Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,89

to hold her close, to inhale the sweet scent that was hers, and hers alone. Her skin was soft and smooth under his hands. As always, her body molded itself to his, two halves of the same whole, the same heart.

Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the wealth of her hair. When he’d been locked in the dungeon of the Fortress, certain he’d never see her again, he had dreamed of holding her like this just one more time. And now she was here, in his arms, and her very nearness made all his senses come alive.

Kylene wrapped her arms around Hardane’s waist and held him tight. No matter what happened, she vowed she would not be parted from him again. Not in life. Not in death.

She drew away as there came a knock at the door, followed by Jared’s voice advising them that the coast of Mouldour was in sight.

Sharilyn blinked several times in an effort to bring her vision into focus. She’d been drugged, she thought absently, a sleeping potion of some kind.

She glanced around the room, and the movement, slight as it was, made her head ache. She was lying on a large, circular bed in a narrow, low-ceilinged room. There were bars at the windows.

Sitting up, she saw that the bed took up a good portion of the floor space in the middle of the room. There was no other furniture save for a small rough-hewn oak table that held a white porcelain bowl and a pitcher of water.

How long had she been here? Days? Weeks?

Slipping her legs over the edge of the mattress, she stood up and went to the door. It was locked, as she’d known it would be. Turning, she crossed the floor to the window. Outside, she saw the high walls and towers of Castle Mouldour.

Her first coherent thought was for Kray. Closing her eyes, she summoned her husband’s image to mind. A low cry of despair welled in her throat when she saw him. He was locked in a dark cell in the lowest dungeons of Mouldour. The wound in his chest, located high, near his right shoulder, was festering. Lying on the cold stone floor, he tossed restlessly, his body racked by chills and fever. She called out to him, willing him to respond, but he seemed unable to hear her.

She whirled around at the sound of her door being unlocked, took an involuntary step backward as the Interrogator entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“So, what do you think?” Renick asked, his hand making a gesture to indicate the room.

“I think you’ll regret this.”

“Indeed?” His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “I mean to have you as my mate,” he said coldly. “Should you refuse, should you do anything other than what you’re told, your husband’s life will surely be forfeit.”

“He’s nearly dead now,” Sharilyn retorted.

The Interrogator’s eyes gleamed with interest. “How do you know that?”

Sharilyn glared at him.

“You will tell me, or Kray will suffer for it.”

“He’s suffering now!” she exclaimed, and even as she spoke, she could feel the fever raging through Kray’s body, feel the hard, cold floor beneath him. He was only barely conscious.

“I want to know the secret of that bond,” Renick said. “If we mate, will it pass to me?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

Sharilyn shook her head. “It’s the truth. The bond cannot be taken by force. I cannot give it to you.”

“Then what is the secret?”

“The bond can only be shared between those who are predestined to be life-mated, my lord,” Sharilyn answered quietly, “or by those who are joined by bonds of love. My mind bond with Kray was forged out of our regard for each other. Had I been forced to wed against my will, no bond would have been possible, even though I have the power.”

Renick frowned. “I don’t believe you, but there are ways to get the truth.”

“No! Leave Kray alone. I’m telling you the truth, I swear it on the lives of my children.”

“Tell me the secret of shape shifting.”

“There is no secret. As Kray said, it cannot be given away. It is inherent in the seventh born of one seventh born.”

Renick stared at the woman, a vile oath whispering past his lips. She was telling him the truth. He knew it without doubt.

Rage and frustration welled up within him. He had spent a lifetime in pursuit of the secrets of the Wolffan, only to learn that he’d been chasing something with no more substance