by Mara Kelly
Tomis knows when the barrier has gone down, and he moves his hands over my back and steps back to look into my face. I am fine, I think back to the question he doesn't even need to put into complete thoughts.
Tomis smiles and plays his fingers over the velvet of my gown, then pushes it back from my shoulders so that I stand before him in nothing but my chemise. I am aware of my nipples poking through the thin fabric, of my hands shaking as I place them on his chest, though we stand close to the fire and my body is growing warm with the power of his thoughts. A sound fills the room, and it takes me a moment to realize that it is Tomis's low moan.
Encouraged, I lower my hand to the knot of his belt and begin to work it loose. Tomis's hands fall to his sides and his eyes drop closed as he stands before me, looking as helpless as I must have the moment before. I work the belt free and it falls to the floor with a clunk, the sound loud and unexpected in this room where all physical things have receded to the background. Without opening his eyes, Tomis lifts his tunic above his head and lets it drop, and the crisscrossing scars on his chest glimmer in the firelight. My breath catches as I look at them, but I will my mind to remain open, the fear to stay at bay. I am powerless to stop my fingers from rising to trace the pattern of raised flesh, and Tomis starts as I touch him, the warmth of his energy flickering. It is over, I remind him, though I know the memories of his capture will never fully fade. Most of the king's psychics bear such marks—those, or less visible mental scars from other types of torture. Despite our closeness, I know as little of his experiences as he knows of mine. Perhaps one day we will open those places in our minds to each other. But tonight is not for that.
I let my hands drift lower, over the taut skin of his stomach, and Tomis relaxes, his energy becoming warm and golden once again. I lean forward and kiss his mouth, pushing his lips open with mine. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him, and the thin barrier of my chemise taunts my longing. Tomis is thinking the same thing, I know, and he reaches down and pulls the chemise over my head, breaking our kiss only momentarily to let the silky fabric pass over my face.
His kiss drives into me once more, and I melt in his arms.
Abruptly, Tomis releases me and steps backward. I stand on the carpet before him, naked, breathing heavily. His eyes rake over my body, and I am slightly nervous at this new kind of nakedness—he has been in my mind, but has never seen the bareness of my flesh, and I am wholly exposed to him now, body and mind.
I push aside my own nerves and focus on feeling his thoughts, and incoherent wonder fills my mind. I do not need to see the bulge in the front of his trousers to know how much Tomis wants me.
Tomis does not move, and I step forward and reach out to stroke his stomach. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall backward. The pulsing of his thoughts spurs me to boldness, and I unlace the front of his trousers and let them fall to the floor. His sex is revealed to me, erect and beautiful, and I am so wrapped in his thoughts that it takes me a moment to recognize the cold trickle in my mind as my own fear.
Tomis opens his eyes at once and steps forward to wrap me in his arms, placing light kisses over my face and neck, and the cold dissipates. His warm hands caress my arms.
"Let's lie down," he says out loud, and the raspiness of his voice is a shock. It fills me with heat of a new, visceral kind, so different is it from the smooth stones of his thoughts in my mind. He takes my hand and leads me to the bed, where he pushes the furs aside and helps me to climb up. He climbs in beside me and pulls the furs up to cover me.
I lie on my back and look up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, suddenly wishing I had accepted the goblet of wine that Tamyra tried to give me earlier—it would make the barriers that keep rising in my mind so much weaker. But psychics do not drink wine, as I told her, and I don't really want the sharpness of Tomis's thoughts in my mind to be dulled now anyway. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, willing my mind to stay open, and Tomis props himself up on his side and slides his fingers over my stomach and around the curves of my breasts.
I open my eyes and stare up into Tomis's dark eyes above me, and see there the mirror of my own emotions. My breath catches in my throat. I love him so much, it's dangerous, comes the unbidden thought.
Tomis smiles and leans down to kiss my forehead. Not dangerous, says his mind in mine. I promise. I love you, Caila.
