"What happened?" Was that her voice, sounding empty and hollow?
"She said Roanen had been waiting too long."
A thin, keening wail tore through the ancient hall as Shammall's arms closed around her, and then everything faded to black.
Epilogue.
She was positive that if she so much as blinked her eyes her head would explode. By the gods. What had she done? She knew well the price of expending too much energy. She knew where to draw the line. Had known since first Roanen called her to these lands.
Roanen.
Funny. She'd dreamed of him of late. Stupid, really. An old woman lusting after a man who had been dead half a century. But in her dreams she was young again, and he...he was as she'd first seen him. Young and handsome and virile, his skin bronzed and lightly oiled, his hands strong and sure as they stroked over her skin.
Nylanefer's skin. Sennedjem's hands. A temple made of carved stone, much like the stone that surrounded her now.
She tried to turn her head to get a better look at the room, but the pain was too intense. She wanted to call out, ask some kind soul to bring her a damp, cool cloth to unglue her eyes, but she was afraid the sound of her own voice might shatter her brittle eyelids.
As if by magic, a cool cloth draped itself across her eyes.
Moving each muscle with care, she concentrated on slow, deep, even breathing. She could will the pain away. She'd done it before.
"Good morning, my love."
The voice was as it had ever been, smooth and low and charged with sex. With a word he could tell her that she was the center of his universe. With a touch she could feel the strength of his love. She laid her hand over his, experimenting with a smile. Her lips didn't break.
His fingers closed over hers, a gentle squeeze telling her all she needed to know. Who she was, where she was, no longer had any meaning. He was here. He loved her.
"Kiss me, my love, and all that ails me shall be forgotten."
The long, silken waves of his hair brushed her chest as he bent, his kiss but a brush of a butterfly's wing, soft and sweet as a flower's nectar. She caught his lip with her own, sucking it gently until all that prime muscle melted beneath her touch. As he kissed her in earnest, she trusted herself to open her eyes at last.
She leaned back a little, getting a better look at him. So familiar, yet different. Skin bronzed by the sun. Dark, knowing eyes. Broad, powerful build. Long, dark hair that wrapped around her like a sensuous waterfall. The robe that hid the rest of his body from her might have been silk. It might have been nothing more than a housecoat. Or it might have been more...
You couldn't go back in time, could you? This had to be the future. Her future.
What was his name this time? What was hers?
Broad, blunt fingers traced her cheek with a gentle touch. "What troubles you, my love?"
"I-Nothing. It was but a dream."
He gathered her in his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder. "You dreamed of the past again."
"Aye."
"I'm sorry, Lydian. I know how the dreams distress you."
"It was so real. We were in the halls of Elahandara, leading the Clan bear to the surface. Shammall and
Takuri found the cubs, but they were pursued. There was a weak place in the ceiling of the great hall. But it wasn't weak enough. It took all I had...the Dark Priestesses fled as the roof began to crumble. Shammall was calling to me, telling me to come, but it was already too late. They made it. They must have made it to the surface. The others had already found the tunnel that led to the Monastery..."
"They all made it out, my love. All of them."
"And Clan Bear?"
"Clan Bear flourishes, darling."
"It was all over a long time ago."
"A very long time ago. Later today, when you feel stronger, I shall send for Shammall, if you like. He
loves talking about the old days with you."
Yes. Of course. Shammall was Fey. He would still be here. Wherever, whenever here was. The past began to fade as she looked around the room at familiar surroundings. The bedroom. Her bedroom.
Her bedroom that she shared with her husband, Eireamon. Ayailla and Roanen had been long, long ago.
Lydian swept her hand across Eireamon's cheek, tracing her fingertips up to the tip of his long, pointed ear. Elves. They were Elves. Death would not claim him this time. Not for more lifetimes than they'd already lived together. Laughter bubbled to her lips as he nuzzled his head into her touch. "Another time, another place, another world, it matters not. I love you, Sennedjem. As I have since the world was young. I shall love you still when our world begins to wither and die at the end of time."
"As I love you, Nyla. For ever and always, my love." "Forever and always."
About the author:.
Margaret obtained a BS in Education/English and Communication from Shepherd College in 1982. She tried her hand at teaching and also worked as a D. J. for several years. She knew, however, that she wanted to write. The advent of On-Line publishing has provided yet one more valid reason for avoiding 'housework' of the common type.
Residing in West Virginia with her husband of 21 years, Bill, Margaret enjoys building computers and online role-playing games. When she's not on-line, Margaret can be found in the garage tinkering with her motorcycle. The list of grand children has now grown to five.
Shelby welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora's Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.
Also by Shelby Morgan:.
All I Want For Christmas Cardboard Plain Brown Wrapper Redemption Song Of The Bear 1: A Mercenary's Prize Song of the Bear 2: A Prisoner's Desire Song of the Bear 3: A Senteniel's Secret Taken The Marker Threshold Volume 2 Way Of The Wolf 1.5: Too Hot To Handle Way Of The Wolf: The Northlanders 1 Wild Geese Discover for yourself why readers can't get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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