by Pippa Jay
“You won’t hurt me,” she assured him. “You’re not like that.”
She stepped in close and lifted the edge of his vest, peeling it back from his stomach. He stopped her and she met his gaze, her eyes dark with desire.
“I want to see you”, she told him, her thoughts edged in a hunger that matched his own. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”
The prospect forced a groan from his mouth and he shed his top. Her hands strayed to the buckle of his pants, and he let her strip him of them, kicking them aside when they fell to his ankles. The heat of her skin burned into his own as he drew her tight against him and kissed his way down her neck into the hollow of her throat. He wanted to pull her against him until their bodies merged into one and never let her go. He shook with the strength of it.
Quin pushed him onto their bed. He fell back and she sat astride him, placing hot kisses over his abdomen, slowly working her way up from his stomach to his neck. Fire pulsed under his skin wherever her lips touched him, and he grasped at her hair, hard-pressed to be gentle as need consumed him. It was torture beyond anything he had known. It was bliss beyond anything he had imagined. The red blaze of her passion and pleasure flooded his mind, blanking all coherent thought, binding them body and soul.
“Quin…” Her mouth captured his and he moaned into it. He wanted to lose himself in her completely and feel her do the same. The pressure building within him had become unbearable. “I cannot hold this…”
“You don’t have to.” She let her own need wash over him. “I love you.”
“I love you.” He buried his fingers in her hair, every fiber of his being demanding her, wanting her, just as she wanted him. She took him inside herself, and he arched his back in ecstasy as white light exploded across their minds.
“Quin!” His breath came in shallow gasps. Their thoughts melded into a single entity until Keir could not tell where he ended and Quin began. Each surge of pleasure that he caused in her flowed back and layered over his own then spiraled back to her in turn, heightening every sensation. Euphoria came in waves, each more intense than the next, as they moved in harmony.
All words, all thought became meaningless as they soared to a peak together, until suddenly his mind snapped free, in unity with Quin’s, to a place of rapture beyond their bodies.
Together they fell into the light.
Chapter 13
Early morning light gleamed pale gold on the bare, smoothed boards of the floor. Keir lay still for a moment, loosing a sigh that matched the whispering of the greenery outside the bedroom window. Contentment filled him, and a sense of wonder. He could almost believe last night had been an illusion, a fevered dream sent to torment him.
But Quin lay curled up against his side, her hair tickling his neck. The warmth of her breath whispered across his skin. Her closeness confirmed that last night had been no delusion, however unreal it seemed. Even now, he felt as if she had shown him yet another world, stranger and more wonderful than those he had seen so far. One he could never have reached without her. Locked together in both mind and body, there could be no pretense of affection or falsehoods, a complete sharing beyond mere physical union: a baring of souls. She had opened her heart and her mind to him, to unveil a depth of passion to match his own, and so banished all his doubts and insecurities. She had made herself vulnerable to him in every way, taken him inside her, body and soul. Given herself unconditionally and asked nothing in return. Accepted him as he was without judgment.
He rolled over to face her, almost unable to believe in her existence–as if she had risen from an ancient myth or impossible dream. Her auburn hair formed a tangled mess around a face child-like in sleep and a well of tenderness opened in him. Amazed at his own temerity, he lifted a vagrant strand of her hair and brushed it back from her face, touching her skin lightly with his fingertips. The faint movement roused her from sleep, but she greeted him with a smile that warmed him more than all the sunlight cascading across their bedroom.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice soft and drowsy.
“I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you.”
She stretched theatrically, the smile deepening as she blinked the last traces of sleepiness from her eyes. “I don’t mind,” she assured him, nevertheless making herself snug back in the bed, as if intending to remain there the rest of the day.
Unable to resist the temptation, he reached for her hair again, smoothing it back where it had fallen across her shoulder, and his hand lingered. “What have you done to me, Quin?”
Her smile faded at his question, unease marring her face. “What do you mean?”
“You have changed everything.” Could he have imagined this a few months ago, a few days ago even? To not only have a life far beyond anything he could envisage, but to be sharing it with a woman he loved so deeply he could find no words?
“Is that a good thing?”
“Without question. But, sometimes, I wonder…the day we first met, did I die in that cell? Are you the angel who came for my soul?”
“I’m no angel!” she insisted, but her voice was pleased and she smiled.
“You are to me. Even though I was not the soul you meant to save.” He sighed heavily, and with deep reluctance his mind turned to more practical considerations. “We should be working on the raft, if escape is still your intention.”
“Are you always going to be so ruthlessly single-minded?” she demanded, eyebrows arched inquiringly.
“Every time we are stranded on a desert island by persons unknown,” he teased. “Why, what did you have in mind?”
She leaned forward then and kissed him gently in answer, as if unsure of his reaction.
He stared at her, surprised by her uncertainty as she blushed under his close regard. “You doubt yourself, even now?”
“You read me too easily now.”
“Last night I read everything.” The memory of all he had seen inside her, all he had felt and shared with her surged through him in a hot rush. “Is it always like that?”
