by Vivian Arend
“To participate.”
This conversation was going nowhere fast. Laurin stepped closer and leaned over him. “Matt, exactly what kind of ceremony are we talking about? I somehow don’t think it involves gathering seeds and grasses and tossing them on the bonfire, does it?”
He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “There is a bonfire and seed, but not the type you’re thinking of.”
She sat next to him and grabbed his leg. “Spill.”
“I’ll have to.”
What in the world? Laurin punched him in the arm. “Stop talking in code.”
Matt dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Look, if you weren’t here I would’ve had the toughest time explaining why I shouldn’t be an active participant. As it is, they will still expect me to spill seed.”
Okaaaay…maybe the air clans didn’t do this ritual. “Are you talking about sex? I mean, your semen? And if so, exactly how and where do they think your seed will spill?”
“I’ll masturbate.”
“In front of them?”
“Trust me, very few people will be watching me.”
“What else would they be watching?”
“Sex.”
The word stuttered from her lips. “Se-sex? In public? You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, you innocent woman.” He caught her in his arms and wiggled her around until she rested in his lap. “I thought you’d stayed with this clan before?”
Holy shit, this got weirder and weirder. The sexy interlude they’d shared the night before had seemed daring—out in a cabana with the curtains open to the air. But unless they’d had some peeping Toms, she thought their sensual performance had been far enough down the beach to remain unwitnessed.
The otter folk were managing to surprise her after all, and a part inside her that longed for the typical privacy demonstrated by the People of the Air quivered—a little in disgust, and a little…with desire?
It was as if there was a wild child inside her wanting to escape. “I have stayed with the clan before, but I obviously give off much more innocent vibes than I thought. I mean, I’ve been propositioned dozens of times, but I’ve managed to avoid seeing any open-air sex.” Matt tensed under her, and she hurried on, trying to reassure him. “And I’ve never accepted any of the individual offers, or wanted to.”
“You will not be participating. In fact, I really think you should stay back in our quarters.” His voice dropped a level, now insistent and firm.
Bullshit. He could chalk it up to jealousy if he wanted to, but no way in hell was she agreeing to that.
“While you go jerk off in front of the crowd? Or get accosted by one of the women? ‘Are you all alone, shaman? I insist you let me help you.’” She stuck out her lower lip in imitation of a few of his more persistent hangers-on, and he laughed.
“Fine, but you need to follow my instructions while we are there without question. Please, this is important to me. I really don’t want this event to get carried away.”
Her curiosity flittered higher. “Get real. You’re planning on masturbating in public and figure no one will be watching you because there’s going to be something else more interesting happening? Oh, right—public sex. How in the hell can you be worried about the event getting carried away? I can hardly wait.”
Matt grinned sheepishly, right before he snagged her wrist and tugged hard enough she fell back on top of him. Their mouths met, and suddenly there was nothing on her agenda but the rumbling desire for him that never seemed to leave her and a streak of inquisitiveness that she’d have to wait to satisfy.
This fertility ritual sounded very interesting indeed.
Chapter Five
The knock on the door was expected, but came far earlier than he’d hoped. Laurin still wore the flimsy swath of fabric she claimed was a housecoat, but he considered nothing more than fabric foreplay—he got hard every time she pulled the damn thing on.
The otter clan leader stood on the other side of the threshold, bowing deeply before passing over a set of ritual outfits for them both. Matthew accepted the clothing and placed it on the table beside the door.
“Our thanks. We will be there at twilight.”
Willam stared at Laurin’s body as she drew alongside Matt at the door, and Matt held off blocking her from view by sheer willpower alone.
“You know, I would be very grateful if you would reconsider your decision. Such an important occasion would be made even more significant with both of you participating.” His gaze lingered blatantly on Laurin’s breasts and Matt’s hands clenched into fists.
Laurin stepped forward, and Matt held his breath. If she misspoke…he couldn’t let her get roped into this situation, but she’d proven her intelligence over the past weeks. He rested his hands on her hips and sent her positive thoughts.
