She threw out the lightning-white HeartBond, and he caught it and brought it close. She was his, mind, body, soul, her entire being open to him to her very core. “I love you,” she breathed.
He groaned, clutched her, blending the surface of their thoughts and emotions, brushed the HeartBond tenderly aside and before she could understand or protest, brought them to the peak to shatter together.
Holm kept the bond between them wide and open and Lark tucked next to his body. He could not bear to hurt her, and himself, again.
Her sharp intelligence returned faster than any other woman’s he’d known, faster than his own, he thought ruefully. Though she was puzzled by his action of refusing the HeartBond, his physical, mental, and emotional intimacy reassured her.
When he could speak, he said, “The guilt and failure problems aren’t all. There’s more.”
She just cuddled closer and the back of his eyes prickled. He cleared his throat. “I had a problem with nightporting when I was a child. I’m close to my cuz, Straif Blackthorn, and was worried about his Family when they caught that virus. They all died except Straif.”
Lark shivered a little. “All the Healers know of the Blackthorns and their faulty Earth gene that makes them so susceptible to a common Celtan virus.”
“I nightported then first.” He adjusted their positions so he could stroke her smooth, elegant back. “When Tinne and I journeyed back to Druida from the 241 Range, we fell in the Great Washington Boghole. We nearly died. I tried to reach him, but couldn’t. He ended up saving both of us.”
“Hard for a big brother, the golden boy of the Hollys, to accept, eh?”
“Yes.” He wondered if her own big brother, Huathe, ever cared for her as much as he’d cared for Tinne. Someday the pain would fade and he could ask. He curved his hands around her butt. He liked the shape. He considered another round of loving but knew he had to do something else first. “So I suppressed the memory as much as I could, and the guilt, and the failure.”
“And they worked on you.” Her mouth was close to his collarbone. She traced it with her tongue and he lost his train of thought. He ran his fingers through her fine, thick hair.
“I started nightporting to the Great Labyrinth at the end of spring. All summer, irregularly.” He grimaced. “Finally, when Mamá was wounded, I wore a DepressFlair armband at night.”
“Oh, Holm,” she sighed.
“But you’ve straightened me out. It won’t happen again.”
She wiggled back and looked up at him; her eyes were deep, serious purple pools. “We’re HeartMates. You helped me, too. You gave me so much when we first met. Caring, affection—just your holding me Healed something in me.” She stroked his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. “The night after we’d gone to the beach . . .”
“Yes?”
“The Heathers gave me a mental-emotional test. I wouldn’t have passed it without the time I’d spent with you. Then I would have had to live at T’Hawthorn Residence or T’Heather’s. Everything would have been different.”
He brought the palm of her hand to his lips and kissed it. “We’re HeartMates. We would have managed to find each other and a way to stay together. Just as we have.”
They lapsed into silence for a minute. Lark traced his eyebrows. “So, tell me of this other huge fault you have. It must be terrible if it is so obvious,” she teased.
“I can’t tap my inner core.”
“What?”
“You know the deep link to your essential self?”
“Yes, of course. I use it when I Heal.”
That often, and he couldn’t even find his. “I don’t have a connection with my true self, the rock-solid balance of knowing my inner core.”
She looked thoughtful. “Since you always thought of yourself in terms of HollyHeir, your core could have evaded you. Especially since deep thought, meditation, and self-analysis aren’t what a person thinks of as Holly Family traits.”
He squeezed her bottom. “Wretch.”
“But a truthful wretch. Lover—”
Holm stopped her mouth with a kiss, then reluctantly pulled away. “Don’t call me that unless you want me inside you. I knew I had to tell you of my lack. Especially since you would have noticed it when we walked the labyrinth.”
“True, but Holm, this is an easy thing to correct.”
He scowled at her, thinking of all the time he’d spent here, all the time in T’Holly HouseHeart. “Ha!”
