Heart Fate

by Robin D. Owens

  The touch of her had come to him, like a soft hand smoothing over his brow. His sweet HeartMate. Young, innocent in many ways. He’d accepted her soothing, eased under it, then realized she wasn’t his wife and squeezed the link to a tiny filament, sent her mind spiraling back where it belonged. He never knew if she’d been aware of that moment, or their link.

  Now he set the memory in the front of his mind, tightened his hold, and called her mentally. Lahsin. Lahsin!

  A very faint word rose to his mind. “Who?”

  HeartMate. HEARTMATE! Only that would bring her back.

  Surprise her enough to push the other emotions aside.

  HeartMate? A tiny echo.

  Yes. Come back. Don’t leave me alone. The plea rang with sincerity. He might not want an intensely intimate tie, but he didn’t want to lose her.

  He couldn’t send love to her, how could he when he didn’t love her? So he sent hope. Simply hope. It flew from him as a shining golden glow like the sun rising over the horizon.

  She cried out again. Seeing a landscape of terrors?

  Build shields!

  Another flash of surprise. Comprehension. She snapped shields around herself, included the link between them. Then a distorted image of a naked T’Yew came, face heavy with unwholesome lust. Tinne cringed. He did not want to experience her wedding night. Even recalling his own wedding night with a laughing, voluptuous Genista was better. He sent that feeling, how it should be between a couple during their wedding night.

  Lahsin rejected it—with anger, bitterness.

  Use your anger to negotiate the seas of Passage.

  That was the image, white-capped towering waves, dark, salty as the ocean of tears she’d cried. Cold, frightening waves that tore into slashing slices of water.

  Rage came from her, hatred . . .

  No, control your fury, your hate! He screamed into the hurricane wind. They will open you—

  It was already happening. Her shields had cracked, the riptide tumbled him over and over, sucked him under, cold as a watery grave. He saw a jumble of red anger, then black terror—Lahsin— snagged her and held her close.

  She struggled, screaming, screaming, screaming.

  Build your shield!

  Clang! A capsule surrounded them. He smelled brine and his sweat and her tears and terror. Blood.

  From the wedding night—she said.

  No! He let her go, faced away from her.

  Who are you?

  Do you want me to claim you?

  No!

  Then let my identity be.

  A few seconds of silence. I can’t see you clearly. She sounded subdued. Thank you for saving me.

  You’re welcome. He was stilted.

  You are a man of violent passions. She shivered.

  No. I am a man of strong passions. And he’d make sure he’d show none of them to her in reality. He’d clamped a lid on his own emotions just to survive each day.

  If they made it back.

  She angled herself away from him, the brightly glowing ball of her true self—her soul?—dimming a bit in a sulk.

  Then rocks hit the capsule. It tumbled. Light strobed in hideous sheets of blinding white.

  Tinne fell into terror. This was his worst nightmare, falling through space.

  Lahsin’s orb touched his own, steadied him, moved away.

  He thought he heard a sigh.

  Now we ride this out?

  Yes. But you will have to embrace the storms and your Flair if you want to be a whole person. Understand. Accept. Master. The words had been rote for him during his own Passages.

  Understood, she said with irony, the last thing she said.

  They endured together, linked by a thread, but staying apart. They survived the sea, the landslide avalanche, the whirlwind, and the fire, and when they were back on a tossing green sea again, she opened her shields and floated.

  Tinne returned to reality. A low light surrounded the bedsponge, left the rest of the room in shadow. He rose to his elbow and cut off a groan at the aches of his body. Staring at Lahsin, he saw she was deep in a natural sleep.

  Muttering a word to clean the imprint of his body on the linens, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, and collapsed when his knees gave way.

  He was shuddering. Didn’t know what to do. The Passage had affected him, too. All he could think of was getting away. If he faced her, everything would change. They’d be awkward with each other and were too new of friends. If he was here when she awoke and she realized he was her HeartMate, they might never bridge the discomfort of that understanding, the experience.

  It was better that he go.

