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Date Posted: 04:25:36 12/25/01 Tue
Author: Leigh
Subject: Re: Orignal Gemstone 8
In reply to: Leigh 's message, "Orignal Gemstone" on 03:53:05 12/24/01 Mon

Madeline was less then enthusiastic when Nikita announced her intention to name Michael as her mate. Hands clasped loosely in front, she faced her daughter. "I don't object to your taking a mate," she said, her voice even, "But I object to your choosing someone you've known for only a short period of time."

"And who is a Scythian," Nikita added, gazing at her mother calmly. "Be honest, mother. That's the real cause of your objection."

"That thought had crossed my mind."

"I thought so." Nikita sighed and walked over to the window. A frown marred her face as she looked out upon the city. "Michael can no more help being born a Scythian then I can help being a Vatian. It’s unfair of you to judge him based only on that."

"Perhaps. But by the same token, you can not ignore the fact that he is a Scythian. Raised with their traditions and values. If they have any that is, which I seriously doubt."

"Mother."

Madeline held up her hands to ward off the angry look Nikita cast her way. "Alright. I know. You love him, or think you love do."

"I know I do," Nikita replied, as her mother gave a silent sigh.

"You haven't told him that, have you?"

Nikita raised her brows. "Not in so many words," she said, feeling a little guilty. "But I'm sure he knows."

An amused look crept into her mother's eyes. "It sounds to me like you're not completely certain yourself."

"That's not true," Nikita answered, turning and walking briskly over to the window. She frowned, her brows furrowing, and stood stiffly.

Madeline approached her, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, then reached round and wrapped her arms around Nikita's chest. "I know I sound unreasonable," she said, hugging Nikita. "I just want to make sure that you know exactly what you're getting into."

Nikita raised her hands and placed them over her mother's arms. She leaned her cheek next to her mother's, like she did when she was younger. "I do love him," she said quietly. "He's arrogant in his knowledge that I care for him. But when he looks in my eyes, mother, I can see his love for me and it steals my breath away." Turning she looked at Madeline. "He makes me happy and I want to be with him."

Madeline's eyes flickered back and forth, looking deeply into her daughter's eyes. She reached up and brushed a strand of golden hair back. "You can be with him without having him become your life mate," she suggested softly, then immediately regretted her words at Nikita's look.
"Alright, you win," she said with a sigh and Nikita's eyes lit up. "Bring this Michael so that I may meet him."

*

Michael paced restlessly inside of the M'yrene's bedchambers. She'd been gone for three days now to see her mother at Pontus concerning business which he suspected included him. He hated this waiting around and feeling useless. The servants treated him politely, catering to his every needs as the M'yrene had instructed them to. But he was bored with sitting around in the castle. Vatian law forbade him to enter the coliseum to watch the warriors train. And Walter had abandoned him in preference of the M'yrene's library and medical scrolls.

With a scowl he began to undress and prepared for bed. The real problem, he knew, besides the fact that he was bored to his eyebrows at having nothing physical to do, was that he missed the M'yrene. She'd said she would try to be home by today and he'd waited up late hoping to hear the sound of Aleria's hooves bringing her back. But there had only been the trotting of the guard's horses on the cobblestone as they patrolled the grounds. Muttering an oath of frustration Michael climbed into bed and lay staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting towards the woman for whom he was willing to make so many life changes for. Slowly his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

*

It was late when Nikita arrived. Most everyone was asleep already. Aella, though, was still awake and visiting with the guards down at the stables. Nikita dismounted, thanked the stable hand who came to take Aleria away, then turned to her sister. "How have things been?" she asked.

"Routine," the doyan answered. She walked with Nikita
toward the entrance to the castle. "How did things go with you and our mother?"

Nikita stopped and looked up at the night sky, enjoying how the stars shone brightly. "It was difficult --," she said, then turned and gave her sister a brilliant smile, "-- but she's consented."

Aella laughed and pulled Nikita into an embrace and she kissed her on the cheek. "I'm happy for you, Nikita," she said, her eyes misting. "Now go. I believe a certain Scythian has probably gone to bed in a sour mood for want of his mate."

"Aye," Nikita sighed, looking with longing up at the darkened window of her chambers. "I've missed him too."

She bid Aella goodnight and made her way into the castle. She stopped to order that a bath be set up in one of the guest rooms, then made her way up the stairs. It took supreme will power on her part but she refrained from entering her chambers until after she had bathed and dressed in a simple sleeping gown. She had brushed her hair out and it lay in soft waves down to the middle of her back. Quietly she opened the doors to her room, closed and locked it behind her, then crossed over to the bed.

