Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  Abruptly, she pressed herself close. "Hold me."

  He groaned with need as he enveloped her, lifting her off the ground.

  Not a breath of space existed between them anymore.

  Skin to skin.

  Scars against scars.

  Completely.

  Entirely.

  Exposed.

  Her breaths shaking, she clung to him and kissed along the dip in his neck and up to his jaw.

  His hands moved along her back, firm and insistent, kneading down her shoulders and spine, her hips and her butt. He brushed his knuckle just over the top of the elmis on her lower back.

  Gasping, she lifted her head. "That gives you such an unfair advantage. I can't focus if you do that."

  He raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips and a wild look in his eyes. "That's meant to dissuade me?" He swept his fingertips over the dips above her elmis.

  If he hadn't kept his arm banded around her waist, she might have twisted free from the sheer intensity of the ache spreading through her. "Don't let me go."

  "Never, veskaro." He pulled her tight. "Never."

  How fast the mood changed. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Some small shard of fear cut him as well, echoing in her mind and heart. And they both understood.

  As much as anyone could.

  Darkness lay ahead.

  Sorrow. Pain.

  In a week or so, she probably wouldn't know him from a nightmare. What would time matter in a place like this?

  He would be there on the other side. If she made it.

  If what was waiting didn't destroy her.

  If it didn't turn her into a shell.

  A shell that something creepy and moon-eyed might fill.

  She gritted her teeth. It wouldn't, and it wouldn't take this moment or any other good thing.

  Seizing his face, she claimed his mouth with hers. Her tongue scraped his teeth as she sought him. It intensified into a tangle of passion and need as he pulled her to the ground.

  Abruptly she shoved at his broad shoulders and knocked him back. In almost the same breath, she pounced on him.

  He laughed. Delight warred with desire in his brilliant eyes as he seized her wrists. "Do you want to ride me again, veskaro?"

  "It's better than running." Somehow a ragged laugh escaped her as her pulse careened out of control.

  "Unless you want me to catch you." He grinned. A low growl rumbled from his throat. "When you pulled that trick in the Mallakish Mountains, I wanted you horribly. I wanted to chase you down and mount you there in the forest. Make you feel every inch of me."

  "Yet here I am riding you."

  "If you actually would, I'd have happily accepted it. And either way, you'd be feeling me." He winked at her, then gave her a mock glare. "Now make good on your promise, veskaro, or so help me, I will mount you."

  "Such a terrifying threat. It'd be a shame if you followed through on it." She eased herself over him. The rumbling moan that escaped him made her clench and feel all liquid at once.

  She lost herself in the rhythm and the tension, her eyelids slipping shut.

  There was a way through Dry Deep.

  A point to surviving it. So much left to experience. So much left to share.

  Part of her was shredded and falling away like an old snake skin. Who was beneath it?

  Would she know the person she was becoming?

  Would she be better?

  She would lose herself in Dry Deep for a time. Lose herself and all control. Her mind, her consciousness, her will, her everything.

  They would return.

  But who would she be when they did?

  What did she know?

  That she wanted this closeness, this connection. To just be. To love and be loved. To be at peace.

  Quickening her pace, she fought to focus on the physical sensations rather than the thoughts that tried to drag her into bleak foreknowledge. The heat and pulsing in her core, the threads between them coming together and shining in her mind's eye. His chest beneath her hands. The sensation of him within her. Her heart thundering, her blood raging. His pulse scorching in his throat.

  She slid her wrist elmis up along his jaw. Her fingers caressed his temples and played with his hair. Every time her elmis were pressed flush with his skin, relief and delight spread through her, grounding and connecting her.

  The deep rich sensation of him in his entirety swept over her, bringing her back to that dark room and the threads. They spun and coiled, so vivid in her mind's eye that she could have slid in there and immersed in the emotions alone.

  But the body wasn't bad either.

  She slipped back between the two spaces. Each time she blinked that room was there, warm now and pulsing with life and their combined feelings. Then she was back with him, on him, rocking and lifting.

  His hands worked along her body, one always near the small of her back. No matter how she pushed or twisted, he refused to do more than graze the edges of her elmis.

  "And you call me a vicious tease?" she demanded, driving her hips against him.

  His breath ragged, he laughed. "After what you put me through, you stubborn little onion fish?" He dragged his fingers over the top and bottom edges of her elmis.

  Gasping, she arched back; he held her in place, one hand gripping her hips. Those threads were bright, brilliant, gleaming—red and green powerful and vibrant and spiraled together.

  The pleasure intensified and crested. Release tore through her body. Dropping her head back, she screamed.

  That scream shredded her voice, and out of it poured every ounce of fear and tension, love and need. She screamed until her lungs begged for air, until her ears went numb, and until she collapsed against him.

  He cupped his hand along the back of her head and stroked down the length of her back. He continued to thrust, more lazily now, no longer seeming in much of a hurry. "You're all right?"

  She nodded, her fingers curling against his chest. Her heart still raced.

  "Good." Growling, he flipped her onto her back and took her hard. Several strokes later he found his own release.

