Heart Quest

by Robin D. Owens

  “I know someone who can help restore it for us. Probably for a minimal fee.”

  “I don’t know,” Meyar whispered, but there was yearning in his gaze fixed on the Residence. “What do we do with her?”

  They fell silent.

  “Her birth Family wouldn’t want her back,” Ilex said.

  Nearly howling with laughter, Meyar gasped between chortles, “Find a solution to that problem, brother, and I’ll press my claim.”

  Ilex shot out an arm. “Thank you for scrying, for coming.”

  Meyar clasped his wrist. “You are welcome. I’ll stay. For a while.”

  He meant until Ilex’s presentiment came true or not.

  “And thank you for that. Three thanks…a charm.”

  “Good.” Meyar was looking up at the house again. “I think we’ll need it.” He hesitated, then turned and wrapped Ilex in a bear hug. “I’m glad you called me down our Familial bond. I don’t know that I’d have contacted you.”

  It was good to have his brother back in town, even if it meant a fight.

  Yet as he watched Meyar teleport away, Ilex decided to walk to Landing Park one more time.

  The poppet in his pocket stirred at the end of the street. He tensed. Though he quartered the area, nothing more happened. He’d missed the man.

  Ilex was disrobing and down to his loincloth when Trif came dancing into his bedroom, a wide smile on her face, carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand. Ilex was sure the movement couldn’t be good for the wine, but said nothing to dim her pleasure.

  “Hmmmm,” Trif said, staring at his chest. He was glad she hadn’t glanced lower, her presence was having the typical effect on his body. He reached into the wardrobe and took out a robe, slipped it over his head.

  “Aww, too bad,” she said, a sparkle in her eyes. He didn’t trust that look and took a step back, ran into the frame of the bedsponge platform. She laughed.

  “You are definitely in a better mood than yesterday,” he murmured.

  Nodding, she waggled the bottle. “Vinni T’Vine gave it to me.” She looked down at it. It was older than she was and she hoped it was still good. Ilex had tensed at the mention of the young prophet’s name. Her HeartMate was definitely sensitive about foresight. She’d have to accept that, among his other faults—his overprotectiveness and stubbornness.

  He cleared his throat. “Did Vinni say anything?”

  She looked at him, exuding limpid innocence. She wasn’t going to admit that Vinni told her to keep pursuing Ilex. “He said the future regarding you was still changeable.” She frowned. “I got the idea that you’re always going to be problematic for him and he doesn’t like it.”

  “Ah,” he said, and made to move past her into his mainspace.

  She stepped to stand solidly in his way. “We’re celebrating.”

  “What?”

  Shrugging, she said, “Many things. Sex with our Heart-Mates.” She sent him a sly glance from under her lashes, let her gaze wander down his body like a caress. When she saw his arousal, she smiled. And daintily licked her lips.

  His mouth went dry and he suddenly wanted the champagne. He reached out and snagged the bottle, tested it with his Flair. Definitely explosive. “If you’ll let me by, I’ll take this to the kitchen.”

  With widened eyes and raised brows, she backed out of the bedroom and gestured. “Go ahead.” When he passed by her, he knew she stared at his ass, had a hot image of them moving together on a bedsponge sizzle from her mind to his. His shaft got harder until his loincloth chafed.

  He cudgeled his mind for conversation. “You said, ‘Many things.’ What else?”

  “Um…Mitchella told me today that Straif Blackthorn is coming home.”

  “To help with the murders, yes,” Ilex said. When she made a sound of surprise, he glanced back at her. “You didn’t know.”

  “Mitchella didn’t say.”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t know. I have not been informed exactly to whom the FirstFamilies are disseminating our reports.” He sent a variation of the calming spell to the wine inside the bottle, settling it so that the cork would not blow a hole in the ceiling.

  “And—and real good news. Mitchella and Straif have reached the top of the list of the Saille House for Orphans to adopt an infant!”

  A wave of pure yearning surged through him To have a HeartMate and children, a Family and a future! He had only borrowed time. He focused on gently removing the cork with a touch of Flair. When he thought his smile would be easy instead of a rictus, he turned back to Trif.

  “Oh, Ilex!” She rushed to him, held him tightly, and he could only shut his eyes at the emotion roiling inside him. Not lust, or not simply lust, but the warmth of being loved, of loving. And the hard, twisted ache of anticipated loss. He didn’t know how long he could live with the knowledge that what he wanted could never be.

  Of course, if his premonition was right, he wouldn’t be living long at all—a couple of months perhaps.

  He gloried in the press of her body against him, savored every sensation—the scent of her hair, how every centimeter of her felt next to his. He’d stand like this, bathed in her aura, the tingling of her Flair permeating him, forever.

  Then she was kissing his neck, laving it with her tongue, nipping, and sexual need banished all else. And he was grateful. Those other hungers he could never satisfy—this…He shoved the bottle on the counter with a ringing clatter as it jostled against glasses.

