by Carol Oates
Why? I interrupted, feeling a pang of pity for Seth all of a sudden.
Caleb grinned at my curiosity and brushed a stray piece of hair from my cheek. He wasn’t what they’d hoped for in a child. They’re both dead now, but he never got over it and occasionally takes it out on the wrong people.
Oh, I mumbled, understanding now why Seth seemed more of a brother than a friend to him.
He cleared the plates away and set about tidying the kitchen. What would you like to do now? he enquired casually.
I was trying to avoid thinking about the future and enjoy being here in the present with Caleb. I looked around, wondering what to suggest, my eyes flicking unintentionally to the bedroom door. The color began to rise in my cheeks. He detected my unease and was next to me in an instant, holding my hands in his.
What is it? His tone was gentle, making his voice more attractive than usual. It was hard to resist.
I couldn’t meet his eyes. I didn’t know how to explain without hurting his feelings. It’s just, I’m a little nervous. My voice choked with embarrassment. I kept my gaze at on his hands; his skin was smooth and golden against mine. After a long moment of silence, Caleb released one of his hands, ran one soft fingertip tentatively down my reddened cheek and raised my chin so my eyes met his.
He considered my expression before asking me, You don’t think I’m nervous around you?
I took a deep breath, holding his scent inside me for a few second before releasing it in a strained sigh. I couldn’t imagine anyone feeling the way I did around him. I don’t know, are you?
Caleb eyes tightened in disbelief for a second, then he smiled. I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life. Everything I feel is so completely new. I’m excited and scared, and I want you like I’ve never wanted anything. His expression hardened. I’m angry at myself for wanting you so much. His fingers locked around the tops of my arms, and I brought my hands up to his chest. I could feel his heart pumping rapidly.
I just didn’t get it what was making him so angry about being close to me? What was it he was so terrified about? Yes, terrified was the right word. My breath caught at the realization. Caleb’s hand lifted to my face and cupped my jaw, the anger fading quickly from his eyes.
You don’t have to be nervous, he said, smiling reassuringly. That’s the last thing I want. Whatever happens between us, it won’t be until you’re ready, and that won’t be for a long time. It won’t be until you know me fully. His eyes were like deep pools, and I was in no doubt he meant every word.
I love you. The words were out before I thought it through. They seemed to flow effortlessly off my tongue.
He stared intently into my eyes. I couldn’t look away, and then he smiled a beaming smile that I hadn’t seen before. It illuminated his whole face and made his liquid eyes sparkle. He swung me up into his arms and kissed me passionately; I couldn’t breathe, and my heart thumped so hard I thought it would break my ribs. I felt giddy, lightheaded, and nervous as I desperately tried to commit every sensation of his kiss to memory. I matched his exuberant movements and tried not to squeal at the sheer joy and sizzling heat welling up inside me. I gasped for breath when he pulled away. He put me down, seating me carefully back on the stool, and cupped my face gently in his hands. His eyes looked into mine with such ferocious emotion I was in danger of passing out.
You have no idea how happy you’ve made me. You have no idea how much I love you. He spoke quietly, but his words filled my world. My heart pounded, and my insides melted. I ached to be closer to him. He pulled me to him and crushed me against his chest. Caleb’s heart pounded too.
We stayed there for ages, clutching each other as if we were the only two people in the world that mattered. No one person could contain this much emotion; I was sure of it. I lifted my face slowly until my lips found the indent at the base of his throat. I felt him swallow hard under my mouth as I traced a line grazing up his throat. My hands moved to the back of his shoulders, hooked under his arms, and I stood off the stool, pressing myself to him. It wasn’t something I was consciously doing; my body appeared to be acting of its own accord.
Caleb eased back with a low moan from deep inside his chest as I moved my mouth over his jaw, then finally to his mouth. The ache inside me grew, making my whole body tremble. Caleb’s hands slid to my elbows, his thumbs grazing the thin material of my T-shirt, barely touching it. Every inch of my skin felt as though it was on fire as he slid his hands very slowly up my arms, and my heart battled against exploding from the sheer bliss of his touch. When Caleb’s hands reached my shoulders, his fingers tightened and dug into my flesh. He groaned provocatively against my lips before easing me back and holding me firmly away from him.
His eyelids were closed, and his jaw was clenched, his breath panting heavily through his nostrils. My own breathing came in hard, rasping gasps; the aching want inside me was growing, becoming increasingly like a physical pain. My hands clung to his neck. Caleb opened his eyes, but he still held me away from him, too far for me to reach his lips like I desperately wanted to. I saw the chaos raging in his blue eyes.
I’m sorry, he sighed miserably. I can’t.
You just said when I was ready! I cried incredulously.
One of Caleb’s hands moved to my face while the other continued to hold me away from him. I attempted in vain to inch forward, to pull myself against him, but his one hand was immensely stronger than my whole body, and I was unable budge. I allowed my hands to drop by my sides.
You’re not ready. He was breathless.
I am I know I am, I protested, struggling against his grip until it occurred to me. He didn’t want me. It was like being viciously punched in the stomach. Caleb was rejecting me, and I didn’t understand why. How could he not want me after everything he had said over the last few days? My face burned, and I could feel my expression changing, a frown spreading across my features. As quickly as the wave of passion had hit me, I was rocked by the most intense embarrassment I had ever experienced.