I am completely open to him now, I realize. I cannot even find the edges of my barriers, which I usually keep in easy reach, as a soldier keeps his sword. But I don't care. There are no enemies nearby. There is no one, and nothing but Tomis, filling my mind with his love and his trust and the sensual energy of his touch.
Tomis bends down and kisses me chastely on the mouth, then slides down on the bed to let his mouth wander over my neck and breasts. I move my hands over the skin of his shoulders and back. His thoughts in my mind are a jumble of sensations. I inhale sharply as he takes one nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue. My back arches and I swirl away on the mist of my own pleasure, cutting powerfully through his thoughts.
A throbbing starts up at the back of my mind, and I arch in time to it, unsure of its source. Tomis's lips stray over my chest and find the other breast, where he torments the other nipple with the same delicious pleasure. I realize I am gripping his shoulders, my breath coming in sharp gasps, and I pull him up to kiss me, hard, on the mouth. I feel the hardness of his member against my thigh, and I reach down to touch him, gently. I gasp at the sudden, double sensation of my own hand on his warm flesh, of his incoherent pleasure in my mind. I realize that the moaning that now fills the room is my own.
So wrapped am I in my mind that I almost do not feel his hand moving down my stomach, until his fingers find my center and suddenly my awareness of his thoughts disappears as my own heady pleasure fills my mind and body. The room swirls around me as his fingers work against the tight bud of my womanhood, and I grip his shoulders and rock against him. I am only half-aware of his mouth on my breasts, his hot breath against my stomach as he pushes himself lower, until his kiss finds my center. A new maelstrom surrounds me, the throbbing, wanton pleasure of my own body, the edges defined by the warm wanting that is Tomis. I let myself fall into the abyss of his kiss and his touch and his mind, and know that this is openness like none that Marani Touris has taught me.
Surfacing again, I become aware of my own body as I have never known it before, shivering with pleasure, an animal thing. The mind knows no control as the body collapses in waves of ecstasy. Tomis clutches at my hips, his tongue never ceasing its movements, and I am flooded with warmth as I realize he feels every sensation along with me.
Slowly, my body relinquishes control to my mind, and I look down at Tomis. I know that his face, sweaty and flushed, is a mirror of my own. I grin as I realize that, though we have at some point kicked the furs from the bed, we are both covered in sweat. I close my eyes and allow Tomis's love to wash over me, like a cool breeze, and become aware of powerful ache at my core—an emptiness that I have never felt before. It is as if Tomis has found this place inside me, mind and body.
It occurs to me that it may be his ache I feel, not mine, but it doesn't matter as I pull him up to kiss me. I taste salt on his lips, and something else—my own essence, I suppose. His tongue invades my mouth, his hardness presses against my thigh, and I feel the certainty of his powerful yearning in my mind, so strong that I know he has been holding the extent of it back from me.
I rock against him, longing for him though he is pressed close to me, feeling that no union of body or soul could ever be close enough to satisfy the ache in my mind. I move my hands down over his back, and the awareness of my own inexperience in these matters flares up in my mind. I hurry to hide the thought in a corner of my mind—I do not want him to know of it. Sudden nerves cause my fingers to flutter over his spine. I wonder if this is his first time—after all, back in our school days, many of the girls set their eyes on Tomis, and who knows what might have happened during
the times we were separated during the war. I would not blame him for any of those things, of course—wartime holds no guarantees, not even for lovers. I briefly consider scanning his mind for the answer—he is so open to me now that he probably would not notice if I did—but decide that if this is not his first time, I don't want to know.
Tomis pauses and raises himself on his elbows. He looks into my eyes, his golden-brown hair falling over his forehead. It is, his mind whispers, and I am so entrenched in my thoughts that it takes me a moment to realize what he means. I flush with embarrassment that he has read my secret thoughts so easily, and for the first time I am frightened by the reach he has into my mind. Tomis shakes his head. It's all right. Search for yourself.
