He placed her hands on his thighs. “Keep them here.”
And then he went back to kissing her breast, taunting her other breast with one hand, while finally, ever so slowly, he teased and dipped below her waistband.
Legs folded under her and parted by his thighs, she waited impatiently for him to remove her vest and girdle around her waist. But he didn’t bother. His hand slipped through the material to a slit between her thighs and then he had full access to her.
Ever so gently he parted her folds. She shivered with impatience. She was so ready for him. And yet he seemed determined to advance at a snail’s pace. Keeping her hands on his thighs while he teased her breasts and taunted her was erotic and frustrating and . . . hot.
When she thought she could not wait another second . . . he pulled back. “I must be certain you understand what comes next.”
She ground her teeth. “I . . . know . . . what . . . comes next.”
He inserted his finger deep between her legs as he stared at her. “You have never made love before.”
“This body has never . . . oh, what does it matter? I’m ready.” He lightly touched the spot where all her nerve endings centered. “More than ready. Can we please lose the clothes?”
His eyes widened and he broke into a grin. “You don’t mind . . . ?”
In one smooth movement, she lifted the vest over her head and shrugged her arms out of the V-necked blouse, letting it drop to her waist. “Better?”
“Oh, yes. You are lovely.” A flush rose up his bronzed cheeks.
She leaned toward his chest, brushing her breasts against him. Rocking forward, she increased the pressure of the finger inside her and it was her turn to flush. She thought he’d have to release her so she could completely disrobe, but he ripped away the rest of the garment, leaving her naked, sitting on his lap with her legs parted, his finger probing her slick heat.
“Your turn.” Once again, her hand went to the cord of his pants. This time, he didn’t stop her.
It wasn’t easy with him caressing her, but she took her time, loosening the knot and playing with the flesh at his waistband. She let the material slide down, stroking each inch of newly revealed skin.
When he placed his palms on her bottom and stood, his pants dropped to the floor. He lifted her onto his sex, and she wrapped her legs behind his back, positioned herself over his tip and slowly lowered herself onto him.
“You’re . . . going to be . . . a tight . . . fit,” she murmured, pleased by his fullness.
“Am I hurting you?” He gripped her bottom. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Sit on the bed. Play with me,” she demanded.
“Where?”
She took his hand and placed it between her thighs. And as he stroked, she raised her hips, lowered herself onto him, taking in another inch of flesh.
“Careful,” he warned.
She lifted her mouth for a kiss. His tongue and hands danced and teased and taunted. Again, she lifted her hips, and this time she dropped, taking all of him into her. A brief pain melted into the pleasure of his caresses and then she was tilting her hips, riding him, taking them both where she wanted to go.
Incredible friction. Incredible heat. And a need for completion robbed her of all thoughts but one.
As her body peaked, rolled, and exploded with her pleasure, the Shimmering shield popped into place. It was her explosion that fed into him that seemed to release the force field. This time the Shimmering was shiny, brighter, tightly woven—and as if their pleasure had transformed the shield, she could see through it.
And as he exploded into her and she found her pleasure—the shattering freed her astral mind from her body. As the last tingles of pleasure receded from her mind, she was aware she was no longer in her body. He was no longer in his, either.
Somehow, on the astral plane their spirits had merged into one. His thoughts swirled. His memories entered her head as if they were her own.
What’s going on? she asked, as his thoughts and memories streamed through her—memories of his parents, a boyhood filled with loving approval and a big happy family, years of worrying about the Zorash, and guilt over Ciel’s death.
It’s the Shimmering.
This didn’t happen last time. Last time, they’d remained in the dark, behind a force field. Last time she hadn’t felt his mind in hers and hers in his. She saw his best boyhood friend as a child, a fellow student and a warrior who now had a family of his own. After Ciel’s death, Daveck had denied himself any chance of normalcy. His honorable nature had coped with her death by punishing himself with harsh years of warrior training, and he’d dedicated himself to become a Sanroyai, despite the personal costs. The deep horror and guilt over Ciel’s death permeated his waking thoughts, cloaking his sunny disposition in sadness. She felt his determination to make a new life and his commitment to Sanroyai training, only to have the disturbing weather patterns bring him to his search for the Zorash . . . and her.
And now she knew why he’d believed she would have to tell him the truth after marriage. There could be no lying to a person when they linked minds within the Shimmering.
Last time we weren’t married. He tensed, both fascinated and dismayed. You told me the truth. You are . . . Sandra. How can this be?
I suspect the Zorash brought me here, but I’m only guessing. You believe me now; don’t you?
She needed to hear him admit that she wasn’t crazy. That somehow the impossible had happened. She needed to hear him think it for her own sanity.
Yes. I believe you. But I still must find the Zorash.
Talk about determination. I would tell you—if I knew. You could see it in my mind if I knew.
I know that now. Soothing peace bathed her. She didn’t know if she was at peace with her past or if he’d calmed her because he was at peace. They had merged so that she wasn’t sure what was her thought or emotion and what was his.
