Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad)

by *lizzie starr

  Leave me. He’s healed. Go away. She accompanied her mental scream with an inner vision of hands pushing away a tangled, writhing mass. As she shoved, thin, ragged-edged tentacles stretched out to wrap around her arms, digging deep into her flesh, holding, binding the mass to her. A deep groan broke the seam of her tightly compressed lips. Her groan eased to his name.

  “Oh, Gowthaman.”

  The soft warmth of a blanket wrapped over her shoulders. “I am here.”

  Breanna jerked fully upright, shoving the fleece to the ground. “Go away.”

  “I will not.” Gowthaman knelt before her and rewrapped her in the blanket.

  Frantic, Bree looked from rock to shadowed rock. Was anyone else nearby?

  Gowthaman touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Breanna, I am alone. I am here for you. As you have always been for me. This...” He brushed the dust from her forehead. “This that you suffer now is because of me.”

  Sinking back to sit on her calves, she jerked her face from his touch. “Please.” Her voice wavered. “Don’t look at me now. Please, just go away.”

  Somehow, she had to make him leave. No one could ever see her like this, especially not him. Not him. Unable to control the tremors coursing through her, she knew only moments remained before the full impact of her struggle was made known. He shouldn’t see her like this. Not now. He couldn’t.

  How might he react when subjected to the memory traces, the lingering evidence of his memories? Would he take those memories back upon himself and return to the tightly hidden pain? She would not risk that happening.

  “I need to be alone.” The dead tone of her words strengthened her determination to protect Gowthaman.

  Gentle, he caressed her face. With no hesitation in the simple contact, he brought his face close to hers and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  Breanna gasped. Then burst into tears.

  White-hot pain shot through her mind. She bit her abused lip to contain her moan. The aftereffects had never been so intense. Cold sweat covered her. Shivering, she tried to draw away.

  “No, sundarii, do not refuse me. Do not let the past stand between us again. How many years have I refused you?”

  Her single bark of harsh laughter faded rapidly in the heavy air.

  The comforting strokes of Gowthaman’s fingers wiped the tears from her face. “Yes, far too many. For that, I beg forgiveness.”

  “P-please go. I c-can’t stand for you to s-see me this way.”

  “I will not leave you. TvaaM me priyatamaa.”

  The intensity of disintegrating memories, the ripping away, tore her from Gowthaman’s touch. Arched her back. Cramped her muscles. Froze the cry in her throat. Battered, torn, her senses blinked into darkness.

  One breath, ragged, barely filled her lungs. Exhale. Inhale. Again. Tentative, she searched the darkness for any glimmer, any clue, any hope. There. Breathe. Again.

  Faint, shimmering gold against velvet black. There. Dancing red. There. Ah. Soulfire.

  Breanna opened her eyes.

  Twenty

  Bree woke cradled against Gowthaman’s chest. He had settled cross-legged and held her in a gentle embrace. He carefully wiped the still falling tears from her face. Cocooned in the blanket, she cried, long and hard. The aftershocks of the healing had dissipated, and now she cried for Gowthaman, all he had suffered, all he had lost.

  When finally she could cry no more she pressed her palm to his tear-dampened tunic to ease from his embrace. He held her more securely. Lips close to her ear, he whispered, “For too long I fought to keep this from you. I believed I had to hide what happened, how I felt. From you, from all who knew me.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... not like that. Not when I was so young. I had no idea—”

  The gentle press of his finger to her lip stopped her speech. “Hush, little missy. This is my time to speak.”

  More than his touch held her in silence. Glorious delight chased remnants of darkness from her when he moved his finger to trace the curve of her lip.

  “There is to be no blame, no recriminations for that time. You were too young to understand I needed to face those memories to heal. I was too overcome with my own perceived failings. Neither of us knew, nor understood the process. Ah, my Breanna. It may be that even had we known, the past and this present would still be no different than they are. For too long I thought keeping these memories repressed was the only way I would survive. But this night, if it is night in this damnable place, you have freed me from my self-inflicted curse.”

