Zauran (25 page)

Zaria
:

Tonight is my last night in this opulent bed, and I'm so relieved.

Traipsing over the thick pile of the cream carpet, I note the fresh black shirt waiting on the bed for me.

He's thoughtful, he really is.

I haven't seen any help, so I assume it's Ryan who manages to ghost in and out of the rooms being the magick elf to keep everything orderly.

The en-suite bathroom comes standard with extra goodies. It's like a hotel with the little soaps and miniature bottles of shampoo and conditioner and fairy sized tubes of toothpaste.

It was exciting unwrapping the toothbrush from the pink cellophane wrapper for the first time, and sampling everything.

He's nothing like Zauran. Zauran is earthy and practical, he's simple in his tastes and style. But Ryan obviously enjoys the finer things in life.

My room has a drawer full of gold wrapped chocolates, a pile of silk bound books on the cherry wood bedside table, and wisteria scented candles in the candelabra.

The lamp where I sleep is tasseled and looks downy soft, but I haven't had the courage to touch it. Everything seems so antique and expensive I'm afraid I'll break something.

Padding to the bathroom, I absorb the vanilla smell of the sandstone room. It's spacious and luxurious, and I am out of my comfort zone every time I come in here.

Ignoring the gleaming bath large enough for three and the wide open shower encrusted with mother-of-pearl mosaic, I move to the basin and dutifully brush my teeth.

It's strange that I haven't located any light switches. The lights just fade out when I climb into bed and close my eyes. It's the weirdest thing.

Unbuttoning his still damp huge shirt, I hang it up on the shower faucet; it reawakens too many memories.

He has arms like Zauran. Soft hair lines his forearms to the elbow and every time he rolls the cuffs up to his elbows I notice it. I think black shirts will forever remind me of Ryan and this strange home.

Tired, cupping a yawn, I meander to the bed, moving the clean shirt and placing it on the velvet ottoman where my freshly laundered jeans wait for the morning.

I've given up wearing my boots, it seems pointless, and there is zero way I'm asking to wear his socks. That would be uncomfortably intimate.

No way.

What's that?

Moving retrograde back to where the shirt was placed on the silk divan, I stare at a parchment envelope. Picking it up, I sniff it.

Sandalwood with the sweetness of raspberries, and electricity.

It must be Ryan's stationery.

Looking at the weighted thick envelope, it's slightly waxy and has that tea-stained manuscript appearance to the paper.

Sitting down on the end of the bed and tucking my leg underneath me, I examine the thick black penmanship and the flourishing style of the fountain pen where my name is written.

Suddenly anxious, I turn it over and stare at a deeply purple wax seal securing it shut. It's a filigree heart.

I don't want to break it, it's too pretty.

Being my retarded self, I fiddle with the edge of the envelope, picking at the corner until I get the side open enough to tear the paper open with my nail.

Flopping back, stretching my legs, I open the letter.

My dearest Zaria

Thank you for being my guest. I apologize for any discomfort you may have experienced whilst in my care, but know it is with my deepest sincerity that I say it has been an honor to become acquainted with you.

You have brought a vibrant energy into my home which it has sorely missed, and it will be so much poorer when you leave on the morrow.

Wkdqn bry iru hyhub suhflrxv prphqw, L vkdoo wuhdvxuh wkhp dozdbv.

Forever Yours

Ryan Kasun

Neuri King

Aw! This is so thoughtful and sweet!

It's so unexpected from tough Ryan. He's indomitable and guarded. He's unpredictable and cruel. Today he's been like Sveta, exposing the vulnerable underside to that villain exterior.

The way he took over to save
Božena and the way he invited me into the light... the coffee earlier... sigh.

Who is Ryan? Is he the warden with the black heart, or is he this person? Or is he both?

He shot his brother for heaven's sake. He's both. He's a king, a neuri warrior, but he's Slakax too. Wow, that must be hell to live with for so long, being an immortal and all.

A long desperate sigh exhales out of me.

Lifting the letter to the light, I spy the watermark in the heavy page. It's a crest of a heart split into three like the peace sign, the edges curled and graceful, just like his handwriting.

Neuri
king
. That does sound official. That must be why his stationery is so fancy... it would also explain the royal color of his neuri mojo. The purple that flows out of him is that perfect combination of puce and indigo, and the best way to describe it
is
royal. He often looks like he owns the essence of a morning glory flower with deep indigo, amethyst, and tyrian, all billowing together. Maybe that's also where the combination of smells comes from?

I wonder what “wkdqn bry iru hyhub suhflrxv prphqw, L vkdoo wuhdvxuh wkhp dozdbv”
means.

It's a language that is impossible to pronounce in my head. Even when Zauran spoke it I struggled to capture the syllables and sibilance.

Enough.

Sitting up, I place it on the bedside table with a decisive thunk, smiling to myself again at his incredible thoughtfulness.

He actually thanked me for staying here and I have to be the most ungracious guest he's ever had.

Okay scratch that,
Božena probably is. I heard her tell him to fuck off the other day on my way to the kitchen.

I don't believe she's my sister, not for one second. There's something bad in her heart. I don't like her and it's instinctive. But then I didn't like Sveta either and he's related to Zauran.

Hang on... Why did a paper envelope and page thunk like that?

