“All men fight,” whispered Skarga. “All men kill.”
“I’m not all men,” he answered. “The transanima have no interest in new territories, though we’ll fight to keep our own and some of us enjoy the passion of battle. Most of us are predators. But a predator fights for a purpose, rarely for pleasure.”
She nodded. “For food.”
“And dominance and status, the right to breed, self-defence. Defending his pride, defending a mate, defending his young.” He laughed. “And sheer bad temper.”
She thought she had seen him angry before. But bear bluster, he called it. The mock charge. This battle had been very different. She hadn’t thought him angry. A cold fury at moments perhaps. Until he had killed Mandegga. “Why did you change your mind about me seeing you fight,” she asked, small voiced, “if you didn’t want me there?”
His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t want you anywhere near the place.” Then he relaxed. “I’ve told you things I never thought to tell any human. You’ve seen me in ways no other human ever has, nor will. To you the Shift must seem - so - inhuman. And I knew Orm’s challenge would inevitably involve both the Shift, and a good deal else. But in the end, to support the claim of dominant female, I had to have you there. So now you’ve seen me Change. And Change back.”
“I think it’s beautiful.” Skarga lowered her eyes and knew she was mumbling.
He lifted her face again to his, cupping his fingers beneath her chin. “It’s something we, I, find enormously satisfying. Exhilarating. Physically thrilling. Joyous. It’s a joy no human can understand – or equal.”
She felt the heat of her own blush and hoped the room was too dark to expose her. “When I’ve mentioned Shifting to any of the other transanima except you, they don’t like it. As if I’m prying. Is it rude to talk about it? Is it so private?”
He laughed again, his eyes a small breath from her own. “There’s a protocol. We consider the Shift personal, done but not questioned. You can talk about it to me. Not to others. It’s intimate. I should have warned you. Sometimes I forget you need everything explained.”
“Then if I can I talk about it to you,” she said quietly, looking away from his intensity, “can I ask why this time you came back too fast? Did I – upset you? You told me before about changing too fast. You said it was terrible.”
He paused, not answering, but watching her quietly for a moment and looking into her eyes. Then silently he leaned over her and began to unhook the pins of her two silver broaches. Beneath the tunic, her shift was already torn to her waist. Over it, the once grand silk was sticky with stains. Some of the blood was still wet. That had been Mandegga’s blood.
Thoddun removed both broaches, and dropped them on the floor. He said, “These were my mother’s.” Skarga looked up, startled. Thoddun shook his head. “Don’t be alarmed. I know my brother gave them to you. I’ve no objection to you wearing my mother’s possessions, but I shall get you others.” Then he pulled back the loosened shoulder straps of her tunic and untied the band beneath her arm. Finally he rolled the heavy material down to her waist, revealing the torn shift. His hands brushed against her and she trembled.
He looked up at her again and gently smiled. “Do you mind?”
It sounded so unexpectedly polite that Skarga laughed. “Don’t you know?”
“Now I know.” He slipped his hands inside the ripped pleating and stretched the opening wide. His fingers caressed her uncovered breasts, tracing their curves. “I’ll tell you why I came back too quickly,” he said softly. “It was unwise. It was something I haven’t done for many, many years. A boy’s mistake.” He was watching the swell of her breasts and his own fingers as they travelled her body. “The Shift to the bear is always emotional, and here in the north he calls to me. Orm’s challenge brought out old yearnings. I didn’t want to kill Orm, I wanted him to surrender. But the bear doesn’t have the same control as the man, nor precisely the same expectations. Passions, desires, he has those I have and I have his. But his can become, let us say, impatient - unchecked.”
She found it difficult to speak, breathing in the slow stroking of his hands against her skin. “I understand,” she whispered. “At least, I think I can.”
