Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,30

her hands in his. “What if Kylene is the woman spoken of in the prophesy?”

“Where did you get such an idea?”

He shrugged. “I can’t explain it, but deep inside, I know she was meant to be mine, that we’re destined to be life-mated.”

Sharilyn placed her hand over her son’s. “I think you feel it because you want it so badly.”

“Then why can I read her thoughts? Why can I walk in her dreams? When I send my shade to mingle with my betrothed, it’s Kylene who receives me, no other.”

“I can’t explain it,” Sharilyn replied. “I only know that you must wed Carrick’s daughter on the seventh day of the seventh month, or all hope for a lasting peace will be forever lost.”

Knowing there was no point in arguing further, Hardane left the room.

Somehow, he would prove Kylene was meant to be his.

Until then, if he could not possess her in the flesh, there were other ways.

He was walking in her dreams again.

She was sitting beside the waterfall, watching the torrent cascade over the mountainside, and suddenly he was there beside her. The sunlight glinted off his raven-black hair and kissed his skin like a lover who had long been denied his touch.

He stood before her, his deep gray eyes alight with a fierce glow, a hunger that filled her with fear, and excitement.

He held out his arms, a question lurking in the depths of his shadow gray eyes. “Lady?”

Without a second thought, she slid off the boulder and walked into his arms. “My lord?”

“Will you be mine?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

She hesitated a moment, only a moment, even though she knew it was wrong. But she wanted him, needed him, so desperately. “Aye, my lord,” she murmured softly.

For these few moments, she would be a woman like any other, free to love a man, to hold him in her arms, to savor the sweetness of his kisses.

His hands moved lightly over her shoulders and down her arms. “I’ve never had a woman,” he said, his gaze burning into hers.

The thought that he was as innocent as she filled her with exquisite pleasure. “I have never had a man.”

“I know.” The words were barely audible, made harsh by a sudden soul-wrenching uncertainty.

Her hand reached up to cup his cheek. “You will be my first,” she said tremulously. “My last. My only.”

“Kylene . . .” He whispered her name, and then his mouth slanted over hers and he kissed her, ever so gently at first, his lips as light as dandelion fluff.

But it was not enough. She leaned against him, her breasts pressing to his chest, her hips arching toward his. A low moan rose in her throat as his mouth crushed hers, the tip of his tongue sliding over her lower lip, until her mouth opened under the constant pressure.

Sparks. Lights. Comets. The tail of a hurricane. Her whole body throbbed with fire and silent thunder as he kissed her again and again. Carefully, he lowered her to the ground, his weight a welcome burden.

His hands were trembling as he caressed the clothing from her body. She should have been embarrassed, mortified. No one, man or woman, had seen her naked since she was old enough to dress herself. But she felt no shame as his gaze moved over her, his gray eyes alight with something akin to reverence.

His hand traced circles on her belly as she undressed him, and then he was pressing her close once more. She let her fingertips explore his hard-muscled body boldly, shamelessly, delighting in his solid strength, in the way he trembled at her touch, at the low moan of pleasure that rumbled deep in his throat.

And he was touching her, discovering the silken hills and soft valleys, learning what made her purr with pleasure, what made her shiver with delight.

And then, when he was shaking with need, when she was trembling with desire, he parted her thighs and found his way home.

Warmth engulfed him. Heat surrounded him. And he began to move inside her, reaching for the sun.

And she gave it to him. Bright, shattering light that exploded through him and spilled into her like a million shards of silken sunbeams.

He cried her name as tremors racked his body, his voice a low growl of pleasure as his arms crushed her close.

And she arched up to meet him, drawing him deeper, deeper, knowing that never again would she feel as loved, or be as complete, as she was at that