Retrieving it, I squeeze the envelope into an oval, peeking inside.

Oooh!

Fishing my finger in, I unhook a metal object, turning the envelope on end and shaking to get it to drop out.

A gorgeous key falls out to glisten wicked temptation at me from the luxuriant linen. Leaving the envelope and letter on the table again, I fiddle with the key, turning it over as if it would bite.

It's breathtaking.

The head is a triple segmented heart, each segment a different gem. It splits the heart into three hearts conjoined like a clover, separated with a pink-gold type metal. Touching it, I trace the purple pearl ridge, then the black opal, and then the garnet.

It looks ancient. The key is obviously priceless, and so intriguing.

Picking it up I hold it to my heart, knowing deep inside this is precious, very.

What does it mean?

Ryan?

Where are you? What riddle is this?

Oh to heck with it. I'm tired.

Tugging back the puffy divan I crawl between the ivory silk sheets, reveling in the sensation of the sheen against my naked skin.

So this is how the other half lives.

Tucking my hand under the pillow, still holding the key, I feel oddly cherished and cosseted.

Thinking back to the pool of blissful secrets, I sink deeply back into that comforting light, bathed and saturated with gossamer love.

Clouds of warmth wrap around me and I flow away on a ribbon of evanescence.

*

Ryan
:

I'm sucked in by her gravity and I just can't help it.

Hidden in deep shadows I watch her from beyond the doorway. She believes she's alone in this wing, and without clothing with her she's chosen to sleep naked despite having a shirt placed out for her.

Standing here, I listen to her internal dialog. Women chatter mentally. I find it delightful.

My home is a lavish but silent cage. Day in and day out I listen to nothing but the energy of the stone.

Zaria changed that, and I'm fascinated.

She's right about
Božena. Zaria doesn't understand the concept of darklight. They have dark urges. Their pleasure is often combined with pain, and they thrive on it.

The lights switch off when
I
fade them off. I stand guard until she's asleep. I stand guard while she sleeps.

There's no explaining how protective I feel over her. I worry the second I turn my back whomever attacked Zauran will come after her. He's gone and it's my duty to keep her and those babies safe.

Emotion prickles my eyes, and it's utterly alien.

How can one person turn your world upside down by simply being themselves?

She's graceful, a wonder, sexy and demure. Her eyes are deep and mysterious, shrouding the imp I know is present in her character.

Her loves are simple and uncomplicated.
She
is uncomplicated. That is so refreshing in so many ways. It's also appealing and delectable when packaged in a body that poetic. She sparks prose on the tongue while she ignites blood.

I'm not ashamed of what I did. What is a worse punishment, to have it in your hands and never indulge, or to know how indelible her soul is so that you can treasure it for the rest of a life?

I'm better off knowing. It equips me.

It arms me with knowledge on how to approach her, the knowledge of her essence means I have an intricate understanding of her soul and how to appeal to it and protect it from harm. It also means no one will ever get close to her again as long as I'm alive. I've seen the pain in her heart from the death of her brother, from her parents dying so young, to Darise even - who is the last of a long line of boyfriends to betray her trust.

Why take Zauran when men like Darise walk this earth?

God damn I'd like to know where he is and why anyone would attack him.

She pines for him. She paints my home with her tears and when her heart breaks and the pain bleeds out, I feel it. I taste it.

Her breathing is deep and relaxed now, so I walk over the carpet which hides footfalls, to stand over her, looking down at the woman with hair of black silk and skin of sun-kissed luster.

So softly I brush her forehead with a kiss goodnight, switching off the light and returning to inhale her natural perfume.

The fact that she chose to sleep holding the key of destiny warms my blood. With that key she is ordained. Now she will always be protected by the neuri nation and what happened to  Božena will never happen to her. It's a mantle of power that wards off all others but neuri.

It's also the key to the kingdom, she has free passage. Both her and her children will be treated as sovereigns. If Zauran comes back he can consider it a promotion. If he doesn't, at least I know she will always be safe, from every threat and hardship, no matter what happens to me. This is the fail-safe.

My power is now hers to use and abuse as she sees fit.

The abuse bit sounds far too appealing right now.

Biting my cheek, I clamp down on the train of thought, staring down on the enrapturing Slakax.

You wonder what
wkdqn bry iru hyhub suhflrxv prphqw, L vkdoo wuhdvxuh wkhp dozdbv
means.

It means my little angel, my anđeo...
Thank you for every precious moment, I shall treasure them always.

Always Zaria.

Always is a very long time.

I leave her to her rest with reluctance, moving silently back to the passageway, keeping her safe... from a distance.

I am sentenced to adore her from this accursed distance.

Zauran either come back and claim your mate, or set her free.

I am bewitched and it's eating through me.

Unable to rest, sleep, eat... she's the holograph of Plyx that plays over and over through my thoughts until she fills them
again with her incessant internal chatter.

Like a sunbird.

This one must always be free.

By the ring on my hand and the heart of my navel, no one shall cage her again. Doing it to her this once is sufferance enough.

Chapter 24

Zaria
:

I inhale liberation while I stand on the lawn waiting for the others to join me, enjoying this high view of the Sava river.

The sun is shy today, hidden behind angel wing clouds, but I do not care because I can breathe out here. Twisting, I look back at the facade of his residence.