Read THE RIPENING (Dark Side of the Moon Book 1) Online
Authors: MJ Riley
THE RIPENING
Dark Side of The Moon: Book One
M J R I L E Y
Copyright © 2014
Published by: Rascal Hearts
All Rights Reserved
. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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Book Cover By: Rosy E. Fisher
Part One
It was a moonless night.
Their property was situated on twenty acres of lush, forested lands, so on the nights when there was no moon, it was pitch black. It was the kind of darkness that your eyes never adjusted to, the kind of darkness that required a certain kind of familiarity with your surroundings that was almost natural to Yuna. She'd been in her family's small country house for as long as she could remember. She knew every nook and cranny - she could feel her way to the wine cellar for her favorite aged bottle or to the stables to comfort the horses, who tended to be a little skittish on nights this dark.
She herself, however, lived for nights like these.
It had been a long time since she'd been afraid of the dark.
The autumn evening was cool and brisk, but not so much that she couldn't afford to leave the bedroom window open. Yuna lay in her plain cotton nightgown, drinking in the sounds of the evening. There were the soft mutterings of animals getting ready for hunting, and from the stables, the low nickering of the horses settling down, and the rustling of leaves in the light breeze.
It was comforting enough to lull her to sleep, but Yuna strained against the temptation. It was nights like this that he came back, the man who was her dearest friend, her closest companion, and her darkest desire.
She allowed herself to close her eyes, running hands through her unruly dark hair. Luther was indeed an enigma, and had been for as long as she'd known him. They'd met when they were children. The young boy's family had been new in town, and true to stereotype, he'd been outcast in the schoolyard.
Yuna herself had often been the odd one out. She'd enjoyed reading and writing more than the average student, taken pleasure in turning her homework in on time, and could be more often found buried in a volume of literature than on the playground. In a way, this made her almost as much of a bullying target as a new kid from an unknown city.
The little girl had never been the type to cause trouble or start fights. But she'd known, when she'd seen the bigger boys gang up on the small dark-haired waif that had been Luther as a child, that she'd had to help. Luckily for her, things had never gone as far as her participating in a brawl. Whenever boys got it into their minds to start picking on Luther, it seemed that said minds rapidly changed. Yuna herself never actually saw what happened. All she knew was that at one point, Luther was surrounded by boys twice his size bent on terrorizing him and the next moment, the very same boys seemed in a hurry to get as far away from him as humanly possible.
She'd been amazed.
It had been that childlike wonder, that obsession with learning to emulate any behavior that dissuaded bullying, that had driven her to befriend the strange youth.
Though at first awkward, Luther had eventually grown to tolerate, then trust, and ultimately respect her. Their friendship had spanned primary and middle schools all the way through high school and university years. They'd spent late nights finishing science projects together, disliked the same teachers, applied to the same colleges, and sipped their first illicit nips of vodka in the cellar of her house.
There was no one that she trusted more than Luther.
At a low, methodical tap against her window sash, she looked out to see the man himself standing silhouetted in the open window. Grinning, she sat up to greet him. In the darkness, he was just an amorphous shape, but she knew his face and form almost as well as she knew her own.
Standing at a stately six-foot-six, Luther had, as he matured, quickly towered over those who used to torment him. His form was lean, wiry, and ungodly fast, as many could attest to from his short stint on the track team in high school. At the ripe age of thirty, now, his formerly smooth face was often covered with a smattering of dark stubble that only emphasized a strong jawline and slightly hollow cheeks. Unruly brows framed eyes such a startling color of blue that they merited second glances from almost everyone who saw them. The body that had once been that of a thin, athletic teenager now held the quiet, rippling strength of a man.
He was devastatingly attractive.
Yuna had stopped trying to deny the simple fact long ago. Too many women had come and gone for her to keep ignoring Luther's undeniable allure. Harder, however, was convincing herself that she valued his friendship more than any chance of making things awkward between them. When her parents had died, when she'd almost lost their farm, when she'd been working for pennies at the general store in town, Luther had always been there. He'd been her only comfort when her days had been darkest. The last thing she wanted to do was to add herself to the ranks of obsessive women from town who were constantly scheming to have him. Such overt attention from the female sex obviously displeased him, and she'd be loathe to resemble the rabble in any way.
She was perfectly content to be with him as they were - or so she told herself.
“You're on time. As always.”
“Didn't you hear me?” His voice was colored with a bit of a highland Scot's accent that hadn't disappeared even after decades stateside. Yuna heard rather than saw the smile in his voice at her greeting. For as long as Luther had been coming to her window at night, she'd always complained that he sometimes startled her with his sudden appearances. In response, he'd only told her that if she listened hard enough, she would always hear him coming. Despite this promise, Yuna was able to hear his approach no more than she was able to see it on nights like this.
“Of course not.” She grinned to herself at the question. “I don't know what super human powers you have but we normal people can't detect spirits on moonless nights.”
