He placed his hand on the rock near her. "Veskaro, you know that there is a law present in all sorcery and magic: those with souls may not be forced to act against that which lies within. Love spells can't work if there isn't the inclination or the spark of potential. Nothing can create or remove love. It can only fan or choke. Neyeb do love easily. Often swiftly. But, as you have seen with yourself, you haven't lost control of your will. You control it. And if you decided to, you could destroy it."
"Really?"
"All feelings can be destroyed."
"Why were you so… you acted like I had no other choice?"
"Because… I spent years thinking of you as mine. Our marriage was arranged. Traditionally, every Neyeb is given the option to reject the nulaaming before their twenty-fourth birthday. That was not the case for you. Would not have been the case even if you had been among your own people."
"They didn't want me to have that option."
"No."
Her body tightened. "Because I'm a monster."
He canted his head. "Because there is no one closer than a spouse. Some of the early warning signs would appear in my mind before yours. I was pledged to watch for those signs and handle the situation."
"You only listed the warning signs that affect me in that list. What would you see? And have you seen any?"
"I haven't seen any. What concerns me with you is that you don't see boundaries in minds. We'll need to test that soon. After you're stronger."
She lifted her gaze back to his. There was something beautiful in this space. The openness here comforted her. "Do Vawtrians ever get… I don't know—crushes? Like maybe not sexual feelings but maybe some general sense of attraction or the desire for something more with someone? Other than the locking."
"Yes. Though it is hard to explain what that feels like."
"Did you ever experience that? Or think about it?"
His gaze softened as if he weighed the response. "Yes. I have loved before. And I have wanted some relationships to be more than they were. But it never worked. At times, I thought there could be no one. Over the centuries, I went to countless Festivals of the Veskaro. I did all I could. Even tried to make it happen."
"Make it happen? What does that mean? For a Vawtrian."
He shrugged. "Kalimatting. Talking. Sorcery."
"Making out, communicating, and magic? Magic like a love spell or incantation?"
"That was Hatet's idea."
"Hatet? Cadre Hatet? Igrold and Hatet?" She contemplated this, remembering Hatet's words at the wedding. She'd mentioned she'd been interested in Naatos, but their relationship had seemed more like family than former lovers.
He smiled slightly, his expression almost coy. "Are you jealous, veskaro?"
"No." She propped her chin on her fist. "Just surprised. I'd forgotten that. Why didn't it work? You two make a lot of sense."
"This bond is not about what makes sense. By all logical measures, Hatet and I were ideally suited. We tried. Many times. But the locking would not come for either of us. No matter how much we tried. And Hatet was desperate for it to work. So we sought someone who was rumored to be capable of such things. But there was nothing to ignite."
"That must have been…" she wasn't sure what the right word was. "…disappointing."
"She was heartbroken."
So was he. Not that he would admit it. "Didn't you help arrange Igrold and Hatet's marriage?"
"I did."
"Was that hard?"
"No harder than realizing I was Hatet's third choice for a veskare." He paused, meeting her inquisitive gaze. "In some moments, yes. Not as difficult as with Esilio."
"But you—it's amazing how you handled that. How is it that you were this calm and this even in something like that? And with me, you just—there was none of that. Is how you know you're compatible the fact that you lose your temper and can't think straight?"
"Vawtrians tend to become… less intelligent during the early phases of the relationship. Or so stories say. It is harder to think. Even before the locking takes place, we can sometimes experience the potential of the connection, and it reduces our ability to reason. There's a general offness. You started affecting me as soon as we met on Valne's Peak. Just so subtly I didn't realize what was happening."
She curled her fingers along the stone. "And what about Esilio?"
"It was the same with her as it was for Hatet. Nothing worked. But she did not need my help in finding her veskare."
"Did you feel lonely? Or was that just not a need that you knew you had until the locking?"
"It wasn't so bad in the beginning. But as time passed, I became aware of a type of loneliness. A kind of longing. Easy to ignore at first. And something I could live with. It wasn't intolerable. For a time, I thought there was no one for me."
"Why would you think that?" He didn't lack confidence. He'd certainly projected no such fear with her. Maybe that was different when he was younger. But still…
His gaze shifted to the stone wall and the edge of the sky that slipped through the broad-branched trees. "This is not something you speak of to anyone, do you understand?"
"Our conversation here?"
"What I am about to tell you."
"All right." Curious, she leaned closer, lifting a little farther out of the water.
"My situation with Hatet occurred shortly after Rasha and AaQar were locked and held their ceremony. We went to an enchantress who was also what you might call a matchmaker. You could visit her, and if there was that spark, she could help it flourish. But she had a book. Allegedly it contained the names of one's living soul mates."
"Soul mates?" She emphasized the plural.
He nodded. "I know where you are from that they tend to see it as singular. And in some cases, it might as well be. Sometimes it actually is. But the concept here is…a soul mate is someone with whom you are well-suited. Well-suited in such a manner that you should always make one another better. It is an exponential multiplying effect. For Vawtrians, these are the only individuals with whom we are compatible unless added steps are taken. What makes it challenging is not everyone has someone. It's also possible for people to die before the connection is made. Many, especially non-Vawtrians, can find happiness and good relationships without it."