She placed his hand on her breast and his irritation vanished. “It is,” she said. “We’re HeartMates. I can open myself completely. Through our bond you can follow me as I connect with my inner core, settle into my calm center. With that example you can find your own.”
He hated that it sounded so simple and logical. He stood and pulled her up. “Let’s do it.”
Lark linked her fingers with his. The bond between them was open and clear. As she breathed deeply, he matched her breaths. Soon their hearts beat in time.
Holm led her to the start of the labyrinth path that led up and out of the crater. Lark smiled at him and his heart warmed, but his mind doubted.
“Ready?” she asked.
He braced himself. “Yes.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t tense up. Relax, let your mind rest, your thoughts ebb and flow.” She used her voice like a Healer, calming.
“Ready,” he said.
They began walking. It was magical, treading the path. Especially linked physically and mentally with his HeartMate. Instead of thinking of his problems, or his schedule, or observing the Noble shrines each House had provided to decorate the labyrinth, he strolled. The soft night air caressed him, the bright bond between himself and Lark filled him with joy as he trod the pattern. Soon he sensed her sinking deep into herself, into a meditative trance state. She was completely open to him, so he followed her, and listened to her inner mantra that reflected her essential self.
The pattern of the labyrinth, the curving path and the switch-back turns, lulled him. He found himself following mental paths he’d never experienced before. He came to a door he vaguely recognized from infrequent dreams. He’d always dreaded opening that door and had retreated. Now the knob turned in his hand and he flung it open. Light encased him. Grounded him. He stopped. And discovered himself.
Lark wept silently when Holm found his core and merged with it. His amazement at the difference he felt touched her. He staggered a couple of steps and she steadied him. Then he moved with his usual grace.
What a man! A beautiful body, a strong heart, an honorable soul. He was truly extraordinary if he’d survived three Passages without centering and grounding himself.
And he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell her he loved her. They’d spent the night together as HeartMates, loving and touching and engaging in passionate sex, yet had not HeartBonded. What a man.
Soon they reached the end of the labyrinth and the rim of the crater. She drew in a breath of sparkling fresh air laden with the scents of growing plants and summoned a robe, soft and silky, flowing over her body to accent the curves. With a snap of her fingers she ’ported her last weapon in this heart duel to her. Her HeartGift.
Thirty-one
Holm turned to her with a dazed smile. “Lady and Lord, what a difference! I feel like a new man.” His gaze swept the vista. Now they’d left the crater, they could see ragged peaks to the north, the sea to the west, the glow of Druida to the south.
His shoulders shifted. “I am a new man. Holm Apple,” he said with only a slight hesitation. “I know my strengths, and my flaws.” As he raised his head, his silver-gilt hair lifted in the night breeze. “I know who I am without any reference to the Hollys.”
Then his gaze sharpened as he saw her. He frowned. “That’s seduction cloth.”
Lark smiled. “So it is.”
“You’re dressed.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not, except for my amulet.”
“I know.”
He looked at his aroused body. Took her hand and closed her fingers around his shaft, jerked a little and moaned.
Lark stroked up and down, sensing through their bond which touch pleased him the most and brought the greatest response.
“Enough.” He grasped her wrist and this time lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed her hand. “Bélla.”
Bélla. Always Bélla. A good name, a special name, but she wanted more. She wanted love words.
An appreciative gleam entered his eye as he studied her. “Seduction cloth,” he said lowly, in a voice that was seduction itself—if Lark hadn’t realized that she wasn’t the first woman to wear such a gown for him—maybe not even the tenth. . . .
He nibbled at her fingertips. “Ah, my Bélla. A little jealousy sparks red through our bond. A nice appetizer.” Holm grinned wolfishly, and she thought she might have miscalculated.
Once more he scanned the view. “Let’s walk back in. We can concentrate on our love and life ahead while we walk to the center. There we can consummate our union.”
“HeartBond?”
“Why not? You don’t have an ancestral bedsponge or home. Neither do I. The only better place would be SacredGrove, and this spot is familiar and even . . . cherished by me.”
