Words That Bind

by Ash Krafton

  And they were the right words, because something in his eyes relaxed, went off their guard, when she said it.

  “I ask for one small favor. Not that I am in a position to deserve it, but…” He stroked her cheek, hesitant. “You know my true name. Will you say it?”

  She tried to draw back, to pull away from his embrace. “Oh, no, I—I can’t. It made you so angry—”

  He held on to her, preventing her escape. His touch was still gentle and warm, and not heated by the cold fury that scalded her the last time.

  “I was surprised. You caught me off guard. I hadn’t heard my name spoken aloud in over two thousand years. My mother.” His voice thickened with emotion. “I never thought I would hear it spoken by a woman whom I…feel so deeply for.”

  Heaven lies below a mother’s feet. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard it, but it reverberated through her as if she’d recited every morning. Of all things, he revered his mother, even going so far as to adopt another, the Elder Mother in the snowy mountains in Peru. “Oh, Burns.”

  “No. Not Burns.” He rubbed his fingers together, and the glint of gold appeared. The translation earring. He slipped his hand up the smooth side of her throat, beneath her hair, and gently pressed it onto her ear, letting his fingers linger over the soft skin. “My true name. You have it within you.”

  She searched his eyes, which had rekindled with their tiny dancing flames. Reaching deep into her psyche, she sought the place where her candlewick secrets hid—the place where she kept the mysterious syllables of his name.

  “You love me,” he said, urging her with his fingertips along her back, kneading and stroking. “Feel that connection and follow it.”

  His touch spread a glow of warmth through her skin. She soaked it in, like thirsty ground aching for a long-awaited rain.

  She did love him.

  It was a clear certainty, a truth which she’d somehow known long before he’d walked into her office. That connection had always existed. It was just a matter of waiting for them to finally meet.

  She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, feeling the heat of his body along hers. Comforts. Necessities. Existence. And she loved him, like open arms waiting to be filled. He completed her like a circuit. For the first time in her life, she admitted she loved someone. But it wasn’t enough to admit it. It wasn’t enough to examine and analyze it.

  She had to step away from herself, from the logic and the guarded veneer and the detachment of simple observation. She had to open up and experience it.

  With a steadying breath, she exhaled, letting herself go.

  The door within her opened, freeing all it had ever kept from her. The vault emptied, like a hurricane wind. She loved Burns with a vastness that dwarfed everything she’d ever known. She reached out, embraced that love, and she submerged herself in it.

  She smiled, laughing into the rush of experience, exhilarated by the freedom. When the vault opened, it brought back more than his name.

  It united her with the humanity she’d lived her whole life without.

  Subtle shades of feeling added to her conviction of her love for him, coloring it, flavoring it, with every imaginable nuance. Love…it wasn’t a contract, an agreement between consulting adults. Love was every possible emotion rolled into one.

  Joy at being held in the arms of her lover. Fear that they could be separated. Sorrow that she’d lived so many years in the shadow of not having met him yet.

  Everything, all at once. This was love.

  And love loosened his true name from the recesses of her mind, gave it wings and set it free to slip forth from her lips. Finally, the words of her dream and their translation were mated, one and the same. She understood each syllable, saw the fluid script of the written word, heard the melodic chime of it spoken. Word and meaning danced together, two yet one.

  She tilted back her head, tears simmering in her eyes, and spoke the name of her dearest love. “Shining Child Whose Very Existence Causes My Heart To Soar With Eagles Simply Because He Gazes At Me With Love.”

  He smiled, his eyes sparkling behind a swell of tears. “My name.”

  “Your mother named you well.”

  Burns touched her lips with her fingertips. “Your mother, perhaps, did not have the ability to see the future. Otherwise, she would have named you She Who Tamed The Flames And Tempered The Heart Of A Man Most Unworthy Of Her Love.”