What are you doing? Caleb exclaimed, aghast.
I couldn’t help it, the tears had already begun to trickle down my face, and I watched the vein on the side of his neck throb as I tried to rein in my emotions. His shoulders were rigid with horror.
Why are you crying? he demanded, horrified. He released me quickly, as though he thought he might be hurting me. Please don’t cry, Triona, he begged.
I kept my eyes fixed on the long vein bulging from the pale golden skin on his neck.
Triona, I don’t want us to do something you might regret later — His words trailed off.
It’s not like I do this all the time, I sobbed, my emotions shifting toward anger. I’ve never even had a boyfriend before. I winced when I realized I’d just referred to him as my boyfriend. Why would I ever regret being with you?
I peeked up to his eyes, my bottom lip trembling as I rubbed the tears away from my face with the palm of my hand. Caleb’s lips formed a hard straight line; his expression was guarded, and his eyes gave nothing away.
He made no attempt to speak. I shook my head slowly as the reason for his silence sunk in.
Oh — it’s one of those things I’m not allowed ask about. I sniffled. The tears had ceased, but I was sure I must look a mess of blotched red skin and puffy eyes.
Caleb glanced down, and for an instant his guarded expression slipped, and he looked contrite as he took one of my hands in his.
When you know me better, he said quietly but firmly. You don’t know what this could mean for both of us.
Are you kidding me? I cut in angrily. I don’t even date. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before! I’ve just basically thrown myself at you, and you don’t think I know how big a deal this is?
It’s too soon, Caleb insisted. He took my other hand that had started to rub the top of my thigh and held it with the other. It’s too soon, he repeated, this time his expression was softer and his voice was filled with trepidation.
No matter
how he put it or what secrets were holding him back, it was rejection, and I felt foolish and humiliated. I wrenched my hands free and walked quickly to the window. I stared out at the subtle movement of the water, feeling it calming me a little. My hand rested on the glass, almost as if I could reach through and touch the gentle ripples. Caleb startled me when he carefully lifted my hair over my shoulder and smoothly ran a hand over it and down to my waist. My chest was still heaving, so I couldn’t feel the usual pressure on my lungs when he was near, or maybe I was just becoming so used to the sensations that I didn’t notice. For a moment I considered it might have been that he moved from one side of the room to the other so quickly that my body simply didn’t have time to react. The thought was erased from my mind as soon as his lips brushed the side of my neck.
I wanted to move away. I knew his touch would only make the ache stronger, but his fingers encircled my arms, holding me perfectly still. He groaned, moving his mouth up my neck to the dent below my ear, and I felt the tip of his tongue caress my skin, almost as if he were tasting me. My heart raced uncontrollably. In one swift motion he spun me around to face him. A desire to consume, a deep physical hunger, darkened and glazed his eyes. The intensity rocked me. Caleb’s hands glided down to my waist, and mine twisted through his hair as I fought to breathe through his feverish kisses. I could feel his breathing against my lips as shallow and rapid as my own. Caleb raised his hands behind his head and slid them over my hands, unlocking my fingers from his hair and gripping my wrists before lifting them to the cold glass behind my head. His lips dragged from mine and pressed against my ear. His body crushed against mine. His voice was deep with both agony and pleasure.
I could take you now, he rasped.
I sighed, breathless with the ecstasy surging through my veins. I wasn’t thinking; he had me completely within his control.
I could have any woman I want, but I only want you. I’ve never wanted anyone before you. You are my soul mate. His voice was persuasive, so irresistible, as if he had connected directly into my brain. Caleb pulled his face back inches from mine; his eyes were shimmering as tiny lights danced in his irises. I love you, Triona. The way he spoke those four words made my legs weak. I could barely get my thoughts together, but I knew that Caleb was showing me what he was capable of, how much he was keeping back, so I would know that if he only wanted me in that way, it would have happened months ago when we first met. He wasn’t rejecting me.
I love you too, I told him, trying to keep my voice even. This was yet another price to pay for loving Caleb. But I couldn’t not love him now; what choice did I have? I would have to wait. Wait for answers and wait for the ache inside me to be satisfied.
Caleb sensed I was caving again, giving in to his will. His grip loosened, and his body moved away from me.
This, us, is not going to be easy, is it? I muttered dryly, grimacing at him.
A relieved smile stretched his lips, but his eyes remained guarded. His finger brushed over my lips, and then he took my hand. Come with me.
Where? I asked. The aching was fading not disappearing, just being shut away for the moment.
I’m distracting you.
We passed the long glass table, and I realized there was a door at the far end, another room. Caleb opened the door and flicked on a light switch before he held it open for me, gesturing with a nod for me to enter. It was a large room but with no full-length glass window like the rest of the house in fact, no windows at all. Instead, shelves filled with books covered every inch of the high walls, each with one of those sliding ladders for reaching the top rows. They seemed to contain older leather-bound volumes, some so old they didn’t have a name on the spine. The lower shelves held newer books.