“Ha. Ha.” At her teasing, the man only feigned a laugh before easily climbing through her window to sit on the edge of her bedspread. “You slay me.”
“Like I'd ever really try.” Yuna rolled her eyes at the very idea. “You've sent masses of school boys running. I doubt I'd even get in a decent hit.”
“Yuna.” Suddenly, Luther's voice was very serious. The air in the room seemed to still as he leaned forward until their foreheads were almost touching. “You know that I would never, ever hurt you.”
The young woman blushed slightly at his nearness, pulling back almost as if she'd been burned. The fire that lanced through her when he came so close was indeed almost enough to scald. She emitted a nervous laugh that she hoped detracted from the reaction. “Of course, Luther. I was just kidding.”
“As long as you know,” he repeated softly.
Yuna nodded slowly, before clearing her throat and attempting to change the subject. “So, how was your trip?”
At the mention of his monthly absence, Luther drew away from her, stiffening slightly. “The same as usual. Dull, boring.” He shrugged slightly. “It gets old, honestly.”
“I can't even imagine. I mean, taking the same trip every month of your life since you were a child? Hopefully they've renovated extensively!” Where Yuna had hoped to get a laugh out of her companion, she was greeted by only silence. Biting her lip, she twisted her fingers together for a moment, trying to decide what to say to lighten the mood. “Hey...are you hungry?”
“...starved.”
The smile was back, if her ears weren't betraying her.
“I made some lasagna today.” Her companion groaned as she spoke, the sound one of pure longing. As her ears colored slightly at the sound, she forced herself to remember that it was food that had drawn the reaction from him.
“God, its been forever since I've had your lasagna. Say no more.”
Laughing softly, the young woman hopped off the bed and began down the hallway to the kitchen. She didn't bother with the lights. She knew every inch of the house and Luther, for his part, never bumped into anything in the dark. The man had amazing night vision.
Within a few minutes, she had a large portion of lasagna heating in the oven as she sat on the kitchen counter.
Luther had taken a seat at the low table across from her, and she listened as he inhaled deeply the scent of fresh herbs and lemon cleaner. “I miss this place when I'm gone. I miss the smells,” he mused as he sat back in his chair thoughtfully. It was funny that he should say that as he himself added the certain scent of soap and spice to the environment.
Yuna's lips curved in amusement. “You're here almost constantly. It's not as if you have much of an opportunity to miss it.”
“You'd be surprised. Where I am when I'm not here....it's different.”
“Well, I'd assume so. Country charm is hard to find.”
“...you know what I mean.”
When Luther fell silent again, Yuna frowned slightly. He seemed extra-contemplative tonight. Usually it wasn't so hard to draw amusement from him. Though he was, by nature, a serious man, he was more at ease around her. He tended to relax - to say what he wouldn't say around others. Unless, of course, they were talking about his monthly trips.
Ever since she'd met Luther, he'd gone on said trips with his family every 25 days, without fail. Though the time of month sometimes varied, the trips never did. Luther said that they always went to the exact same place to do the exact same things. It didn't sound like much of a vacation to Yuna; and the fact that he continued to participate in the little jaunts even in his thirties made her think that he went more out of obligation than any real enjoyment.
Though she'd attempted numerous times to get him to reveal where he went on these secret trips, Luther was extremely close-mouthed about them. The subject seemed to be a sensitive one. The young woman especially remembered one of the few occasions she'd met his family members- a more private and strict group of people you'd never meet- and how they themselves seemed even more insistent upon keeping their monthly destination a secret. Though her curiosity never wavered, Yuna had learned to bury it when appropriate- which seemed to be almost always. Now, at the age of 28, she was proud to say that the subject barely came up at all. Who was she to care where he and his family went? He was with her most of the time- and it was that time that she most enjoyed.
“Lasagna's done.” When the oven beeped, she retrieved his portion and plated it up for him before letting him eat in silence. While he did so, she turned on a single warm lamp that bathed a portion of the room in low light. It was enough for them to see each other, and while they didn't speak, they were comforted by each other’s presence.
Yuna had never been one to judge people, but she admitted that when she did allow herself to think such thoughts, it had occurred to her that Luther was strange. She didn't know of many men who showed up at their friends' windows in the middle of the night just to talk, or seemed especially leery of being touched without warning. There were precious few people, indeed, with the enhanced reflexes and weird sixth sense about the world that her companion seemed to host. It was something that had always remained locked in the back of her head - something accepted and yet wondered about. It was part of what drew her to him, she supposed.
No matter how many different women Luther had attached himself to throughout the years, she knew, somehow, that none of them ever knew him as well as she did. She was almost certain that Luther never turned up at their places in the middle of the night for simple conversation and he certainly never admired the scents of their kitchens. She wasn't naive enough, at her age, to think that he hung around them just because they were pretty. She knew he was far from virginal. Yuna simply liked to believe that, like most men she knew, Luther didn't put much emotional stock into unfettered sex.