Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) Read Free

that.”  A laugh pierced the air.  She gazed at Zora again, her eyes taking in more of Zora’s form than the young girl thought possible.  Zora swallowed hard, sweat droplets rolling down her forehead despite the chill in the air.
                   “What interest do you have in my nobility?” she asked, trying to figure out the woman’s intention for summoning her here.  The woman shrugged again.
    “Why…none.” 
    “Then how can I be of any help to you?” Zora cried, droning out her words like a desperate plea for answers to her confusion.  Another piecing shriek erupted in the air.
    “You foolish, foolish girl,” the woman retorted in contempt.  “Do you have any idea what you are?”  That question hit Zora like a hammer on an anvil. 
    What I am?
    Without warning, the earth right under Zora’s feet began to tremble.  It shook and rumbled like a thousand soldiers on horseback had rushed in for a great attack on an army.  The woman’s piercing shrieks evolved into a hoarse but deep laugh.  Zora cried out in horror as the woman’s pale skin began to unravel like thread from a spool and shrink away from her bones.  Her face became elongated as it was pulled further and further to the floor, glowing eyes becoming sunken holes in a skeletal face.  All at once her black dress crumbled into a pile of ash while a blood red flash convulsed, throwing Zora to the floor.  The deep laughing continued.
    Zora scrambled to her feet and spun around, intent on fighting her way back to Mizra no matter how many times that voice visited her in the night.  But behind her, blocking her path stood a man who had not been there before.  His hands hung loosely at his side and those eyes, those same dark, glowing eyes stared and burned into her soul.   
    “Please, let me go home,” she pleaded, backing away from him in terror just as she had the woman.  “I’m no use to you.”
     The man remained silent and still, a mischievous smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.
    “Zora,” he said, his voice as smooth and silky as the woman’s had been.  The streaks of gray in his jet-black hair were shimmering in some unknown light.  He was a middle-aged man, a man who most women would consider mysteriously handsome, dressed entirely in dark coal with his pants turned down at the top of black leather boots.  Scarlet lace crowded his neck and graced his masculine hands that ended with long nails painted the color of blood.  He took one step towards her.  She took two steps back.
    “What’d you do with that woman?” Zora blurted out.  The man narrowed his eyes at her and smirked again, as if he knew something she did not.
    “Zora,” he answered calmly.  “I am her.  Did you honestly think I could lure you out here all by myself?”  Zora shook her head back and forth in confusion. The man’s eyes seemed to glow brighter in the dim light.
    “How long have you been watching me?” she stammered.  The man appeared perplexed by the question. 
                  “Watching you?”  The man’s eyes ran along her like she was a piece of meat.  “Since the moment you were born,” he whispered, tracing the outline of her tense body in the air with his fingernail.  He smiled again. 
    “And all I have to do is touch you.” The young girl cowered under his intent gaze. 
    “Please…” she mumbled.  His eyes never moved from her.  He stared at her with eyes full of want. He desired something from her, some sort of power she possessed, though Zora could not understand or explain what.  Suddenly the man leapt at her.  She tried to run, but he pounced on her, tackling her to the ground and knocking the breath from her chest.  With that he was able to pull her under his muscular form and flip her over onto her back.  The man grabbed Zora’s wrists and pinned them on top of her head as she lie kicking and screeching on the brown stone floor.
    “Let…go!” she squealed,