Jewel Adams - Romance with a Touch of Spice

I thought it would be a real nice way to start off the release of MOONDOCK by giving away a ebook copy of MOONDOCK.

You can enter the contest by emailing, one email will do, me at jeweladams10 @yahoo.com (without the space) and tell me who Rolley is?? That's right Rolley. I will take all the right answers and draw a winner :)

You have until Sunday tonight, March 4th at 9PM Eastern US time. to get your entry in and I'll announce the winner on Monday :)
http://www.midnightshowcase.com/Moondock.htm
MOONDOCK

by

Jewel Adams

 Chosen by the High Council to find the ancient Selams and save the Nemow race from destruction, Melane melds the inherited magical powers of her Syron birth mother and her training as Captain of the Lamar Grand Guard, to confront the men of childhood myths. Melane learns that neither magic nor her warrior skills can protect her from Wylan, King of Moondock, the man that now claims her as his own in a ritual as old as time.

--
Jewel Adams - Best Selling author - Romance with a touch of Spice!
http://www.jeweladams.midnightshowcase.com
Do you like the Old West? Do You Believe in Magic will take you there!
http://www.midnightshowcase.com/blue_noir.htm
Spellfire Hearts 2 brings you Purrly...Gnome Magic, what better way to spend your time in Spellfire
http://www.midnightshowcase.com/spellfirehearts2.htm
Time Travel at its best - STARGAZER by Jewel Adams
http://www.midnightshowcase.com/stargazer.htm

MOONDOCK

by

Jewel Adams

 Chosen by the High Council to find the ancient Selams and save the Nemow race from destruction, Melane melds the inherited magical powers of her Syron birth mother and her training as Captain of the Lamar Grand Guard, to confront the men of childhood myths. Melane learns that neither magic nor her warrior skills can protect her from Wylan, King of Moondock, the man that now claims her as his own in a ritual as old as time.

http://www.midnightshowcase.com/Moondock.htm

I'm sooooo excited, Moondock is finally available! I have to tell you that I think Moondock is one of my finest Novels. I know I love them all, but this story flows like a dream that you want to keep dreaming beyond the last word.

Moondock is a story filled with magic. I hope my readers will agree and fall in love with Melane and Wylan!

I've condenced the first two chapter for an excerpt...enjoy!

MOONDOCK

by

Jewel Adams

Chapter One – The Knowledge

"Come Melane, the council is about to convene."

The aquamarine eyes couldn't leave the old Weaver sitting among the children. The flowing yards of pastel silk billowing under the gentle breeze lent a mystical air to the common gathering. Cibrac—for the most part—was a magical city of beauty and peace. Like the children, Melane sat here many times to hear the legends cast out by the Weavers on the council square. Within the high white walled compound the young ones remained ignorant of the dangers lurking outside the fortress. As a captain in the Lamar sect, Melane knew only too well of the falsehoods surrounding the Nemow's sheltered existence.

"You go on Lilli, I'll catch up." Drawn closer by the Weaver's lyrical words, Melane never saw her comrade's frown.

Many small eyes gazed up in awe at the warrior in their midst. The impressive leather amour captured their fantastical imagination away from the Weaver's tale.

"…from this land the questors will follow their hearts, but only one will succeed in finding the truth and hope for her people. Treachery and deceit will block this Nemow's path to her destiny. Evil will come in many forms. This Syron's powers are vast and unknown among her peers, but they alone will not help the Nemow. Courage, skills and the unknown power of…love…will guide her quest."

A small child spoke up. "Love for the Nemows?"

"That and more, my child." The Weaver's penetrating gaze lifted from her charges to the warrior standing outside their circle. "The ancient love…found only in the midst of the Selams."

An expectant 'ah' escaped the small petal mouths as if they knew exactly what the Weaver spoke of.

Melane's dark slender brows crimped above her bright blue eyes. Though they scoffed at the children's story, something held her in place before the graying gaze of the storyteller. The elders of the Nemow sects were to be respected, but Melane felt troubled by the mystical tale that spoke of priestly visions, but held little historical basis.

Years of training, instilled by the fierce code of the Lamar Grand Guards, forbade her to ignore the Weaver's prophetical teachings. And yet, the increasing presence of something unknown, deep mysteries in her heart, prevented the call for reprimand.

