by Ruby Dixon
"But we should be able to touch," I protest. "I've robbed us of that. I've robbed us of children."
"You made a choice," he says gently. "You saved me. I cannot be mad about that. You cannot punish yourself for it. It has happened. Just like when the Great Smoking Mountain rose up and destroyed my clan, I grieved…and then I continued surviving. We can still have joy together, my mate."
"How?" I blink away tears. "How am I supposed to feel joy when I can't touch you? When I can't love you the way we were meant to?"
"Do you like my words?" T'chai's voice is a soft caress. "Do you like the things I say to you?"
"I…I don't know what you're getting at, T'chai." I stare down at his fingers, twined in my hair. The sight of it is intimate. Sweet. And because he's not touching me, it doesn't feel wrong yet.
"I still want what we have," T'chai tells me. "Even if it is broken. Even if it stays broken forever. Because half a mating with my lovely, determined Mari is better than a lifetime alone."
He steals the breath right out of my chest, this alien man. "Oh, T'chai."
"If you want to go to the other village, I will not stop you. Perhaps you should see the healer there. See if her powers are greater than V'ronca's. But I will be with you. And if it does not work, so be it. If you wish to stay, so be it. We will make a home there and we will be happy, because we will be together." He has such a fierce, determined look on his face. It's the look of someone who refuses to give up. Someone who won't give in to the sadness that seems to be choking me lately.
My heart swells with love. My T'chai, an optimist. I never knew how much I needed that. "But you're going to want more than what I can give you."
"Then we will get creative, my pretty mate." There's a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I am willing to try a great many things. Just do not give up on us."
"You really want to keep doing this?"
"Being your mate is about sharing your life. It is not just taking you into the furs and making you scream my name. It is about being there for you when you are sad. It is about making you smile. It is about keeping you safe. It is about being happy together." He tugs lightly on my hair. "I still want all of those things with you. Nothing has changed for me, my Mari."
"I love you," I whisper. "I'm sorry if I'm making this hard on you."
"You do not make it hard on me. You feel like you are the problem. I am here to tell you that you are not." He smiles at me, his expression so sweet he makes me ache. "And if my touch does not bring you pleasure, then so be it. I have spent all day thinking of new ways to pleasure you that do not involve my touch."
I'm dumbfounded. While I've been moping and lost in my sadness, he's been trying to come up with solutions. "Like what?"
He pulls out his gloves and brandishes them. "If my skin touching your skin bothers you, then I wear these."
I let out a little giggle of surprise, some of my sadness evaporating in the face of his eagerness. "Really?"
"Really. And if that still does not work, then I will just speak of the things I would like to do to you, and watch you touch yourself." His eyes grow hot, his expression intense. "I have been thinking about that one a lot today."
He has? I look at my big, brawny mate, his sober face full of enthusiasm and hope. This is a man who would never give up on me, I realize. If our positions were reversed, he would never suggest leaving me behind so I could be happier with someone else. He takes what we have and he's happy for it.
I feel like such a jerk. I smile at him. "I don't deserve you."
"You deserve me. Just as I deserve you." He rubs my hair between his fingers, and his smile is so, so beautiful. "Our khuis decided this once. They will decide it again. Wait and see. And we will go to the other village and speak with the healer there, to see if she has more answers. Until then, we will love without touching."
Love without touching. "You make it sound so easy."
T'chai's shrug is simple. He puts on one of his gloves—more of a mitten, really—and tugs the laces around his wrist. "It is easy to me. For many turns of the seasons, I thought I would never have a mate. I lost all of my family, my friends, except for R'jaal and the brothers. I was starving. There was nothing to look forward to, except to wake up the next morning and hope that the next day would be better than the last. I lived like this for many seasons, and then one day, R'jaal brought a golden female to our beach and declared her his. But when she opened her eyes, she looked at me and claimed me for her own." He gazes at his mittened hand and then slowly, gently puts it on my thigh. "It does not matter that there are a few storms to weather, my Mari. The important thing is that we weather them together."