“Sometimes it’s better.”
“Better?” He hesitated, sudden fear crowding his mind. “Was that not…good?”
She stared at him, her expression very intent. “Keir. You felt everything I did.” She slid one hand around the side of his neck, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes. It was…” The words evaded him and his breath caught. He drew on the memories and fire coursed under his skin. “It was like dying and coming back to life. Like a vision of heaven.” Desire coiled through him again but he needed to know. “You were holding something back though. I could feel it.”
Quin sighed. “Keir, I’m three hundred years old. Do you want all of that in your head?” She ran her fingers across his cheek, trailed them down his neck to his chest. Again her thoughts echoed his need, resonating with want. “I hold back to protect you, nothing more. In time, you’ll know it all. I promise.”
“I would know all of it now,” he told her, his arm encircling her waist and drawing her closer. She yielded willingly, molding herself against his body, as her arms snaked around him in return.
“One thing at a time, my love.”
“We do need to finish the raft though,” he reminded her, his tone halfhearted as he kissed her with meaning, losing himself in the warmth and softness of her embrace.
“Later.”
* * * *
Much later, they lay side by side in bed, watching the sun make languid patterns of light through the leaves. Quin slid her hand across his bare stomach, playfully following the spiral pattern of a tattoo with one finger. Still in the warm aftermath of union, Keir found the touch soothing instead of stirring the demanding heat of passion. But as she traced the symbol downwards, he snatched her hand away from further mischief.
“Stop that,” he scolded.
“Why?”
“It tickles.” He held her hand to his chest instead. Small hands with short fingers, and yet th
ey had the power to rouse so much emotion in him.
“I don’t make you flinch now, then?”
He laughed. “I think you have proven that.” As she nestled into him, he brushed his fingertips over the back of her hand. “So many times I wanted to touch you, wanted you to touch me. I felt ashamed of that desire. Afraid you would hate me for it.”
“Oh, Keir…” Quin sighed. “I wouldn’t have hated you. I thought you knew me better than that.”
“You show such compassion to everyone. But I had no reason to think you would gift me with anything more than that.”
“And you kept yourself so tightly shielded, I had no idea.” She chuckled. “What a pair of idiots!”
Keir shared in her amusement. “Perhaps being stranded here has not been such a curse?”
“Mmm. It has had its benefits.” As if considering what they might be, she drew her hand down his torso in a slow, provocative caress.
Keir shivered. “Again?” he murmured, his eyes closing. Even though his body responded willingly to Quin’s, his stomach ached with hunger. With a start he remembered more than a day had passed without a meal.
“We should eat soon,” Quin agreed, and her own hunger rippled through him. “We’ve certainly burned a lot of calories. And sharing mind to mind takes it out of a body more than just the physical side alone.”
“Is that why I feel so tired afterward?”
Quin laughed. “Actually, I think that’s typical for a human male. But I think in this case your accelerated healing probably compensates for the telepathic demand. Maintaining that connection is draining.”
“You give back as much energy as you take. I can feel that.”
“But it all gets spent in the end. No one can maintain that forever.”
“What would happen if I tried?”
She levered herself up to look him in the eye, her expression very grave. “It could kill you. Don’t ever try it.”
Keir stared at her.
“I love you, Keirlan de Corizi. So don’t kill yourself trying to prove anything to me.”
The words hit him like a punch to the chest. “I love you too,” he managed. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you in the gardens on Lyagnius, though I did not realize it then.”
“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
Her guilt wound through him, and he shook his head. “Quin, I would have waited for you forever.”
“I kept telling myself that I didn’t see you as anything other than a friend, that you would never think of me as anything more.” Quin laid her palm flat on his skin, against the roughness of the runic patterns on his chest. “I didn’t want to confuse you when you already had so much to learn. And, perhaps, I was afraid to admit it even to myself.” She sighed regretfully. “I don’t think I should have let myself fall in love with you, though. It makes it complicated.”
“Not for me.”
“Surei won’t approve.”
“Damn Surei!” Keir spoke vehemently, but he hoped without rancor.
Quin laughed and moved over to kiss him.
“Do not start that again,” he told her, holding her shoulders as she leaned across him. “You said we must eat. Feed me first, then my body and mind are yours.”
“Damn your stomach!” She tried to kiss him again, but Keir threw her off and rolled over, pinning her down with his body.
She stared up at him and he could not keep himself from kissing her. After a moment, he made himself release her, but her fingers locked around the back of his neck and he sank into the kiss again.
“Quin, you must eat too,” he urged her. Even as she merged into his mind, tried to draw him in, he could sense the wavering in her thoughts. She could not hold her focus as she had done before. What would happen if they tried to reach that perfect union now, with both their bodies weakened? “I need you strong. For me. For both of us.”
Another moment, then he broke her hold and leaped out of bed. She threw a pillow at him and missed. “Go stuff your face then,” she snapped.