  “Oh, Burnsie.” She couldn’t not smile. This feeling inside her, this swell of absolute life—how else to describe it? Years of textbooks and case studies and dissertations…nothing had prepared her for this. “Explain to me how I was lucky enough to find you.”

  “Only if, someday…” He stroked her cheek, his voice dropping lower, deeper. “You explain to me how I was lucky enough to end up enslaved to such a fox.”

  His voice, gravelly and rough, tickled her insides and made her shiver. She grinned. “Shut up and kiss me.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He lowered his face to hers, seeking her lips.

  She pulled her head back and dodged his kiss, teasing him. “Oh, no. You won’t use up my wishes so easily. This is your wish.”

  He drew back, wearing an exaggerated frown. “You don’t want me?”

  “Technically, I own you. But I am giving myself to you, right now. Will you have me?” The line of her body full against his, she slid her hand up to the back of his neck, holding him captive.

  He gazed at her, seemingly perplexed. “That isn’t how this game is played.”

  “Then I’m changing the rules. I’m your ring, right? Then wear me. Slip me onto your finger.” She lifted onto her toes and nuzzled his earlobe, sucking it into her mouth and nibbling, delighting in the response of fast rumbling in his chest. “Adorn yourself with me. I will be your jewel. Your treasure.”

  He sighed and slid his hands down her sides, coming to rest at her hips, pulling her against him. Leaning to rest his forehead upon hers, he chuckled. “If only you were fire-born. The possibilities…”

  Kissing her, he poured heat into her. She clung to him, fisted his dark curls, cradled his head.

  “If only…I could love you the way flame was meant to be loved,” he said. “There would be no fleshly separation. We would dance on a sea of pleasure, one being, one spirit. There would be no you and I. There would only be us.”

  His mouth gently travelled down her cheek, her nape, the hollow at the base of her throat.

  “If only.” He pulled back, his eyes searching her face. “But, alas. You are a puny human.”

  He stooped and grabbed her waist, lifting her and throwing her onto his shoulder. “I’ll try not to break you…but I won’t promise anything.”

  Chapter 29

  Despite the rigorous evening they spent together, she did not sleep well. Her dreams were feverish and familiar, every nuance was shaded with urgency. Her dreams no longer were woven with a sense of detached curiosity. This was real, as real as waking life.

  And she didn’t feel safe.

  The candlewick woman called to her, beckoning her to stand once more upon the dunes. She spread her arms of flame wide, smokeless fire twisting on the sands.

  Tam was drawn to her side. Off in the distance, she spied a shimmer of white. Wordlessly, she pointed to it, inquiring.

  The candlewick woman spun, becoming a whirlwind. Circling once, she sent up a wall of rushing sand around Tam, sweeping her up within the rush. Together, they sped the dunes toward the white splotch of mirage. As they drew nearer, the white stretched into tall streaks. Columns.

  Pillars. She knew those stretches of stone. The sight of them stirred a sense of anxiety within her. The seneschal’s face flashed in front of her, his voice an echo in her head.

  “Where are we?” She shouted to be heard over the screaming wind. The candlewick woman had the answers she needed. This woman was the key to understanding who she was, why Burns had been tied to her.

  This is the Rub al Khali, the candlewick wom
an said. This is where you came from. Your birthplace. Your home.

  And one day, you will return here. You will come home to save the man you love.

  And you will die.

  The candlewick woman drew a blade, holding it aloft. Sunlight glinted across the curve of steel, blinding bright. With a twist of her wrist, she flipped the knife and drove it deep into Tam’s chest.

  She collapsed onto her knees, her breath ragged with searing pain. Real pain. The blade protruded from her chest. Blood spilled out, spurting with each beat of her heart. A cold dread seeped through her limbs.

  She pulled out the knife, dropping it, and pressed her hand against the wound. The raw fleshy edges were rubbery, slick. Blood oozed between her clenched fingers. A mortal wound. The edges of her vision faded. Couldn’t breathe—

  Horrified, she looked up at the candlewick woman, who stood over her body, her hand a crimson gleam. “Why?”