“Willam, your community has been very gracious in caring for our needs. As a visitor among many clans as I’ve traveled with my teaching, I have to say there is a special atmosphere here among the otter folk that I’ve not experienced anywhere else.”
Matt hid his grin. Like the fact they were constantly trying to get into her pants? No, he was sure that didn’t happen everywhere.
She continued, “We are merely visitors to your people. We would not dream of taking away an honor from them.”
Willam lifted his chin. “They would gladly give it up if I asked.”
“Ahh, but that is not what your clan needs. They need a strong, decisive leader, as you have demonstrated yourself to be by having selected the participants.” Laurin shook her head and crossed her arms to finally cover her chest. “No, we are honored to witness. That is our rightful place.”
“But—”
Laurin leaned over and kissed his cheek quickly before snatching up the clothing and retreating into the cabin. “Matt, I really will need your help getting into these garments. How do the People of the Sea dress without assistance? I’ve never seen such…”
Her voice faded away into low mutterings as she laid the items out on the bed. Matt faced Willam again, the leader’s expression far too readable.
“Your woman is a handful,” Willam rumbled in frustration.
She was. She’d also proved more than capable of taking care of herself. Matt was ashamed that he’d felt the situation would be too much for her to handle. It was another reminder that they were only in the first stages of getting to know each other, no matter how much his heart was drawn to her.
He stepped outside to join Willam on the stoop, closing the door behind him. “She is strong and independent—and correct. You are a good leader, Willam. Taking away a position of honor at the last minute from two of your people would do nothing to enhance your powers, and everything to taint the ceremony.”
“But you are shaman.”
“And as such, I am connected to all the clans, not only your own. You are the heart of your people—you must keep them strong.”
Willam stilled, his weathered face back at peace. “I shall. Thank you, Shaman. I will see you in an hour.”
He strode away, head held high, and Matt waited until he’d disappeared into the collection of huts. The best and only way to have appealed to the man—his leadership.
Matt slipped open the door and stared at Laurin. She twisted to face him, garments hanging from either hand.
“Was that okay?” She tossed the fabric back on the bed and joined him in the middle of the room.
“It was inspired.” He lifted her chin and kissed her lips briefly. “I owe you an apology.”
Laurin frowned. “Why?”
“Because I should have known you could handle the situation. I forget that you’ve not only traveled among my people, you’re a teacher. You’re educated, and intelligent, and courageous enough to have left your home to do what you felt was right.” He dropped to his knees and kissed her stomach, burying his face against her momentarily. Breathing in her sweet scent eased away some of the nervousness that had fl
ared at discovering Willam at the door. He raised his head until their eyes met. “I’m sorry for having doubted you.”
“Matt. Stop it.” She tugged on his shoulders. “Stand up.”
He stayed put. “Will you forgive me?”
She pulled again. “Not when you’re on your knees like that. You were worried. I understand.”
He stared up at her face, sensing the connection between them that he couldn’t completely comprehend. “I was still wrong to treat you as I did.”
Laurin sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him. “People of the Air don’t ask forgiveness like this. If they absolutely have to, they say I was wrong, and move on.”
“We of the sea like to make a bigger deal about apologizing.”
She grinned at him. “So I noticed. You do tend to do things in big ways, don’t you?”
An image of what she would witness in a few hours flashed through his mind. “Bigger than you expect.”
Her lips brushed gently against his cheek as she leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear. “You’re forgiven. Now come and help me figure the silly costumes out. I have no idea what we’re wearing.”
Matt squeezed her tight before leading her to the bed and untangling the bits and pieces of the garments. When he finished placing them in two piles, Laurin bent over and peeked under the bed.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She shook her head. “That can’t be all of it. There’s not enough material to cover anything of importance.”
He raised a brow and waited.
“Oh shit. Okay, maybe I should stay in the room.”
