Crystal Dreams

by Astrid Cooper

  “Aye. Asarians consider celibacy an unnatural state. My friends thought I was peculiar, something to do with my Terran blood they presumed."

  Connal laughed. “And why was it that no man came before me?"

  Liandra stroked his skin. “I never found a man interesting enough—"

  “Interesting?” Connal hissed. “I damn well hope that I am more than interesting to you."

  “If I told you how interesting, Connal MacArran, you would be insufferable."

  “Then I shall have to find out in my own way."

  Liandra's clothes proved an infuriating obstacle, Connal found. Gently smiling at his clumsiness, she helped him work the pressure seals. He peeled off her clothes, his fingers teasingly slow. Finally she pressed her nakedness to his.

  As his hands fanned over her, he trailed kisses down the length of her body. His mouth came to rest against her belly. “You say his name is Alaric?"

  “Yes. It's Asarian."

  “Welcome Alaric MacArran. Be welcome. For truly do I love you and look forward to the day I can hold you in my arms,” he whispered against her skin.

  Liandra closed her eyes, her heart turning in her breast. Unable and unwilling to control her love, she let it flow out to him. As her sending touched him, she heard him gasp. He raised himself on his hands and stared down at her. Their gazes merged. She saw the glimmer of his tears amid the love and passion.

  Lowering himself, his mouth traveled across her body, to each breast, which he loved and teased before slowly retracing his path, to rest his lips at her throat. Liandra wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles at the base of his spine.

  Connal paused at the threshold of her femininity. “Alaric won't be disturbed by my loving you?"

  Liandra laughed gently. “He welcomes you, as I.”

  With a cry of delighted triumph, Connal entered her. His motion slow and smooth, he withdrew teasingly when her body arched upwards to meet his, to try to fully capture his turgid flesh in her woman's warmth.

  “Patience, My Lady Witch. Patience.” He laughed above her. Cupping her head, he caught sight of the Asarian ring on his finger. The gem glowed and pulsed with life. Colors swirled and coalesced within the stone. Its vibrancy mirrored the blood singing in his veins.

  The crystals on the bed came to brilliant life, sending a rainbow of colors spinning about the room. To his amazement he was lifted, Liandra with him, and held by some force, suspended weightless above the bed, warm light wrapping around them.

  “Con—please...” her whisper against his ear made him shudder anew. “Let me join with you."

  “Aye, beloved."

  His hips undulated; he came to rest deep within her. He felt a feather soft probing of her mind and caught his breath. It didn't hurt. His shock came from the intimacy of her melding. The sensations were so much more pleasing than their physical joining. He closed his eyes tight against the intense, exquisite fulfillment.

  Liandra waited patiently, letting him become used to her presence as he had done for her in the cottage. She had been an innocent then, now their positions were reversed. In this new form of loving he was the virgin.

  She caught Connal's laughter as the thought echoed between their minds. Images and feelings merged. Then she probed deeper, more intimately and Connal opened himself to her questing. She sent him love and warmth. The colors of her aura caressed his. At first he clumsily returned her imagery, but as he grew accustomed to the sensations and learned how to reciprocate, he sent to her clearly.

  Liandra gasped and writhed. His hold, both tender and strong, teased her with the expertise of an experienced mind-lover rather than a novice. He withdrew a little and returned, his mind and body working in unison to torment and delight her, to drive her to the brink, to hold her there before retreating, so that he delayed her release.

  “Oh Con—my beloved! Please! I can't stand it!"

  Then their shared passion took them far away. Colors spun faster and faster in the room, as their bodies and minds finally became one.

  Connal shivered in ecstasy, as his overwhelmed senses exploded. In one instant he was the one below and above. He experienced all of Liandra, and she, of him. On and on the colors wove around them, warming, lifting. They floated in a cocoon of warm pulsing light.

  There came the moment of release, a time of suspended awareness when they entered a realm where dreams and reality were joined in a mixture which was blissfully, almost painfully intense.

  Connal burned from the inside out. He pulsed, exploded, and cried out with the sweet agony of it. He would lose everything, life itself if the feeling continued, but if it ended, he would surely die.

  Minutes, or maybe hours later he opened his eyes. Liandra was atop him smiling down. Her silver hair flew around them, the tendrils tickling his skin. He glanced about. They were still weightless, held suspended by the bed's sultry mantle of light. It tormented his flesh and he moaned with pleasure.

  He wriggled in delight as she caressed him from the inside out. “Ooooh,” he groaned. “I cannot stand it. Please."

  “Please what? Please—that I stop? Or please—that I continue?” Liandra asked sultrily.

  “Arran's Mercy! Don't stop! What did you do? Och! What are you still doing?"

  “My Connal, now you know what it is like to be loved by one such as me. You see the bed and I are one. Are you shocked?"

  “No, darling witch.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Seven Stars! He was losing his mind! How could a man survive such exquisite torture? “Is this what sensualators do?"

  “Oh no, this is Asarian loving, Con. Only for you. Asarians only ever share this form of loving with a soul-mate."

  “'Tis just as well! If I ever thought you had, or will do this with another man, I'd dispatch him to his ancestors. And you, I'd give you that spanking you have often deserved, but have always managed to elude. Answer me one thing, darling, while I still have my wits about me...” Connal swallowed down hard as he felt her hands and fingers, and her mind working in tandem to fondle his tortured flesh. “I wasn't able to lie with another woman after our dream-sharing. Though I burned with the need. All I could think of was you. Did you be-spell me?"