“Fighting, while Shifted,” Thoddun continued, “inspires great animal arousal. Killing demands an even deeper level of passion. Anger and excitement and something else, fulfilling nature’s need. Then I heard your call.” He stretched suddenly beside her, wrapping one arm warm inside her open shift around the nakedness of her waist. He swung up his legs onto the bed, the whole strength of him tight pressed to her. He murmured, “A bear will always protect his mate.” His mouth now rested against her shoulder and he nuzzled her neck. “Silly little cub. You still don’t understand, do you?”
She mumbled, losing her voice entirely. “I can’t read your thoughts,” and felt his smile against her ear.
“Then I shall tell you, my sweet.” He moved back a little, so that his head rested against the heaped pillows Then he swung her over against him, curled, her head to his breast. He put both arms around her within her torn shift, and held her still and close. “I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he said, his voice soft over her hair. “Desired you. A man’s desire. But the man controls what he believes unwise, and with you I thought it unwise.” Her own arm crept around him, her palm sliding over the wet smooth muscles. His fingers on her back responded, clasping firmly. “The bear has no such – reticence,” he continued. “And little judgement in his passions. He was called on to defend the female he wanted. To fight for a female, and to kill in order to protect her, is to claim her. But to have you required the Change back to man. The bear was impulsive – fevered – impatient. Already aroused by the battle and the victory, he responded – unchecked. That sort of lust is undisciplined. So he Changed too fast. I would have taken you at once, but I would have hurt you. I was too much beast.” After another pause, he asked quietly, “Do you understand now, little one?”
She had hardly moved. She felt increasingly breathless. “You’re all man again now. Do you still think it’s unwise?”
“Oh, indeed I do.” He laughed. “But it’s far too late for wisdom.”
His hands moved slowly again, brushing across her breasts, circling her nipples so they rose tight between his fingertips. She caught her breath and sighed. “So why am I different?” she whispered, almost plaintive. “You said you’ve had lots of women, in every port. You told me you often –”
“Fucked with humans?” Thoddun laughed, kissing her neck where the small stinging wounds had stopped bleeding. “Did I tell you that? How offensive. It seems my lack of wisdom has few boundaries.”
“And you hate explaining,” Skarga sniffed.
“True. Explaining myself is something I’ve avoided all my life, though it seems to be something you’re particularly attached to. So I’ll tell you, although no doubt this is as unwise as everything else.” His hands had tightened on her again, holding her close. “Yes, like any man, I’ve spent time with many women, none of whom meant anything to me,” he continued. “Of course they were human women, since transanima females are exceptionally rare, and the one of those I did take, soon disgusted me. But those women knew nothing whatsoever about me, and I took care they did not. I simply enjoyed those few moments, as the sea wolf does. Or a few weeks, as the bear does.”
“I see,” whispered Skarga. “And I was even less attractive than that?”
Then his hands moved up away from her breasts and grasped her shoulders so savagely that she thought he was angry, though his voice remained gentle. “But what you do not see, silly puss, is that I have a third part,” he said. “And the eagle mates with only one chosen female, and takes her for life.”
Completely surprised and having no answer, she said nothing at all for some moments. Then he smiled, and lifted her a little, laid her back again against the pillows, and moved around to face her. He slipped the torn shift away from her shoulders, then down fr
om her arms, so that she sat naked to the waist. Then he began to wash her.
Wolf blood had soaked through her clothes. Cupping water from the bowl he had brought, and with his palms and the tips of his fingers, he cleansed her. There was no blood on her breasts, but he washed there too, caressing her carefully, water streaming between his fingers, so cold that she caught her breath and gasped and her nipples darkened. He washed her hands, not permitting her to wash them herself, but taking them, finger by finger. Finally he lifted her palms to his mouth, and kissed them clean, licking them and taking each finger between his lips. It had been his own blood there, where she had clasped his neck and the back of his hair.