“Sorry, that option is no longer available.” He tugged on the belt of her robe, running a finger down her torso as smooth skin appeared.
If they didn’t have a deadline to meet, he would have had far more fun getting her dressed. As it was, he had to be satisfied with dropping hurried kisses on her nape as he helped tie the skimpy halter bra around her neck. He pressed a kiss to the smooth skin visible above the scant skirt hugging her hipbones before lifting his gaze to admire her barely covered body.
“If there’s a strong wind I’m going to put on a show.” Her voice had dropped lower, filled with lust, and he trailed his fingers up the inside of her leg to touch her naked body. The curls covering her sex were damp and he couldn’t resist rubbing the apex of her mound. She moaned, her head falling back, and he steeled himself. Pulled his hand away. Slipped on his own scrap of fabric masquerading as a loincloth.
“We need to go.” He ground the words out. They had to leave now, before he buried himself in her heat and they didn’t move for days, let alone soon enough to make the ceremony.
None of his desire had faded by the time they reached the ceremonial stage. They were greeted in a surprisingly innocent manner for the otter folk, and led to the chairs of honor at one end of the raised dais. Across the circle from them Willam sat in state, his chair rising high above the fire pit and allowing all the adults filling the perimeter of the area a clear view of his magnificence.
The scent of pine smoke and incense carried on the air. Torches were lit one by one around them, the warm glow melding with the sun’s fading light. Matt reached out again to stroke Laurin’s braid, the heavy weight of her blonde hair woven tightly into a single tail hanging down her bare back.
She shivered under his touch, and the needy ache that had begun long before they even got dressed for the ceremony threatened to undo him before the ritual officially got underway.
He closed his eyes, centering on the people around them. Considering their needs, their dreams. Using the mystical bond he had with the ocean and the people to draw in strength and send it out again. It worked, to a small degree. Only it wasn’t the gathered otter folk who filled his awareness most keenly, it was the woman at his side who was easily the most mysterious and the most intimate connection he felt.
Laurin wiggled uncomfortably on the solid wood of the chair. The hard surface had warmed under her bare buttocks, she was happy there was no cushion to sit on—it would have been soaked already by the liquid sneaking from her sex. She squeezed her knees together tighter and sat ramrod straight in an attempt to keep the tiny bits of nothing draped over her breasts strategically lined up.
Whatever fabric they’d skimped on to create her and Matt’s costumes had been used for Willam’s. Across the staged area, he grinned down at her, as if he knew exactly what she wasn’t wearing under her garment.
Which, of course, he did, and that made it all the more sexual when he methodically looked her over. When he turned his head and took in Matt with as thorough an inspection, she hesitated. The first intense scrutiny had made her uncomfortable; the second filled her with an ache deep inside she didn’t want to name.
Was she jealous? Perhaps. She reached without thinking to place her hand possessively on her lover’s knee.
Willam’s grin flashed even larger, and he nodded slowly, as if accepting her motion as a choice.
Oh my God, had she done what Matt had warned her not to do? Had she just agreed to something?
At her side, Matt dropped his fingers over hers. The warmth of his palm on the back of her hand held her in place, trapped against his leg. He leaned over. “They are about to begin. Last chance to chicken out.”
She turned her head, their cheeks touching. “As if I could leave now. Everyone would be able to stare at my butt the entire time I walked away.”
He kissed her and withdrew, but not before she caught his low laugh.
Laurin blew out a deep breath. It was official—she was in big trouble.
Above her, the night sky had filled with stars, the darkness a charcoal canopy. Off in the distance, the wind shook the treetops gently, rustling them together in time with the constant roar of the surf. There was no confining roof holding her in. If it came down to the worst-case scenario, she could always shift and escape to the sky.
And suddenly, that made everything all right again. Her ability to shift was there to be called on in an instant if needed. Matt was by her side, and she trusted him implicitly and…he was driving her crazy.
Matt had removed his fingers from her hand and now rested them lightly on her thigh, his thumb tracing tiny circles on her flesh.