"I'm sorry," I tell him, and put my hand over his gloved one. Strangely enough, it does feel a little better like this. "I was trying to find a way to make it easier for you."
"Easier. Bah. Who said I wished for easier?" His thumb moves up and down on my leggings, tickling my thigh. "Do you wish to try for more with me, Mari? If you say no, I will understand. You will still hold as much of my heart as ever."
That simple statement—that quiet acceptance—makes me ache with such fierce devotion. "I'd like to try. I just don't want you to be disappointed if it sucks."
"Of course I will be disappointed." He rubs my knee with the glove in an affectionate sort of way. "But I will not blame you, if that is what you are asking."
I guess it kind of is. "It might not work." I feel the need to warn him a second time. "For a long, long time, I didn't feel anything at all. It's like my feelings were…muffled. All of them."
"Muffled?"
"You know when you hear shouting underwater? And you know someone's shouting but you can't make out what they're saying? It feels like that." My jaw works as I try not to let loose another round of self-pity-fueled tears. "It's awful."
T'chai studies me, and then reaches up to touch my cheek. Even though he's gloved, the caress feels comforting all the same. "Is it better now? Or the same?"
"I don't know," I admit honestly. "Sometimes it's hard to tell."
"But you have been sad this day," he points out. "And that is an emotion. And earlier, you were very angry at I'rec for cutting me." His mouth twitches, as if fighting a smile. "Those are not the actions of a female that has entirely muffled emotions."
Huh. I've been so down on myself that I didn't stop to think about that. He's right, though, I've been emotional all day long. "Maybe you're right? Maybe some things are coming back with time?"
His smile is soft, encouraging. "Perhaps we can entice your khui into recognizing mine once more."
Oh god, I hope so. I love his smile, and I would love nothing more than to kiss it off his face and not feel as if I'm going to throw up when we touch. "That would be everything I'd hoped for." I smile at him, and for the first time in a long time, I feel hope. "Thank you."
"Why are you thanking me?"
"Because I've been so stuck in my own head that I didn't stop to realize."
"This is why you must talk to me, my mate. This is why we are partners. Because we are better together than separately."
I put my hand over his gloved one on my cheek. "Then you'll go with me to Croatoan and talk to the healer there? I don't think it'll be a fun journey, but if they're taking Tia, I won't feel like a jerk for asking to go with them."
"We should have asked to go before," he admits. "I am willing to brave a little cold if it means solving this and bringing a smile back to your face."
"I'm not sure it means just a little cold," I say, and I feel lighter than I have in forever. Almost…happy. "I should have talked to you," I agree. "Instead I've been wandering around like La Llorona, weeping and wailing over what I've lost."
"La Llorona?" He tries to say it with a slight roll in his R's like I do, but it ends up sounding like Scooby-Doo mangling words. At my giggle, his face breaks into a wide grin. "What is it?"
"It's an old legend where I'm from."
"Tell me about the story." He pats his thigh.
"But come and sit in my lap as you do."
Sit in his lap?
It feels incredibly dumb to get shy after what we've been through together, but his request makes me feel so…uncertain. My cheeks flush, but I close the distance between us and slide onto his thigh. I put my arms around his neck, and he rubs my back. It's not sexual…but good lord, I'm feeling it anyhow. I shift on his leg, aware of my bottom resting on the thick muscles of his thigh, and when he pulls me closer, his glove skims over the front of my tunic, and I'm filled with longing for more touches.
God, I've missed touching so much.
"Tell me about this 'la-lona.'"
I chuckle at his mangled pronunciation. "La Llorona is an old legend where I am from." I pause as he reaches around me and grabs his other glove, then works it onto his other hand. It's hard for him to do it one-handed (his other on my back) so he bites the edge of it to hold it as he pushes his hand into the glove, and I'm fascinated by the flash of teeth.
"Go on," he encourages me, and then holds the wrist of the glove out in a silent request for me to tie it.