She stood a moment and smiled to see Michael asleep.
Pulling the blanket back, she climbed slowly into bed, settling down next to him. Michael stirred, then woke with a start. "Shh --" she whispered, slipping her arms around his waist. "It’s me. I'm home."

With a moan he gathered her in his arms and pulled her to him, his lips searching for hers hungrily in the dark. "M'yrene," he whispered. "My love."


Michael's laughter floated through Nikita's room in the early morning hour. He lay on his back, his green eyes filled with love and joy as he gazed at her. She was on top of him, her body nestled between his well-muscled legs, her arms and head resting on his stomach. "Enough!" Michael demanded, still laughing as he reached down and stilled Nikita's fingers. She knew he was ticklish, had inadvertently discovered it one night while they made love.
Now she took great delight in discovering all of the areas of his body which responded to her touch and caused laughter to spill from his sensuous lips.

"I'm not through," she said, looking up at him with a sly grin.

"Oh yes you are," he replied, his voice husky. He reached down and pulled her up so that her face was over his. Her hair, tousled from sleep and their play, created a sweetly scented curtain about them. They gazed into each other's eyes, then quietly kissed.

After a few minutes Nikita moved off and settled in beside him, curling her body around his, her head resting on his shoulder. She felt him breathe in deeply and smiled, turning her head to place a quick kiss on his shoulder. "Are you happy here, Michael?" she asked.

"Of course."

Nikita struggled up to a sitting position and turned so that she sat facing him. "Are you? Really?"

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, his brows furrowing a little in puzzlement. "Yes. Really," he answered.

Her lashes lowered as she reached for his hand. A minute passed in which she merely sat and stared at their clasped hands. "My mother thinks that a union between us will not work," she said quietly, then raised her eyes to look into his. Watching. Waiting for his response.

Michael turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and returned her gaze. "You spoke to your mother?
About a union between us?"

"You're not pleased?" she asked, frowning slightly at the catch in his voice.

Michael shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean." He sat up, facing her. "M'yrene," he said, staring into her eyes. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I didn't think you would --" he paused, his eyes flickering back and forth, "--
What do you mean by union?"

She chewed on her lower lip... hesitating.

"M'yrene --"

"It means that I want to share my life with you," she blurted quickly. Her heart was pounding, her breath quickening as she watched Michael stare at her. "Surely you know, how I feel about you, Michael," she added quietly, her eyes searching his. A tense silence filled the space between them.

"M'yrene --"

"Don't call me that," she groaned. Then just as quickly, she jumped at Michael, pushing him back on the bed and covering him with her body. Her eyes bore into his. "Don't call me that," she repeated, her voice low and husky. "Not here. Not like this."

Michael gazed back at her in confusion. "What's going on, M'y--" he stopped himself in time as he saw the dangerous flash in her eyes. After a moment he said gently, "I don't understand."

Nikita's eyes closed and she sighed inwardly, her face taking on a look of defeat as she collapsed atop him. "Michael," she said in a tiny little voice as she buried her face into the curve of his neck. "I love you."

His hands froze. His eyes widened. And then he pulled her roughly away from him, forcing them both back up into a sitting position. There was a look of incredible amazement in his eyes. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She blushed. Her lashes dropped, hiding her eyes. When she spoke her voice was quiet. "I said I love you." She waited. Her heart beating loudly within. When the silence stretched into a minute, she withdrew, turning to escape.

"Don't."

His voice trembled and she looked up to see him staring at her with eyes that glistened. His hand reached out to her, touching her lips. "Say it again," he whispered. "Look into my eyes and say those words again --please."

Nikita's eyes filled with relief. "Michael," she said, letting her emotions show in her gaze. "I love you."

His eyes closed as an almost pained expression flitted across his face. Quietly he gathered her into his arms and held her. He stroked her hair, kissed her temple, and rocked her gently.

After a few minutes Nikita pulled back, just enough so that she could look into his eyes. She smiled tenderly, raised her hands to his face, then brushed his hair back. "I want to spend my life with you," she said softly. "To have you by my side always. As my companion, my lover, my mate."

"M'yrene," he moaned, deeply moved by her words. But Nikita placed her fingers gently over his lips.

"Shh." Her eyes sought his. "I long to hear you speak my name," she sighed. "Will you do that for me?"

He captured her hand, pressed it to his mouth, then held it to his cheek. "Are you certain?" he asked, and she nodded. Then leaning forward, she whispered into his ear.

His eyes shone with love as he watched her pull back. Then, ever so gently, he laid her down on the bed. His hand caressed her hair back, smoothed its way down her cheek, her neck, before settling next to her left breast. He listened with his hand to the pulsing of her heart as he gazed into her eyes. Then he bent down, hovering just above her lips. "Ni-ki-ta," he whispered, feeling her quiver as he spoke her name. "I love you."


*

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