TravellersRefuge

by Anny Cook

  She laughed. “Oh, the singing stones are something Nathan invented. If someone sings for him, he can make the stone repeat it. He said it’s like something he calls a record. He said that in your world there are a lot of singing stones.”

  “Did he now?” Trav said thoughtfully. A glimmer of an idea was twinkling in the back of his mind but he wanted to think about it, so he left it to simmer and changed the direction of the conversation. “What did your mother say about our bonding? I saw you talking to her.”

  She lazily stretched her length against him like a cat, rubbing him from his chin to his feet and, unbidden, Mr. Peter sprang up ready for action. “She said that I chose well. She said that you are very masculine and dominant and would take very good care of me.” Smiling softly up at him, she said, “I am glad you will be my bond mate, Trav. When I think of how close you were to dying, it makes me all shaky inside. I will be so happy when you are well enough for the oath-binding. I want to sleep with you all night and hold you inside me.” He groaned. She looked at him with concern. “Are you hurting, Trav? Shall I get Llyon?”

  “No, sweetheart. I don’t think Llyon’s going to be much help. All I can say is that you can’t possibly want the oath-binding more than I do.” She shifted and felt his cock, stiff beneath his sharda rub against her belly. Rustling around, she opened the sharda and took him in her hands. “Ahhh, Wrenna. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Burrowing under the covers, she took him in her mouth. Leaning over him, she gently, slowly kissed the very tip and then proceeded to the lick the entire length as though it was an especially delicious lollipop.

  “Wrenna, darling. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of petting right now,” he protested weakly. “Besides, we’re in the living room! Anyone could come in.”

  “Nooo?” she asked, peeking from under the blanket with bold mischief in her eyes, before drawing her tongue slowly back to the very end. “You are made so beautifully here,” she said breathlessly. “And it wouldn’t matter if someone did come in. We’re pledged.”

  “Wrenna—where did you learn to do that?” he demanded between groans as she teased the sensitive area just below the dark plum-shaped head.

  “When we girls turn sixteen, Mama teaches us all about what she calls the ‘good stuff’.” She laughed when she saw his shocked look. “Well, what did you think? We practiced on cucazhas.” With one finger, she gently spread the drop of fluid that welled up before taking him again with her hot, wet mouth. That tried his self-control past all endurance. Throbbing wildly, he suddenly spilled onto her eager tongue. Lovingly she swabbed him clean. Pulling her against him, he rolled with her until she was snug against him spoon fashion.

  “Your papa must be a very happy man.” Nudging her legs open, he found the slippery opening of her pussy, teasing her for a moment, with busy fingers. She rocked frantically against him and when she unraveled almost immediately against his damp fingers he decided that the oath-binding wasn’t going to be nearly soon enough. “I’m looking forward to being a real happy man too, if I live that long!” he murmured softly as he waited for her shudders to die away. He couldn’t wait until they could spend hours playing with each other and making love. When she was quiet at last, he pulled her closer. “Go to sleep, baby.”

  “Trav, what kind of life did you have out there? What was it like? What was your family like?”

  His heart stopped beating for a moment. Then as honestly as he could, he talked about his life, about the people he had killed, about the murders of his family, about the ugly things he had done in the name of democracy for his country. He laid his life bare for her, trusting her with his heart. When he quit speaking at last, she kissed him lingeringly.

  “Traveller,” she said tenderly, “I love you with all my heart. You are a good, loving, unselfish man. Whatever you did out there is past. Let it go. You need travel no more.” Then held secure in his arms, she slept.

  * * * * *

  Once the weather cleared, Traveller didn’t see Wrenna more than a few snatched moments after dinner each evening. By then, very little discussion ensued as they spent most of their time trying to find new ways to make each other come. In the sane light of day, he had time to wonder why no one seemed to care that they were making out naked, hot and heavy in his room with the door closed but by the time she showed up in the evening, they were so hungry for each other that discretion was the last thing on their minds.

  Every day as his recovery progressed his loneliness and frustration grew. Boredom and too much time to worry about his place in this strange valley placed him on a collision course with good sense. It seemed that all of his companions disappeared at once. Arano, who had been a frequent visitor, was in seclusion with Silence. Arturo, Tyger and Bishop had abruptly departed with Dai with no warning to spend some time at Dai’s Retreat. Jade was feeling the draining effects of early pregnancy with twins. Wolfe had gone to Rebaccah’s Promise to begin training with Henry.

  And Llyon was staunching the overflow of too many responsibilities with too few hands. The most recent responsibility added to his list was training Hawke and Robyn to cook. Food preparation for twenty—more or less—was still a huge undertaking.

  After he was sure that dinner preparations were well underway, Llyon stopped in Trav’s room to check on his progress. Trav was sitting up, with his legs hanging over the sides of his gently swinging bed, attempting to get down. “Where are you off to?” Llyon inquired. “Didn’t we tell you to always ask for help?”

  Trav scowled. “Wrenna’s doing something with pots. Everyone else is busy. I thought I would be really careful just this once.” He sighed. “I am so tired of being in this bed!”