Her sharp turn to leave the group sent her long, silken ponytail rising from her helmet, floating through the air in ebony waves.

"Doth the Grand Lamar Captain find fault with Amelia's telling of the prophecy?" the Weaver asked.

Melane's hand automatically encircled the silver sword hilt at her waist. The demonstration was unwarranted. The Weaver was hardly the enemy she faced outside Cibrac's pristine walls. Trying to relax her defensive stance, Melane eased about to face the old woman. "Your teachings hold fantasies, not truth."

"A Weaver strives to explore all aspects of the Nemow's lives. Is not the future as dear to us as the past?"

Pressing her lips together, Melane held back the argument. She was taught never to dispute her elders. "Might the Weaver's teachings of the present benefit these children more than fantasy?"

"The Lamar speaks from knowledge most are blind to."

Raising her proud head, Melane's eyes sparked in warning against the brutal truth. "Take care, Weaver."

"Open your heart, brave Captain. Its truth is our salvation."

The old woman's words burned against the light armor on Melane's retreating back, making it hard to dismiss what just transpired.

Already the council's inner hall was crowded with the various ruling sects. Melane saw Lilli's raised arm and maneuvered to join her comrade and the other Lamars in attendance. As with their fifteen, similar groups stood from each sect around the chambers. The distinctions of the many sect members were obvious, but they shared the ingrained belief all sects were equal in merit and deeds. Yet, all were aware of the differences that set them apart.

By choice the Weavers, on the whole, were a plain looking lot. They donned the plainest materials in their garments. Melane always wondered over the lack of finery. Did the absence of silks and damask enhance academic knowledge? It was a child's question, the woman knew better. Teachings passed down from one Weaver to another gave knowledge.

The Begoné workers handed down their skills, traditions and expertise of each trade. Millers, merchants, smiths of weapons and tools, the Begonés held sects within their class as no others in the kindred of Cibrac.

Melane's brilliant eyes left the colorful group of Begonés resting admiringly upon the group of Syrons. Ah, she felt her heart race over her mother's sect, and yes, the pang of disappointment that came from seeing them always instilled. That strange awareness that would not be stilled, rose inside her again. Sabrina was not even a memory to hold to, but Melane held instinctive feelings for her life bearer. All Nemow's derived from the sacred sect of the Syrons. Every class born from the same beginnings. There should be no disappointment held in her heart for being cast as an honorable Lamar, protectors of the Nemows.

Melane rose through the ranks to Captain of the grand guard because of her abilities and deeds. At seventeen, her peers envied her for her accomplishments, which did not come as easy to her as to many of her friends. Lilli, at nineteen, was a head taller than Melane, as were most of the other officers. Their physical strengths had never been Melane's, but even as a child the differences plagued the slender grace that enfolded Melane. Everything she did took twice the effort, but she conquered her inadequacies, earning her foster mother Shemon's approval. It was because of this woman's love and support that Melane strove to succeed against the odds.

Proudly, she found her foster mother at the center of the priestess council, a regal beauty unmatched by any other. Failure as the high priestess' daughter had never been a choice for Melane. Their gazes locked for a moment in mutual understanding, the younger woman's eyes lowering in respect before the proud beacons.

Shemon's strength and power guided Melane to success. Shemon was first general of the Lamar sect, chosen above all others as the high priestess of the Nemow race. Sadly, Melane knew the same admiration she held for the woman was a silencing force against her young heart's increasing questions.

Always a shameful weight, Melane learned early to hide the discoveries opening inside her. So many times she wanted to ask Shemon about the visions that left her weak and trembling at dawn. Telling dreams were only for the Syrons. A Lamar would be considered weak and useless to give in to such failings. In the Syrons, it was strength, but to Melane, it held hidden embarrassment that left her confused. There were not supposed to be error's in the casting of sects! To believe her life as a Lamar was a mistake would be traitorous.

Even against the denials, there remained a difference in Melane beyond physical appearance and dreams. Nothing stopped the increasing feelings stirring to life inside her. Pain and anger reigned beside the strange sense of hidden powers outside her grasp. It was like a hunger she could never sate.

 The stillness settling through the crowd pulled Melane's thoughts back to the council. Lilli leaned down towards her, in a whisper. "They say the council has been closeted for days over their coming announcement."

