Zylar's Moon: Selven Refuge Read online

  ZYLAR’S MOON: SELVEN REFUGE

  An Ellora's Cave Publication, January 2004

  Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 787

  Hudson, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-703-4

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  ZYLAR’S MOON: SELVEN REFUGE © 2004 RAVYN WILDE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Marty Klopfenstein

  Cover art by Gina Pitkanen.

  Zylar’s Moon: Selven Refuge

  Ravyn Wilde

  Chapter 1

  Mica was completely and thoroughly aggravated, irritably pacing his chambers and pulling his fingers through his shoulder length hair. He stilled his movements and tried to stop his scattered thoughts for a moment. Tala. She was driving him crazy. She was his. Or would be as soon as he could get her alone. Damn that woman, it shouldn’t be this hard. By the Goddess! He was High Priest of Zylar. She was his life mate. And he hadn’t been able to track her down long enough to call her Companion Links into place. She had avoided him for nons. Weeks. It shouldn’t have been possible for her to do so.

  Mica groaned and resumed his pacing. Scratch that. With Tala anything was possible. Even as a child she had been rebellious, frequently popping up to tag along with her brother, Tar, who was now the ruler of Zylar—when she was supposed to be in lessons, or with her watcher. As Nyssa had noted—a Zylan watcher was a cross between an earth nanny and a jailer. Definitely something Tala needed. Usually she showed up just as Tar, Mica and his brother, Raj, were about to get in some kind of trouble. Like the time the three of them were sneaking out of the ruling place, intent on checking out some of the darker haunts in Tanar. Tala showed up, and the intended excursion had been quickly changed to a more innocent venue. The Zylan Zoo. They couldn’t take her back and make someone watch her. She would have tattled they were going somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. So they had changed the plan and missed out on exploring some of the shadier alleyways. They never did get another chance that life cycle.

  He had always had a soft spot for her; there had always been something so very right about Tala. Closing his eyes he remembered the day he had recognized her—not as Tar’s slightly annoying sister—but as his mate. He hadn’t seen her for several cycles. He had been kept from visiting Tanar, the ruling place where Tar and Tala lived with their parents, by his intensive training.

  Mica had been born with the mark of High Priest: shoulder-length black-copper colored hair and already able to speak. Then, as he aged, the dark hair had come in but the copper highlights hadn’t faded, they stayed exceptionally bright and vivid. This mark clearly validated Mica’s future. Others born with similar highlights still had strong powers—almost as strong as Mica’s—but without being able to speak at birth, they wouldn’t be granted the same destiny. Every High Priest in Zylan history had talked at birth. At a very early age he had started learning what was necessary for him to become the high priest. He had trained with all the ancients; first they came to his home in Zelph, when he was older he lived with them, traveled with them and worked to hone both his psychic abilities and his knowledge of healing practices.

  The training had been exhausting but he was—finally—allowed some time to relax and have some fun. He was only 18 life cycles old and he was to be granted a short respite in his training before beginning the next step. He and Tar had plans to visit the Selven for ‘intimacy training’. Sex. He had entered the ruling place and, while waiting for Tar, had gone into one of the reading chambers to look for a manuscript. And…there was Tala. Sitting quietly by the window with sunlight shinning on her straight black-burgundy hair. She looked up, met his gaze with those beautiful silver eyes, and smiled at him in innocent delight. He knew she had just turned 12 cycles. At that moment he recognized the importance of Tala to his very life: his links rolled under his skin. Wasn’t hard to figure that one out. He was completely shocked. He’d known her from her birth; recognized as everyone had, that she was unique—she was the only Zylan known to have that particular hair color. The burgundy coloring was unusual, and many Zylan psychic abilities were tied to hair color. No one understood exactly what Tala’s coloring meant or if she was destined for something special. However, in the space of a few heartbeats he realized that her destiny would include him.

  But he had wanted verification. Later, after returning to resume his training, he’d asked one of his teachers if he had understood the feeling correctly. His suspicions were confirmed. Tala was his mate. Since she was a mere child, he decided that he couldn’t tell her yet. He would wait until the time was right.

  When he’d realized she’d been reading a forbidden manuscript written by one of the few Zylan feminists, and seemed to be enjoying it, he’d begun paying more attention to the women he came in contact with. He watched, studied and listened to them and came to the realization that their lives were very limited, their choices non-existent. He had sworn to himself that he would try and be more flexible with his mate. Sensing that change was necessary and knowing it would take time to alter the way women were viewed on Zylar, he would work to nudge it in the right direction. Smiling, Mica thought about his ruler’s new wife, Nyssa. An Earth woman. She had done more to move things in that direction in the short time she’d been on the planet than he had accomplished over all these cycles.

  But his thoughts quickly returned to Tala. Mica heaved another sigh of frustration. He had moved into the ruling place to study with his predecessor, Nalan, when he was 20 and she was 14. He had spent those life cycles watching her grow into a sensual, fascinating woman. He could have legally claimed her when she reached maturity at 20—the earliest age a Zylan mate could be claimed. But no…he’d listened to her rant and rave and state she hated the idea of being linked and had thought to give her more time to come to terms with him. The stress of waiting to call the links from her body had been rough on him, testing the limits of his control. They began to argue over everything.