But now that she was back in the astral state, this might be her opportunity to go home.
Obviously he picked right up on that thought. You cannot leave. You must help me find the Zorash or all on Farii will die.
But as you now know; I don’t know where your precious Zorash is. Damn it. There was a down side to not being able to keep one’s thoughts to oneself. If Lira knew, she took the knowledge with her when she left.
Then we must find Lira.
How? Already she could feel them losing the astral state, being drawn back to their bodies. Perhaps her fear of never going home was drawing her there. Or perhaps his failure to find the Zorash was tugging them back to their bodies. But as their astral spirits parted, his disappointment and determination to find the Zorash stayed with her.
His will, his strength of purpose, astounded her. Daveck was a man so strong that he was almost beyond petty concerns. So strong that he could overlook their cultural differences. So strong he could accept that she might follow her own will, her own path. His strength freed her to be herself.
And that changed everything. Because he’d seen her true self, her workaholic tendencies, her need to make a difference in the world with her journalism career, and he’d accepted. She’d actually felt his every reaction, shock and wonderful approval. And she knew deep in her mind and whatever this body had for a heart that this man would never seek to limit her dreams.
He might actually support them. Now there was a novel idea. Because Daveck wanted his people to change, too. But first that required stability, finding the Zorash and returning the idol.
After the joining of souls she’d just experienced, Sandra committed herself to his cause. No way could she leave without helping him. His mission had somehow become her own.
Chapter Nine
“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T believe you.” Daveck paced her bedroom, his long strides taking him from th
e closed door back to the bed in just a few steps.
“It’s okay.” She couldn’t be angry with the man—not after sharing his past, his character, his very self. She knew how much his responsibility to his people weighed on him and couldn’t help but admire his commitment. She understood his entire purpose was tied into saving Farii. And to do that, he’d do whatever he must, even sacrifice any chance of his own personal happiness, to find the Zorash.
Before she’d shared his spirit, she’d been attracted to Daveck, but in their one joining she’d learned more about him than she knew about any other being. And she couldn’t help respecting his determination.
“Tell me more about the Zorash. I had the impression it was a religious idol, but . . . to you it’s so much more, isn’t it?”
“Sanroyai warriors believe the idol is an ancient device constructed a millennium ago by beings who have moved on to the astral plane. Before they left, they built the Zorash to watch over those who stayed behind to live on Farii. The idol’s placement at the base of the sacred megalith allows it to tap vast resources we do not comprehend. It’s a sacrilege against all our people for Maglek to use it for his own greed.” He paced, stopped, and rested his hands on his hips. “If we make love again, the Shimmering might let us search for Lira.”
“Where would we look? We have no idea where she went.”
“She’s our only lead.”
“No. She’s not.” She peered at him, watched his head jerk up, his nostrils flare. Clearly, he was not a man accustomed to others openly disagreeing with him. Although he’d seen as much of her as she’d seen of him and understood she wouldn’t abide being treated as less than an equal, it would take him time to adjust to her independent ways. “Maglek stole the Zorash and has it still. Why don’t we go to him?”
“He uses the Zorash against anyone who tries to take it.”
“Even against his own daughter?” she asked, her heart pounding at the idea of impersonating Lira. But even if the father knew his daughter better than anyone, he wouldn’t suspect Sandra was now inhabiting his daughter’s body—unless the Zorash passed on the information. Doubts filled her, but so did a certainty that this was the right course of action. The Zorash had pulled her to Farii for a reason. Why would the idol betray her now? She could feel a bright light of confidence urging her on, much stronger than her own good instincts when she was on the trail of a story. This feeling was intense, powerful and warming, and so strong in uplifting emotions that she wondered if the Zorash had suggestive powers. Was the idol leading her to it? Or fooling her into thinking what Maglek wanted her to?
But even if the Zorash had no extraordinary powers at all, could she trick Maglek about her true identity long enough to find the Zorash! She did not know. But it seemed as if the Zorash might have brought her to Farii for this very reason. And that frightened her as much as it excited her. On Earth, she’d become a reporter because she wanted to make a difference. On Farii, if she and Daveck succeeded, they could change the fate of all who lived here.
Daveck’s big hands clenched and unclenched as he eyed her. “You would face Maglek—even knowing he uses the Zorash for his own evil?”
“Maglek thinks I’m his daughter, Lira,” she reminded him. “To convince him I’m Lira shouldn’t be that difficult. Let’s just hope the Zorash hasn’t shared Lira’s disappearance with Maglek.”
“You would be walking straight into danger.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she muttered.
“My lady, I’m not certain if your words are courageous . . . or reckless—”
“Probably both.”
“—but I will not let you go alone.” His solid voice comforted her.
She appreciated his sentiment. She’d like nothing better than his company as she faced his enemy. “But surely Maglek will recognize you and be suspicious?”