Melane refused to give Lilli the acknowledgement she sought. Shemon's doings were not for public disclosure, no matter how close the friend. The rumors were only half truths fueled by fearful debate. The priestess had been in heated meetings for nearly a month trying to decide how to combat the Kibra's threat against their civilization.

Melane's jaw clenched over the attacks launched this last week alone by the monsters. Animals! Beasts of the night maintained more morals than this enemy. It wasn't only their masculine strength that made them so dangerous, but the savage cruelty in their acts against the Nemows. The continued, useless slaughter of hundreds took its toll on the populace. Nary a Begoné farm was left untouched by the killings and devastation. Lamar guards were held in force about the perimeters to protect the harvest. Hunger loomed as a large threat in the coming winter because of the Kibra's bloody destruction.

 A hush followed Shemon's rise before the amassed sect representatives.

"Good citizens of Cibrac, your council has come to a decision to destroy our enemy, the Kibra. Hear me well, all sects of Nemows, 'tis a grave task we place before you." Shemon let the words race through the crowd, many a frown marred the strong faces about the Lamar sect. Their own were held fast against succumbing to the panic.

"From among each sect, we will chose one of your group to go forth. This chosen Nemow will seek out the ancient Selams."

The voices before the priestess raced in incredulous excitement. Shemon's voice rose in strength. "The Selams, once a part of our ancestors' lives, are again needed to insure our race survives the forces trying to destroy us!"

More than one voice cried out in frightened exclamation. "But they are males!"

....

"The chosen will go and prepare for their journey, meeting back here tomorrow at dawn."

A strange feeling seeped over Melane, drawing her towards the cold set eyes driving into her own. Narmar! Ice set in her young bones over the woman's openly hateful sneer. Many times she felt or saw the old priestess' eyes upon her, but this was the most blatant.

"Melane?" Shemon followed her charge's troubled attention; a dark curse marred the regal features over the reason for Melane's distress. "Come Melane, we must talk…now!"

The unexpected sharpness cut the old priestess' grim hold, reddening the girl's face. Melane followed in the wake of Shemon's tense steps. Throughout the years, she learned to recognize the emotional signs in her foster mother. The woman's anger was unsettling, increasing her own dark emotions over what she had just been selected to accomplish.

"Wait for me inside, Melane."

Obeying the woman came as easily to her as the defensive fighting skills always a part of her existence. Just as she heard, without thinking, Shemon's orders to the Lamar guard to take their positions outside her chambers. The act was out of character for Shemon, but Melane only registered the thought, not the questions it posed. Her own concerns were too persistent.

"Do I detect disapproval in those enticing eyes, or is it Narmar's hatred that worries you?" The door shut and locked behind her words. "Sit down Melane, shed the armor, we have much to discuss this last night before you leave."

Doing as she requested, while working to unfasten the buckles at her shoulders, she spoke. "Only the Begoné's, Krista, can survive the wilds."

"Do you doubt your own abilities?"

Melane's eyes blazed without thinking at the insult.

"No, I thought not. You are right of course, about the Syron and Weaver. They have not the stamina to meet the task." Shemon held up her ringed hand, stopping the girl's obvious question. "All the sects have to be involved in order to accept what the future could bring forth."

Dropping the armor and weapons into the cushioned chair, Melane's sleek body stretched out in freedom, raising the flimsy smock up to her bare curved buttock.

"Shall we speak freely and honestly this night, my daughter?"

"Have we not always?"

"No, my child."

Melane's eyes fell away from the ones that looked too deep.

"You have never really hid your troubles from me, Melane. Tonight I feel we should speak of these worries you carry." The dark thick lashes raised slowly before the patient woman. "Melane?"

"Yes."

"Then let us start with, Narmar."

"She is a priestess."

"She is an evil old witch! Her fears have stolen her heart and fouled her mind to what is good and decent. She is, and always has been, your enemy!"

Dropping into the chair under the force of Shemon's unexpected vehemence, Melane struggled to hold her composure. "But why? I have never spoken a word to the woman—good or bad—yet, I know your words are true."

"The truth may never be proven." Shemon's eyes dropped to the girl's paling knuckles. Melane always possessed a sense of things and people. How many times had Shemon wished to speak like this to her…daughter. Yes, in all but one respect, she was that and more. Tonight all needed to be said. Shemon hoped it would be enough. "Your birth mother, Sabrina, died very shortly after your birth. The cause was never discovered."