"Why don't all Vawtrians go to this matchmaker then?"
"Some Vawtrians like to believe that it is fate that brings you to your veskaro. That there is only one. One true mate. Some think it invites bad luck. And such individuals are hard to find as it is. They are rare, move around, and demand steep prices. Hatet had many with whom she was a good match. I—I had one soul mate who lived at the time, and she was with another. The enchantress suggested I return later as the book's knowledge extended only to those currently living. And I did. When she wasn't there so I could see the name."
"Was she someone you knew?"
Another nod.
"Who was she?"
He stared past her, his voice quiet. "Our lives could play through in many ways, Amelia. Some say that there are other timelines that ripple out, separated by the Tue-Rah in an ever-expanding tapestry of life and choices. But all we know is this one strand that we are on. Unless we find a way to transcend."
He didn't want to say who. Didn't want her to know. That little niggle of curiosity intensified, but she stifled it. As she studied him, she frowned. "I actually—I don't know how to say this, but I'm impressed that you didn't go in and demand she go with you. You've always insisted that you can have everything you want."
His expression remained somber. "You do not take another Vawtrian's veskaro. Ever. Sorcery and bad faith can allow a bond to form if the veskaro is not Vawtrian as well, but nothing good has ever come of that. Wars have started over less." He paused, his expression hardening. "Many wars have started over the locking alone."
"You know… we've had a lot of problems. But at least you didn't start a war because of me."
"I would though." That flat defiance in his
crystal-blue eyes wasn't intended to impress. "Especially now."
She dropped her gaze. The thought of a war starting because of her sickened her more than saying Dry Deep. No. Oh mercy. Why had she thought that?
"What's wrong?" He frowned.
She drew her hand up over her face. "Nothing important. Just whenever I think of Dry Deep, I get nauseated. Almost like I need to throw up. I never do though. It's just strange. I know you said Neyeb found ways to teach their children to be afraid of spiders, creating that instinctive response. Is it possible that that's what this is?"
"Perhaps. It might be—" Naatos shook his head as if second guessing himself. "The Dry Deep is a difficult place for Neyeb. At least if you're there too long. Some would go there on pilgrimages. I guided a few. It was—those who go there go for particular purposes. It is dangerous to remain too long. Eventually the body starts to break down in that place."
"Why would anyone want to go there?" she asked. "What brings them?"
"It can be easier to gain clarity."
"Is there only one Dry Deep?"
"There are several. Though they say they are all connected. An old myth says that all caverns and caves have passages that lead eventually to the Great Dry Deep. We will be passing that and walking its edge."
"No chance we'll fall in? Or wander in by accident?"
He chuckled. "No. You have to intend to enter it. If you fell, you'd die. There are only a few places where one can enter. I have no intention of taking you through there. And if some horror forced us through, I would make sure you made it through."
"Let's just avoid it."
"How is your mind healing?"
She gave him a frustrated smile, knowing precisely what underlay that question. "I don't know what I'm looking for. Some things are easy for me. But understanding is not. I feel like I'm missing a huge foundation, and I am trying to build on shifting sand."
"You are. You've had no one to train you. So you're working off books that don't include all of the basics and your own instincts. It isn't easy, veskaro."
"I still can't tell whether there was another conscious Neyeb involved with Rasha and the Okalu."
"It's also possible it was just sorcery."
She let her cheek slide onto the rock. "Possible. Lots of things are possible."
He matched her pose. "Except me touching you in this river."
She curled her fingers against the grey stone, her gaze dropping once more to the water. "Just because you can't touch me doesn't mean you can't come closer. If you want."
The look that blazed in his eyes and the mood that flared off him left no doubt. As in the training circle, it pinned her. Froze her. Rooted her in place.
She'd expected him to swim around, but he lifted himself out of the water and climbed over the rock to her. The fine spray of water dried almost as soon as it struck her. She blinked and he was already over her. So close she could feel his heat and his pulse. Close but not touching.
"Get on your back," he growled in her ear.
The hairs on her neck lifted. She kept her eyes fixed on him as she slowly turned, taking care to keep her breasts beneath the water. With her shoulders pressed back against the rock and the water lapping against her, she held her breath.
Splaying his hands on the stone on either side of her, he leaned in. She tensed. He came closer still. From this angle, she could see the long lines of his bare torso. A few scars spiraled and curled over his ribs and shoulders. He leaned even closer still with effortless ease and breathed against her.
His breath teased the line of her jaw to her throat to what little of her breasts was exposed. Then back up. He slid his mouth to her ear and her neck, grazing dangerously close.
Every thought, every objection, every concern faded into awareness of only a few details. The heat from his mouth. The nearness of his body. The need within her. The hunger in him. The emptiness around her. An emptiness he could fill.