  He leaned over her, his arms on either side of her. "So… you found the mood, veskaro."

  Laughing breathlessly, she tugged a strand of his coarse black hair. Somehow its texture appealed to her in the same way his crystal-blue eyes had become her favorite.

  "The will is an incredible thing." She let her eyes slide shut, every nerve in her body quivering and settling. "You really shouldn't be so good at this."

  He dipped his head, smirking. "You shouldn't be so beautiful. Within and without."

  Her gaze slid back to the forest, her heart growing heavy again as the dread intensified in the pit of her stomach. Already the bliss and pleasure faded. "If I become something evil—"

  He kissed her slowly down her neck and between her breasts, one hand cupped around each. "You won't, veskaro."

  She traced a pattern on his chest, forcing herself to look at him and not the darkness. "Don't let me hurt you or anyone else."

  His expression softened. "Veskaro, I have watched you these weeks, and I know you. You haven't let anything stop you. You're strong enough to withstand this as well."

  "Rocks are strong too," she whispered. "But they can't survive the sea forever. And I'm afraid that that is what the Ki Valo Nakar is for me. More than that I am afraid that Elonumato won't save me from it. He allowed it inside me. He has allowed it to live in me. And He has not removed it." She pressed her lips into a tight line. "So I don't understand it. And maybe that wasn't an issue because I was supposed to die. Maybe I still will. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it. Why remove something that's never going to be an issue? Except—now it is. And surely He knew that it would be. But there's no answer."

  He placed his hands on her hips. His hardness pressed against her. "You won't go through this alone. Mind shades are usually deadly, and we were able to free you from that."

  Flattening her hands a
gainst the muscular planes of his chest, she slid them over his skin. Two of her fingers caught along the ridged spider-webbed scar. "I know that you will do all you can. And I want you to know that I could never have guessed or anticipated how good you would make me feel or how much your love means to me now. You have changed. You've changed so much, and I love you. And if something happens that takes me away or that—I don't even know what. But I want you to know I do love you, and I am happy that this is where we are. And I hope we get to a place where we can just be without worrying about survival and politics and all of those things."

  He cupped his hand along the side of her face. "You're truly afraid it will overwhelm you and that you will go evil?"

  She nodded.

  "If the worst happens and you start ripping souls, take comfort in this. The fastest I've ever seen any embodiment of the Ki Valo Nakar take a soul is forty-five seconds. You have no experience. If you start taking one of our souls, I will stop you."

  "You'll kill me?"

  "I'll break your hands if I must."

  She tilted her head, mulling this over. "You're sure that would work?"

  "They always use their hands to channel and call."

  "But if it's magic of some sort, isn't it possible that it's just that the hands are incidental to the use?"

  "Fine. If you keep ripping out a soul after I break your hands, I'll consider the alternative." As he offered a half smile, he placed his hands over hers and pulled her back on top of him. "But it won't be necessary, veskaro."

  She nodded slowly, then stretched out along him and rested her head on his chest. "I trust you."

  82

  Time

  He took her twice more before they at last concluded they had to leave.

  All good things had to end.

  Amelia held onto the pleasant sensation as long as she could, her hand tucked firmly in his. But with each step deeper into the Forest Between and toward Dry Deep, it tried to fade. She clung to it, forced the memories to replay in her mind. The sensation, the connection, the delight. All of it.

  His hand over hers grounded her further. They didn't even have to talk for now.

  If he weren't there, she wondered if she would fade away entirely.

  When they reached the riverside camp that AaQar, WroOth, and QueQoa had prepared, it was as if they had never left. The fire blazed, and a scent similar to charred salmon filled the air. Someone had chopped down one of the trees to make logs for sitting as well as burning. The dark waters chuckled softly beyond the bank. Haunting. Almost beautiful. The long night had not passed swiftly, and dawn would not be fast coming.

  "Two good things," AaQar said as QueQoa handed each of them more servings of fish. "There is no evidence of anything living in the Forest Between. That much at least has not changed. Unless one counts the fish in the river. And the second is that being in Dry Deep, we will not experience the effects of the aura storm."

  "It would be wise for someone to scale high enough to see what kind of storm it is though." Naatos sat beside her, his leg pressed alongside hers.

  That almost made her smile. It wasn't enough for him to be near her. He had to be against her. Or on her. She no longer minded either.

  "We won't be that far into Dry Deep," AaQar conceded. "It shouldn't be hard to get up high enough to confirm. I've cataloged the supplies. We have enough of the herbs to keep making Amelia's tea for at least nineteen days."

  She sighed. "Will the tea help?" She cleared her throat, surprised at the rasping. She was still hoarse from all the screaming. It had been cathartic and almost as cleansing as the vestoving itself, but she'd expected it to heal by now.

  "It will help prevent the disassociation and some of the worst symptoms, but only for a time," AaQar said as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about the way she spoke.

  WroOth ducked his head, a grin twitching at his lips.

  "What?" She narrowed her eyes at him as she lifted her chin, failing to entirely suppress her smile. "Was there something you were going to say?"

  "Nothing at all."

