Romance. When was the last time Bonnie had had a little romance? Upon reflection she decided that she probably never had. She’d had boyfriends and lovers, but had never been showered with gifts or wined and dined—possibly because she was too practical. She only wanted things she could use, like—
Her thoughts broke off there as realization slammed her upside the head with as much force as Lynx's arm. Things she could use—like a whole pen full of enocks! Lynx had given her a gift, and a terribly useful one at that.
Bonnie tried to remember what she’d said to him. Had she been properly appreciative? Or had she been the one to say the wrong thing and spoil it? No, she decided, that wasn’t how it happened; it was Lynx's change of expression that ruined everything. Then she’d offered to pay him a bonus. And what had he done but make some sort of incoherent protest? Had he seen the birds as a gift? And if so, why?
Any answers Bonnie could come up with were unsatisfactory at best. Lynx might have been trying to get a raise, or might have been trying to butter her up for something, but she had no idea what. Bonnie knew that he could have asked her for anything, and she’d have given it to him; she already owed him more than she could ever repay. She already loved him, too—had even told him it didn’t matter that they could never be lovers in the usual sense.
It hurt her to think that the only thing Lynx might have wanted from her would be for her to stop loving him. But if that was what he’d truly wanted, he’d certainly picked a strange way to go about doing it. When Bonnie looked out a bit later, she noticed that the male enocks had already been thinned out of the flock and were now outside the pen, eating the rabasha fruit. Was there anything that man couldn’t do? He was inventive, resourceful, and wasn’t above doing a little hard work. In Bonnie's opinion, he was darn near perfect.
This was also Lynx's opinion of Bonnie. How many women would have asked him how he felt after they’d been knocked senseless? Very few, he was certain, and now he owed her again—for so many things. She’d enabled him to see himself as a normal man at last. Not now, perhaps, but he had been at one time. He cursed himself for never realizing the implant's purpose. How could he have been so stupid?
Throwing himself into his work, he tried to silence his mind, but the torment was unrelenting. He had to repay her again… somehow.
With the enocks safe in the feeding area, he cleaned the pen and then spread the manure on the garden and under the fruit trees. The sun was hot, and it was hard work, but he didn’t care. The pain in his muscles might help to drive out the pain in his heart but it couldn’t stop the words that kept running through his mind. I could have fathered children. I could have, once—but no more.
By day's end, Lynx was exhausted but no closer to a solution, nor could he feel any peace returning to his mind. He dreaded the coming night, knowing that even if he did sleep—which was unlikely—it wouldn’t ease his pain; his nightmares would haunt him.
That was when he smelled the smoke.
For Bonnie, the day had dragged on, oppressive in its heat. She did all the normal, ordinary things she would have done on any given day, yet all the time knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.
The wind had begun to pick up, blowing in gusts out of the northwest, and Bonnie could see the dust whipping around in the original enock pen. It hadn’t rained in over a month, and the rainy season was about to start— with a big bang, apparently. She could rest easy knowing that they’d gotten the crops in before it rained—though she would have been happier with the grain delivered and the money in the bank at Nimbaza. She’d be able to pay Lynx that bonus too.
It was getting near dark when her comlink began beeping. The regional weather control in Nimbaza was issuing a warning about a fire headed their way. Looking out, Bonnie could see that the entire northwestern horizon was ablaze—and the wind was whipping it right toward her.
Bonnie's first thought was that at least her crop was in storage behind the firebreak and not still out in the field. Lynx had tilled the firebreak right after the harvest and there was now only stubble in the fields so, with any luck, the fire should go around them.
But Bonnie couldn’t afford to count on luck. Tucking Ulla into her crib, she ran out, shouting for Lynx. The wind was blowing so hard, she could barely move forward against it—and it was blowing straight at the house. The air was already scented with smoke, and she screamed again for Lynx, who was nowhere in sight.
It was possible that the rain might catch up with the fire and put it out, but Bonnie knew she couldn’t count on that, either. The firebreak was the regulation width plus a little more, but did those guys really know what they were talking about when they’d made that regulation? Had they tested it in a real fire, with a fierce wind blowing it on?
She doubted it. They’d done a great job getting things started on Terra Minor, but there were always mistakes and oversights, and theory didn’t always work well in practice.
She spotted Lynx over by the water tower, which she knew was nearly empty. The dry season had been even drier than usual, and they’d had to irrigate the fields more often than she would have liked. The pond by the shed was still reasonably full, and Lynx had been mulching the trees with enock dung, which had some remarkable water-holding properties, so they’d had to water them less. Maybe we should make a study of it, Bonnie thought, as her mind took a strange turn. Publish a treatise on the virtues of enock dung and then make a mint selling it. She let out a cynical laugh, thinking about the odd things that come to mind when you know you’re about to lose everything.
“Lynx!” she yelled. “What are you doing?”
“I pumped more water into the tower after the last crops came in,” he said, shouting to make himself heard above the wind. “There should be enough to flood the field. I thought about this when I worked on the firebreak. With this much wind, it will not be enough to stop the fire from reaching the house.”
“That's what I thought too,” Bonnie yelled back. “How are you planning to do it?”