  She held his gaze, studying the changes in his eyes, wishing she could see the deep, dark chocolate brown. If he knew the gray hid his reactions, his feelings, might he return to denying her?

  Shaking his head, Gowthaman offered her an easy smile. “Your face tells me much, sundarii. You worry still. Perhaps, you always shall. As I shall worry about you.”

  She heard his words, but her mind had halted, holding on to a single word. “What does that mean?”

  “No matter how either of us feels, we shall—”

  “No, I know that. What does that word mean? Sundarii? You’ve said it before.”

  The tone of the skin covering his high cheekbones darkened. Curious, she smoothed her finger over the spot. He pressed into the touch of her open palm. “It is an ancient human language, one I have long felt a kinship with.”

  “Oh.” How long had she ached to be able to touch him like this, without him pulling away and rebuking her? By not shrinking away, he welcomed her touch, so she untangled her other hand from the blanket and captured his face. The arm holding her tightened and she sighed.

  “Beautiful woman.”

  “What?”

  “The word means beautiful woman.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  Surprise lit his face. She traced the lifted arch of his eyebrows then drew a fingertip down the length of his nose.

  Spearing his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head, Gowthaman held her gaze. Her exploring fingers stilled. “Yes,” he said, and kissed her.

  No simple kiss, he brought them together with an intensity that startled her. Heat flared through her body, chasing the lingering chills, settling in her breasts, at the apex of her thighs.

  When he paused, she tilted her head to one side and Gowthaman obliged by tracing his fingers down the column of her neck. Reaching the tender spot where her neck met her shoulders, he moved his thumb in slow circles. Then he lifted her closer and pressed his warm lips to the same spot. The moist heat of his tongue tickled her skin. She sighed and snuggled into his embrace.

  Gowthaman stroked her hair, smoothing the short strands from her face. “You should not have kept this hidden.”

  Sniffing, she shook her head, dislodging his gentle touch. “You’re a fine one to talk.”

  His tight smile was hidden when he dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You would bear this alone?”

  Remnants of pain tightened to a ragged knot in her chest. “I always have. It’s a part of what I do.”

  Gowthaman lifted his head and held her eyes for a long moment before his gaze dropped to her lips. The pain-filled knot dissolved into tight expectation, delight and heated desire.

  “No longer.”

  She pushed at his chest, a weak, half-hearted struggle, but before anything else was said, he had to understand. “I won’t stop healing. Even if this is the price, it’s worth a few moments of pain to help someone.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “It was worth it for you.”

  “You have mud upon your face.”

  “What?”

  “The dust and your tears have made muddy tracks over your cheeks.” He took a corner of the blanket and wiped her face with gentle, precise strokes.

  Confused at his reaction, Bree stilled his hand and repeated, “I won’t stop healing.”

  “I know, Breanna. Such is a part of you I would not wish to change. However, no longer will you be alone when you
face this after time. I shall be with you.”

  “But...”

  “Now is not the time for this discussion.”

  He wasn’t going to get away with avoiding her any longer. Nor would she let him evade her questions. “Now is as good a time as any. I don’t—”

  Gowthaman captured her words with a kiss. She would not let the issue rest until she understood he would not dissuade her from healing, only that he wished to assist her when she faced the release of pain. Sliding his lips over hers, he teased until she relaxed against him and returned the kiss.

  He dipped his tongue into the heat of her mouth, tasting the lingering salt of her tears. Layered beneath the rising of her passion lay the essences of tart apples and sweet honey mead. A heady combination he pulled into himself with the slow, twining dance of their tongues.

  Tight, heavy, his body responded, the ache of long denial melding with the heat low in his body. As long as he’d denied his love for this beautiful woman in his arms, he’d denied himself. He moved his lips from hers to chase the flicker of her pulse at the hollow of her throat, drawing a gasp and a sigh from her. Slipping one hand beneath the blanket, he spread his fingers over the crumpled cotton of her tee shirt, then shoved the material aside to touch the skin low on her back.