“I will tell him that I am displeased with my wife. That I will sell you to the border tribes as is my right—unless he makes me a better offer.”
Daveck would never sell her to the border raiders. Now that she’d been inside his head she understood he was too honorable for such a deed, but Maglek wouldn’t know that. “Maglek doesn’t care about Lira’s welfare or he wouldn’t have used her to get to you. And if you walk right into his trap, he will kill you.”
He shook his head. “Maglek only wants to capture and confine me. Not even your father would dare to kill a Sanroyai warrior, a guardian of the Zorash, without violent provocation—if he did, the Zorash would have the power to turn against him.”
“He could take you prisoner.”
“I’m counting on his locking me in his dungeons.” He held her gaze and shrugged. “His doing so will give you time to search his household.”
“Surely he will not give me the freedom to search where I please.”
“I’m certain he won’t.” Daveck gave her a strained, apologetic look. “However, when he sees the way I treat you—I’ll have to be harsh—I hope he’ll believe you hate me as he does. If you are careful and cunning, you might make him believe you are on his side.”
She shivered, the knowledge that Maglek wouldn’t kill him but could nevertheless do him great harm worrying her. “And what good can you do from a dungeon?”
“I will find a way out. Even if I don’t escape, Maglek will focus his thoughts on me . . . not you.”
She saw certainty in his eyes that he would be forced to suffer before he shut down his emotions. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been able to read him so easily if not for the sharing of his mind. But she understood that he believed he had no choice.
“Perhaps I can bribe a guard to free you. Or do so myself.”
He shook his head. “You must not attempt to help me—not until you find the Zorash.” His voice rasped across her heart and she shivered.
“I understand.”
He gripped her shoulders. “I will have your promise. You will not free me until you have found the Zorash.”
“I don’t make promises I may not be able to keep.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Then we stay here, make love, and use the Shimmering to search for Lira.”
His suggestion that they make love again sounded so appealing that she almost agreed. But she recalled her long journey from Earth as well as the vast expanses of Farii’s lands and oceans and realized the hopelessness of finding one astral spirit.
Placing her hands behind her back, she crossed her fingers. “All right. I promise to find the Zorash before I attempt to free you.”
Relief and pain filled his eyes as if he realized how hard it had been for her to say the words. “Thank you.”
“You may not be thanking me if you are forced to languish in his dungeons,” she warned.
“And you might be pleased I’m there after I’m forced to publicly humiliate you.”
“Why would you—?”
“A spectacle will cause gossip to travel far and wide, all the way to Maglek, that all is not well with his daughter’s marriage. It will make us showing up on his doorstep more believable.”
Her mouth went dry. “What do you want me to do?”
“It will be better if you don’t know. Just remember, that outwardly I can give you no signal that my actions will cause my heart to weep at what I do.”
She understood the need to plant seeds of discord between them. And in truth, if she hadn’t shared his noble spirit she was not sure she could have trusted him enough to go through with his plan. “All right. Tell me what the Zorash looks like.”
“I can do better.” From a pocket he withdrew an artist’s ink rendering.
She stared at the Zorash. A black cube on the bottom served as a base for a sphere that resembled Farii from space. “How big is it?”
Daveck gestured with his hands, indicati
ng the Zorash was about the dimensions of a hardback book and could easily be hidden in a medium-sized purse. She stared at the drawing and noticed the artist had drawn something that looked like an aura around the Zorash. “What’s that?”
“The Shimmering. According to legend, the Zorash instigates Sanroyai warriors’ abilities to use the Shimmering. We don’t know if it’s true or how it works. But thousands of years ago, our civilization was more technological. Some of us left this world to colonize. Others stayed behind to guard the Zorash.”
“Why are you less technologically advanced now?” she asked.
He released a long sigh. “There was a revolution. A shift from a society that depended on one dictator to many lesser leaders. During that time, much was lost . . . but we gained many freedoms—some of which led to the selfishness and greed that allowed Maglek to use the Zorash for his own purposes.” He handed her a new set of clothes. “Tomorrow we leave on our journey. It is time to begin to plant the rumors.”
Wishing she had a choice, she dressed and placed her hand in his. “Where are we going?”
“To the square. It’s where men declare their displeasure with their wives.”
“And where do wives declare their displeasure with their husbands?” she asked, already suspecting she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“All husbands are perfect.” A smile revealed he was teasing and his eyes danced with humor.
“It’s a good thing I no longer have a weapon in my hand,” she growled.
“Actually, women have the same right to complain about their husbands,” he admitted—before her blood pressure shot up dangerously high.
“So we’re going to the square to have a public fight?” She gave him a sidelong glance, worried that he didn’t want to explain. “While you were sifting through my mind, did you come across the fact I was on my high school debate team? Or that when I’m cornered I tend to use a lot of sarcasm?”
“Feel free to insult me as much as you like.”
The Shimmering Page 8