  His hands went to her derriere and pulled her close until her mound nestled against his rigid shaft. He opened his eyes to see hers, dark green with desire. He moved until he pressed her against a wall.

  “Clothes gone,” she breathed, and she lifted herself and plunged down on him, and she was wet and tight and wild in his arms, shivering and crying out his name.

  Passion ruled. He tried to slow down, set his hands under her thighs so he could move her more slowly, more deliberately, increasing their pleasure. His muscles trembled and all feeling went to his cock, the lingering withdrawal from her, the sweet slide back. A flood of heated need pulsed from her to him.

  “Ilex, Ilex, Ilex!” she screamed, and his name on her lips snapped his control. He plunged again and again, matching his strokes to their panting breaths, faster, faster, until she clamped and shuddered around him and he shattered.

  And let the golden rope of the HeartBond caress him one excruciatingly delicious instant before pushing it away.

  He held her against the wall, breathing in the scent of her, the scent of them that was the best fragrance of the world.

  Her head lay on his shoulder and her tongue licked his neck again so that he surged into her one more time with energy he didn’t know he had. Still holding her, her legs wrapped around his waist, he strode to the bedroom and they fell onto the bedsponge.

  Trif giggled and again he arched into her.

  “Goddess,” he groaned.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He managed a laugh. She was a goddess—the goddess as Maiden. He didn’t want to think about that—that he’d never see her as goddess as Matron or Wise Woman—and brushed her tangled hair from her face. She glowed with beauty.

  “I love—” she started.

  Ilex put a palm over her mouth. “Don’t say it.”

  Her eyes flashed and she pushed his fingers away. Pushed him away until he withdrew from her and was cold.

  She was hot. Anger rippled from her. “Why not? I’m not afraid of my feelings. Not afraid of the future, and not afraid of the now. I love you.” She poked him in the chest. “And you love me. I can feel it, even if you don’t give me the words.” She rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom. He heard the waterfall whoosh down over the stone ledge, and flung an arm across his eyes so he wouldn’t imagine her slick and wet.

  A futile hope. With another groan—this one of surrender, he joined her.

  Trif had her eyes closed, and was washing her hair with the liquid herbal soap that Ilex usuall
y smelled of, when a pair of masculine hands set around her waist and lifted her with steady solidity. Her lids opened just in time to see his firm jaw, then his soft lips before his mouth took hers.

  She melted, opening her mouth for the thrust of his tongue, shivering as his chest hair rasped against her tender nipples. Her sex clenched as need ravaged her, need for this man. Forever.

  Her hands slid along his broad shoulders, cupped around his upper arms. She whimpered in delight at the strength of him. He opened his mouth and she explored it, treasuring the intimate taste of Ilex.

  When she pushed against him, he lowered her. “Let me wash you,” she said, breathless.

  He smiled and it stunned her, it was so rare. She set a hand against the rock-sheeted wall and blinked at him.

  To her, he was simply beautiful, a man in his prime. She’d woo him, and tonight she’d touch him—know him better than she had any man, make him more aware of her than he had been of any woman.

  She soaped her hands and started with his feet. They were long and narrow, elegant, like the rest of him. He curled his toes at her touch and she chuckled.

  Sweeping her hands up, she washed his legs—not too hairy, none of him was too hairy, but just right. Enough hair for texture to tease her palms and the rest of her.

  His thighs were long, solid muscle. She soaped and rinsed them, front and back, then stepped closer to cup her hands around his butt. Just as muscular as the rest of him. She glanced up, and found his arms braced against the wall behind her and his eyes closed.

  The expression on his face caught her. There was intense concentration, a deep longing…and resignation. As if he knew the moments with her would end all too soon and be all too short.

  She battered his pessimism with her own joy—and they both tended to live in the moment, though for different reasons. As she sent the bubbling sweet delight she got from just stroking him through their connection, a slight smile formed on his lips.

  Good.

  Glancing down, she saw he was ready for her and she wanted to tease. So she did. Gently, she stroked him, washed all of him, smiled at the changes in his body, the fine tension in his muscles. She petted him until he groaned and whispered her name.

  Once again, she looked up and found his eyes blazing. “Having fun?” he rasped.

  She tried an innocent look. “Some. But I want more.” She giggled. “That’s what Greyku is always saying. ‘More.’”

  He stared down at her, his gaze lingering on her breasts and her nipples, peaked from the cool air, contracted further. An aching need spread from her core until her breasts felt heavy—and she hungered for his touch. She twined her arms around his neck. “Ilex.”

  “No.” He straightened, put his hands on her waist, and set her gently aside. “Waterfall off. Wind on.”

  A hot breeze swirled around her, drying her. She scowled. “I don’t want wind to caress me. I want your hands. I want more.”

  He linked fingers with hers. “I am not going to take you against another wall.”