  If he’d spoken his name during Passage their emotions would have clashed and they could have died. As it was, their emotions were far too tender and disturbed to make a relationship.

  After coughing, he said to the Residence, “Don’t—” He stopped words that might irritate the Residence. “Please don’t tell Lahsin that I stayed with her. I came to check on her, found her in the stillroom, brought her here where you’d take care of her, and left.”

  “Just what you did do,” BalmHeal Residence said.

  “Right.” Tinne was bone weary. Grime coated more than his body; it was like a layer over his mind. “What time is it?”

  “TransitionBell.”

  Deep in the night’s dark, very early in the morning. Tinne glanced at Lahsin again, her cheeks showed the slightest rosy blush on her golden skin. Beautiful. He arranged the blanket over her, cleared his throat, and said, “Can you estimate—”

  “I estimate one more fugue no sooner than a week.”

  Air escaped Tinne in a quiet sigh. He bowed. “Thank you, Residence.”

  The Residence opened the bedroom door. Tinne shook his head and teleported outside T’Holly HouseHeart. He needed the place tonight. His own emotional shields had eroded to soap-bubble thinness. Ilexa joined him, purring for him.

  He’d no sooner closed and bespelled the door behind him than he fell to his knees on the sweet grass floor. His clothes vanished at a Word, and he lay panting and gave in to his own storm of grief and despair for all that had happened. The shudders of emotion left him as weak as a child. He rolled along the floor to the sacred fountain and allowed it to cleanse him outwardly as he hoped his inward self was cleansed.

  How long would grief shroud him? Years, probably.

  But when it diminished he would be barred from FirstGrove.

  He didn’t know which was worse.

  Lahsin woke but didn’t open her eyes. She stretched inside and checked her Flair. She had more than ever. Passage lurked like the line of a storm squall on the horizon. She’d have to suffer through it again and master her emotions, but she was optimistic that she could.

  By herself. Without the aid of her HeartMate. A tingle ran down her spine.

  It had been strange connecting with him, almost familiar. Like she knew his touch . . . or the touch of his mind brushing hers.

  Not sexual. In her studies of Passage there had been references to sexual dreams with one’s HeartMate. She was glad she was spared that.

  She didn’t want to think of her HeartMate. Only admitted that his sharp words and strength had saved her. He was strong and powerfully Flaired. Strong physically, mentally, emotionally. Far too strong for her to fight if he’d wanted to capture her in the HeartBond.

  But he hadn’t, and that was fine with her.

  She let out a long breath.

  Strother licked her face. She shrieked as she jerked to sit.

  He stared at her with sad yellow eyes. I am sorry that I wasn’t here. He looked away. I was outside. It’s good to hunt outside. I went to my Family’s house, where I was crippled.

  She grabbed a pillow, needing to squeeze something tight as anger spurted through her. “Did you attack your Family?” She wanted to attack T’Yew, even Taxa would do. She put the pillow down and thumped fists into it.

  Strother leapt off the bed and sto
od watching her. My Family is dead. They died the night I was crippled in the accident.

  The red mist coalescing before her vision disappeared. She felt tired. “Oh.”

  I was not Fam. There were only three men.

  “What kind of accident?”

  There was bad wind and snow. The roof collapsed.

  Lahsin squeaked. She couldn’t imagine a thing. “Was the house a Residence?” Suddenly she was grateful for even the irascible BalmHeal Residence.

  The shaggy hair over his eyes lowered in consideration. It was not a house. One of the small warehouses near here.

  She stared at his ugly face, his large form. “Tinne said you were a wolfhound.” She reached out and rubbed his head, he rumbled approval. “I’ve never seen a dog like you. Not that I’ve seen many.” She moved her hand to stroke his floppy ears.

  I do not know where I come from, Strother said. I only remember the three men. I think they found me south of Druida. He nudged her with his nose, and she rubbed his head again.

  “You are awake. It’s about time,” the Residence said. “I’ve moved some additional breakfasts from the long-term-storage no-time to the kitchen no-time. Can we get back onto a schedule? It is three days before Yule, and I want my holiday lights bespelled and more decoration on my banisters.”