  Electrical awareness prickled his palm. Breanna arched and rolled her back like a cat to press into and encourage his touch. Unable to resist returning to the sweetness of her mouth, he gathered her soft, wordless cries with his kisses while tracing designs on her skin with his fingertips.

  The press of her hip where she rested cradled between his legs captured the rise of his erection. He gulped back a groan. This was neither the time nor the place for kaama, for the physical expression of their love. Yet only her wish, her denial would stop this moment.

  Breanna touched her cheek to his and whispered, “Please, don’t think. Please, I need you. Love me.”

  “TvaaM kaamayaami, Breanna.”

  Captivated by the gray sparkle in her eyes and the damp glistening of tears on her lashes, he finally understood how lost one could become in another. How lost and yet now completely whole. He took her hand and pressed her palm over the beating of his heart. “TvaaM kaamayaami. I love you. I do not need to think to know this. You are my soul.”

  “TvaaM kaamayaami,” she repeated carefully. “I like how that sounds. It means I love you?”

  He nodded and unwrapped the blanket from her shoulders. Nuzzling her neck, he spread the blanket over the cold ground with one hand then lowered them to the makeshift bed.

  She sighed when he splayed his hand on her flat belly, then slid her tee shirt up over her breasts to expose the white cotton of her bra. Sadness assailed him but he smiled. She should be dressed in the finest of Faerie silks, not this plain, serviceable garment.

  Brushing his hands over her, he removed her shirt then leaned down to trail, hot wet kisses over her collar bone. She tangled her fingers in his hair, exerting slight pressure, but he denied her the satisfaction of her silent entreaty.

  This time, this moment, might be the only one they would have. If a sacrifice were called for, Gowthaman accepted he would be the logical choice. If such a sacrifice were called for, he would have this memory to sustain him. Despite her determination he did not believe all of the rescue party would return safely from the world between worlds.

  Breanna tugged on his hair, the tiny, sharp pains returning his full attention to her. “What’re you thinking about?”

  To give himself a moment to clear his mind of concerns, he stripped off his tunic then lifted his gaze to hers. “You should be lying upon a pillow strewn bed, hidden in the shadows of a colorful awning at the oasis. The finest of silks would adorn you.” He flicked a finger over the firm peak of her cotton covered nipple making her gasp. “Never should such common materials touch your golden skin.”

  His hand slipped lower, to the fastening of her jeans. “Warm desert winds would caress you, and I, I would follow that caress, my lips against your skin, tasting sunshine and desire upon you. The sweet sounds you make for me would dance to the song of the water over the smooth, rounded rocks.”

  Watching his eyes, Breanna lifted her hips and he drew the denim from her body. The warmth of his hand skimmed up her leg and curled over her inner thigh. “Moonlight will bathe you. The orchids will withhold their fragrance, for no aroma should compete with the scent of your skin, the honey musk of your arousal.”

  Only Gowthaman’s light trousers remained of their clothing. Bree stroked his chest, both patient and frustrated with his slow touch, his words, his seduction, hardly daring to believe his words or the reality of his touch.

  “And I, sundarii, in that place, I would worship you. With my hands. My mouth. My body. My love.”

  “And I you.” She arched into his palm, catching her lower lip between her teeth at the spiral of joy and desire tightening beneath his teasing explorations of her breast.

  Clutching his shoulders, Bree allowed herself to sink into the sensations Gowthaman aroused, until her body ached with need, demanding his touch, the joys of release. At last the gray worry receded, and all she knew, all she felt, was him. When at last he removed his trousers, settled in the cradle of her thighs and smiled down on her, tears of relief burned her eyes. Almost.

  He caught a tear on a fingertip then brushed the backs of his knuckles along her jaw. “You are so soft.”

  She tilted her hips and his length twitched against her belly. Her low sensual laugh vibrated along her skin and she gasped, “You’re not.”

  “Breanna...”

