Love Never-Ending

by Anny Cook

  Gar mentioned that harvest fest would soon be upon them. With his limited ability to ask questions, Bish couldn’t be sure but he thought it might be similar to Thanksgiving. It seemed that there was going to be a feast, anyway. Gar was excited about having sweet pies and mentioned them every day. Bish wondered if he was still going to be with Gar at harvest time and then, caught up in the work in the rowan barn, he dismissed his questions. If he was, he would no doubt find out soon enough. By his reckoning, harvest fest would be in another half moon.

  Later that evening, Mali arrived in Dai’s Hamlet on his way to deliver packages to Sunrise, Talking Wall and Rebaccah’s Promise. The village men gathered in Gar’s woolie barn to drink sim and hear the latest news from Lost Market and the southern villages. The alcoholic content in sim was so low that he certainly wasn’t in any danger of getting drunk but Bishop enjoyed the astringent taste. As the men sprawled over the loose bundles of hay, they listened intently as Mali entertained them with his quick wit and occasionally humorous recap of the news.

  “Traveller and Wrenna finally bonded. He was so anxious to get on with it that they’re spending their seclusion in the cave at circle three.” Mali’s long fangs flashed as he grinned and rolled his eyes suggestively. “They’re keeping Llyon busy running out there to check on them. I helped Ly and Ty haul a big chair out there last eight-day. It seems that Ty’s getting tired of being in bed all the time. Wrenna’s schalzina is wearing his back out.”

  Gar snorted in amusement. “No doubt he will get used to it. Is she pregnant yet?”

  “Oh, yes. Llyon confirmed that the first eight-day.” Mali nodded his head sagely. “He’s pretty sure that happened the first day.”

  Jacob Taylor frowned and asked, “Weren’t you one of the hunters that tracked down the grimahrs that attacked Wrenna?”

  Shuddering in remembrance, Mali agreed. “I was. I’m not anxious to repeat the experience.”

  “I heard that Arturo and Hawke went with you. How did Arturo handle it?” Jacob sipped his sim as he listened carefully. Arturo was a morkert and as such needed to be balanced and steady in his judgments. Everyone in the valley knew that he had suffered much from the brutal attack on him earlier in the year.

  Mali shrugged. “He dealt with it as he does everything. He is a man. But I believe that he and Hawke are planning a soul walk. Hawke says they both have much to think about. I think a soul walk will be a good thing for them to do.”

  “That is true. What other news?”

  “Samara will soon return to Lost Market. Qwenna’s burda is nearly complete. And arrangements have been made for Daniel’s care when she goes into schalzina. Samara wants to return to Lost Market before the winter rains.”

  Gar refilled Mali’s cup. “Aye, that would be best. The fall rains are cold but the winter ones often freeze, covering the trails with dangerous ice. Who will escort her?”

  “I imagine that I will—or Tyger will on one of his fleece runs. Barlo, the woolie farmer up at Jump Stag Spring, notified him last eight-day that he has fleeces ready to card and spin.”

  “This late in the year?” Gar questioned with a frown.

  “Ty thinks he was holding out for more barter credits but,” Mali chuckled, “Della down at Broken Pine had a surplus this summer.”

  “Her fleeces are better too,” Gar agreed. “Is he still going to take the fleeces from Barlo?”

  “Of course. There will be many new babies this winter who will require new blankets, clothing, bedding and other things necessary for infants. I don’t know what they require but Jade Llewellyn assures me that it is so.”

  “Hah. Speaking of Jade, how is she feeling?” Jacob asked. “Or maybe I should ask how Merlyn is doing?”

  Mali laughed out loud. “Merlyn is declaring that this is the last pregnancy for them. As though they would have a choice. But Llyon and Dai both agree that there will probably be no more babies.” He leaned forward to whisper, “But it seems to me that Merlyn is enjoying the benefits very much.”