  Lahsin wrinkled her nose. “I smell bad again.” She didn’t want to remember the fading details of her Passage, only recalled that it was scary. That was warning enough.

  You smell like Lahsin after an ordeal. That is only right. Strother sighed and rubbed the underside of his muzzle on the bed, closed his eyes. Pleasure welled in Lahsin. He trusted her. I am sorry that I was not here for your dreamquest. He hesitated. I felt some of it. Felt odd. Didn’t know what happened until I was back inside. We are Fam companions.

  “Yes, we are.” She wet her lips. “I wasn’t alone.”

  Tinne Holly brought you to your room, Strother said.

  Lahsin blinked, lifted her hand to rub her temples. It smelled doggy. “I remember I was in the stillroom.” She grimaced. “The decoction is spoiled by now. At least there is a fail-safe spell on the still.” More work to redo, and the Residence hadn’t given another snide prompting, though she thought the atmosphere seethed with impatience.

  “I’ll have to thank Tinne again.”

  All that Holly cat talks about is Yule gift from her FamMan. Strother lifted his head in a proud gesture. I do not need a Yule gift from my FamWoman. Caring is enough.

  Lahsin’s eyes stung, she swallowed. Once again her emotions were more on the surface after Passage. She petted him. “Thank you, but I can manage a gift for you, and I do care for you.”

  I know, I can feel it. As she swung her legs over the bed, he moved aside for her. She wobbled to the window, lifted a curtain, and peeked out. “Sunny.”

  Cold, but not bitter. Go to Healing pool?

  “No, that can wait until this evening after my lessons.” That perked her up. She was learning to control her body better physically, surely that would be a good basis for harnessing her emotions during her last Passage fugue. She grinned. “It looks like Yule. I want a wreath for the door.”

  “About time,” the Residence said.

  Lahsin ignored it and headed for the waterfall, singing a holiday tune.

  In the last couple of days before Yule, Tinne kept his relations with Lahsin casual and easy, making sure she didn’t associate him with her HeartMate. He’d been surly during Passage, and now he increased his charm. Only one small situation occurred that had to be handled delicately.

  On the night before Yule, he “attacked” her from behind, pulling her roughly to him. Instead of falling back and making him lose his balance, then following with the counter they’d practiced many times before, she froze.

  She’d felt his arousal.

  He’d known it would be only a matter of time before his body reacted to her during their sessions. Spending the night surviving Passage with her had brought them closer than before, physically as well as emotionally. He was aware of her. His body wanted her urgently, also expected after a long celibacy.

  But it was awkward.

  He dropped his arms and sighed. “You froze, you internalized your fear instead of using it to fight and escape.”

  She remained silent.

  He came to face her. Her eyes widened, and her gaze dropped as she stared at the front of his trous. He clenched his jaw as his arousal became more intense. She looked back up, and he saw fear in her eyes. She tensed, shifted for flight.

  “Don’t run.”

  Keeping her gaze on him, she inhaled, scowled as she fought her own fearful reactions.

  “You’re younger and faster than T’Yew,” she said.

  “I should hope so.”

  “Harder.”

  That pulled a laugh from him.

  She frowned, her cheeks flushed to the color of a ripe peach. “Your sex is bigger than T’Yew’s—”

  “I should hope so.”

  “—and though you aren’t as tall or as bulky, your muscles are harder.” She looked away and began to quiver.

  His humor vanished. “I could hurt you more, you mean.”

  She nodded.

  “Lahsin.” He kept his voice gentle. When he touched her chin, she flinched. “Look into my eyes, Lahsin. Yes, I’m aroused. I’m a young man, and you’re an attractive young woman. My body reacts naturally around you. But, Lahsin, a man isn’t only a cock. And a smart man doesn’t let his cock rule him.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “I control my body, it does not master me.”

  She met his gaze, her stance eased a little. “Of course not.” Her voice was too high.