Right. We were talking before I got distracted by his mouth. I tie the second glove for him as he rubs my back with the other, and as I do, I try to remember the details of the story. Of how La Llorona was a beautiful Mexican woman who married an uncaring husband, and when he put her aside for a younger woman, she went into a rage and killed her children. How she was immediately stricken with remorse and killed herself, too, and now spends all eternity wandering as a ghost, weeping over her lost children.
T'chai frowns at me as I tell the tale. "That is a terrible story."
I laugh at his expression. "It's not meant to be happy."
"But you compare yourself to that? Just because you weep?" His gloved hand moves up my arm in a slow, soothing motion. "It is not the same at all."
"Well, no, it's not," I agree, somewhat breathless at his hands all over me. "It's just an expression."
He studies me thoughtfully. "I do not like the idea of you being sad."
Heh. He's not the only one. "I don't like being sad."
T'chai watches me intently as his glove skims over my elbow. "Is my touch bothering you?"
I think for a moment and then shake my head. "I'm all right. The gloves help."
"Then I can keep touching you?"
Biting my lip, I fight off a wave of sadness. "I wish we didn't have to use the gloves—"
Before I can finish the statement, T'chai shushes me with a gloved finger over my lips. "You are focusing on the wrong things, my Mari. Do not focus on what we do not have. Be thankful for what we do."
"Glass half full, you mean?"
"Glass?"
I chuckle. "Never mind." I reach up and touch his hair. It sends a little shiver of unease through me but goes away quickly. Maybe it's just skin to skin that sets my cootie off. "Does my touch bother you?"
"No."
Hmm. "Figures that I'm the one that…" I let my words trail off when he gives me another warning look. "Okay, right. Glass half full. I'm glad my touch doesn't bother you, because then at least one of us isn't a problem."
"You are never a problem," he murmurs in that husky, rough voice of his. "Never."
For some reason, it's nice to hear that. "Thank you," I whisper. It eases some of the anxiety I have to hear him talk like this. To know that no matter what happens, he's not blaming me. I smooth my hand down his chest, feeling the rippling muscle through his leather tunic. It's not the same as touching him skin to skin, but it's still…nice.
"Can I take your tunic off of you?" T'chai asks. "So I can put my gloves on your bare skin?"
Do I want that? After a moment, I decide that I do. Biting my lip, I tug on the laces that trail up the front, until I can pull the entire thing over my head. I hate that I'm weirdly anxious over all of this. I'm just so afraid of disappointing him, or showing that I'm going to be stuck as a “cold fish” forever.
"It is just me," T'chai says in the most gentle voice. It's like he can hear my concerns. "It is the same T'chai who holds you close at night and wipes your tears away. It is the same T'chai who you wiped the brow of every day when he was sick. What is there to worry about?"
"The same T'chai who still likes fish heads?" I tease, the joke sounding as wobbly as I feel.
"I have never liked fish heads," he admits, a hint of a smile curving his mouth. "I just ate them because it was something to put in my belly."
I still remember that moment like it was yesterday, the expression of resigned disgust on his face as he chewed. It's both funny and utterly heartbreaking and I want to kiss him so badly. The only thing stopping me is knowing that my cootie won't let me enjoy it. But the memory breaks through my worry, and I strip my tunic off, tossing it onto the furs. My breast-band goes next, and then I'm topless and cradled in his lap.
My mate lets out a low groan at the sight of me, and I can feel his body twitch under mine. He carefully puts one glove on my back again, the other on my arm, and rubs it. "You will tell me if this starts to make you unhappy?"
I nod. Maybe it's the fact that he's trying so very hard to make this work, or maybe it's the psychological factor of the gloves separating us, but this isn't so bad. It's actually stirring the first hints of pleasure I've felt in months.
"My beautiful Mari," he whispers, and the sound is so full of reverence that it makes goosebumps prickle up my skin. He strokes my arm again, and my nipples harden in response, sending a pulse of heat between my thighs.
"Talk to me. I like it." My gaze slides to his mouth, to his barely parted lips. "I like watching your face when you talk about me."