"Narmar?" The dark mass of hair shimmered in disgust. "Why?"

"It is a question I have asked myself many times. Fear, but of what, I have never learned. That Narmar killed Sabrina, I could not prove, only believe. I also believe she would have ended your life as well, but casting you as a Lamar gave you into my protection before she could carry out the rest of her evil."

It was not so much Shemon's shocking revelation that struck Melane, but the enormous implication concerning the casting. She needed to know. "Am I truly a Lamar?"

"Dear Melane, the answer has been known to both of us for sometime. For your safety I held my silence, your own was held in the pain I have seen. I am sorry for that, it was unavoidable."

Pushing out of the chair the hurt became too great to keep smothered. "You never would have told me if not for the quest?"

"I could lie and say I would have stayed silent, but no Melane, it is I that has chosen the time to tell you."

All the adrenaline left her. What she felt Shemon was admitting stunned Melane into silence.

"Yes my daughter, I made sure you were chosen tonight."

She never expected this from Shemon. Seeing how her mother shook over the admission left Melane at a loss to refute the underhanded event.

"Melane, please try and understand, the ruse was necessary. You yourself know how futile the efforts from the Syrons and Weavers will be. The Begonés? It remains to be seen. Child, you are a Lamar, by error is true, but by training and thought you are all I could have wanted for a daughter to follow in my steps. There is no lie in the pride that I hold in my heart for you, Melane. Against all the odds your have proven how deserving you are to hold the rank of grand guard captain."

Melane's own pride rose in light of the just words. "I am a Lamar."

"Yes." The time had come. "And Melane, you are also Sabrina's daughter…in all ways." She waited for her breathless revelation to brighten those crystal blue pools. "You are a Syron, Melane, by birth and in gifts. The powers are surging inside you, screaming for release—not denials!"

"But…"

"No, do not speak of doubts, only truths. Tonight the truth, you are a child of two sects, two skills, two gifts. The combination can reach further than any known to exist in the Nemows. Lamar skills, together with Syron powers, are an untouchable force!"

"Shemon stop, this cannot be."

"It can and is! Melane, listen to me, not all of the Nemows' teachings and rules are infallible. Some are derived out of need or control, to benefit the mass, it does not make them right, just necessary." Her hand smoothed back the soft bangs on her daughter's beautiful face. "Oh child, open your mind and heart to what is inside you, let the powers come, stop fighting them. You will need all the strength they can give you. Let them help when your Lamar training fails. There will be times when it will Melane, then you will see I am right."

"Sabrina had powers no other Syron ever possessed. She could see things in dreams. She had the power to stop or send objects at will. There were others she never spoke of…forces beyond comprehension. I think they frightened her with their strength. She told me once, not even the herbs could restore her own strength when she used certain ones, and once used they were gone forever. Some came naturally, without conscious thought or loss of strength."

Could it be true? Melane pulled away from Shemon, needing to reflect on her own feelings.

"Tell me Melane? What have you felt?"

"Dreams…I have had the dreams that leave me weak and trembling. Mostly of battles to come. I tried to forget what my mind held, but during the fights my moves came without thoughts, already defending an unseen blow or delivering a killing slash before theirs ended my life."

"The blending of skills…the two sects."

Spinning on her, Melane screamed, "But it is wrong!"

"Is it wrong that I saved you from Narmar's evil fate? Hmm? The woman still fears your strengths, the power that passed from mother to daughter. Oh yes, we have both given you all we possess. Sabrina's guidance is all that is lacking in your knowledge. It is there—inside—waiting for your call. Never deny what she gave you, listen to Sabrina's powers and let her help you fulfill the quest."

"If I go and seek the Selams, do you honestly believe they are real?"

"All legends begin with fact."

"They would be males?"

"The prospect frightens you?"

"Shouldn't it?"

"You have faced the Kibra."

"They are animals, beast before all else. The Selams may be the same."

"Only finding them will tell you."

"Should I succeed, can you really think to obtain mutual rule?"

"That decision will have to be faced. I do know, without them, we face annihilation at the hands of those beasts out there. We are loosing Melane. The Syron's numbers have dwindled nearly to half. Without them we will slowly die. Even worse is the suffering the raids are bringing upon us. So many others have been needlessly killed. The Begonés will eventually revolt, their death counts are climbing each day." Shemon stared into the glaring denial shining in the girl's gaze upon her. "And the Lamars, dear Melane, you know the losses we have suffered. Your own regiment is down by a third and they are our best warriors. So you see, we have no options."