  QueQoa shrugged. "Just that tea with honey might help the throat at this moment." He gave her an almost apologetic look as he added. "Some sounds carry farther in the forest. Especially if one is—screaming."

  She shook her head, smiling a little more. Part of her didn't even care at the moment. But the way he said it was so matter-of-fact. There really wasn't any judgment in it. "I suppose some sounds do." She leaned into Naatos as he put his arm around her. "I could try being quieter next time."

  "Don't you dare." He kissed her shoulder, then nuzzled her.

  She closed her eyes. Only a short time ago his lips set her on fire; now they were a warm and comforting sensation. A reminder that he was there. Elonumato wasn't sending her into Dry Deep alone. She had a husband. And brothers. A family that wasn't going to abandon her if she did turn or if she lost her mind.

  Uncle Joe and Jacinda's parents had set Jacinda up with an alarm button so that if Amelia attacked her, Jacinda could call for help. It was supposed to be a secret, but Jacinda had never been good at keeping secrets. It stung. Even in memory. Even if she understood it. Affirmed that she was an abhorrent creature who would one day collapse into an evil killing machine if she did not fulfill her destiny in enough time.

  But her family here did not believe that at all. Whether good or foolish, she didn't know. But they wouldn't leave her. They hadn't even been moved by the knowledge of the Ki Valo Nakar.

  Had she known about that when she was a child or on Earth—well, she wouldn't have known what to do. That knowledge would have devoured her. She might have taken herself into the field to slash her wrists sooner.

  As hard as this would be, she did take comfort in knowing she would not be abandoned.

  But—if she hurt them—this couldn't be the way that the prophecy was fulfilled. Please, don't let it be the way the prophecy is fulfilled, she prayed. We're not going to cause any harm here.

  The rest of the meal passed with more conversation about their plans. There were only a couple hours of night left. But rest was essential.

  She hesitated as Naatos pulled the rope out of the pack. "You're going to tie our feet together again?"

  "If you sleepwalk, I want to know."

  Sighing, she sat down. "Hammocks aren't safe because we might be attacked, but this—this is safe."

  He tied it around her ankle with care.

  "At least you didn't turn it into a part of my body."

  Grunting, he tucked the end into the loop. "I did that to myself once. Surprisingly painful. Especially if you set the rope on fire."

  "How did you set yourself on fire?"

  "I didn't." He shot a glare at WroOth.

  WroOth lifted his hand, a pleased smile on his face. "You said it wouldn't catch fire because you got the rope wet."

  Naatos shook his head. "I said don't set it on fire even if it's wet."

  "That's not how I remember it."

  "It was eight hundred years ago," AaQar said with a sigh. "Find something better to argue about, you two."

  WroOth turned to face him. "Did you or did you not—"

  "No." AaQar held up his hand.

  "You haven't even heard what I was going to say."

  "I don't need to. I know that tone. I concede. You win. Let me sleep. Have the first watch as a reward." He stretched out on the ground just behind the log and tented his arm over his eyes.

  QueQoa had already fallen asleep. He snored loud enough that Tacky avoided his face and instead scurried over to AaQar to investigate.

  WroOth sat down beside AaQar's head and stared at his brother intently. "The blue-and-white teapot," he said with slow deliberate enunciation.

  AaQar lifted one finger. "No."

  "Blue and white."

  "WroOth. I am asleep. Argue with yourself."

  "Why would I do that? I know I'm always right."

  Amelia watched, curious. It didn't seem wise to intervene
.

  "Come on." Naatos tugged at her arm. "Come rest. You need a couple hours at least."

  Fair.

  She snuggled up against him, pushing her backside into his groin. "Close enough?"

  "Never close enough." He chuckled, then nipped her earlobe before he pulled the blanket over them.

  WroOth placed a leaf on AaQar's forehead, followed by another. "Blue. And. White."

  "Should we do something?" she whispered.

  "Not unless you want him to torment you instead."

  The weight of his arm comforted her as did the solidness of his body behind her. Soft snores alerted her that he had already fallen asleep. A deep sleep if the sound and feel of him was any indication. Little wonder after all they had done.

  Her own mind did not want to still even though exhaustion plagued her as well. Even as the silence of the Forest Between pressed over her like a crushing weight. She pulled the blanket up over her face and burrowed down against Naatos as if not seeing the forest would somehow protect her. He didn't even stir as she shifted positions.

  Soon drowsiness overtook her.

  A low sensation of dread tightened her body.

  It was calling her again.

  No.

  No, no, no. She tried to rouse herself. Fought to pull herself out of sleep's hold. Tacky wasn't even close enough that she could grab him. He'd placed himself on top of Naatos's leg and sunk into a deep sleep of his own.

  The darkness claimed her. In this dream, she stood on the edge of Dry Deep, the air crisp and aching. Several unformed ones approached, sending their sorrowful cries straight into her mind.

  How many?

  So many.

  Her eyes blurred the forms as the heaviness overcame her. All coming toward her. All desperate. All needing. All deadly.

  Instinct commanded her. It took over her limbs and forced her to stand straight, to do what she had to.

  It was as essential as breathing. But it was becoming like breathing with pneumonia.