  “As indeed what man would not?” Gar smiled in fond memory of his own time spent caring for his bond mate. “Who would not?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Harvest Fest

  Bish sat at one of the long tables at the Dai’s Hamlet harvest fest with Gar and his family. The food was plentiful and hot and for the first time in his life, Bish enjoyed a holiday meal. Here there were no family squabbles, no rude children and sniping wives. The people surrounding him were hardworking farm families who enjoyed three festivals a year, at spring fest, harvest fest and Midwinter.

  After the meal, several of the men entertained the crowd with singing and drumming. One fellow did a very complicated dance while another whistled. Bish wondered what the dancer would have made of Broadway and what Broadway would have made of the dancer.

  When the entertainment portion of the evening was concluded, there was group dancing. Gar’s little girl, a gap-toothed seven-year-old named Anika, led Bish out on the dance floor where they joined the crowd hopping and skipping through a group dance that reminded him of a very disorganized square dance. His next partner was Gar’s skinny eleven-year-old daughter Belle. To his surprise, she was very light and graceful and after taking a second look, he decided she was going to be a beauty in a few more years.

  He sat out the next dance, resting and drinking sim. He figured he would have to drink about a barrel of the stuff to get much of a buzz but it didn’t taste bad and was soothing to his parched throat. The crowded room was heated with the press of bodies and he longed for a few moments outside in the cool air. After his cold bath in the barn before dressing for the harvest fest, he had been sure he would never be warm again but he hadn’t reckoned on the number of villagers attending the feast. At the close of the next dance, Gar led a dark-haired woman up to Bish. With all of the noise, he didn’t catch most of the introduction except her name, Susie. After a moment, he nodded agreeably, thinking she must be a relative of Gar’s.

  A gray-haired man stood and began to sing a lively song and Susie, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation, tugged him out on the dance floor. During the weaving movements of the dance, he slowly realized that she was purposely brushing against him, checking him out. His eyes met Gar’s with a questioning look but Gar just smiled and nodded. As the song wound to its close, Susie took his hand and pulled him through the door into the cool, dark evening. “Gar says you don’t talk much but I can’t say I’m interested in chattering anyway,” she muttered to him, before pulling his face down so she could kiss him.

  Her soft lips brushed his before parting in anticipation. Their tongues tangled in a leisurely exploration accompanied by little moans and whimpers. Both were pleasantly surprised. Bish slipped his arms around her, drawing her closer for a second kiss. “Yes!” she said with an eager nod. “Come with me.”

  Initially he resisted leaving the harvest fest but she frowned at him in annoyance. Then she briskly tapped him on the chin. “Dai says that you will come with me. Now come.” Moments later he found himself following her to a small cottage at the edge of the woods and they went in. He lit the fire and she used a twig to light a small tallow candle. Then he stood staring at her for a few minutes, suddenly uncertain.

  At last, she reached out and shoved his rough wool vest and shera from his broad shoulders. When he was bare-chested she put out her hand to play with the soft dark curls. She discovered his flat nipples and leaned her head down to kiss them in turn, lightly flicking them with her tongue until they were hard little points.

  She had on a heavy winter wool meerlim so he searched out the fastenings and untied them. Then slowly, he spread the meerlim open, revealing the lush, curvy body hidden beneath the rough fabric. He wasn’t sure what to expect but he thought she was lovely. Her dark lavender nipples tightened as he watched. Very slowly, still not sure quite what she wanted from him, he leaned down and took one tight little berry in his mouth, sucking gently. Susie moaned and twisted in his arms, p
ressing closer. He moved to the other one, stopping for a brief kiss first. Susie held his head against her breast, clutching at him with increasing fervor.

  Abruptly, he felt her groping for the waistband of his sharda. Pushing her away from him, he released the fastening and allowed it to slip to the floor. His cock stood proudly in the dim candlelight, throbbing and pulsing impatiently. She just stared and then uttering an enchanting little whine, she dived in with both hands, petting and handling him until he started making a few panting whiny sounds of his own.