"You are my favorite thing to think about all day," he admits, his gaze on my breasts. "When I wake in the morning, the first thing I do is look for you. I love seeing you asleep, with your mane spread all over the furs. I like to imagine that it is spread over my chest, and that you are reaching for me."
I suck in a little breath. "I would."
"You would?"
I nod, fascinated at the heat in his gaze. He's watching me so intently, and I can feel the tension in his body. His cock presses against my hip, hard and urgent. "I'd wake you up with my mouth on your cock."
He groans, eyes closing. "That is the best of ways to awaken." His glove skims to my shoulder, caressing little circles. "Would you let me do the same for you? Wake you up with my mouth between your thighs? If things were different?"
"Oh yeah. I'd love that." I lean in close to nuzzle at his neck, but the unnatural twang of wrongness hits me again, and I pull back. Damn it. "I'd love to have you eat me out."
"Eat you…out?" T'chai sounds fascinated. "It would be my favorite meal. And this would involve your…clit, yes?"
"Yeah." I sigh, imagining all of this and squirming on his lap. "Oh, yeah."
"I like this thought," he murmurs, his tone a caress. "I would drive into you with my tongue instead of my cock. Taste you everywhere. Lick every bit of you until you are so wet that my tongue slides against your skin with ease. Your scent would be all over my face and I would taste you all day long." His gloved hand slides to one of my breasts, caressing it and then just waiting, as if seeing how I react.
It…doesn't bother me. The realization fills me with such joy that I give him a bright smile and arch against his hand. "More. I want more of that."
T'chai's breathing becomes rapid as his gloved thumb strokes over my nipple. "I want both of my hands on you, my mate. Turn and put your back against my chest. I will cradle you against me."
I'm so eager for more touching—more feeling—that I don't even pause to worry if it's a bad idea. Even if it is, we'll adjust until everything's okay again, whether it means no skin touching or sitting across the room from each other…we'll adapt. I turn in his lap, undoing the laces at my hips as I do. My leggings come loose and pile around my hips and I tug them off before I settle in against him. My back is to the front of his tunic, and I'm able to tuck my head just under his chin. He rests h
is hands on his knees as I wiggle against his lap, feeling the hard iron bar of his cock against my back.
"Still good?" he asks, and his rumbly, smooth voice is in my ear and making warmth spike through me.
I nod. "Still good." The sense of “wrong” is still there in the background, but I'm able to push it away by concentrating on what's right about this moment—his big, warm body pressing against mine, the subtle scent of him, and the protected feeling I have while cradled in his arms. It reminds me of how warm and cozy I feel when I hide, how safe, and the uneasy vibe is easy to ignore in this moment. I can drown it out by just thinking of how wonderful it is to be held by my strong, caring, protective, healthy mate.
T'chai's big hands slide over to my breasts again, and he cups both of them. "I am fascinated by your roundness here. How they move when you walk, and when you laugh, they bounce. It makes me want to lick them all over." His fingers focus on my nipples, teasing them to aching points through the gloves, and the feel of the leather combined with the pressure of his fingers—and the words he's whispering—are making me ache.
"Mine are not very big," I point out, panting as he tugs on the tips. Oh god, that feels so good. I haven't felt anything so good in forever. "They're just little tits."
"It is not the size that fascinates me but the way they move," he murmurs, and his mouth brushes my hair, as if he can't help rubbing his face against me. "It is how sensitive they are. How they react when I touch them. All of that fascinates me. When you laugh and your teats jiggle, it makes me want to drop to my knees and lick you."
The mental image of that is a scorchingly erotic one. "Where would you lick me?"
"Everywhere."
I moan, squirming against his thighs.
"But I would bury my face in the heat of your cunt if you let me." One big gloved hand cups my breast, flicking at my nipple even as the other trails down to my thigh. I tremble with aching need as his hand glides along the inside of my thigh. Yes, I think. Oh yes. This is good. I want this. I haven't wanted anything so badly in ages.