, the door with its intricate engravings and embellishments was unmistakable, and the gilded lettering over the frame left no doubt as to whom was inside—Councilor Radnor. He’d summoned her to his private chamber. Even though she’d been here many times before, her stomach tightened into a hard knot.
She closed her eyes and inhaled. Even the sweet fragrance of a nearby Tralum plant couldn’t calm her nerves. I should get this over with. She pulled on her inner strength and tugged at the Yandora vines dangling near the door’s entrance. Sweet chimes announced her arrival.
“Enter.” Radnor’s voice eased through the tiny cracks in the door.
Alora twisted the knob and stepped over the threshold. A rush of cold air, circulated from the tree’s roots and through the inner bark, wafted over her face and arms. Goosebumps rose along with the hair at her nape.
Radnor approached, twirling the ends of his mustache between two fingers. A smile crossed his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She returned a forced smile. “Radnor, good to see you again.”
“Ah, Alora, welcome. Come in.” Radnor enveloped her in his embrace. In addition to council leader, he was also her father-in-law.
“A-hem.”
She stilled. Zedron.
Against the far wall was a large table, filled with an assortment of fine nectars and wines. Zedron held a crystal goblet between his fingers. He caught her gaze and raised his glass. “Alora.”
Her pulse rose. He was her rival in this war, as well as, her ex-lover. She wanted to claim Earth as a free planet, bartering knowledge and technology in exchange for Earth’s water. Zedron wanted to enslave the humans and take the water by force. In either case, the dying Lemuria and its inhabitants needed the precious resource. She fisted her hand. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, isn’t that a fine greeting.” Zedron advanced, his eyes twinkling.
Her insides tightened into a coil. She focused on Radnor. “What’s going on?”
Tension lines formed around his eyes. “Alora, Zedron brings charges against you in the battle for Earth. He claims you’ve cheated in the game—again. You know the rules, guidance only, no direct interference.”
Her throat constricted. Earlier in the war, she’d helped her Stiyaha warriors survive the great scourge, the one that killed over half of her best characters. In an effort to save them, she’d infi
ltrated the water in the Keep with the antidotal serum.
She’d been caught and sanctioned. For the remainder of the war, she would never see daylight. Her mate, Veromé knew what she’d done, and the council had sanctioned him as well, to never see the night. The few minutes at dawn and dusk were their only moments together. Unfortunately, her characters in the game received a similar fate, relegated to the night and unable to handle the sun’s rays, putting them at a disadvantage in the war.
The knot in her gut twisted, but she refused to let Zedron see her squirm. She pursed her lips and glared at him. “What’s your proof?”
A slow smirk played along his lips. He picked up a gilded box from the councilor’s desk and inclined his head to her father-in-law. “May I?”
“Proceed.” Radnor nodded and settled into his chair with a tired sigh. The worn leather creaked from his weight.
Zedron’s eyes glinted with purpose. “Behold, my validation.”
He unhinged the box and a flurry of tratee flies flew into the air. They circled each other in the middle of the room. One by one they united until their wings combined to form a hologram. An image appeared—two characters heading for an outcropping of rocks—Demir and Aramie, two of her Panthera warriors.
Alora’s mouth went dry. She stole a glance at Zedron. He sneered. Her anger burned, hot and fevered. She fisted her hand and returned her attention to the hologram.
Her two warriors huddled near the edge of a large mountain, the sun creeping down its face, closer and closer to the trapped couple. The mountain shook and an opening appeared. Demir pushed Aramie through, then followed her, but not before sunlight hit his arm, burning his skin. The stench of burnt flesh wafted into the room.
Alora clenched her jaw and her teeth ached from the pressure. A niggle of worry toyed with her psyche. Don’t let him get to you.
Zedron swirled his hand in the air, dissipating the tratee flies. They returned to the box, and he shut the lid. His gaze met hers. “I was looking through my visus bacin when I saw this happen. Good thing the scrying bowl records everything.”