“I disconnected the irrigation lines to the field,” he shouted. “The water will pool about twenty meters out.”
Bonnie looked across the field as the fire raced toward them. “You think of everything, don’t you?” she remarked almost absently.
Lynx didn’t reply but switched on the pumps. “We can pump more water into the tank, but that might take too long. Get the line that goes to the garden and get ready to soak anything that catches fire on this side of the firebreak.”
The buildings were made of materials treated with a flame retardant—another regulation for living on the savanna—but it was only a retardant and wasn’t completely foolproof—or fireproof. Given time and enough heat, it would burn just like anything else.
“So this is what you do out there in the shed all alone at night? Think up things like how to catch enocks and put out fires?”
“Yes,” he said shortly. “Now, move!”
Running to the garden, she uncoupled the heavy hose from the lines to the plants and put on a smaller line that she used for other parts of the yard. It would blow up in her hands if the pressure was too high, but she switched the pump full on and dragged the hose out toward the enock pen.
The enocks were agitated, flapping their wings and running back and forth in the pen. If the fire got too close, she would have to let them go. Fortunately, aside from the fence that surrounded them, there wasn’t much in the pen that would burn, except the birds, and Bonnie didn’t care to watch them get roasted alive, not even the big male that had nearly taken her arm off. Well, maybe I would sacrifice him, she thought grimly, but not the females.
Kipper was racing around like a madman, barking his head off. The chickens were in the henhouse, which was small comfort, since it would go up like a pile of kindling if the fire ever reached it—as would the grain, and as much as there was in the shed, it would probably smolder for months. Bonnie fought the urge to hose down the shed, knowing that water wasted now would
mean there might be none to put out the sparks that would surely fly on the wind ahead of the fire.
The flames drew nearer, sending smoke billowing into the sky. Lynx stood still for a moment, staring out at the fire, before suddenly jumping down from his perch on the tower to run through the field of stubble.
“What are you doing?” Bonnie screamed. The fire was almost on him. Something must have been jammed, because she could see him swinging an ax to chop through the line. Then the water burst out like a fountain, and she couldn’t see him anymore.
Sparks were flying everywhere, carried toward her on the wind. The smoke burned her lungs and enveloped the entire compound in a hot, dense cloud. She couldn’t see Lynx at all and could barely see the house. Then she saw flames and aimed her hose. The fire went out immediately, only to be replaced by another, and another. My God, they’re everywhere! Bonnie kept on spraying; trying to see, trying to breathe. She had no clue as to where she was, let alone the direction she was facing.
The enocks were going wild; Bonnie could hear them, squawking like a bunch of dying chickens. Turning toward the sound, she could see that some of their feathers must have caught fire, and she was heading toward them when she caught sight of Lynx inside the pen, hitting them with his shirt to smother the flames. She let out a scream, terrified that the enocks would turn on him. Bonnie ran to the gate, dragging her hose.
“Get out of there!” she screamed at him. “They’ll kill you!”
In that moment, the air seemed to clear as the fire began to pass around them. Lynx ran toward the gate with the big male at his heels. Bonnie shot the bird with a stream of water, diverting his attention long enough for Lynx to escape.
Slamming the gate closed, Bonnie screamed again as lightning struck and the sky opened up, deluging them with rain. In the glare of the lightning and the roll of thunder that followed, she could see Lynx standing there with rivulets of water coursing down his bare, heaving chest. As she stood gulping the cool, moist air into her burning lungs, her only thought was that Lynx was hers. I damn near gave my right arm for him, I’ve fought fire and enocks for him, and he is mine! Running to him, she flung her arms around his neck, and, pulling him down, kissed him fiercely.
While the storm raged all around them, she clung to his hot, wet body, tasting his lips at last. He smelled of smoke and rain and sweat, and Bonnie twisted her fingers into his hair, refusing to let go. Someday, she would pay for this. Someday, she would be watching him walk away as he had done in her dream, but that would not happen on this day. No, on this day, she vowed, he is mine!
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Bonnie knew that her logic was faulty, but she didn’t care. Kissing him for all she was worth, she pushed her tongue past his sharp fangs, not caring if he bit her; it was worth the risk.
Feeling his hands at her waist, she paused for a moment, knowing that this was the end, and he would push her away now. All of her love for him came crashing down. Crying out in anguished protest against his lips, she cursed the day she’d met him, but with her next breath swore her undying love.
“Don’t you dare push me away!” she screamed at him. “I love you so much, Lynx! No one could ever love you more, but it doesn’t matter to you, does it? Nothing matters to you, and I hate you for that! Go on! Leave here now and take your precious solitude with you!” Giving him a shove, she turned to go back to the house—back to her home, her child, and her life of loneliness.
For the second time that day, Lynx caught her by the arm. She tried to wrestle away from him, but he held her fast, just as the enock had done on the day they’d first met. Bonnie swore at him, pounding on his chest with her free hand, trying desperately to escape. Despite his superior strength, she twisted away from him somehow—and ran.
