Black Moon Draw(98)

“The Red Knight?”

He shakes his head, and I experience the sense once more that I shouldn’t have helped the man driven to find LF.

Then again, after the emotional turmoil of my adventure, she deserves to have the shit scared out of her by a fully armed knight showing up at her door.

“Anyone else?” I prod.

The squire starts to smile and nods. Pointing, his ears grow red.

“Watch my cats, okay?”

His eyebrows go up.

I don’t have time to explain. Every cell in my body needs to know if I succeeded in saving Atreyu. I leave the foyer and blink in the sunshine, spotting the large, muscular frame of the man I’m looking for. He’s paused halfway down the short bridge leading to the city.

Thank god! I race after him, heart in my throat, and slow before reaching him, enamored by the sight of him.

His face is turned towards the sky, his eyes closed as he absorbs direct sunlight for the first time in his life. A thousand years and he’s the first Shadow Knight to see the blue skies.

Tears stream down my cheeks and I cover my face with my hands, unable to stand the thought I helped him reach this moment. It makes me want to scream or explode from happiness. My blood roars with need, but it’s pride that makes me almost giddy. “You got your blue sky,” I whisper, choking up.

“Aye.” He holds out an arm without turning. “Come, witch.”

I circle him and fling myself into his arms, breathing in the scent of brownies and grass, of sunshine and destiny. I squeeze him as hard as I can to reassure myself that he’s real. His arms circle me and he hauls me into his hard frame.

“What have you done, witch?” he asks gruffly.

“Saved the world. Duh,” I reply and bury my face into his shoulder. “I’m so happy to be here. I’m so happy you’re alive! I couldn’t bear it if you weren’t.”

He lifts my chin and I meet his gaze. His eyes are dark blue, like the oceans, glimmering with purples, greens, and blues. The fog is gone from his realm and from him.

I want to sing at the top of my lungs. Instead I wait while he searches my face, a tiny spark of self-doubt creeping in at the silence. “You did it. You saved your realm,” I say in the thick silence.

“Aye. ‘Tis so,” he agrees softly, amused. “’Twould be naught without my heart.” The skin around his eyes warms.

I grin, not caring how dorky I look, no longer interested in trying to hide what I feel and think from the world. Cupping his stubble-roughened cheeks with my hands, I kiss him lightly on the lips and drop back onto flat feet. “I still get to be your queen, right? You didn’t change your mind?”

“Never,” he says fiercely, a familiar light flaring in his eyes. “You became my queen last night, witch, the heart of Black Moon Draw, and the only woman I will ever take to my bed.”

My god. No words.

“In a fortnight, you will meet your new subjects,” he continues. Releasing me, he stoops to sweep me up in his arms.

“Why so long?” I ask.

“Because I do not plan to let you leave my bed before then.”

I giggle, eyes drinking in his planed features as exhilaration flies through my system. The feminine side of me is already in a puddle, the primal need to belong to and claim this man until I can’t speak, walk, or think strong enough that I’m glad he’s carrying me. I gaze up at him with no short amount of awe and gratitude.

I really do get my happily-ever-after.

“What say you, witch?” he growls.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Thank me with your legs open.” Grunting, he hefts me over one shoulder.

I laugh and then begin to weep, the lightness in my heart too great for me to contain any longer.

Like him, I’m home at last.





Epilogue: LF





The End.

I consider the words. They don’t seem quite right. Deleting them, I debate for a moment and then simply leave it blank. The book may stop here, but their story is eternal.

“Best. Book. Ever.” The shih-tzu at my feet stirs when I speak, and I reach down to scratch him between the ears. “Another best seller, Wookie!” He looks up at his name, as sleepy as I am.

This book feels incredible. It flowed with unnatural ease, basically writing itself. I haven’t slept in three days, compelled to complete the story of Naia and her Shadow Knight. There are stories that seem to be channeled from outside of my imagination entirely, worlds painted so vividly on my mental canvas, that to delay sharing them is a sin.

I pull up the chat window where I’ve been talking to one of my readers. There are fans – and there are rabid fans. My last three books have been like this, inspired by the stories of rabid fans who messaged me, begging to be in a book. All three books were similar to this one – channeled writing that drove me batty until I sat down to put the worlds on paper.

I type her a message.





Hey, Naia78! The story’s done. I’ll post the final chapter in a bit, after I edit so you aren’t bothered by any more typos!





I wait a minute. She doesn’t immediately respond. What’s odd: the other two women never wrote back after I finished the final chapters of their respective books either. I’m assuming they liked their stories. If they weren’t happy with the ending, I’d hear about it.