"They could refuse."

"Offer what ever it takes to win their agreement. I give you the authority to act and speak for me. What ever is asked, Melane."

Did she really mean what Melane believed, "Shemon?"

"Yes Melane, even the Syrons. One sect for the whole civilization is a small price. The civilization will flourish, if we rejoin the Selams. We will just have to learn to tolerate the males."

Chapter 2 – Selams

 ...

Shemon's words went long into the night. Melane learned many things about the council and her foster mother last night. More than once, she actually heard Shemon's acceptance for what she found fault with, because of necessity for the whole.

Many of Melane's own questions began to see the light of truth, but she still felt confused over the answers. Like the Syrons, and what made them the life givers in the eyes of the council. Why not the Weavers or Begonés? If Shemon knew the answer, she held her silence, she said only that the ancients decreed it so. To Melane's young mind it was a lame excuse. Reasons. Yes, she wanted answers for so many things.

Like Narmar's hate. Even Shemon still feared its reach for Melane. She knew that was why she placed Lamar guards with her until they reached the boundaries of Nemow's kingdom. It was also why they left under cover of darkness, before the other questors.

Melane decided on going north to find the Selams. Always the Kibras came up from the south. She did not think an equal force would tolerate the Kibra's presence anywhere near their lands. For that reason, she decided on the farthest direction away from the beasts. The north was an unknown wilderness beyond the great forest. The Nemows were not explorers or conquers, having no need to venture beyond their vast holdings. Whichever way any of the others decided upon, Melane's heart felt heavy over their survival. All were facing unknowns, few possessed the abilities to deal with nature's dangers, be it elements or beast.

She thought again over what the Selams would be like, shivering when the ugly image of Kibras couldn't be dismissed. The huge, barreled hulks, were thick and coarse, with dark tufts of hair on their shoulders, chest and legs. Like the beast they behaved like, their unkempt mane of hair and long rutted beards could never hide the snarling male beneath. Should the Selams come close to these hideous features, Melane knew, she would not find the courage to confront them. She held little fear of bringing shame to Shemon, sure they would end her life.

They traveled on past the great forest, over the rolling green hills and gentle stream clustered tree groupings. The land was much like Cibrac, until the terrain became steeper and Melane saw the ominous mountains ahead. Almost purple against the afternoon sky she thought the high peaks appeared like formidable guards. Rolley sensed the threat as well, slowing his steps in caution.

"It is what hides in their folds we must prepare for, my friend."

Was this the Selam's land? The closer they came to the fierce cliffs and giant trees thrusting out of the jagged rocks, the more she felt the foreboding over what the inhabitants would be like. The Weavers taught that the exodus of the Selams had taken many directions. Very few Nemows accompanied the fleeing Selams as most mates perished from the illness that struck only the males.

Mates? The word conjured up images of wild beast, making Melane shudder and push away the idea.

...

* * * *

The trim legs were planted apart to hold the lithe stretching form as Melane worked out the night's stiffness. Rolley bent down beside her. "Impatient to be away my friend?"

Mounting his wide bulk. "Can't blame you, the night was too long. Shall we follow the creek?"

The huge clawed paws splashed loudly in the small stream. Disliking the prospect of facing many more nights like the last, she tried to imagine where, within these mountains, the Selams might settle. As the morning stretched out Melane found no signs of any presence, other then tracks of unfamiliar beast.

Conquering a difficult climb that forced her to dismount Rolley, letting him find his own way over the boulders, she came upon a large sparkling pool. A soft sheet of water fell over the high cliff surrounding the inviting pool. Dark green trees bent low along the deep edge as if they too sought the cool water.

Feeling tired and dirty, the decision was easy. The armor and weapons dropped quickly around her tanned bare legs. Only the knife belt remained about her waist, making the white smock flare out about her hips. Unable to resist the waiting pleasure she pulled away the helmet, releasing waist length waves of thick, midnight rich hair.

Her dive was clean and silent into the deep blue water. The strokes expert as they glided across the mirrored surface.