  The candlewick woman’s fiery form took on shape. Took on a face.

  Her own.

  Tam’s own face looked back at her and laughed until all sank into blackness.

  She woke long before the alarm, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. As the sky took on brightness, she rolled on her pillow to look upon her lover.

  He slept soundly, his face relaxed. With every exhale, he breathed out a tiny pah. He looked like a man who had nothing to fear. Peaceful. He was the very picture of serenity.

  Slipping her hand free of the blanket, she brushed the curls from his brow. He sat straight up, startled, looking confused. When he saw her lying beside him, his entire demeanor changed, finding peace once more. Shushing him, she tugged him down, stroked the side of his face. He smiled, drowsy and gentle as he settled, eyes drifting closed.

  That look was one to be kissed, to be caressed.

  But she wasn’t in a lover’s mood. She was too weary from a dream that haunted her, too weighed down by the problems that waited for her at work.

  Today was the day she had been dreading most of all. Today, she had to tell Beth she was transferring her case. No wonder she dreamed about killing herself. Talk about symbolic.

  She didn’t want to tell Beth, with her inability to handle bad news, her low stress tolerance. The thought made her stomach churn. Maybe it wasn’t so symbolic after all.

  When the dawn grew light enough to make out the shapes of her dresser, the details of his slumbering face alongside hers, she silenced the alarm and slipped out of bed. She retreated to the darkened kitchen. For a long time, she leaned against the counter, hugging her chest, watching the shadows fade with the rising sun.

  Eventually, Burns emerged from the bedroom, looking very much like a satisfied cat. His expression brightened when he caught sight of her but dimmed as he grew closer. “Something is wrong.”

  “What am I going to do?” She felt like misery, left for dead. She stole a glance in the small mirror by the window. Her eyes, bruised and weary, revealed her lack of sleep. Sinking into one of the wooden kitchen chairs, she scrubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

  “Get a shower. You’ll perk back up, like that rotten fern that refuses to give up the ghost. I’ll shower with you, to make sure you do it right.” A grin tilted his mouth, and he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Then I’ll let you go to work. Perhaps.”

  “Go to work.” She barked a laugh, a bitter sound. “That’s the problem. It’s all over for me. It was over the second you walked into my office.”

  Burns tilted his head and rubbed his bare chest, squinting in the early morning sun. “I fear I don’t understand your dilemma.”

  “You couldn’t. You’re the one who caused it. No matter what you had wanted, you became a client the moment you walked in my door. That’s all that matters. And I crossed the line. Why?”

  She drooped her head into her palms, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole, just so she didn’t have to face reality. After a moment, she looked back up at him

  “I’ll tell you why,” she said. “Because I felt something. For the first time in my life, I felt something. You did it to me. And what do I do now? My career is over. It was all I had, and it wasn’t just my job. It was my life’s journey. I studied people with emotional disturbances because I myself am disturbed. I had no emotion. I worked with kids like Bethany because they live every day with their hearts’ volume turned up full blast and maybe, just maybe, I can help them to turn it down. Maybe even turn mine up in the process. Counselling gave me countless opportunities to figure out what was missing...”

  The coffee pot rasped as the drip chamber emptied. She got up, tugging a mug from the dish rack. She lifted a second cup at him, but he shook his head.

  She set the mug on the counter, harder than she intended. “And then you walk in, and you should have been the perfect client. You’re explosive and seething and passionate and you could have been the case to finally give me the breakthrough I need. But there was no breakthrough. I’m just broken.”

  “And that is why you’re closing your practice. Oh, Tamarinda.” He stole up behind her and pressed a kiss on her shoulder, setting his arms around her shoulders. “I didn’t mean for this. I never wanted to hurt you. Rough you up, maybe—”

  She twisted around, loosening his embrace. “It’s not a joke, love. I ended my career by feeling and doing and not regretting it. That job connected me to the world. It was my livelihood. My life.”

