Myla By Moonlight by Inez Kelley Page B

them. They confuse me.”
    Taric studied her face for long moments before he sighed and dropped his head back to the tufted chair. “I suppose they do. No other man has ever touched you.”
    “That is not true.”
    His head snapped down and shock paled his face. “Who?”
    “Bryton kissed my hand the night we spoke. Long ago, during your abduction, a guard fondled me. He kissed my neck, grabbed my behind and squeezed my breast. Only with you do I feel the fear.”
    “When you’re with me, what are you afraid of?”
    Myla bowed her head but his fingers lifted her chin until he raised her eyes to his. Dishonor shrank her spirit. A warrior did not admit their fear but she could not lie to him. “You make me burn inside. I feel as though I will explode and cease to be. I feel…hungered and empty but no meal could fill my ache. My skin itches and craves your touch, my heart pounds, my stomach quivers. Even after I return to you, the sensations linger and plague my rest. I do not like this.”
    The brown of his gaze deepened, shifting from maple to walnut. “I know. I feel the same burn, the same need.”
    “You have felt these things before. I have not.”
    “No, Myla.” Slowly, he shook his head but his eyes never left hers. “I’ve never felt these things, not like this, never for any woman. Only for you.”
    “But how can that be? You have known women, been with them, cared for them.”
    “They weren’t you.”
    On the desk behind him, the candle dripped wax, puddling to the curved base. The taper shrank, forfeiting its life to push back the gloom and her gaze riveted with his. The fingers beneath her chin caressed up, over her cheek to bury themselves in her hair. Her hand left his jaw, sliding to his nape. Their mouths met in sweet innocence.
    Somehow knowing he journeyed with her along this path of the unfamiliar lessened her fright and she timorously embraced the sensations pouring through her soul. They were warm and thrilling and pleasant when viewed from beside him.
    His words caressed her lips in the softest down of a whisper. “Tell me. Is it only your body that burns, Myla? When I touch you like this—” his palm eased from her hair and stroked down her neck, his thumb slipping to the dip above her collarbone, “—can you feel it in you soul?”
    “Yes.” Her shuddered sigh racked her body and he drew her close. The spice of his soap wafting from his skin mingled with a pure male elixir. Greedily, she inhaled, breathing in the fragrance of man, spice and want. His arms around her were a soothing blanket, keeping the unknown wolves at bay. She allowed her bones to melt into his and he simply held her.
    Life ceased outside the room. There was no war, no invading friends, no duties to attend to and oversee. Calm permeated the air. She did not understand what was happening but it didn’t matter for now. She was with Taric—her body, her heart, her spirit.
    Wrapped in his embrace, she snuggled in peaceful joy until the candle sputtered with its final acrid gasp. Darkness fell, broken only by the stars’ fading gleam through the window. It granted just enough light to see his eyes begin to droop.
    Stroking his hair, she whispered against his ear. “Sleep, Taric. Call me to you and rest.”
    “Tomorrow.” Crusted with slumber, his voice was heavy and slurred.
    “Yes, sleep now. Call for me tomorrow and I’ll come. Rest, my prince. Sleep and know you are never alone. Always am I with you.”
    Dreams nearly claimed him but the command drifted from his lips. “Return, my guardian. Return beneath my heart.”
    Lilac swirled around him, fingering his face with hazy caresses before sinking into the bliss of his soul.

    a b

    Sharp teeth bit into his cheek. Rousing to wakefulness, Taric yanked his head away. A golden comb lay on his pillow. He had a vague recollection of burying his hand in mahogany silk, combs springing loose and spilling over his knuckles. The memory dimmed beside the taste of her