  He had thought he would use the extra time to concentrate on his training and learn everything he required from Nalan to become Zylar’s High Priest. He’d decided that with the additional time, Tala would mature and grow out of her aversion to linking, that she would come to welcome the thought of a mate. Hah! He should have known that with Tala everything—everything—was different.

  The High Priests were tied very closely to the ruler they served. If a ruler retired or died, the current High Priest would leave his position, so the inheriting ruler would begin his reign with a High Priest dedicated only to him.

  Tar and Tala’s parents, Tajan and Tamar, had been older—almost 100 life cycles when Tar was born—and they had decided when their son reached 29 that they wanted to ‘retire’, turning the ruling of the kingdom over to their son. They wanted to travel to many of the other planets before they settled back in their ancient age. Nalan and his mate had joined them in their wandering.

  Somehow the life cycles had passed, he was 31 and Tala was now 25. In the five cycles that had passed from her claiming age, he’d watched bemusedly as she’d grown more adamant about not wanting a Life Companion. He’d been High Priest for two years and he could never seem to find the right time. They were growing farther apart, not closer. Then, out of the blue, she had announced that she wanted to join the Selven. If this took place, all traces of her
internal links would be removed and she could never be claimed. There was no way he was going to allow that to happen! He’d find a way to stop it.

  Shaking his head, he re-lived the terror of seeing her chained to the wall by the crazed Selven High Priestess. Nyssa, Tar’s Life Companion, had wanted to teach Tar a lesson because she was upset with him and his domineering treatment of her. She’d decided to escape from him immediately after their claiming ceremony. She’d only planned to be gone for a few bi-nons and Tala had agreed to help her. The two had dressed as men and taken a small cid to the gathering place. No one had known that the Selven High Priestess, in offering them sanctuary, had planned to use Nyssa and Tar’s separation-pain to take over the kingdom.

  He could still see Tala and how she’d looked when he’d finally been able to get to her. She had been covered with small cuts and bruises from her struggles against the chains that bound her, emotionally drained from fighting to keep Nyssa sane and centered during the separation-pain. Her normally gleaming black-burgundy hair had hung dirty and matted. She had been drugged with herbal potions for so long that she was still feeling the side affects. Mica had gathered her to him and had held her for the short time it took to use his mental healing ability to carefully repair the worst of the damage to her body. He hadn’t wanted to release her. It had taken a huge effort for him to fight the urge to call the links from her body right there and then. He had silently vowed that as soon as they were home, she would be his. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—wait any longer. He sighed ruefully as he acknowledged that here it was more than four nons later and he still had no mate.

  Mica knew that time had run out. He couldn’t wait any longer to claim Tala. Sighing, he chastised himself. He was the High Priest of Zylar. He had risen to that position—not only because of his friendship with Tar or because of his birth—but because he was the most powerful psychic on Zylar. He had more mental abilities and stronger manifestations of those abilities than any other. He knew this for a fact. He had been tested and trained since he was a child. He was the only person on Zylar known to have the ability to control the elements, he could create things with a thought, and he could heal just about any sickness or ailment. And that was just scratching the surface of what he could accomplish. It should be a simple thing to get Tala alone long enough to call the links from her body. Shaking his head, he realized he should have known. Tala had never done things the easy way. She was constantly getting in trouble for her sharp tongue and her total disdain for traditional Zylan ways. The only thing he could do would be to surprise her, trap her somewhere – anywhere they could be alone. He had planned on getting her to his room. A room he knew he could lock for the three bi-nons it would take to wear out the link’s mating fever. Three bi-nons that would bind her to him. Forever.

  Mica grinned to himself in satisfaction. On Zylar, forever could be a very long time. Oh, the things he wanted to do to that woman!

  He sat on the edge of his bed, contemplating what his next step would be. Smiling, he crossed his arms behind his head and laid back, the only thing that had gone right over the last non had been in his dreams. Mica smiled wickedly. His blue eyes darkened. He could Dream Walk. As far as Mica knew, he was the only one with the skill of entering someone else’s dreams and directing them. As a child he used to play this way with his brother, Raj, and take them both on great adventures. It always amused Mica the next morning to hear Raj recount the fantastic dream adventure he and Mica had shared. He had never known that Mica directed them.

  Since saving Tala and Nyssa from the deranged priestess of the Selven, he had almost instinctively started to visit Tala. At first he designed the dreams to bring them closer mentally. They talked about everything while learning each other’s touch. Mica felt he was bringing them closer together as a couple by sharing his nights in such a way with Tala. She had been startled at first, drawing back from the dream and waking herself up. Slowly she had accepted him and she’d stayed longer in the dreams he created for her. Eventually his desire for her had made the dreams increasingly carnal. Mica had grown bolder, pushing Tala. She would still shy away from him and wake up when he got too close to claiming her body. Even in their dreams she ran from him.