  He lowered his head until their noses touched. “You have me, and I have countless wishes to give you. You will live like an empress.”

  “I don’t want to live like an empress. I just want to be human.” She sighed. “I know what I have to do. I just hate knowing it’s the right thing to do and the right time to do it.”

  “So, don’t do it. Have the best of both worlds.”

  “This is the real world. There is no such thing.” Her heavy sigh did little to lift the weight in her chest. “And anyway, it’s too late. I already made the arrangements. I have an appointment with the lawyers at two. I’m signing over the practice today.”

  “You gave up everything for me? I don’t deserve―”

  She patted his cheek. “This is just destiny, Burns. Elder Mother said there would be pain. We’ll get through it. I just…I just worry about the people I have to let down.”

  Tam drummed her index finger against Beth’s file, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She did not want to have to do this.

  She’d already transferred her other clients. It had been a difficult week—although Dolly agreed to assume the largest part of the practice, she still had to call in favors from two other counsellors to do part-time case load management. The practice had simply grown too large.

  And she had to let it go. She’d never felt more out of control in her life—first Burns, then her feelings, now this, the loss of everything for which she’d worked so hard—

  But that wasn’t the worst of it.

  The worst was waiting on the other side of this door. No matter how well she handled all of this, she knew Bethany would not.

  Not at all.

  She knocked twice and walked in. Bethany sat on her favorite chair, a squeaky yellow-vinyl covered one that she said reminded her of sunshine and bananas. Happy things. Tam never questioned the bananas part.

  “Tammy!” Bethany shoved her cell phone into her back pocket, bouncing on the cushion as she did so. “I was starting to worry. It’s almost two minutes after and you’re never late, never. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

  Tam took a seat near the young woman, dreading what she had to say. “Bethany, we aren’t going to have our usual session today.”

  The girl’s expression fell. Distress flitted into the upturned brows, the fearful frown. “Something’s wrong. Oh my God Tam. Something is wrong. You’re sick, aren’t you? You look terrible and you must be sick—”

  “No, Beth.” Tam lifted her palm in a soothing gesture. “I
’m not sick. But I do have to go away for a while. This is really hard for me because we have really made progress—”

  “I knew it. I knew it. I told myself, it was just a matter of time. Everyone else leaves. You would, too. I’m sorry about what happened in group. I really am sorry. I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid.” Bethany became still, quiet, her shoulders hunching. “I should have just kept my mouth shut and you wouldn’t be kicking me out.”

  “I’m not kicking you out, Beth. I’m the one who has to go away. And it’s not like I’m leaving today; I want to see you a few times while we transition you over to another counsellor. You can still come here, just like you do now. Dolly will meet with you.”

  “She’s not you, Tam. She’s just not.”

  “I know. But she has gotten to know you. You like her.”

  “Don’t go, Tam, don’t go. You’re all I have. You are the only one who cares.”

  Tam shifted uncomfortably in her chair. A sensation of tightness spread through her chest.

  Beth’s outburst was beginning to permeate her, she the counselor who lived her life behind a wall, peering at the emotional outbursts through a one-way mirror. The screaming, the threats, they never bothered her. Until now.

  She saw Beth’s distress, the lines of pain on her face, around her eyes, her mouth, her brows. The physical signs of emotional distress. She’d witnessed them countless times on hundreds of faces. This was the first time that she reacted to it, in empathy.

  Empathy. Up until this moment, it had been no more than another wish. The act of feeling with the client, actually clothing herself in the emotional responses of another person—that was all it had ever been: an act.

  She had worked harder than any other counselor at portraying empathy because she never had an emotional response of her own.

  Now, she finally understood what her clients went through. She understood why distress twisted their faces and animated their limbs and drove them to desperate escapes from their torment.

  She understood because she wanted to do the same thing. It took absolute force of will to keep from reaching out and hugging Bethany, because, right now, she, too, needed the comfort of a kind touch.