  “No more, Gowtham. Please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

  “No, no longer,” he whispered against her lips. Holding her gaze, he rose above her and encouraged her to lift one leg over his hip. Strain showed in the tight set of his jaw, yet he smiled and slowly joined their bodies.

  “Gowtham,” she sighed. He’d filled her and now held himself still as her virgin body softened to welcome his. He pressed his forehead to hers, then with another smile, brought their mouths together. His tongue dueled with hers, twining and stroking, mimicking...

  He withdrew slowly then returned, each time a little faster, or firmer, or at a new amazing angle. Pleasure rippled through her, again and again. Building. Growing. Stirring her senses higher, until she could no longer contain the rising. Yet she clutched at the feelings, tightened her hold on him, strangely reluctant, expectant...

  “Gowtham.”

  The force of his thrusts increased and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Too much, the feelings... too much. His breath burst past her ear, timed to the building pressure within her. Capturing his face between her hands, she traced his lips with her thumbs. He caught one in his mouth and suckled it deep into his heat.

  A burst of crimson sensation shattered her control and she cried out her delight. Hips pressing her hard into the ground, Gowthaman shuddered, whispered her name and collapsed. His weight against her brought a sharp wash of golden joy.

  Then his lips found hers and she believed.

  Twenty-one

  Fingers entwined, Bree and Gowthaman returned to the tiny campfire. He waited until she sat then crossed to the packs, found water and energy bars. Sitting at her side, he handed her an opened bottle. “Drink.”

  She did. Although she felt no thirst, she drained half the bottle. Healing not only drained her emotionally, but the physical demands on her body needed repair. Especially in this place. Amazed the glorious moments of loving hadn’t depleted her further, she cast Gowthaman a shy look.

  His smile touched his eyes and the worry hovering there lessened. “Is there anything I may do for you, sundarii?”

  “Don’t stop loving me.” Eyes wide, she bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, to voice her fears that somehow, someday, he’d take back the words he’d spoken and the love he’d shared with her in this dismal place. That his actions had only been from a sense of duty or obligation
... or because that’s what she expected.

  In a fluid motion Gowthaman rose to his knees and wrapped her in his arms. “I will not.”

  “But you...” Burning tears nibbled away at her resolve and she blurted, “But you stopped loving Kaelea.”

  Gowthaman sank back on his calves and shook his head. He stroked her upper arms. “Although I believed I loved her for some time, I did not love her as I do you, Breanna. Yes, I believed it so, but after Bard arrived, I knew my feelings toward her were those for a friend.” He smiled ruefully. “Not that I did not attempt to deny that fact, and wrongfully pursued her for too long. She is, and will always be, a dear friend. But only a friend.”

  Silent, Breanna watched the emotions play across his face. She would take joy in his expressions now that he no longer held such a tight grasp on his emotions. At this moment he appeared no more than a man coming to terms with a decision.

  Finally he took a breath and asked, “Do you remember the day you found the cave at Lucidea’s manor? And the wall of water contained within it?”

  Setting the bottle aside, she studied her hand while she gathered her thoughts. Why was he asking about that? Kaelea hadn’t been at the manor then, so this couldn’t be about his feelings for Kae, could it? Since no one had mentioned the incident in years, Bree had almost forgotten it. “Yes,” she drawled. “I got in so much trouble that time, disappearing the way I did. But my explorations had a positive effect in the long run.”

  Waiting for him to make some comment, she took tiny bites of the dry, crunchy energy bar. She grimaced, carefully rewrapped the bar and set it beside the water bottle. Dusty tasting enough in the real world, eating it here was like trying to chew sand. And this was supposed to be good nutrition? The least manufacturers could do would be to make the thing taste like chocolate.

  “Do you, Breanna?” Gowthaman’s low voice intruded on her musing. “Do you remember my words to you that day?”

  She attempted to dredge up the incident, knowing even though the effects of Gowthaman’s healing had dissipated, the memory could be doubled in her mind. Strangely, the time remained hidden. “I can’t remember.”