  Bish hadn’t been with a woman since the day he left Samara crying in her dome. Uncomfortably, he pushed away the thought of Samara. Really, he had no control over what was happening to him now. It wasn’t his fault, he reasoned. He planned to savor this unlooked-for opportunity and refused to allow memories of Samara to interfere. She was the one who had declared their relationship over and sent him away. So why did he feel guilty?

  To his surprise, he found Susie’s touch dissatisfying and unemotional. She wasn’t Samara. He tried to think of a way to let her know that he was ready to go back to Gar’s farm but it seemed that Susie had other ideas—ideas that Bish had no intention of cooperating with. He gently nudged Susie away and bent to pick up his sharda.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded in puzzlement.

  Bish stubbornly shook his head as he wrapped his sharda around his hips and securely fastened it. In the dim candlelight, he searched for his shera and vest.

  No man had ever refused Susie’s overtures. She was garbonhzan! Unbonded men vied for the opportunity to bed with her! She smacked his back with her small fist. “You cannot leave me like this!”

  Again he shook his head as he straightened up, his shera and vest in his hand. Turning away from her, he went to finish dressing in front of the hearth.

  Enraged at his ability to walk away when he was clearly aroused, she rushed across the room and tackled him. Surprised at her attack, he stumbled over the hearthstone. His head cracked against the stone mantle. With a sickening thud, he fell to the floor.

  Susie bit her lip as she stared at the outlander lying unconscious on her floor. Tentatively, she checked to see if he was still breathing. What was she going to do with the outlander? she wondered. What if he told the village leaders that she attacked him?

  No longer in need of an erotic candlelit setting, she went about the small room, twisting the light stones until the room was ablaze with light. Squatting down next to Bishop, she carefully checked for bleeding. Though there was a large bump hidden in the hair above his left ear, the skin wasn’t broken.

  She went and sat on the side of her bed as she tried to think of what to do next. Every time she thought of him blithely walking away, her anger flared so she pushed those thoughts away. Rage was not going to help her solve her problem with the outlander.

  As she sat there with her meerlim gaping open, thoughts of his large kzusha stirred her arousal. She wondered if his kzusha would get erect if she played with it. It would make a fine revenge to use him for her own pleasure. Regretfully, she shook her head. No, she would not stoop so low.

  But he would not get away without payment for rejecting her. Shedding her meerlim, she fingered her pussy until she was very wet. Then she went to squat next to him again. She smeared her wet fingers over his lips and lower face, carefully painting his mouth with her pussy juices. Then she unfastened his sharda and squatted over his groin, slowly rubbing her pussy on his flat belly.

  When he began to get hard, she stood with a sharp nod of satisfaction, bent to refasten his sharda and flounced off to bed. There! When he woke, her scent would be the first thing he breathed in. He wouldn’t find her so easy to forget.

  She burrowed her hand beneath her pillows until her fingers touched the smooth surface of her purple chinka kzusha. Who needed stupid men when a chinka kzusha was always available? With a fierce push, she thrust it in her pussy and fucked herself in a sudden frenzy until she reached orgasm.

  Sprawled in the bed, still impaled on her toy, she fell asleep.

  Bishop woke late the next morning with a pounding head and smelling like a bordello. He groaned and tried to sit up, but blackness threatened to overcome him. Lying on the cold stone floor, he concentrated on remembering where he was. Just thinking made his headache worse. His eyes fluttered shut as he dozed off again.

  When he woke again, his overfilled bladder was painful enough that he clambered clumsily to his feet and stumbled into the bathing room. After relieving himself, he bent over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. His head felt like there was an evil blacksmith in there fiendishly pounding on hot iron. He dried his face, stopping to carefully probe the knot above his ear when he brushed against it with the towel.

  Well, that explained the pounding head. He couldn’t quite remember exactly where he was or why he was here. Holding on to the doorway for support, he went to stare at the small room where he woke. The woman sprawled sound asleep on the bed sparked a few vague memories. He noticed his shera and vest flung on a chair and slowly moved to pick them up and put them on.