  * * * * *

  He was back. Tala knew that if she turned around she would see him. Her mind was screaming at her not to turn. Her body had its own ideas. Goddess! He was lovely to look at! He was so tall. She was barely 6 feet in height but her head would tuck snugly right under his chin. His body was muscular, well defined without being too bulky. The one time as an adult that she’d been held in his arms she had felt so protected, so safe. His hair was thick and wavy and just brushed his perfect shoulders. It was a warm black, gleaming with bright copper highlights. Gleaming with warmth. On the other hand, his eyes were ice blue and seemed to strip her naked. Tala glanced down. Scratch that. I am naked.

  “Come, let me show you the pleasure of your body.” Mica raised his hand to her. Tala reached out and settled her much smaller hand in his. He sat in a chair she hadn’t noticed before and then pulled her into his lap, her back against his broad chest.

  “Mica…”

  “Don’t talk.” Mica held Tala gently on his lap with one arm possessively wrapped around her waist. With his other hand he reached around her and softly put his hand to her chin. Bending her head back and to the left side, he shifted her waist length hair that had come between them, to pool it over her left shoulder. It left her slender neck arched, the pulse at the base of her throat visibly pounding. Tempting him. Holding her snugly to him, he bent to her. He traced around her ear with his tongue, lightly tasting her, savoring the unique taste of his mate. He stroked and lapped from her ear down to the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met, closing his lips, lightly sucking, gently biting and then moving his tongue within his closed mouth on her satiny skin.

  Tala shuddered. The feelings he was creating within her were exquisite but left her hungry for more. She moved restlessly in his lap and was rewarded by his right hand coming up to pet her just under her breast. If he was trying to soothe her it wasn’t working…

  As always, Mica was fully dressed. But she could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing up between her thighs. She twisted impatiently against him. Felt him grow and expand beneath her. She struggled wildly to increase the contact with him between her legs and, at the same time, tempt Mica to move his hand up.

  His mouth never left her neck. But she could feel the vibrations of his soft chuckle against her sensitive skin. Her restless movements had pleased him. Slowly he moved his palm to brush first over one breast and then the other, gradually increasing the pressure and the speed of his strokes. He was driving Tala wild. She whimpered when he took his mouth and hands from her, but watched as he placed his fingers in his mouth and wet them. Immediately they were back. Mica’s slick fingers were now plucking at her nipples. He pulled at them, extending and rolling the tight buds between his thumb and finger. The sensation was incredible. Pleasure shot from her breasts straight to her heated core causing her to clench her inner muscles in anticipation and need. His mouth and tongue worked the frantic pulse at her throat, nipping in tune with his maddening fingers, driving her closer to the edge of pleasure.

  She felt desperate. Struggling in his lap to move against the heated edge of him, she wanted him closer. Pressing along the tented material that covered him, she could feel his length surging against her. Growing. Expanding. Goddess, she wanted him buried hilt deep inside her. The arm at her waist shifted. His large hand now pressed against her belly working to hold her flush against his straining erection. The tugging at one of her nipples continued and grew in intensity; making her groan with the exquisite pleasure-pain he was putting her through. She was so…

  She held her breath and stilled. The hand at her belly was moving lower. Please. Oh, please she wanted this so much. Carefully, she moved her thighs apart. And—at last—felt his hand move over her mound, just slipping into the wetn
ess between. The shock of finally feeling him touch the heat between her thighs jolted her.

  “Damn! Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!” Tala was furious. It was a dream. Again. Shortly after she and Nyssa had been rescued from the crazy Priestess at the Selven gathering place, she had begun dreaming vivid, sensual adventures with Mica. But all the dreams had one thing in common: she always woke up when things started getting good!

  Tala tightly squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. She would not give in to this. It felt as if she had spent her entire life mooning after Mica. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t loved him. Where her brother and Raj had treated her like a pest, Mica had been patient with her and had made the others include her on some of their adventures. She had always been drawn to him. He would play with her; tease her but always treating her as his best friend’s little sister. Her first steps, as a toddler, had been to Mica. He had held her when she was little, healing her many small cuts, drying her tears. He had seemed endlessly patient with her many questions.

  Once, when she was about 12, he had visited her home and caught her alone in a reading chamber. When he had looked at her, he had seemed to see her—not as Tar’s little sister—but as something…more. And then he had looked shocked, had paled and then had practically run from the room. She had decided he was going to tell her father or brother that she was reading forbidden manuscripts, manuscripts about the injustice done to the women of Zylar. But no one had come to chastise her. Nothing had been said. Later that day, Mica had seen her again and once more he had acted the concerned, caring friend. But from that day on, it seemed as though he didn’t have time for her anymore. They were never alone; he always ensured that someone else was present. Then, when she’d reached 20 life cycles—the age when she could be claimed—everything had stopped. Changed. The remoteness between them had expanded.