The Fifth Moon's Lovers (The Fifth Moon's Tales Book 3) Read online

  Monica La Porta

  The Fifth Moon's Lovers

  Book Three of the Fifth Moon Tales

  Copyrights and More Information

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Monica La Porta

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  To keep up to date with Monica’s new releases and promotions

  click here or scan the QR code with your smartphone or mobile device.

  Dedication

  To Roberto.

  First Part

  Chapter One

  Red dust covered Valentine’s aviator glasses, and he wiped the jutting lenses with a tired hand. Dallian veered without warning, diving toward the plains. The glasses whirred, heavy on Valentine’s face. The internal mechanism realigned the lenses to change focus as he and Dallian spiraled down at a faster speed than was safe.

  His winged stallion had been cooped up in its enclosure for too long and was now acting out, eager to show off for the females. Several iridescent draglets were observing its aerial maneuvers from the corral. Their coos filled the peaceful silence. With more than half of the draglet stable in season, it was no wonder the handlers had asked Valentine to take Dallian for a ride.

  Valentine patted the stallion’s ridged neck. “Just be patient. Lannan is worth waiting for.”

  His draglet had bonded with one of Dragon Sol’s mares, and it was restless, looking for its mate day and night. The week before, Dallian escaped the animal barn in the middle of the night to reach Lannan. Once the mare was freed from the guest enclosure, they took off and went for a joyride. A few draglets were liberated as well in the process. The destruction left behind took a team of five a whole day to repair. While the other draglets didn’t stray from the barns and were found right away, the two lovebirds were caught frolicking over the Great Plains only after several hours of frantic search.

  Amidst attacks from an unknown enemy and Mirella’s pregnancy, Valentine didn’t need to worry about his impetuous draglet as well, but he could understand the animal’s urgency to be reunited with its mate.

  Spurring Dallian toward the manor, Valentine took a moment to center himself. Recent events had turned his life upside down, and he was still getting used to his new reality. Two months had passed since his wedding, a negligible amount of time compared to the span of his long life, and yet a mere sixty days had changed him into a different man.

  Mirella, his sweet Blessed Bride, was the reason for his transformation. How wrong had he been that first night when he visited her in the Wedding Chamber. He thought to mate with her, fill her with his Vital Essence, repeat his visits to the Vestal House until she was with child, then forget about her. Since childhood, he had decided to avoid attachment to women. As was the fate of every Blessed Bride, his mother died giving birth to him. His father, Marcellus, never forgave Valentine for killing his bride, and Valentine never let himself forget. Marcellus’s hateful words echoed in his ears long after his father was gone. The last thing he ever expected was to respond to Mirella’s scent with a primal hunger that left him dizzy and craving more.

  In retrospect, the attack against Mirella at the Vestal House gave him the excuse he needed to spirit his bride away and take her to House Lobo. From that moment forward, their lives tangled and spiraled out of control. A plot orchestrated by his former head courtesan led Valentine to believe Mirella was having an affair with his friend Dragon. The catastrophic result of that horrific misunderstanding was that Valentine challenged Dragon in a duel to the death. Mirella saved both from killing each other by exposing the truth. Valentine’s shorn head and the brand on his arm were reminders of how close he had come to making a tragic mistake.

  His subsequent decision to never bed Mirella again to protect her from dying in childbirth didn’t work as planned. Weeks of abstinence were all for naught. While being kidnapped and fighting for her life, Mirella was already expecting his son. Valentine had rescued her from the clutches of Ronda and Mester Rado, but he would lose her in a few months. Unless he could find a way to save her and his child.

  Saving Mirella was Valentine’s predominant thought. The task occupied his mind even when he made love to her. He filled every waking hour with a continuous stream of thoughts, because otherwise he would have to contemplate a reality where she wouldn’t survive. His hopes were pinned on his visit to the Brotherhood Library on Sidera Prime. Among the hundreds of ancient texts, he would find what he was looking for, a hidden truth that would keep Mirella alive.

  The night before, Aretius, one of his brethren, had finally contacted Valentine to give him permission to visit the space station where the Brotherhood of the Wolf resided. Valentine had been waiting for two days already and was about to jump on the first space-bound freighter when the ancient werewolf finally appeared on the mirror in his studio.

  At the memory, sharp pain held Valentine hostage for a moment, and he pressed his free hand against his chest as if trying to stop an imaginary bleeding. After having lived for so long, all of a sudden, time was of the essence.

  Dallian sensed his master’s emotional state and slowed his wings, turning toward the manor’s entrance.

  “I promise I’ll take you out again as soon as I’m back,” he whispered to his draglet.

  Chapter Two

  “You look radiant already,” Crea said, fussing over Mirella’s tresses. “I apologize if my hands are cold.”

  “Your hands are warm.” Mirella laughed, looking at the mirror.

  Since her pregnancy had become public knowledge, Mirella couldn’t walk through the manor without people asking how she felt or if she needed anything. But among the household, her lady’s maid was the most solicitous. Crea double-checked every single item for Mirella. From the temperature of her morning tea to the length of her walks, the girl’s supervision was becoming manic.