Startled by the unexpected vision, Wylan's black eyes heated over the impact. Unable to tear his gaze or senses clear of the ethereal movements, he gave up the struggle and savored the rare event. Like mystical wings, the slim arms and delicate hands cut soundlessly through the water, making him look at his own massive ones in comparison.

"An elamie?" The breathless admission caused his muscles to ripple in stunned awareness. The flowing cloak of black silk above the sleek white, cloudy shape of her body, firmed the proud arrogant features of his chiseled face. The hidden beauty was not a vision, the whimsical laughter floating across the pool to his hiding place proved all too real. Awareness ripped through his corded body, forcing his eyes to search the opposite bank for her protector. The strange large beast he found instead, didn't diminish the warnings silently bombarding his senses.

Never taking his attention away from the elamie, still enjoying her believed privacy in the pool, Wylan made his way soundlessly through the brush, freezing when the obvious large guard on the opposite bank rose up to his full height. The beast's large black nostrils sniffed and vibrated in the air. Knowing he was down wind from the animal, he again checked the elamie, almost faltering when finding her to be floating atop the water. Full, twin peaks bobbed in languid motion, enticing his virile male body. The fresh pale globes could fill his palm. The truth painfully tightened his lions, setting his determination on the prize within his reach.

Whatever prey his planned week of hunting might have brought, Wylan knew could never touch the treasure he stumbled upon. How she came to be here, alone, was unimportant. All knew the claiming laws, Wylan better than most. He did not intend to loose this prize, scoffing that any Selam could be so careless. He had not seen her close enough to be sure, but this elamie definitely held virtues beyond any he glimpsed upon in the past. The wealth of possessing one such as this would be unequaled; the promised pleasure a private haven.

Before his dreamy musing destroyed his concentration, Wylan faced the formidable task before him. Stopping her creature could prove as challenging as fighting the night's Mylar. The beast actually stood taller than Wylan's great height and was wider than his broad shoulders. The great claws on the short stubs and powerful hind paws told of the animal's potential. The way the beast paced about in alert strides said he would defend his swimming mistress, with his furred life.

Wylan's fingers released the tie holding the whipple at his thick belt. Holding the sturdy cords, he positioned them with expert ease between his strong grasp, ready to send the weapon to its mark.

The whirling sound cut through the still air, swirling Melane about to search for the threat. A shrilling shout froze her in the water as Rolley's cry shattered in her ears. His crashing body drew a painful groan from his shocked lips.

Busting through the brush Wylan's massive arm raised to silence the beast struggling to rise and break free of the cords wrapped about his powerful thrashing legs.

"No!" The screamed plea halted the downward thrust of his thick blade.

His senses came alive to the elamie staring at him with wide blue eyes. Winning her without a fight never crossed his mind. Seeing the unexpected feelings she carried for the beast gave him a new advantage.

In slow caution, his stance eased back from the threat still struggling at his feet. If the great beast's strength had not severed the whipple by now, it would not happen. She did not know and awareness made him curious as to her reaction. "Come out elamie!" Wylan's sword lowered, its point directed at the animal's chest. "Now!"

Treading the water her eyes filled with the awesome bronzed image. Tall as a tree and as tough, the male stood with his thick muscled legs spread wide. Full golden shoulders bulged over the powerful expanse of the contoured muscles that moved and flexed across his great chest. Melane's head shook in frightened denial. Worse than the Kibra.

She wanted to flee from the battle. All Lamars faced the weakness and conquered it, or died. But this…this was an instinctive panic against an unknown danger. He was male!

"Do I kill the beast?"

Her stunned eyes dropped to Rolley's pitiful form now stilled in exhaustion. "No!" The admission barely passed her tightly held lips. Thoughts of escaping made her cautious eyes dart about, but she was in the middle of the pool. This enemy could easily span any distant bank she headed for. In slow unwanted strokes, Melane started towards him.

His sword eased away from Rolley as she advanced, coming to a stop in mid air before her. Her own weapons lay on the bank in front of the bush. Had the obstruction hid his awareness? Melane forced her eyes to remain on his massive form. Melane tried hard not to let the power and strength in his golden form defeat her courage.

A vision in the water as she stood, rising out of depths she became a mythical goddess. The lure to his senses grew fierce, the way the transparent barrier clung to her honeyed skin and the soft alluring curves, enticed that savage desire all males ultimately faced. In twenty-seven years, Wylan knew none before possessed the invisible power this elamie emanated. His admiring gaze halted at the weapon resting at her slender waist. "Take it off."