Wow, you have so many books! I exclaimed.
I like to read.
You’ve read all these? I asked in wonder, trailing my fingertips across the spines of some of the books and walking the length of the room.
One or two I still have to get to, he answered casually.
I blushed, genuinely stunned. When could one person find time to read so many books? It wasn’t only the number of books, it was the range of subjects geography, history, philosophy, literature, witchcraft, cookery, poetry, myths, and legends. It made me feel a little inadequate standing with Caleb at my side, his hand locked around my waist. I blew out air though pursed lips. So you have read all of these but one or two?
Maybe three, he laughed, then kissed my forehead.
You’ve really got the whole package, don’t you? I commented bleakly.
I was a bit put out. Really, he had it all looks, money, charisma, intelligence what exactly was I supposed to bring to the table? What could I possibly have to offer?
Caleb ran his finger lightly over my creased forehead, his touch making me tingle all over. I do now. He smiled. This is not that impressive, really.
Says you, I pouted, staring into his sparkling eyes.
One side of his lips twitched. You are more special to me than all of this, than anything I own. You have me hypnotized. I grimaced, making Caleb roll his eyes. Some of these are from my childhood, he explained waving his hand over the books. My father taught me that no book contains the full story, so if I found something I wanted to know about, I would find more books on the same subject to get a fuller picture. He smiled teasingly. This part of my collection took a long time to build.
This part, I squealed. I had only read a fraction of what Caleb had; what was I doing with my time? Haven’t you ever heard of the Internet? I offered sarcastically, trying in vain to cover my embarrassment.
Caleb smirked and let go of my waist to step onto one of the ladders and retrieve a black leather-bound book with faded gold writing on the spine.
He held it in one hand as he searched along the lower shelves for something else. His lips formed a straight line while he searched.
Ah ha! he exclaimed as he pulled a newer looking paperback book from the shelf. It looked like a reference book or a school text. These two books, he told me, holding one book in either hand, tell different stories about the same thing. In order to establish the full picture, you need to have all the information.
I scowled for a moment. What if all the information isn’t readily available? I muttered wryly, not necessarily referring to books.
Caleb sighed wearily and inclined his head to the door, a silent instruction to leave the room. I wrinkled my nose in exasperation and turned to walk out the door ahead of him. I waited for Caleb in the living room and followed him to the couch, sitting close beside him.
Maybe you haven’t worked out the right questions to ask, he said reluctantly, in answer to my last question. Or maybe it’s not in your interest to know. Somehow that felt like a warning, and I sensed Caleb’s mood was about to darken.
Tell me about the books. I smiled brightly.
It had the desired effect, and Caleb’s mood lightened immediately. He leaned to kiss my cheek close to my ear, and my heart missed several beats.
This one. He placed the newer book on the sofa beside him and opened the older one carefully, turning the fragile pages until he came to a colored illustration of a sword. It was a long broad sword, like something from me-dieval times, surrounded by stars and set against a blue-black background.
The hilt of the sword had an intricate design of metal inlaid with what looked like roses and knots winding around it, but not protruding from the metal so it wouldn’t interfere with the bearer’s grip in fact, it would probably aid it. The shaft of the sword didn’t appear to be metal at all; it looked like pure white light. Rays were coming off it, lighting the night sky around the sword to illustrate its brightness. Underneath at the bottom of the page were the words, ClaÌomh Solais. The page opposite was filled with words in a writing I didn’t recognize.
This book is about Irish legends. It’s from the fourteenth century, illustrated by Irish monks, and has been in my family a long time; it’s actually my father’s and was his father’s
before him. He normally takes better care of it than I. This sword, the Sword of Nandu or the Sword of Light, he ran his finger over the sword in the picture, was forged in a magical fire by the goddess Brigid, daughter of the god-king Dagda and wife of Bres. It was a wedding gift to Bres from Brigid and her people. Caleb snorted as if the idea was repugnant to him and then continued. The sword itself was said to be indestructible, and once drawn from its scabbard in battle, no man could resist it. The scabbard protected the wearer from death, and no injury would prove fatal to him. Whoever wielded the sword was invincible.
What metal glows like that? I asked curiously.
Caleb smiled; it clearly pleased him that I was taking an interest in the story he was telling. Magic. He raised an eyebrow as if he was letting me in on a secret.
I giggled and wrapped my hands around his arm, resting my head on his shoulder. I remembered reading how even the oil on fingers could damage old pages, but Caleb didn’t seem too worried.
When Brigid made the sword, he continued, a piece of herself became part of it, as it does with all artists. Because she was a goddess, it made the sword extraordinary.
I nodded against his shoulder, enjoying breathing the fragrant scent that was uniquely him rising from his skin.
Even the light had its purpose, he said. It blinded whoever fought against it. They didn’t stand a chance even before the sword struck them down. The story goes that when Brigid realized the full power it possessed, she wanted to destroy it, but she didn’t know how. So she waited until Bres was asleep, stole the sword, and fled to Europe where she was killed, but not before she hid the sword, afraid her people’s enemies would use it against
But, I cut in, finding a flaw in his story, if the bearer couldn’t be defeated, why would she need to do that?