I swallow hard, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. "No, I believe you," I say out loud, my voice harsh in my own ears.
Tomis leans forward and kisses me softly. I know you do, he answers in my mind, but I want you to know it with your whole self. You are the only woman I have ever loved, have ever wanted, Caila. I want you to know it as you know your deepest wish.
I stare into his face, awestruck at this gift. I shake my head. No, I say again. That's not necessary.
I know it's not, he says, his eyes boring into mine. But I want you to.
At last I nod and close my eyes. I focus on his energy pouring into me, through his limbs on mine and coursing on waves of thought. I ride the waves backward into his mind. He is open to me, so open that I sense no barriers ready to snap into place, as he would find in my mind. I sift through his thoughts, and it is not difficult to find his true feelings about me, as they are there in every corner of his mind, connected to every other thought. I know he has told me the truth; I know it as I know my own deepest wish. I smile and prepare to leave his mind, but something hard and dark in the corner of his consciousness stops me. I am drawn to it, though I know what it is and I know I will not be able to penetrate it. Nor would I want to. This is a thought Tomis will share with me one day, perhaps, but I have such hard, dark places in my own mind and know what lies hidden in them. I force myself away from it and back to the warmth of his love, which carries me back to my own consciousness.
When I open my eyes, Tomis is smiling at me. I pull him to me, the tears escaping my eyes and running down to my ears as I know, finally, the true depth of his feelings for me. The emptiness inside me yawns wider and I let out a little sob of need. Tomis feels it too, I know, and he leans down to kiss me softly as he positions himself over me. I open myself to him, and he penetrates me slowly, inch by inch. There is some pain, but he feels every bit of it along with me and moves slowly, pausing often without me having to ask. I close my eyes and revel in the closeness of him, in the biting pleasure of his firm inexorable love filling my body and mind.
At last he fills me entirely, and I hold my breath as he holds himself above me, still as the montebuck waiting for his mate in the moonlight.
A ripple of uncertainty flicks through my mind, and when I realize that it is coming from Tomis, I open my eyes. In his eyes is a question he is afraid, I sense, to put into thoughts or words.
Yes, I tell him. "Oh, yes," I repeat out loud as he moans and relaxes against me, filling me anew, pressing me to a place where pleasure and pain are one, and neither matter as much as the continued pressure of his body against mine.
Only then do I realize how much he has been holding back from me, as a wave of passion crashes into my mind, and the fullness of his pleasure enters my body. I feel the blood coursing through his veins, the explosions of pleasure in his mind, even as I feel him filling my own body with a mounting need. I am ensconced in a dark, comforting place, and at the same time, I am that place.
I drag my hands over his back, only half-aware of someone crying out and unsure whether it is me or Tomis. I reach down to clutch Tomis's buttocks and press him closer to me. He moans into my ear, the sound sending tingles down my spine; he shivers and rocks against me. I pull him even closer and press my hips against him convulsively. Tomis's mouth seals deliriously over mine, and our breath joins as thoughts of love tumble back and forth in the space between our minds. Tomis presses his hands onto the bed and raises himself up to thrust into me, his movements growing deeper and faster until I am lost in a maelstrom of emotions, a fury of feelings.
Nothing separates us now, not even the matter of our bodies, and the boundaries of our flesh melt as he comes to his climax, filling me with his seed, the explosion of his pleasure filling my mind and sending my own body into spasms to mirror it. I cannot tell where he begins and I end.
When the haze lifts, I open my eyes and see Tomis above me, separate once more, though our bodies are still joined at their most intimate juncture. He touches my face, his eyes full of wonder. "My tutors never said it would be like this," he says shakily.
I laugh and lift my head to kiss him. He wraps his arms around me and rolls onto his side, pulling me with him.
I doubt it is, for most people, I tell him as I push him onto his back and rise above him.
He grins. What a shame for them. He runs his hands along my sides and moves tentatively against me. I look into his eyes and will my mind to open even further to him, letting his love wash over me, and I rock against him as his eyes close in ecstasy.