Was she too willing in obeying his command? Why did her docile appearance send warnings blaring inside him?

Holding out the sheathed knife dangling from the belt, Melane stepped fully out of the water. Only a step to her right to set the sword down. Keeping her eyes to his fierce black ones, she moved the offending weapon out arm length. Bending forward as if to place it down, Melane moved without thought, changing one for another before he could blink at her trickery.

Crouching low before the giant, his blade held as much a threat as his own matching stance.

"A foolish move, elamie."

Her confidence rose in stature to the weapon now in her possession. "We will see who is the fool."

Her attack obviously surprised the male and Melane pushed her advantage, striking fast and sure, with expert maneuvers. His defending blows were jerky as if stunned and unsure how to deal with her. Keeping him off balance was her only hope of succeeding. The male's reach was twice her own and to question the power he'd yet to use against her could mean death. Why he held back confused Melane, but she refused to let her attention slip.

"Your protector trained you well, elamie."

The taunt infuriated Melane. "I am my own protector."

Her answer lit his expressive eyes, making them sparkling under the sun like tiny diamonds floating in the dark pools. For a second Melane became lost in the spell they cast, forgetting all but the night heaven's fathomless depths. The lapse earned his lunge, driving her back with his sweeping blade. When their swords clashed, the impact vibrated up her arm, alarming her over the obvious physical difference between them. She was a warrior; no doubt he possessed the same skills. Unlike the clumsy Kibra that relied on brute strength, this man moved with cunning and expertise, wielding it in unmatched power!

When his blade danced about her own, the pulling release from her grip was almost gentle in the taking. Immobile and defenseless, Melane waited for the killing blow.

"Only a fool would destroy such beauty." She was that and more standing bravely before him, wishing to slay him with those striking blue eyes. He never encountered such effrontery in an elamie. She was a rare one as well as very pleasing to the eyes. The thick wet lengths of her hair reached past her waist, one he could easily span within his hold. The gentle curve of her hips were firm and smooth, leading to delicately trimmed thighs and legs. There was almost a regal air to her beauty. The unexpected defiance in those exotic eyes caused something inside him to ripple to life. He did not believe for a moment that she accepted her defeat, not when those cool blue eyes shined with bold arrogance, refusing to look down before his own fierce stance.

A pitiful wail came from the fallen animal. His sword stayed her movement.

Melane never felt such rage. "You're a cruel beast!"

"Shall we try that again, elamie? The name is Wylan or…master. Either will do."

Stepping back, her eyes grew large in their incredulous glare. "Male arrogance!"

Melane's lips curled over his roaring laughter.

"Maybe my new elamie is not such a prize after all. Did your protector let you loose on purpose?"

His sarcasm didn't miss its mark, but Melane refused to humor him any further. Holding silent, she folded her arms across her chest for emphasis.

Tipping his sword to her in salute, the male started a guarded walk around her.

Biting her lip she held fast when he retrieved her sword and knife. The loss made her extremely uncomfortable before him. When he lifted her armor and clucked in distaste, she turned her head away "And where, prey tell, did an elamie obtain warrior garb?"

"If by your word, elamie, you refer to me, the answer should be obvious. I am as you say, a warrior…a Lamar captain of the Grand Guard, to be exact."

"Arrogance, now pride, what other surprises do you hold from view, elamie?"

"None…unless it is to kill you at the first opportunity."

Where were her thoughts, to warm him such! She inwardly screamed, he annoyed her so. His laughter was like a lash upon her ebbing control.

"Already you add flavor to the pleasure I have but sampled from afar. No doubt you drove your previous protector to the edge. Tell me his name so I might relieve the poor soul of his burden."

Spinning about to face her tormentor, she herself straightened at his own return to a fighting stance over her action. The knowledge brought her full lips up into a slight, satisfied smile. Wary of me, as you should be…male! And such a one she never expected; a formidable species, so large and strong. His skin was smooth like polished brass.

Berating her foolish thoughts, she knew it unwise to antagonize him, but he pricked something rebellious inside her not to be tamed. "You must think me weak to continue insisting I need or have a protector. The prospect not only is loathsome, but absurd. I, Melane, am my own Nemow, no other would dare lay claim to a Lamar."