  Liandra laughed. “Not exactly. But the result was the same. Somehow in that first dream-sharing, you and I forged a tentative bond. You were ever aroused and unable to do anything about it, because you wanted only me."

  “And you? Did you also feel like this?” Connal asked.

  “My heart and body warred against each other. I was as be-spelled as you."

  “I'm glad you suffered, witch!"

  “That I did, Connal MacArran."

  He laughed. “Just now, I heard you singing and felt the bed's vibrations—so many things I cannot put into words. You spoke to me in your language. I want you to teach me Asarian. Not by subliminal tutoring, you can personally introduce me to a new word every day."

  “Aye, My Lord."

  Connal grinned. “Didn't I tell you long ago that one day you would say Aye My Lord to me as sweetly as one of my own people."

  “I'm not tamed to your hand,” Liandra said, testily.

  He laughed. “Be at peace, Liandra! I never want you compliant. My Lady is expected, no, commanded, to maintain, forever, all the fire and passion of that green-haired witch I fell in love with."

  “Then I'll be happy to obey your command. Still, I should warn you about one thing. My Terran half is no longer restrained. I'm going to be difficult to live with. Terrans can be very temperamental. Just ask my father."

  “Don't forget, I also have Terran blood in my veins. So we shall have some interesting encounters. Besides, I've endured your stubbornness before and was not defeated. I enjoy a woman with spirit."

  “Too much could be tedious."

  He grinned. “I think I have ways and means to ease you out of your contrary moods."

  Still weightless, Connal gently nudged her over, bringing her to rest beneath him, his body covering hers. He wrappe
d his legs around her and they slowly spun in the pulsing light. His fingers explored—this was so easy, so enjoyable—every part of her accessible without hindrance or effort, and he didn't have to worry about crushing her beneath his weight. By the Seven Stars and by Arran! He loved the bed already!

  Liandra wriggled as his fingers began a more sensuous, intimate stroking. Connal and she laughed, as their lips and tongues sought and found one another's love-points. Minds joined together to tease and arouse from inside out.

  “There are fifty words for love in Asarian,” Liandra whispered. She curled a strand of his raven hair around her fingers. “If you truly want me to teach you Asarian, it will take a long time. A life-time, in fact."

  Connal smiled gently. “My Lady, such was my intention when I asked it of you.” He ran his hands up and down her back, stroking and cupping her curves.

  “Our lessons in Asarian begin now. Eo-enoil-anallen, my Connal."

  He smiled against her lips, knowing what she had said. So closely attuned were they now with their mind-joining he needed no translation.

  “I love you, too, my Liandra. My Lady Witch.” He was going to enjoy their lessons in the privacy of their bedchamber back on Caledonia. He laughed and Liandra drew his head back so she could study him. “The first item I will be packing for our return to Caledonia is this bed. It has infinite potential and I intend to explore its every possibility."

  “Only if you will finish reading Fire on the Heather to me. My servitor couldn't do it justice."

  “We don't need that book, Liandra. We'll create our own fire on the heather. That I promise you. However, today, we shall finish here as we began so long ago—on your crystal bed. I..."

  Liandra laughed and kissed him. “Oh no, my Connal MacArran, my greatly beloved. We are only just starting you and I. In the future I will show you what I can truly do when we share our crystal dreams."

  Readers might be interested to know the spelling and pronunciation of some of the ‘Caledonian’ words found in this book.

  GLOSSARY.

  Ban-druidh (pronounced ban-drooy) = witch/sorceress.

  Ban-laoch (pronounced ban-loch) = amazon/heroine.

  Bothan (pronounced bo-han) = cottage

  Breacan an fhelidh (pronounced breckan an fela) = the belted plaid

  Claidheamh mor (pronounced clyiv mor) = claymore (a great sword/broadsword)

  Coimheach (pronounced koy-ach) = foreigner/stranger (alien)

  Companach (pronounced comp-an-uchc) = male companion/friend

  Deamhan (pronounced joun) = demon

  Dubhlan (pronounced doolan) = defiance/challenge (The name of Connal's horse)

  Ghraidh (pronounced gra-igh) = darling

  Gradhag (pronounced gra-dhag) = a dear little one/a pet

  Gradhmhor (pronounced gra-gh-var) = greatly beloved

  Graidhean (pronounced gra-yen) = a beloved person

  Tighearna (pronounced tee-urnu) = district chief/lord

  Tiodhlacadh (pronounced tee-ulucu) = a funeral

  AUTHOR BIO

  ASTRID COOPER has been writing combinations of science fiction, fantasy and romance since she could hold a pencil.

  Active in Star Trek/fantasy fandom since the early seventies, she honed her writing skills while editing and publishing hundreds of fanzines.

  Astrid has recently left the city rat race to build a new house in rural South Australia where she lives with numerous cats and assorted native fauna. Her dream is to become self-sufficient while continuing to write the stories she loves...

  'Crystal Dreams’ sequels are planned—Bronnia has a story to tell, as has Alaric.

  If you would like to contact Astrid, email her at: asti@senet.com.au

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