  “Well, you’re not going to try tonight,” Llyon replied absently, intent on searching out something under his shera. In a moment, he pulled a wriggling gray firka from the soft folds, muttering, “How many times have I told you that the hair on my chest is attached and therefore not the best material for nesting?” The firka cocked its head to one side as though in serious thought, before diving back under his shera. Llyon sighed. “No matter how many times I remind her, she still forgets.”

  Trav laughed. “So that’s a firka? And what’s her name?”

  Llyon grinned. “She’s a firka. Papa says they’re like your hamsters. Her name is Ladypuff.” Reaching up, he lifted Trav down. “Come on, let’s get you to the bathing room. When you’re finished, if you want to, you can come out and sit in the living room.”

  Trav hobbled along slowly. “I want. Do you know how long it will take Wrenna to finish the pots?” he inquired just a little impatiently.

  “I’m not sure,” Llyon answered. “She’s getting a bunch of things ready for firing, so it could be a while.”

  “Firing?” Trav stared at Llyon in confusion. “I thought she was washing pots. How do you fire a pot?” When he was ready Llyon handed him his sharda and shera.

  “Wrenna is a potter. She makes pots from clay. When they are ready to be baked, that is called firing.” Llyon helped him into the living room and settled him in “his” chair. “She is the village potter and she’s behind in her work. Besides, if she’s going to be in seclusion, she needs to have some pots done ahead of time. By the time you complete seclusion, it will be past the time to start garden season.” He laughed at Trav’s stunned expression. “We all have occupations, Trav. Everyone does something here in the valley once they turn sixteen.”

  “She’s working?” He shook his head. “She never said that she was working on something. She always seemed to be around.”

  “Well, once you agreed to be her bond mate, she started working on extra items so everyone will have the pots they need for gardening. That’s part of the food and herb supply, so it’s important. And she also makes my pots for salves and medicines so she’s making some extras of those.” He pulled Trav’s hair back in a loose braid and fastened it out of the way. “As soon as the firing is begun, I’m sure she’ll be in he
re squirming around on your lap like she has a meerlim full of pilkie bugs,” he offered as his parting shot when he went back into the kitchen to supervise his trainee cooks.

  Jade wandered into the living room and bumped into the guitar case leaning against a chair. She sat down and opened the case carefully and removed the guitar, then leaned back wearily in the swinging chair across from Trav. “Trav?” she queried, tilting her head to one side as though she could hear him breathing.

  “You’re good, Jade. It’s me,” he confirmed with a grin.

  “You don’t suppose Dance will mind if I practice a little?” she asked with a slight smile.

  “I think he would be delighted if you played with his guitar,” Trav replied instantly. “I know I would enjoy listening.”

  She tuned it and tried out different chords. Then like a gentle breath, she moved into an intricate Spanish piece that took his breath away. When she finished, she was smiling. “Not too bad, I guess. I didn’t think I would remember all of it.”

  “If you do much of that, you won’t have any fingertips at all,” Dancer commented dryly from the doorway. “It’s going to be hard for you to go slowly, I think.”

  She smiled up at him. “Yes, teacher,” she acknowledged before holding out the guitar. “I confess. Now they’re all tingling so I’ll quit for the day. Your turn.”

  “You expect me to follow that?” he demanded as he took the guitar.

  “Of course,” she replied austerely. “You’re a professional. Play something you would play on your tour.”

  “Play Devereaux’s Dance,” Trav suggested. “It’s been my favorite since you composed it for Mom. You haven’t played it outside of a concert since she died. Don’t you think it’s time?” he asked gently.

  Dance bowed his head. Eppie went to him and slipped her arm around his waist. Abruptly, he nodded his head. “It’s time.” He sat down on the hearthrug, pulling Eppie down to sit with him. Then, taking a deep breath, he played Devereaux’s Dance. The notes did indeed whirl and shimmer and glide. Eppie could almost see them dancing. When he finished, they sat in silence for a moment.

  Jade sighed. “That was beautiful. Will you teach me? I will never be able to do it justice but I would love to learn it.”

  He looked up at her with devilment in his eyes. “I tell you what. I’ll teach you this one if you teach me Jade’s Joy. Fair enough?”

  Laughing at him and herself, she agreed. “Fair enough. Play something else, please.”

  He twiddled around, wondering what to play when impulsively he launched into an intricate “Greensleeves”. The second time around, a gorgeous tenor voice began singing and he looked up in astonishment to find Hawke standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling with pleasure as he sang. A moment later, Llyon sent Robyn to join in, singing the harmony in a rich alto. When they finished the song, everyone clapped heartily. “Thank you, Dance. We’ve missed music in the valley,” Merlyn admitted quietly.

  Dancer shook his head. “You didn’t miss music with voices like theirs. You just missed the instruments. He sounded so much like Tracer, it was scary.”

  “We have something to ask you,” Jade said hesitantly. “We wonder if you’ve thought about teaching some of the children to play the instruments. Hamilton and Nathan believe that they can make some more instruments if they have yours to study.”