  “While I wait for Valentine to come back from his ride, I’d like to call my family,” Mirella said. “You can rest a few minutes.”

  Crea shook her head, her black curls bouncing over her shoulders. “I am not tired, but thank you, Mirella.” She moved to the island in the middle of the closet room and folded the gowns Mirella had not chosen to wear. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Mirella turned to face the girl. “May I ask you a personal question?”

  Crea’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. She didn’t say anything, but lowered her head, resting her united hands on her black skirt. “Of course,” she finally whispered.

  “I don’t want you to believe you must answer because you work for me.” Mirella stood and walked to the island. “Only if you feel comfortable.” She reached out and gently touched Crea’s arm.

  The girl raised her eyes. “Okay.”

  “You wanted to leave with me and travel to Celestia. Are you disappointed that we didn’t?”

  “No, I am not,” Crea hastily said, waving a hand before her.

  “If you still want to leave, just let me know.”

  “But what about you?”

  “I’ll be sorry to see you go, but I’ll be happy for you if that’s what you want.”

  Several expressions passed on Crea’s face before she emitted a long sigh and dropped her shoulders. “No, I’ll stay. If you aren’t going, it doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I—” Crea shoo
k her head. “I’d rather not say.”

  Mirella nodded. “Is there anything I can do about it?”

  “Nothing can be done.” Crea’s eyes filled with moisture, but she blinked, and her lips turned up in a sad smile. “Thank you though for asking.”

  Seeing Crea’s distress, Mirella decided not to press her lady’s maid about the topic. “You know what? My call can wait. Why don’t we have a picnic, you and me?”

  Crea’s head dipped in assent. “What would you like to eat?”

  “I’d love fresh scones if you don’t mind fetching some from the kitchens,” Mirella answered.

  Crea curtseyed, then turned and left, her gait slow as if she bore a great weight on her shoulders. Mirella wondered about the girl’s sullenness. For the short amount of time she had known Crea, her lady’s maid had usually been upbeat and practical.

  “I brought elderberry jam and a few slices of prickly pear torte as well. Chef made it especially for you,” Crea said, coming back with a tray laden with food. “And he’s sending a cart with the beverages directly to the Summer Pavilion.”

  “Let’s ask for help, so that you don’t have to carry this tray all the way to the gardens.” Mirella reached for the voice-intercom by the wall in the breakfast nook, and after a few minutes, a gangly server arrived with an empty cart he loaded with the torte, jams, and scones.

  The young man then silently followed Mirella and Crea through the whole length of Lobo Manor and out into the hanging gardens. Once at the pavilion, where the beverage cart had already arrived, he set the marble table with the food, then left after bowing low to Mirella and stealing a glance at Crea, who didn’t seem to notice.

  Mirella served herself passionberry tea and poured a cup for Crea.

  “Blessed Bride—” At Mirella’s raised eyebrow, Crea amended, “Mirella, I should be fixing tea for you.”

  “You are having a bad day, let me pamper you.” Mirella passed the cup and saucer to the girl.

  “Thank you.” Crea’s voice broke.

  “Here, have some cake—” Mirella patted the girl’s hand, then pushed a plate with the prickly pear torte toward her. Balancing her tea and a heaping plate on her hands, Mirella settled inside the cocoon of her hanging chair and relaxed against the soft cushion. She slowly rocked the wicker chair as she searched the purple sky for Dallian.

  Valentine had left soon after breakfast to ride his draglet and hadn’t come back yet. The last two days had been a whirlwind of activities, and Mirella had only seen him at night. The memories of the intimacies they shared during those hours made her blush. Her hand went to the lace covering her collarbone where a love mark lay beneath the sheer fabric. When Crea was helping her with her outfit, she had seen the red print left by Valentine’s teeth and smiled.

  “May I ask you something?” Crea looked at Mirella intently.

  Mirella finished sipping her tea, then said, “Of course.”

  “How is married life?” The girl worried her lower lip.

  “I might not be the right person to ask because so far my marriage has been far from usual, but I love my husband, and that makes everything right.” Mirella looked up again, but there was no flying draglet in sight.

  “It must be nice.” Crea brought the dessert fork to her lips. “To be adored—”

  The comment surprised Mirella. “Why would you say so?”

  “Because it’s clear that Master Lobo would do anything for you.” Crea tapped the empty fork against her lip and sighed. “I would give anything to be looked at the way your husband looks at you.”

  “Maybe you have a secret beau.” Mirella smiled.

  Releasing the fork to the plate she held on her lap, Crea shook her head slowly. “The beau I’d like to notice me would never, not in a million years.”

  “You never know.”

  “I know.” Crea leaned her head against her hanging chair’s frame. “Someone like me will never attract a man like him—” Her cheeks reddened, and she snapped her mouth shut, lowering her eyes.

  “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of suitors.” Mirella ate a spoonful of cake. “And you are too young to be worried about that anyway.”

  “I’m not that young.” Crea shrugged. “I’ll be twenty-three at the end of the year.”