He spoke very softly as he worked, crooning as a bard recites the poetry of the sagas. “Blood,” he said, “is the seductive trail the predator always follows. Alive and untainted, it smells of enticement. Hot, a little coppery, a little sweet. Female blood is soft, hinting of extravagance, singing of her cycle, and aromatic with other secrets from within her body. Male blood is metallic, and highly spiced. Dead blood is very strong, very rich, until it dries and hardens. Then it’s cold and rank, though that can also be tantalising. All those smells are perfumes on the air. The perfumes rise, or hang, and blow with the breezes. And they carry messages. Blood tells of its bearer. What creature bleeds. What has been eaten. Meat enriches. Grass and herbs lighten the scent.” Thoddun’s eyes had followed the trail of his fingers and the blood beneath them, but now he looked up and met her eyes. “And then there is fear. That is the most beautiful, and the most dangerous smell of all,” he said. “The living trail of vulnerability calls across the miles. Smelling fear on the wind makes me hungry. But there is one condition that alters the scent of fear. When your own woman is frightened, then it is a different call, even across great distances, and stabs hot through your own heart.” He looked deeper into her eyes, smiling a little, still tracing her body with the water. “So, if I ever frighten you, my love,” he continued, “you must tell me, if I don’t already know. And I will stop,” he said. “For I can also protect you from myself.”
He washed her face, his thumbs beneath her eyes and his palms gentle over her cheeks. Then he leaned forwards and kissed her mouth, with the heat of his breath and his tongue inside her. His kiss was no longer fierce, as when barely Shifted, but sensual and tender and deeply arousing. She had never understood arousal before. They were sensations she had never felt before knowing him. She said so, whispering tight to his ear as the short stubble across his jaw rasped against her.
“Don’t think about before,” he whispered back to her. And he kissed both her eyelids shut. “Just think about the here. Feel me touching you, nothing else. There is no world beyond my touch. Then I can hear your mind and know what you want.”
Skarga heard her own heartbeat unnaturally fast and loud. “But I don’t know what to do back. I can’t read you.”
He chuckled, moving one hand lower across the firm curve of her stomach. “No problem about that, my love. Breathe. And allow me. I need nothing else.” His fingers slipped below her torn shift and the tunic which lay still folded around her waist. Then he sat up a little, moving back, watching her as he removed the rest of her clothes, pulling them down from her hips. The cloth rubbed over her legs, then as he tossed the bundle to the ground, she felt the chill of nakedness. She stayed very still, holding her breath.
“Breathe, my love,” he reminded her. “Don’t you like the smells of bed-loving? Breathe them in. The scent of your sweat changes when you’re aroused. It’s strong and hot and carnal. I can taste you on the air.”
She dared not move, yet wished she might cover herself with her hands. But his own body was over hers, bending to her as he pulled down her stockings, the last of her clothing he removed, his hands stroking the inside of her legs, gentle over the remaining bandage still covering her ankle, harder as he pressed upwards.
Her toes curled as the soft wool was pulled away. She could feel the burning of his breath on her thighs, the pressure of his hands first around her calves, then slipping fast up between her legs. He laid his face on her belly, fingertips combing through the curls of thick hair at her groin. She felt the tickle against her own flesh as he smiled, watching her.
His fingers pushed, then stopped, leaving her again breathless. And, as she expected something else more intimate, instead he leaned away, up, then forwards again quite suddenly and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Your very small human nose,” he murmured, “is delightfully blue. Are you cold?”
She could only nod.
“Then come here,” he said, “and this time I shall warm you from the inside.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
She woke, after long hours sleeping, with the blackness of the night pressing against her eyes. She blinked, but no sight returned. So she practised what the night creatures do, and looked with her ears and with her nose and with touch.
The soft dips of the bed had become a cradle and her body and his were nestled together, his turned away, hers tucked behind. He was naked and so was she. Skarga had curled to the lean curved contours of his back, so that his heart beat and his breathing were only faint echoes, but the immense warmth of him was vibrant. It brought enormous comfort. The covers had been thrown off, but at some time he had tugged them back and wrapped them around her.
She tried to discover the huge pulsing world of scent that so illuminated all his perceptions, threaded through with the vague thoughts and sensations of others nearby. She could not. None of that came to her and she accepted that even her imagination could not inspire sensations that were beyond her humanity. Yet she smelled the cascading water, alive with frost, which was the room’s rhythm, and she smelled the sweat of their love making which lingered beneath and around her, nestled within the covers.