Keir hesitated, uncertain how much of her sudden fury was genuine. “Are you not coming?”
“Of course I am,” she growled, a crooked smile belying the anger in her voice.
He grinned at her reluctant compliance, replacing her failed weapon on the bed as she rose to join him.
“I’ll get dressed.”
* * * *
They ate hungrily, as if they had starved for longer than a day. As his hunger eased, Keir felt a tremor of shock to see how much food it took to sate them. He wondered if their supplies would last if this was a side effect of sex combined with telepathic union, or whether they would have to restrain themselves for the rest of their sojourn.
Having lost a day to passion, he suggested they work on the raft and Quin agreed, much to his surprise. Perhaps the mundane task of eating had focused her back on their original purpose of escape. They made steady progress and by the end of the day Quin was confident they had enough poles for the main part of the raft. They set to work assembling it–securing the logs with three further beams set at right angles to the rest–but when she insisted on testing it, Keir agreed reluctantly.
Once they had launched it into the shallows, she ordered him onboard, then propelled it out to deeper water herself, holding onto the side as she kicked. The strong tidal surge forced it back toward land, so she clambered on and allowed the current to take them home. The raft performed without a flaw. Quin stood on it, balancing with a skill Keir envied as they rode the foaming tide inwards. As the raft settled she jumped up and down a few times.
“What are you doing?” he yelled, his fingers hooked so tightly into the rope that bound the raft’s timbers together he wondered if he would ever be able to pull them free again.
“Just testing,” she replied, then shot him a crooked grin. “Why? Am I making you nervous?”
Keir bit back a retort.
As the raft shuddered under her repeated stomping, he tried to focus his attention on the approaching shoreline, tried to suppress the twisting knot of fear in his stomach. If the raft was to fail, better now with the shoreline within reach than far out into the ocean, surely? But even that vague reassurance failed to ease the tightness in his chest or to slow the pounding of his heart.
“Keir, what’s wrong?” It seemed to have taken her far too long to recognize his distress, but then he had his shields back up, an old habit.
“I cannot swim,” he reminded her, grinding out the words.
She knelt and grasped his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten that.”
Though her gaze held his and he could see the apology there, it did not ease his fear. She gave him a final squeeze of reassurance before attending to the raft–one of them needed to be in control of it and clearly it could not be him.
After what seemed like a lifetime, they grounded with a jolt and dragged the raft back above the tideline before heading home. On the way back, Keir lingered to dig up more of the tubers, and Quin decided to brave preparing the crabs for dinner. By the time he returned from washing at the pool, one spiny specimen sat cooling on the side, its shell glowing a brilliant scarlet in a cloud of steam, while its companion bubbled in the pot.
He came bearing gifts–pod-shaped fruits and a pretty blue flower he tucked behind Quin’s ear as she cooked. The crustaceans turned out to be tough to open but tasty, their pink flesh sweet. Keir ate until his stomach protested, and Quin debated whether they should fish again in the morning.
“There are still fish in the cooler,” Keir pointed out. “If we catch more they are going to go to waste.”
“You’re right,” she agreed, sighing. “But they were good.”
Keir cleared everything away and held out his hand to her. She took it, and smiled as he tugged her to him. He looked down at her and tangled his fingers deliberately in her hair.
“I’ll have to teach you something else tomorrow,” she warned.
He raised one eyeb
row. “What?”
“How to swim.”
* * * *
In the silence of the beach at dawn, Quin crouched barefoot on the damp sand, a small pile of bamboo twigs at her feet and a torn piece of fabric a hundred centimeters square. The tide was at its peak, half a dozen steps from the tree line, and ready to turn. Using strips of leaves as lashings, she fashioned a miniature model of their raft, fixed the cloth to it as a tiny sail, and launched it into the sea. At first it swirled backward and forward in the frothing surf, making no progress. Then the tide turned, and she walked in measured paces along the curving rock ridge, following her craft as it was carried out by the current. The surge obligingly swept it out of the bay, past the jagged promontory and toward the west at a steady rate.
She watched until it disappeared into the swell of the open sea then made for home. She collected more fruit along the way, humming to herself. Despite her anxieties over their situation and the shadowy premonition that had haunted her recent dreams, she was happy–her current contentment overriding her previous forebodings.
Back at the hut she slipped into their bedroom, her bare feet silent on the smooth floor. Keir lay on his front, one arm trailing over the side of the bed and his back uncovered, his tattoos crawling like black spiders across his skin. For a moment, she stood still, her breath catching in her throat at the youth and beauty of him.
She knelt beside him and ran her fingers lightly up his spine, enjoying the way the cool smoothness of his unmarked skin contrasted with the rough feel of the symbols. He twitched and fidgeted at her teasing caress, waking with a start.
“Good morning,” she said.
He stared at her, his eyes as blue as the deepest ocean. “Good morning. You were up early.”
“Things to do,” she told him, scolding lightheartedly.
He rolled languorously onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. “Does that mean you wish me to get up?”