A wave of heat raced over her that had nothing to do with the temperature, and everything to do with what she unexpectedly wanted. There was going to be a sexy performance tonight? Bring it on. Maybe it was time for her innocent air shifter ways to be woken up.
A horn sounded, long and low, and the intermingling voices dropped to a murmur. Willam stood, his hands raised in the air and the gathered adults all hushed.
After delivering two sharp claps with his hands, Willam sat. There were no words spoken, and Laurin was puzzled. In her tribe, the storyteller would have sung and prayed. The noise generated during ceremonies tied them together and taught the lessons for the next generations to remember.
At her side, Matt stood. He looked over the crowd, and the brush of what she called his shaman senses passed her. Was he testing the response of the people? Preparing them? He nodded once at Willam.
Eager faces turned from staring at the clan leader to waiting for Matt. When he reached down for her hand, she placed her fingers in his hesitantly, shaking slightly. She mentally chastised herself. What outrageous thing did she think he was about to do? She stood at his side willingly, looking out into the crowd as fearlessly as possible, only the flutter of her heartbeat at her throat giving away her nervousness. The gazes of the men in the crowd grew hungry, the women—some appeared jealous, the more mature, eager?
Matt squeezed her fingers briefly before turning her in his arms and cupping her face. He kissed her, an almost chaste brush of his lips. Her magic woke and she trembled at the intense power building inside her. It was as if he’d held a flame to a stick of dynamite, and she wondered exactly how long the wick would turn out to be.
She
opened her eyes slowly, catching a flicker of amusement sparkling in his gaze. He motioned for her to sit before joining her, keeping their fingers tangled together.
As one, the rest of the people settled, all attention focused on the center of the stage.
From one side of the dais a form strolled forward—one of the young, unattached women of the community, with a strong body and hair elaborately coiffed about her head. She strutted her way around the edge of the gathering, ignoring the raised platform slightly off-center of the stage. She swung her hips, taking her time to pivot before the young men and undulate her torso sensuously. The diaphanous shift covering her body was somehow far more erotic than if she’d walked on stage totally nude.
In the background, a beat began—not a drum, but something more organic. Pulsing hot and heavy as if the surface of the stage was alive. The woman twirled, her shift rising to expose her limbs before falling again in a curtain. Laurin leaned forward, her own heart synchronizing with the pulse, making her entire body tingle and throb in rhythm.
The sun disappeared completely, the golden orange flames of the torches seeming to leach the color from the sky. Radiant beams danced over the woman, highlighting her dark skin, the swell of her breasts against the fabric. She paused for longer in one place, staring intently into the crowd, her actions slowing and becoming more sexual. Her skin glistened with oil that reflected the flickering torchlight. She tossed her head, raised her hands in the air and turned in a smooth circle. The throbbing in the air increased in tempo, in volume until, with a jerk, she pointed into the crowd and everything froze.
There was complete silence but for the sound of rapid breathing, Laurin’s own shaky inhalations loud in her ears.
From where the woman pointed, a young man rose to his feet. Laurin recognized him from her days amidst the clan. Tall, strong-limbed. One of the men who had propositioned her and been totally astounded to be turned down. A path opened before him, allowing him to stride easily to the stage where he took the woman’s hand.
And the beat resumed. Louder this time, a staggered cadence that fit the movements of the two on the stage perfectly. They danced, his hands wrapping around her body, intimately caressing her back. Slipping down her waist and hovering over her butt for a split second. The shimmering fabric of her shift moved like moonbeams under his hands’ direction. Laurin swallowed hard, feeling a pulse growing within her sex as she watched the performance. His costume was similar to what Matt wore, a scrap of cloth in the front, his buttocks revealed in the back as he turned his partner only feet before them. He too was covered with oil, the edges of his muscles showing cut and strong with the light reflecting off. When he twirled the woman and pressed her back to his front, one hand cupping her breast, a small moan escaped Laurin’s lips.