But Lynx wasn’t about to let her go. He hadn’t been trying to push her away, he’d been about to take her in his arms and kiss her the way he’d ached to kiss her for so long… Running after her, he caught her arm just as she tripped and fell, pulling him down on top of her.
Bonnie began to fear for her life; she’d pushed him too far, and now she was sure he would have his revenge on all women by killing her. Kicking and screaming, Bonnie swung at him with all her might, wishing she had something—anything—to fight back with. Her strength was beginning to desert her when, suddenly, in a flash of lightning, she could see his face clearly, his yellow eyes blazing down at her out of the storm. His fangs gleamed like pearl daggers, and she could almost feel them ripping out her throat. Then, as the thunder rolled, his head descended. With a growl that she felt more than heard, his tongue swiped across her parted lips and then thrust past them.
It took several moments before Bonnie's astonished brain caught up with her lips and realized that she was being kissed rather than killed. As she kissed him back, sucking hard on his tongue and teasing his lips, she felt desire building as her fears drifted into nothingness. Lynx released his hold on her arms, and she wrapped them around his neck. Their love-hungry souls met, and they kissed like thwarted lovers who had never kissed before: with fierce, demanding, terrifying passion.
“I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I didn’t mean it… please… don’t ever leave me. I love you.” Bonnie's voice trailed off as his lips found hers once more as the darkness of night fell.
Caring nothing for his reply, she only wanted him to keep kissing her until she died. Lynx might not be capable of sex, but he could kiss, and Bonnie couldn’t fault him on the way he did it, either—except that he stopped much too soon.
“You need to get inside,” he said roughly. “Ulla may need you.”
This was where she’d been headed when he’d stopped her so unceremoniously, but she ignored that, saying only, “If I do go inside, you’re coming with me.”
“Bonnie, I can’t—”
“Don’t say it,” she pleaded. “I already know why you think you can’t, but, please believe me when I say it doesn’t matter! I want you, Lynx, and I don’t care what you can or can’t do. I only know that I want you in my arms, in my house, in my bed… and most of all, in my life.”
“But I am in your life,” Lynx protested, his body sagging with weariness. He’d tried so hard to resist… and had failed miserably. “I have tried not to be, but I am.”
Getting to her feet, Bonnie held out her hand. “Come on, then. Let's get inside where it's warm and dry and we can talk about it.”
Lynx stared out her outstretched hand as though he dared not touch it. Not meeting her eye, he said, “You will not be… disappointed… that we cannot be lovers?”
“Maybe a little,” Bonnie admitted. “I’d like to be able to touch you and hold you as much as I want, but right now, I’ll take anything I can get, even if it's just being in the same room with you. Honestly, Lynx. That's all I need.”
But it certainly wasn’t all she got.
Chapter 13
LYNX KNEW THE MOMENT HE LOST CONTROL. Somewhere in the blazing inferno filled with suffocating smoke and horror, he heard her voice calling out to him, and his body reacted without thought or direction; he went to her—came when she called—just as he always did. And now he knew why. It wasn’t from having been a slave, conditioned to responding quickly to a summons. It was because he loved her. There in the midst of chaos, it became so clear to him; the entire pretense, all the denial had been pointless. He was sure he’d fallen in love with her the first moment he saw her about to be torn apart by those vicious birds.
He’d gone to her rescue then, just as he had every time she needed anything. Anything she mentioned— and anything he thought she might want or need—he gave to her, telling himself that it was to keep her in his debt. He knew now that he’d been lying to himself from the very beginning. He hadn’t been angry with her for being foolish enough to risk her life for a chicken; he’d only been terrified of what might have happened had he chanced upon her a few moments too late.
She still had hold of his hand, or this revelation might have caused him to
fall into another fit. He felt the tug of her grasp, warm and strong, as though she was the anchor that kept him secure and centered in this world, not letting him go careening off into insanity.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” she whispered. “Not burned or anything?”
Lynx shook his head, not trusting himself to speak yet.
Had she meant those words she’d said before? That she only wanted to be in the same room with him? It was difficult for Lynx to comprehend that anyone could feel that way about him, because if anyone else ever had, he certainly couldn’t remember it. People, especially women, always wanted something from him, something more than just himself. They wanted him for what he was capable of, the tasks he could complete, the machinery he could repair, the sexual gratification he could provide. Had he ever been wanted just for himself? He didn’t think so. Bonnie was unique in that respect—and in so many other ways as well…
Perhaps the most amazing thing about that night was that Ulla had slept right through the fire and the storm. Bonnie listened for her cries as she carefully opened the door and, hearing no sound other than her occasional contented sigh, slipped inside, pulling Lynx in behind her. Dripping wet and smelling of smoke and rain, the first thing she wanted was a shower, and she wanted to have it with Lynx.
Bonnie might have kissed him and held him, but she still hadn’t caught him with his pants off. His shirt must have been out by the enock pen—or even inside it— and since he’d used it to douse the flames, it was doubtful that he would ever wear it again. His pants weren’t in much better shape, and Bonnie's own clothes were dotted with holes from sparks she hadn’t known had touched them. Tiptoeing through the kitchen so as not to wake Ulla, Bonnie led Lynx into the bathroom and, closing the door, flipped on the light.
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