  He raised both hands, palms out. “I will never force myself on you, Lahsin. Never.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” More deep breaths. “You can have any woman you want.”

  His turn to flinch. “I’d rather you believe in my honor and my word and my self-control.”

  “I do.” She sighed long, and her muscles loosed with it. Tinne knew that she’d overcome her fear and wouldn’t run. “You’d never want an unwilling partner.”

  “No.” He hesitated, but the words had to be said. “T’Yew is a powerful FirstFamily GrandLord, accustomed to getting what he wants.” Like Tinne’s father, but so much worse, and Lord and Lady knew, Tinne had paid dearly for T’Holly’s arrogance. Tinne hoped the fates would call payment due on T’Yew. “And T’Yew’s sexual proclivities are not that of any normal man.” Deep breaths. Her gaze was steady, and that was good. “He’s twisted, Lahsin, to want a wife so much younger than he.”

  The sadness in her eyes hurt Tinne’s heart.

  “He married me on my fourteenth Nameday. The youngest legal age.” Her lips firmed, then she said, “He wanted a son.”

  “Well, he didn’t get one, did he?” Tinne tried to be brisk but failed.

  “No.”

  He looked away, he should reveal a vulnerability, her fingers still trembled. “I haven’t had sex in . . . months.” His voice was rougher than anticipated. “My reaction’s natural.” That was much more difficult to say than he’d thought, and he regretted it.

  Her eyes turned curious, but all she said was, “What do you do when teaching women at your salon?”

  “I usually wear a groin-guard. No one can tell whether I’m hard or not. Since we’ll be progressing to strikes against the groin in the next lesson, I’ll bring one.”

  She nodded. “All right.” She straightened. “Let’s try an attack again. I will unbalance you. I will follow through.”

  “Yes,” Tinne said. “I’m proud of you, Lahsin. You overcame your fear and stood your ground, were calm enough to listen. I respect you.” He bowed twice. First a formal bow of Nobleman to Noblewoman, then he changed his stance and bowed as they both did before a training session.

  She bowed back, watching him. “I want to learn more than self-defense,” she said. “I want to learn fightin
g.”

  A lump formed in his throat. He nodded, then he walked behind her to attack her again.

  A half septhour later, Lahsin was smiling, appearing pleased with herself. She’d solidly mastered the defense for a grab from behind. She wasn’t vulnerable to that attack any longer. Satisfaction filled Tinne, more than he’d had since he’d begun teaching. Usually other members of the Holly Family taught grovestudy groups self-defense, but maybe he could work a class into his schedule. Maybe bring the group into the Green Knight to train as some might want to continue, like Lahsin. It never hurt to have more business.

  Tinne soaked opposite her in the Healing pool. They’d ’ported to the pool after the lesson, and Tinne noted she’d become proficient in that skill, too. The pool itself was warm, and the snow around it was white with no tracks.

  He watched her from under lowered lids. They didn’t speak. There’d be no more shared rubbing of salve, not when he was so aware of her sexually and she knew of his desire. He wouldn’t embarrass either of them but he’d miss the tending.

  When he’d gotten the maximum benefit from the pool, he rose, dried, and dressed, keeping his movements unhurried.

  Once again he bowed to her, keeping his eyes on her face. “Merry meet.” He hesitated. “I don’t know if I’ll be here tomorrow night . . .” He realized he wanted to be, very badly.

  She nodded. “Yule with the Family is important.”

  “. . . but if I can come, I will.”

  “I’m not celebrating the ritual at sunset but at midnight, if that makes a difference,” she said. He sensed she was crafting her own ways different than the Yews and the Burdocks.

  “Thank you,” he replied gravely. “I will come then.”

  Hunching a shoulder, she said, “If you want. Blessings of the holiday.” She was having trouble keeping her own gaze on his face, had peeked at more than his ass when he’d gotten out of the pool. He lifted a hand and teleported to the Turquoise House, considering her expression. It appeared to be a yearning—for Family to celebrate the Yule with?

  For him? He’d like that. Too much. Shouldn’t think of that.