  He looked at her with a peculiar expression. “I’ve thought a lot about what I was going to do here in the valley. Ham and Nate can study them, as long as they don’t take them apart. And if they can put together instruments that are serviceable, then I will be happy to teach.”

  Falcon piped up, “Me first! I want to learn to play that violin like Mama!”

  Everyone laughed as Llyon announced, “Dinner is ready. Come and get it!”

  They all moved in the direction of the big warm kitchen, leaving Trav alone in his chair. Wrenna peeked around the door, found Trav alone and joined him in his chair. “Ahhh, Wrenna. Are your pots in the oven?”

  “Kiln. They’re all in the kiln, yes.” She snuggled under his arm. “All done.”

  “Wren? Exactly what is a pilkie bug?”

  “They’re little fuzzy blue bugs about this big.” She held up two fingers about a quarter inch apart looking at him quizzically. “They live in compost piles and help aerate them. Why?”

  “Oh, because Llyon promised me when you finished firing your pots that you would come squirm around on my lap like you had a meerlim full of pilkie bugs.” She laughed in his face. “Does that mean he was lying?” he asked plaintively.

  “Well, I had thought that we would take a bath together and wash your hair but if you would rather do that, I suppose we can,” she agreed.

  “You are a mean woman, Wrenna. Only a mean woman would offer a bath and then take it away,” he charged, before pulling her down and kissing her thoroughly. “I’ve missed you so much today. Did you get enough pots done?”

  “Pretty near. I missed you too. I worry that you’ll do too much if I’m not there to stop you! I know you’re getting tired of being in bed.”

  “Yes, he is,” Llyon agreed as he set a low table in front of them. Hawke and Falcon brought their loaded plates and utensils. “I caught him trying to get out of bed without any help.”

  “Trav! If you break something else, we won’t get to bond until we’re old and gray!”

  “Wrenna, if we aren’t bonded by then, I’ll have died from frustration. Now hush up and eat. I want my bath!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next afternoon, while Wrenna worked, Trav asked Llyon to bring his packs to his room. When Llyon and Hawke showed up, dragging the packs, they brought an assortment of other items with them. Trav looked at the pile with amazement. “Wherever did that stuff come from?” he demanded.

  Llyon shrugged. “Evidently, Bishop dragged all of it through the tunnel when he brought you. He said you insisted that he bring it and he didn’t want you any more upset than you were, so he brought it along.”

  “I must have been out of my head! What the hell was he thinking?” He looked at the pile, so stunned that he couldn’t think for a few minutes. Finally, he asked, “Can Hawke stay and help me sort through this stuff? Maybe there’s something we can use. I want it all sorted out before Wrenna and I have our bonding.”

  Llyon laughed at his expression. “Perhaps three pairs of hands are better than two? I will stay and we will sort out your ‘junk’.”

  They set the packs in the chair and decided to go through the extra items first. There was a golf umbrella, a gym bag containing a deflated basketball and two baseballs and a mitt, another small bag with three portable games, Scrabble, Yahtzee and chess-checkers, a string bag with six very dusty paperbacks. A briefcase was stuffed with sheet music and songbooks for violin and guitar. A square case held a large selection of CDs, a CD player and three supersized packages of spare batteries. Traveller just stared. “Hawke, please run and see if Dance can come here a minute.”

  When Hawke returned with Dance, Eppie and Jade came along. “Dance, I was completely out of my mind after you left! Look at this stuff that I hauled up the mountain!”

  Dancer squatted on his heels and picked through the stuff. “Hey! Here’s music! This is great! Jade! I can use this stuff to teach the kids… and here’s Devereaux’s Dance.” He placed the sheet music in her hands while he flipped through the rest of the things in the brief case. “Hey, Trav! You packed the extra strings and stuff I had! What’d you do? Empty my apartment?” He looked up and saw Trav shaking his head. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dance, I don’t remember packing any of this stuff. I have no idea what’s even here! Llyon said that Bish told him I kept insisting that we had to bring all this stuff. This is just crazy!” He looked a little panicked and began shaking, so Dancer crawled up on the bed and wrapped his arms around him.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it, Trav. It’s okay. Matter of fact, its great! It’ll be like a scavenger hunt.” He held Trav
as tightly as he dared while he shook and shivered. “It’s okay.”

  Llyon sent Hawke to find Wrenna. She came running, clay splattered all over the smock covering her meerlim. Llyon peeled her out of the smock and hoisted her onto the swinging bed with Trav and Dance. As soon as she was close enough, she wrapped her arms around Trav and Dance let go and slid off the bed.

  She rocked with him while she shifted around until she was in his lap. Then wrapping her legs around him, she held him and kissed him until he quit shaking. “Shh. It’s okay, Trav.” While they sat rocking on the bed, Dance directed the sorting of the stuff.

  “I’m crazy!” Traveller declared angrily. “I can’t bond with you, Wrenna! Who knows what crazy thing I might do to you or our children?”

  She hugged him harder and shook her head. “You’re not getting away from me that easily, Trav. You’re my man. The father of my children. My mate. I won’t let you go.”