She melted and swept a lock of hair back from his face. “Of course.” She wouldn’t have to use her HeartGift after all. Maybe she should hold it in reserve. HeartMates or no, there’d be some rough times ahead.
He took her hand and they dipped back into the night shadows of the crater and the entrance to the path. “I want you to accept the position in Gael City. It will be good for you not to have to answer to anyone, and to be in charge of others. Gael City will be perfect for us. Not many Nobles have estates there, it’s predominantly middle and artisan class, has more casual customs. I’ll miss sailing though. Sea sailing.”
As they walked, the path and the pace cycled Lark down into a meditative state that she had to struggle against to match wits with Holm. Despite the fact he’d finally grounded himself and found his true balance, it was obvious that meditation would never be a preferred ritual for him.
“I have some gilt and this.” He touched the amulet hanging from his neck.
Dismay shocked her into alertness. “You’re not selling the amulet.”
“I want to establish a salon—”
“We can do that. We. I have plenty of gilt saved for both of us.”
“What’s your salary as Head of Gael City HealingHall?” asked Holm.
Lark flushed. “I don’t know.” She straightened to her full height, several inches shorter than her HeartMate. “Gilt wasn’t the reason I applied for the job.”
He siphoned a jumble of her memories through their link and swiftly sorted through them. Lark was astonished at how easily and deftly he accessed her thoughts and feelings—even old thoughts and feelings.
Holm smiled lopsidedly. “You wanted to start anew, away from the machinations of T’Hawthorn and T’Heather. I don’t blame you. But now you’re closer to them both.”
She smiled back at him. “A blessing. We’ll visit Druida often, and have visitors from here, too, I have no doubt.” She gestured to the Ashes’ offering—T’Ash’s forebears—a grove of towering Ash trees in a semicircle. The current T’Ash had created a circular pavement set with a mosaic of precious stones depicting the World Tree and the Rainbow Serpent.
“Yes. We’ll have visitors. There are plenty of good gem stores in Gael City,” Holm said.
When they reached the next turn, Holm swept her into his arms for a long kiss. He arched her to him, setting her sex against his own and rubbing. His calloused hands stroked her through the seduction fabric and were as excitingly sensual to her as to him. Desire weakened her knees, making her clench her fingers into his butt.
“Yes,” Holm groaned into her mouth. He opened her lips and vanquished her tongue, plundering her mouth and probing deeply, setting up a thrusting pattern that foreshadowed the claiming of her body with his.
Pure, raw male possessiveness roared through her from him. Her last rational thought was that she wouldn’t have to use her HeartGift after all.
Holm caught the comment. He disengaged and took a pace back, then shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I heard that. A HeartGift. For me! Give it to me, Bélla.”
She arched her brows. “The giving—and accepting—of a HeartGift should be done unknowingly.”
He flicked a hand and smiled charmingly. “Rules. We’ve done very well without rules, my Bélla.”
“I’ve already given you a gift,” she pointed out.
Holm’s brows drew together. “So you did, and Meserv rescued it from my former rooms. But the wreath was one you’d give to a onenight lover, not a HeartMate. I made the blossoms permanent, but I want another, with proper HeartMate flowers, fashioned from your own hands.” He eyed her. “You aren’t wearing anything under that dress, so my gift isn’t a wreath.”
A sprite of mischief danced through her, and she sent it to him over their link. She wondered if he’d blush again if she gave him the gift.
He straightened to soldierly attention. “I do not blush.”
“No? We’ll see.” From one of the long sleeves she pulled a box, then opened her fingers to show a blue, softleaf-wrapped gift, tied with a deep rose-colored ribbon.
Love surged through Holm, and when he took the wrapped HeartGift, so did deep, aching desire. His brain went numb; all he could think was that he’d be HeartBound soon. “This has power. When did you make it?” The words were awkward on his tongue.