Then still only half awake herself, she wondered about his dreams. She wondered if he dreamed as man, or as beast. And, when the beast took precedence, whether the eagle, which mated for life, could ever become his principal channel. So her thoughts were so full of him and so utterly bounded by what had happened with him, that no one and nothing else impinged.
At the same moment Thoddun moved, rolling over to his back, one outflung arm searching the covers. She lifted her head and saw his eyes open, watching her.
“I woke you,” she whispered.
He blinked, coming back from unknown depths. For one blurred moment he seemed surprised to see her there. Then he relaxed and smiled. “Did you?”
She wedged herself onto one elbow and looked down at him. His eyes followed hers. “I think so. Do you dream?” she asked. “I dreamed of flying again. IA beautiful dream. t felt so real.”
“Perhaps it was real,” he answered. His voice seemed indistinct, as if sleep still held him. “I don’t know. My dreams often manifest. If I dream as the bear, I tend to Shift in my sleep. Perhaps I took you flying. We appear to have woken up in the nest.”
“You took me flying, in a way, before we slept.”
He chuckled as his smile softened and clarified. Then he slipped his hands up around her, encircling her, pressing her back down against him. He spoke into her ear, so that it tickled, and his breath was hot. “I have a lot to teach you, little fledgling. And you have a lot to teach me.”
“There’s not a thing I know,” she sighed, “that would be any use to you. But you’re injured and now you should be sleeping. Does your head hurt? You must surely have a headache. And your shoulder?”
His arms moved down her back, his fingers crawling along the little hillocks of her spine. The pressure was gentle and it calmed her. Then he pulled her tighter. “Hush, child. The transanima heal quickly, especially in the cold, but I’ll sleep again now. Curl close.”
Skarga stayed close, sleeping deeply again herself, and it was a long time before she woke the second time. When she did, immediately she felt the increased chill. Thoddun was already up, and dressed. A sudden lurch of imminent abandonment made her shiver.
Motivated by more than the cold, she pulled the bed covers to her chin. “You’re going?” she whispered. “Are you coming back?”
He strode over to her, and sat a moment on the bed, taking her hand. “Silly little weanling. Do you expect me to disappear? So slow to understand! Though it seems strange to me too, waking to you naked in my bed. I had decided before – but never mind about that. And all this talking. I’ve never used so many words in my life. You need explanations and you can’t read my thoughts, so I shovel out speech in such a hurry, and half the time no doubt I make no sense at all.”
She felt it now, a drifting uncertainty. “Please tell me you’ll be back, whenever you’ve time.”
He paused, and then shrugged, and moved towards her, taking her against his shoulder again. His shirt was clean and soft on her cheek. She felt nursed back into warmth. “I’ve time now, my love, if I care to take it. No one controls my actions but myself. So let me explain a little better. Yes, of course I’ll be back, and soon. This is my own chamber, and now I claim it back, and my woman with it. But since the fight there’s no second-in-command anymore. There’ll be turmoil and jealousy amongst the wolves, and ambition amongst others. We’re a mixed crowd, and not all of us like each other. Without leadership and hierarchy, there’s pointless argument and squabbling for position. It quickly gets out of control. I intend to avoid that.”
She nodded. “It happens with humans too.”
The resignation of summoned patience lined his face. “You saw little of me before because I intended it that way. I had my own reasons. And I had a great deal to do after the collapse of the southern tunnel, and a good deal more that had happened including my own prolonged absence. But now,” he nodded, “you’ll see me whenever I wish it, and I’ll wish it often.” He paused, regarding her and his face softened. “But there are calls on me which I’ll never ignore. So I need to restore a little order,” he went on quietly. “I need to appoint a new Second. These are my people. I don’t love them all, but I care for them all. Without Mandegga’s endless aggression and secret plots, some sort of fractious peace will level out.”
Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy Page 50