"Then I have no one to thank for your unexpected presence? Other than yourself of course." Wylan forced himself to breathe evenly under her watchful gaze. Keeping up this maddening banter was difficult and if not so very informative he would quickly end the game.

"The head must be muscle bound as well, to have taken the truth so long to penetrate." The control she used not to show her fear under the thunderstorm filling those midnight eyes nearly exhausted her.

"Curbing your sharp tongue will be my first priority."

"You assume much, for a male spawn!"

Melane didn't wait for the bull to charge. Her feet moved with the lightening urgency necessary to avoid his reaching clasp.

The black satin slipped through his fingers. Cursing, Wylan moved to block her flight towards the beast.

"Rolley!" Turning from his massive form, she spun again and away from the cliffs. Melane growled when she saw he stood between her and the only escape. The pool was her only path. With a running dive into the pool, she heard him follow before she broke the water. All her strength could not outdistance the great strokes overcoming her. Melane's furious scream was silenced as he pulled her by the ankles beneath the water.

Holding the thrashing wildcat down, not even the threat of drowning mellowed her fight. Feeling panic overtaking her anger, Wylan drew her up to the surface for air.

Gasping for breath, once gained, her fury broke loose, but his iron solid arms locked about her, ending her pitiful attempts to break free.

"Let me go…you foul beast!"

"The prospect is intriguing, don't tempt me."

"Ooh…"

All kinds of wild thoughts, beyond his anger, came with the squirming form pressed against his own. She actually fought him in earnest! Had the old ones not trained this elamie in the ways? He heard of rare instances when an elamie needed to be reschooled, but she was wild, hardly civilized.

Lifting her up before him, Wylan kept her feet from touching the ground. She needed no advantages in delivering the blows she attempted to inflict. Even bare footed she had the strength to injure a man in the most effective manner, and the knowledge, if her well-aimed efforts proved anything. Putting her none to gently on the ground face down, Wylan straddled her hips, pinning her arms with one hand behind her back. Pulling the tether strips lose from his belt, he quickly tied her arms and her legs, hindering her freedom.

Her angry growl, when he rose off her, earned his guarded smile. He'd wasted enough time; it would be almost nightfall before they reached his camp.

Going back to the pool, Wylan retrieved the weapons, placing hers inside his belt. His own still had unfinished business to tend to.

His rage at her should have ended Melane's fight. Her fear of this male, was no longer a simmering tease, the danger he posed became all too real. Rocking to her side she watched him in wary concern, swallowing hard over the sword once again in his steeled fist. She would not cry out when the deathblow came. Above all else she would die with honor.

When he walked past her a new fear seized Melane. "Nooo . . .!"

His intent kept her moan from reaching him. Falling back onto her stomach she fought to raise her head. Through the dark veil of fallen hair, her dread was confirmed when she saw him standing above…Rolley!

"No please! Oh please don't kill Rolley. I swear…I will behave, please…Wylan!" He'd refused to look at her until she called out his name. Ignoring the pain in her cry he raised the sword. Groaning, a rage took hold of Melane so fierce that it rocked her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, her mind filled with only one thought…stopping him.

A low almost inaudible sound came from the elamie. With its drone came a force that stayed Wylan's hand in mid air. Bringing his other hand up to the hilt, he pulled with all his strength to fight the unseen force that he knew she controlled. Her cry cut through the air shattering both the force and drone, violently flinging him away from the beast.

Finding himself sitting on the ground, Wylan shook his head to clear away his shock over what just happened. His eyes darted to the elamie. What he saw tore through his very being. She laid curled up on her side, her back to him…weeping?

Going slowly to her, he stood behind her expecting another attack. From a tied elamie? Had he imagined what had just happened? "No!"

Kneeling down beside her, Wylan drew her onto her back. Brushing the curtain of hair away, he exposed the river of tears glistening her honeyed cheeks. No longer did she look proud and arrogant, but like a young child. She was young, he did not realize how much so. The feathery tips of black lashes struggled to open as if a heavy weight held them down. "Please, can you bury him? A friend should not be left to be torn apart."

Did she not know what she'd done? It was her force, he was sure of it. A sorceress? No, she would have killed him. Wylan had much to learn about this particular elamie. "Tell the beast to behave and I shall spare his life for your promise to behave."

Through half closed eyes that wanted to widen in surprise she answered. "Thank you."

Did the exhaustion, he s