“As you said about mine, the power isn’t as strong as usual for a HeartGift because I didn’t make it during my last Passage. But I made it after I knew we were HeartMates, after I acknowledged you yesterday. I dedicated it during a small ritual in my apartment.” She smiled and Holm sensed there was a surprise he couldn’t anticipate. “I made it on the red sofa.”
“We are taking that sofa to Gael City, I hope.” Any suavity he’d possessed seemed to be leaking out of his feet into the ground.
“Oh, yes. And the bedsponge.”
He recalled the bedsponge. It was a great bedsponge. He wished it was here, now. He shot a glance toward the Ash tree that marked the center of the labyrinth and wondered how many more circuits there were. He hadn’t kept track of the rounds they’d already covered.
Frowning, he knew he was stuck in his old dilemma. Though the HeartBond would be mental and permanent and incredibly special, he wanted Lark with a physical force that shook him.
Holm gazed down at the gift in his hands, then glanced at Lark. She was staring at his turgid sex. She caught his gaze, then licked her lips. He was lost.
He held out a hand. “Come to me, Bélla.”
She swayed to him, hips sliding under the seduction gown that made him think how she looked on top of him. Or under him. When she placed her hand in his, the firestorm of their connection aroused him to near pain. He set his teeth.
“Let’s ’port to the center,” he said.
Lark looked doubtful.
A side of his mouth kicked up. “I’ve had great experience with this labyrinth. I know the coordinates. Trust me.”
Her serious lavender gaze made his heart pound. “I do, lover.”
He was doomed.
They ’ported to the center, and he lowered her to a thick bed of moss that he’d cultivated over the last couple of months for his own use, and lay down beside her.
“My HeartGift. Open it,” she said.
He’d forgotten about it. He wished he could blame the stripping of all his control on the power of the piece, but he couldn’t. He was sure that just being near his Bélla would always fire passion in his loins.
But the present almost clung to his fingers. His hands trembled and he awkwardly tore the wrapping off in shreds, getting his fingers tangled in the narrow ribbon.
She slid a hand up his chest,
and his mind clouded further when she toyed with his amulet, absently brushing his nipples as she fingered the chain. “So these lips match mine, do they?” she murmured.
Finally he got the softleaf mostly off and stared at her gift. He choked. Tremors slid into his muscles.
“I bought it from T’Ash. He gave me instructions on how to set it.” She shot him a wicked look from under lowered lashes. “My HeartGift to you, the second pink pearl from Clam.” Both her hands dropped to caress his rigid shaft.
He panted.
She set the phallic pearl next to his shaft. “I was right. They match.”
He pounced. He rolled her under him and had her whimpering in passion in seconds. Their link expanded, without thought he opened all of himself and sent the HeartBond rocketing through him and into her. She accepted it, accepted him, let him possess her and claim her and moan his need.
And when they climaxed she bit him and he knew he could never live without her.
Later Bel’s light peeped over the rim of the crater and woke Lark. She opened foggy eyes to see Holm smiling down at her. The echo of his thoughts, the completeness of his love washed through her.
Pop! Pop!
Two small bodies hit them. Holm grunted. Phyll balanced on their entwined forms to walk up and lick her face. D’Ash had to help get us here, he scolded. Meserv burped, then rolled a lumpish bag to Holm. Clothes, he said.
“How did D’Ash—” started Lark.
Holm glanced at the large Ash tree above them. “I’d imagine T’Ash has a link to this tree.” Holm shrugged. “Now we’re HeartBound, let’s see what a walk out of the labyrinth will bring.” He shook out a wrinkled pair of brown trous and shirt and dressed.
Phyll perked up. Very in-ter-es-ting place.
I have been here several times, Meserv boasted. I will show you the best things. They bounded off.
Pop!
“Merry meet!” trilled a young male voice.
“Oh, no,” Holm said. “Don’t look. Perhaps he’ll go away.”
Heart Duel Page 35