The war is over. I've found you again, and we are safe...whispers the thought over and over in my mind, and it no longer matters which of us is thinking it.
Only Fools Are Sure Of Their Way
The afternoon suns were hot overhead, and Nicabar's shield was heavy at his back. He began to wish that he hadn't bothered with packing the extra blanket in his pack, or even the dried fruit and bread his mother had insisted he take. Nicabar wiped sweat from his neck and grimaced as he thought of what his father would say to such thoughts: "Better to leave the books behind, don't you think? Some soldier you are."
But Nicabar had never claimed to be a soldier. He would much rather have been at the university now, where he was supposed to be, than wandering through the hot forest looking for his squad, with only the dryad guide for companionship.
Treekind, he mentally corrected himself. Kaya had already informed him, rather coldly, what she thought of that particular human term for her kind, and as she represented his only way of rejoining his company, or finding his way out of the forest for that matter, he thought he'd best not irritate her any more than he had already seemed to.
Still, he could have had worse company. When Captain Dewling had announced to his troops that the four Treekind had agreed to show them the secret forest paths to the border, where they would be able to ambush the Gestonians, all the soldiers had murmured to one another about the beauty of the four creatures who stood before them, clad in soft garments of some leaf-like material that fluttered over their thighs and covered the curves of their breasts. Nicabar had actually wondered if they wore the garments, or they somehow grew them. He, like the rest of the soldiers in his company, had had very little experience of the Treekind—he knew only his mother's fairy tales of dryads and sprites.
They weren't what he had expected them to be. In other clothing, they could almost have passed as humans, save for the faint bluish or greenish tinge of their skin. And they were tall, taller than most of the men in the company. All except Kaya, at least, who stood a few inches shorter than Nicabar and more than made up for her lack of height in her constant air of authority. That had been an even bigger surprise—he'd always thought of dryads as gentle creatures, but Kaya's temper had taken him aback. He'd seen it on that first day, when a few of the men had directed leering comments in her direction. And he'd definitely seen it yesterday morning, when he'd been assigned to go with her to look for food, and they had come back to an empty campsite.
He still couldn't understand why the others would have left them behind. He suspected that Kaya knew—she had a maddening way of implying that she always knew more than he did. He had asked her last night as they had sat awkwardly by a tiny makeshift campfire—made f
rom only the deadfall, of course, as Kaya wouldn't hear of taking wood from living trees. But she hadn't answered, only told him some nonsense story about some goddess or other. They'd both had a good deal of wine by that point, and he supposed the alcohol had a different effect on her kind. Then again, it must have affected him too—he distinctly remembered wanting to shut her up by kissing her.
Whereas now, he felt more like throttling her. They'd been trudging along, pushing branches aside, for at last three hours without a break. The day had become hot and humid, and insects swarmed around Nicabar's face, though they hindered Kaya not at all.
"I need a rest," Nicabar announced, slinging his shield and pack onto the ground in the shade of a large oak, and lowering himself onto a nearby rock.
"Fine with me," said Kaya, flopping onto her back on a clear patch of ground under the trees. She stretched her arms above her head and closed her eyes.
Nicabar looked down at her for a moment, thinking that if he had known it would be that easy, he would have insisted on a break an hour ago. Kaya probably wouldn't have agreed so readily if she hadn't been about to collapse herself. Still, she looked as though this moist heat agreed with her much better than it did with him, and a faint greenish tinge lit her skin. It was odd, Nicabar reflected, green–tinted skin was not something he had ever thought about before, but on Kaya it seemed perfectly natural, and healthy, and…attractive.
Nicabar caught himself staring at her and hastily looked away. He sat down on a nearby rock and pulled out his waterskin. He tried to drink slowly, but soon drained what little was left. "We'll need to find water soon," he said. Though by "we," he meant himself—he had yet to see Kaya grow thirsty.