Her pulse pounded through her entire body.
Bracing her hands against the stone, she lifted herself a little higher from the water.
He rumbled his approval as he drew himself over her once more, his mouth a mere breath from hers. His lips parted as his tongue teased near hers.
Her mouth opened in response, her back arched.
He pulled back, then leaned in again. That smirk of delight broadened as he met her gaze. "Close enough?"
She laughed breathlessly. "I don't think you could get any closer without touching me."
"Is that a challenge?" He arched his brow.
"I—"
He leaned in again, coming so close to her that if she even stirred she'd brush against his mouth. Again and again.
Everything was on fire now. She was going to go insane. She wanted him. Needed him. Had to have him. She dug her fingers into the rock, clenching her jaw, choking the sounds that threatened to erupt.
"You can scream if you want to."
"Not if we don't want your brothers to come see what's wrong."
He laughed, his own breaths ragged. "Screams of pain and pleasure are different. As are screams of anger. They'll know better than to come here when it's just the two of us."
"I don't want anyone to hear us."
"How strange it would be if people knew we were so intimate," Naatos said. "Only married—how long has it been?"
"Less than eight weeks unfortunately."
Growling, he dropped his head. "The only good thing about this infernal waiting is that it has given me more than enough time to think of what I am going to do to you and where."
"You've been planning what you're going to do to me?" She meant to laugh but she was still panting. Her legs and arms were weak, her insides all liquid except for a burning core that made her feel as if she was about to explode.
"Haven't you?"
The last thing she needed to do was look at him again. She focused instead on a boulder in the distance. A very long hard boulder. Did nature always have so many phallic shapes? Covering her face, she closed her eyes. How were they going to make it? Maybe it was worth it to go out this way. Everyone died one day. "I am not enjoying my sexual awakening."
"That's probably because we aren't having any kind of sex."
"It's miserable."
"That's what every man wants to hear after he and his veskaro have kalimatted."
"We weren't kalimatting. We weren't even touching." She pressed her hand harder to her face. How did she make these feelings die down?
He laughed. "Oh, veskaro, if it weren't for the fact that the climax is the part that would probably kill you or collapse your mind, I could do it without laying a finger on you."
She turned on him. "You know, you talk an awful lot about how good you are and how good it's going to be. But one of these days you're going to have to prove it. Until then, stop talking about it!" She struck her hand in the water, sending a spray against him.
He smirked at her from the top of the rock. "Are you feeling tense, veskaro?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm fine."
He drew in a deep breath and chuckled. "So you don't want to talk about what's coming?" He stretched out on the rock with deliberate grace and in such a fashion that she couldn't help but notice how stunning his body really was.
She averted her eyes. "Why do you have scars? You're a Vawtrian. You can heal. And those don't look like venom."
"Oh you're not luring me into another soul baring conversation, my beautiful onion fish. If we're going to talk, it is going to be about the one thing we're both thinking about."
"That the weather has been nice for way too long and we're probably due for a storm?" She tried filling her lungs. Why couldn't she catch her breath? Her heart was still racing.
"That as soon as you are ready, I will be on you. I will lay you out and make you scream so loud that if there are any survivors on this world, they will all hear and know the truth. That you're already about to crawl out of your skin. That you want me on you and
in you. That I'm going to take my time with you. Spread you and devour you."
"Okay, maybe we don't talk anymore. If that's all you want to talk about." This was maddening. She slid down in the water until it came up to her chin. That deep silky voice of his was making her pulse in places that shouldn't be able to pulse.
"You can always leave if you like. Except I've noticed you get very still with me sometimes. So still. But not because you're afraid. You were so fast before. Barely stopped for anything. Even when you had no chance. But now…" His gaze drifted over her. "You don't want to escape me. You don't even want to run. You want to be still and let me have my way with you. You want to know what I'm going to do to you. What I don't understand is that you could know. You could peer into my mind. Find the answer. But you don't. Is it because you want to be surprised?"
She set her jaw, her hands braced tight against the rock. How were words alone making her burn? This was ridiculous!
"Or maybe it's because you have your own thoughts. I would love to hear them."
"I really don't." She could feel the heat spreading even more. This had been a terrible idea. Challenging him on his prowess as a lover had been stupid. Of course he was going to try to prove her wrong! She could have let it slide. Just left the stream. But no. She had to push him. If she had to stay near him for one more second, she was going to—
"Hmmm. I doubt that. But I have one vision of you that has been especially excruciating and alluring. You upside down with your legs—" He broke off, the mood twisting.
Turning, she drew herself farther up. "Are you all right?"
He released a tight breath. "Yes." His jaw tight, he drove his fist against the stone. "It's fine."
"Are you in pain?" She frowned.
He groaned, the sound a strange guttural rumble. "You need to go. I'm fine."
"Are you all right?"
"You need to go. Or I'm going to take you."
Oh. It clicked inside her. She couldn't sort through her feelings and his, but he'd drawn too close to the edge. With no release possible, it was excruciating. For both of them.
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