The Unveiling (D'Shar Men 2)

The world around her had a hazy quality, as if fog had settled over the area. She turned to examine her surroundings. She was in an ornate palace. The large dome-shaped ceiling above her head was painted a deep blue with constellations and stars painted in bright splotches and swirls of white and yellow. Three black, sphere-shaped metal lighting fixtures hung in a row. Rivka peered down at her clothing and gasped. She was glad in white gown that hugged the curves of her body and belled out, brushing against the floor. On her arms she wore gold bands that symbolized royalty. Was this a vision, a prophecy, or a coded message?

"Hello?" Her words echoed off the walls, with silence her only response. She lifted her dress up and walked across the white stone flooring that told her she was in space. The particular stone could only be harvested in the galaxy where Tagget had been located so she had to be there or in the home of someone wealthy enough to have it imported. As she made her way into the hall a sense of urgency hastened her footsteps. Her body seemed to know where she needed to be. She ran down a narrow stairwell she guessed was for the servants and ended up outside once again on her way to the beloved garden that afforded her peace. This time it was day and she was headed for a different destination, the maze of tall, green shrubbery in the far right quadrant. She weaved her way deeper inside the confusing pathways to the heart where he waited. His dark hair fell over his forehead and covered his eyes. He was clad in a pair of leather breeches and a cream-colored shirt he kept open at the collar.

Her heart filled with joy, and he looked up to meet her gaze. His pale yellow eyes pierced her soul and stood out against his light green skin. He opened his arms, and she ran to him. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his slender waist, hooking her feet together as he supported her, devouring her lips with a hunger that made her entire body catch fire.

"Are you sure no one saw you leave?"

"Everyone is at the celebration."

"Yes, the one I'm supposed to escort you to. We can't stay here too long."

Her happiness plummeted.

"I know. I wish we could come out in the open."

"They'd kill me."

"Why? It's my choice."

"Not with a man like me. You're too important to be the wife of a mercenary soldier with little to his name and no royal blood in his veins."

"You’ve protected our people a million times over. They say without you we would have lost the Great War."

He smiled at her and shook his head.

"If I were to falter and fall in battle, another would pick up where I left off. I'm expendable."

She covered his thin lips with her fingers.

"Not to me."

She blinked rapidly as she was brought back to the present. They'd spoken in an ancient dialogue not commonly used anymore, and the Great War had been eons ago. Who is this man, and why do I keep dreaming about him? The only common link she could think of was Bastien. Was this a relative trying to sway her opinion on the military man? It wouldn't be the first time she'd seen interference from those beyond the grave. It's going to take a lot more than some fuzzy moments with your true love to fix what's broken between Bastien and me, tall, dark, and handsome.

****

Bastien arrived at the coffee shop fifteen minutes early, nervous and unsure what to expect. He'd snagged a table at the back of the bar. What will she say? How am I going to keep my hands off her? The sound of her soft voice on the phone had him ready to take her into his arms and eat her whole. He'd been a beast to work with for the past week, driving his men like a slave master. Not that they complained, he gave one hundred and ten percent himself. He avoided Phelan as much as possible, not wanting to put more stress on his plate. The run through of the ceremony was set for next Friday, and with the grand event next Saturday the house had exploded into chaos. Decorators were in and out, along with seamstresses and bridesmaids. I’ll be glad when all of this is over and I can focus on me. He felt like a man trying to kick a habit. Every second of the day he thought of Rivka, wondered what she was doing, wearing, and talking about.

The stress was so bad he'd started having dreams that made no sense. Bloody battlefields he knew he hadn't been on and images of a petite woman with skin the color of milk chocolate and green eyes. The love that poured from her was almost tangible. Yet, he didn’t know her name. He thought it might be a side effect from The Calling but seeing as how Rivka was the expert, he'd kept his questions to himself. The moment Rivka stepped into the room the atmosphere changed. His ever-present headache dissipated. The irritation eased. Her legs went on for miles in the black skirt and knee high, black lace up boots, and an off-the-shoulder white sweater. Her neck was long and graceful. The bare flesh made him think of caramel. She reached the table, and her scent hit him full force. Light, floral, and laced with ample amounts of pheromones. It was intoxicating. He curled his fingers around the edges of the chair as she sat in the seat across from him.

Her hair was a glossy mane of midnight colored curls he wanted to bury his hands in.

"Hi." His voice sounded subdued and shaky.

"Hi. Let's cut to the chase. I think we're both under enough strain now as it is."

"Agreed."

"Both of us are miserable. The Wanting symptoms will only continue to worsen, and neither of us can afford to be off our game. Especially not know. You have the hunt for Tavel, and I have my duties as Star Maiden, until a new one is appointed. We have to come to some sort of agreement."

His eyebrows rose. This was the last thing he'd expected her to say.

"Don’t think this is a change of heart. It's me being logical. I refuse to let either of us suffer needlessly. That's not who I am, and despite my anger, I'm not completely jaded."

"How do you want to proceed?" he asked.

"Frequently." She licked her lips, and her hair melded from black to a deep red. "Whenever and however we can manage it."

Her voice was honeyed seduction, whiskey laced with a dash of something sweet. His cock went rock hard. Her eyes dilated, and her nipples pressed against the fabric of her shirt. He bit back a moan and cleared his throat. Was this some sort of a test? If I resist temptation I pass, if not I'm a scumbag? We're connected for the rest of our lives, so I need to get this right.