  Then he went to the front door and left. Outside on the porch, he closed his eyes against the bright sunlight that seemed to sear his brain. Walking home was clearly going to be a challenge, but something urged him to leave immediately. He had learned to obey those urges long ago. Slitting his eyes against the sunlight, he set his sights on a small building down the trail and determinedly staggered toward it.

  So ended his first harvest fest in the valley.

  * * * * *

  Early the morning after the Rebaccah’s Promise harvest fest dinner, Samara gladly set off alone for Sunrise where Tyger planned to meet her. By the time she reached the small village, he would be waiting with a full cart of fleeces he picked up at Jump Stag Spring. Wispy fog still wreathed through the dark woods, creating a brooding edgy feel to the lonely path but she was so relieved to finally leave the endless discussions of pregnancy and babies that she would gladly fight off any demons who might appear.

  With surprise, she admitted she was eager to reach home. While she dearly loved her sister and her family, she longed for the peace and quiet of her own dome. Closely examining her feelings, she came to the conclusion that having a mate and children might not be as wonderful as she had dreamed. She liked having her dome to herself. She treasured her privacy, her freedom to walk around in her dome without her clothes on if she wished. She longed to be home where she could luxuriate in the sensual abandon of sleeping naked.

  With an impish grin she admitted that she was anxious to get home so she could try the gift from her sister. Buried deep in her bag, wrapped in one of her meerlims was a dark blue chinka representation of a life-sized kzusha. She and Qwenna had laughed when her older sister Elizabeth had showed up with an exquisitely carved box in hand. But Samara’s face flushed deep lavender in embarrassment when she opened the box and saw what was inside. Qwenna and Lizzie giggled softly while Samara silently examined the chinka kzusha, turning it so that she could see the fine details.

  It wouldn’t be the same as having Bishop. Nothing would be the same as that—not even another man. And the chinka dildo was much finer than the wooden one in her dream. But in the dark silent night when she longed to fill that empty place deep inside…maybe, just maybe Elizabeth’s gift would help.

  Soft shuffling noises behind her jarred her from her daydreams, finally grabbing her attention. She whirled on the path, brandishing her heavy walking stick as she faced a stranger. The young man smiled disarmingly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

  “Well, you did.” She gestured for him to pass. “You go on ahead. No need to be stuck behind me on this narrow path.” The tiny hairs on her neck stood up in alarm as he approached her. When he drew even with her, it was clear that though he gave her a friendly smile, it didn’t reach his cold, dark eyes. Involuntarily she shivered as she watched him move off down the path. It bothered her that he was vaguely familiar
. There was something very wrong with the stranger.

  Walking briskly enough to keep him in sight, she followed him to the edge of Sunrise where he melted into the woods as though he didn’t want the villagers to see him. She determined that she would give a report to the village council member. There were enough four-legged dangers to deal with in the woods, without having to worry about the two-legged variety.

  Picking up speed, she hurried into the shelter of the village and quickly sought out Joseph Marks, the council member. Once her story was told, Joseph notified the other council members and warriors were dispatched to patrol the main trails.

  A stir at the northern edge of the village snagged her attention. Tyger had arrived at last with his heavy cart of fleeces. Samara met him at the guest hut, waiting patiently while he slowly cooled down as he drank several cups of freshly pressed apple cider.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her in inquiry. “So, what has you upset?”

  As clearly as possible she described the stranger and his odd behavior. “He seemed familiar to me, Ty, but when I tried to pin down why—”

  “You couldn’t remember, eh?” Tossing down the last of the cider, he set the cup on the guest hut windowsill next to the cider jug. “Well, you did the correct thing in reporting him. Now the warriors and villages will be alerted. Are you ready to leave?”

  “Of course. I can’t wait to reach Lost Market!”

  “Then toss your bags into the cart. No need for you to carry them. Besides, it will leave your hands free to swing that heavy walking stick, if need be.”