  “I thought you were seventeen at the most,” Mirella commented, giving her lady’s maid a long look. Crea’s youthful traits had led Mirella to believe that she was a child when Valentine rescued her from a pleasure den. “In any case, you are very pretty and you are also a nice person. You’ll find love soon enough—” The rest of her speech was forgotten when she spotted Valentine walking toward the pavilion.

  He wasn’t alone. Gabriel was with him, but Mirella barely saw the vampire. Wearing a long aviator jacket that billowed behind him as he strode with sure steps, Valentine commanded her full attention. Her husband was handsome, but it wasn’t just his beauty that enthralled her. Crea was right. The way Valentine looked at Mirella kept her under his spell. Locking eyes with him, she shivered as images of his hands roaming her body popped into her mind. His lips curved into a lazy smile, and she had the feeling he knew her thoughts. He hadn’t even stepped into the pavilion, and already she wished nobody else was around.

  Closing the final gap with an easy stride of his long, muscular legs clad in black leather pants, Valentine climbed the stairs to the raised platform, then placed his hands on either side of her hanging chair and leaned inside. “Kitten,” he whispered, kissing her lips softly. “How was your morning?” He wore his aviator glasses at his throat, and his skin shone with a healthy gloss. He smelled of sage and wilderness and was covered in red dust.

  Grateful for the privacy the chair’s structure provided, Mirella panted at his caress. “I missed you.” She wanted to grab him by the lapels of his jacket and drag him inside the cocoon. There was space enough for two if she climbed on his lap, and the wicker walls would shield them from the outside world.

  “I couldn’t wait to see you.” His lips played with hers, brushing her skin with feather-light touches. “You can take the next two hours for yourself,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Crea, who bowed and hopped down from her chair.

  “I imagine I’m dismissed as well,” Gabriel said.

  “Are you still here?” Valentine answered, but kept his laughing eyes on Mirella. His hand left the chair’s frame and traced the contour of her throat, up and down, making her skin tingle.

  When Valentine moved, Mirella saw Gabriel shake his head, his face lit with amusement.

  Catching her glance, the vampire bowed low. “Blessed Bride, it’s always a pleasure to see you, even if for only a moment.”

  She smiled at him. “It’s nice to see you too. But Gabriel, please call me Mirella.”

  At her request, Valentine raised an eyebrow, his face darkening. “Let’s keep our distance from the charming vampire, shall we?” he warned her, causing Gabriel to laugh.

  Mirella squeezed her husband’s hand and whispered, “Behave.”

  “And on that note, I’ll take my leave. See you later, Mirella. Valentine.” Gabriel tilted his head and raised his arm for Crea. “Would you keep me company, fair Crea?”

  The girl blushed a pretty shade of pink, then her eyes darted toward Mirella in a silent question. Mirella nodded, and Crea shyly stepped forward to place her hand on Gabriel’s arm. They walked away, Gabriel talking and Crea looking at him from under her lashes.

  “Gabriel knows my lady’s maid’s name,” Mirella commented when the girl and the vampire were out of earshot.

  “I’ll have a talk with him.” Valentine spared one last look in the couple’s direction, then centered his full focus on her once again.

  “Why?” Mirella could barely breathe under his unfaltering gaze.

  “Because I don’t want him to lead the girl on.”

  “Why would he?”

  “Because I’ve closed the harem and he might need feminine company.”

  “You clo
sed the harem.”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it upset you.” Leaning farther inside, he kissed her, impeding her from voicing her thoughts out loud. Not so gently, his tongue slid into her mouth, and he pressed her to him. “And I only want you,” he added as an afterthought, brushing her earlobe.

  When he pulled at her hair, she angled her head to give him better access. He deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue over hers, caressing her teeth, the inside of her mouth. Her heart exploded into a gallop when he took her in his arms, rearranging their positions so that he slid into the chair and she sat on his lap the way she had fantasized. They kept kissing in a tangle of limbs, their hands on each other’s clothes, fingers fumbling with buttons and toggles.

  “I can’t wait a moment longer.” He softly bit her lip, lowering his hand to her gown.

  “I need to feel you inside me.” She pressed her knees on either side of his legs and pushed herself up to help him raise the voluminous fabric to her waist.

  His deft fingers found her flower and he stroked her petals as his mouth sought hers again. She reached down between them and yanked his belt away, then opened his trousers, freeing him to her touch.

  “I’ve been dreaming of sinking into you since the moment I left our bed.” He grabbed her wrist and stopped her motion.

  “You should’ve stayed.” She removed her hand and tilted her hips forward to meet him.

  With a hard thrust, Valentine united them. “But then this wouldn’t feel so good.”

  A choked moan was her witty retort. The hanging chair rocked as they wildly moved, kissing, biting, caressing each other with abandon. He pushed deep, and she welcomed him with low cries of encouragement. Arching back, she offered her breasts to him, and he took one nipple in his mouth, while he brushed the other with teasing touches.

  “You drive me crazy.” Valentine filled her deeper and halted. His hands on her waist, he kept her down and still with his strong grip, then looked at her with bright hazel eyes. “I love you.”