  She raised her brows. “No? What do you have against walls?”

  She thought she heard him grinding his teeth. He stepped over the lip of stone around the waterfall area and tugged at her. The wind followed them through the small room, but with every step he hurried faster. When they reached his bedroom, he picked her up and tossed her on the sponge.

  “Ilex!”

  But she could say no more because his body was over hers, his tongue in her mouth. With one swift plunge, he was inside her filling her with exquisite pleasure. He stopped. A very bad habit of his. It drove her wild.

  Arching her hips, rotating them, had him groaning aloud and sending her intimate whispers mentally. Let me stay inside you, know you. Keep you.

  I want to move!

  He withdrew slightly, slid again, prodded one particular spot that sent wicked need to every nerve. More!

  Yes, more.

  Again and again he surged inside her, and she was aware of only him, the muscles of his back flexing under her fingers, his iron thighs spreading her legs, the salty taste of his throat on her tongue.

  One…last…time, he sent to her, and she sensed the explosion of rapture to come, the loosening of his control.

  Heady, delicious orgasm hit her. She screamed, loud and long. He did too, and they flew through the universe bursting with stars. She wrapped him with the golden HeartBond and he slipped away from it.

  A pulse of tender yearning mixed with suffering came back to her.

  “Dark,” he said, and the room turned into night. He rolled with her to their sides, then stroked her hair. “Sleep.” It wasn’t an order, but she found lying in his arms was all she wanted.

  “You too.”

  “Yes.”

  They fell asleep together, wrapped around each other, heedless of everything else.

  Until she walked through his dreams.

  Twenty-four

  She walked through his dream and his feelings impinged upon her. Fog drifted down a hall that seemed nothing but doors. As Ilex turned to face one, dread filled him until the suspense of being outside was worse than facing what was inside. His hand shook as he set it on the latch. A slight push and the door swung open to a bright, misty place. A place he loved to be.

  Noises rushed out, loud cacophony, happening instantaneously. Yowls, a loud metallic ring, then a crash, a horrible bang and thud. Screeching!

  Dream Ilex floated through the door. His gaze went to a shadowy area of red clay tiles. Everything focused. Dressed in guardsman brown, his body lay on the floor. The side of his head was broken, face covered with red, sticky blood. Near him was a golden metallic curve he strove to identify and understand. His shoulders twitched with a sensation of being watched by monstrous eyes.

  Another scream.

  He whipped around and Trif saw herself, hands covering her chest. “HeartMate!” she shrieked, and collapsed. She lay in the sunlight, eyes wide open, unseeing, dead, lengths away from her lover.

  Pain shredded Dream Ilex. He covered his eyes, shrank back. “No, no, no!” I’ve killed her echoed in his mind and grief swallowed him.

  He shot up straight in bed, sitting beside her, panting.

  Wrenched awake, she shuddered where she lay. She could scent his night-panic sweat, but couldn’t move. The vision had been too horrible.

  She knew it had been a real, Flaired vision like her own of the past. And the quality of it had made it seem all too true. She must have made a noise because Ilex turned to her, his voice calm and steady in the dark. “Trif, darling. What can I do for you?”

  Love me.

  He shivered. In a moment.

  Clearing her throat, she said aloud, “In that case, I’d like water.”

  “Two cylinders of water,” he snapped, then held one out to her. She touched it, cold from the no-time, and looked around. His windows faced the garden courtyard and the curtains were open. No shields coated the glass. Moonlight slanted inside, bright enough to see the dampness on his back.

  Sitting up, she ran her thumb across the top of the cylinder and it disappeared. The cool water soothed her throat, and she wondered if she’d screamed from the vision, and if that was what had awakened them. She squirmed a little at the idea of being so childish.

  Without looking at her, Ilex said, “You were there in my premonition. You saw too.” He drank.

  “Yes. Nothing too detailed.” She scooted up to sit beside him, crossed her legs. She’d have touched him, but her hands were cold from the cylinder.

  “That’s always the way. Not enough to guard against, to avoid. To fight. Now you know.” His eyes were in shadow, and he’d narrowed the bond between them to a small strand.

  “I know what you see.” She set the cylinder on the top of the box headboard and rocked to her knees, then wrapped her arms around him. He was warm and substantial and alive, and she found that in trying to comfort him, she received comfort from just hearing his heart beat. “I know what you s
ee,” she repeated. “But I don’t know that it’s true. And neither do you.”

  After one last swallow, he sent the cylinder away and drew her onto his lap, rubbing his face against her hair. “That was the worst vision I’ve ever had of my death,” he said starkly. “Because you were there. I’ve never seen you there before.”

  “Well, I didn’t like my part. I can’t think I’d just crumple like that.”

  “Who knows how death claims HeartMates? Some say it is the despair of being cut off from the HeartBond, or the sheer shock of the sudden rendering of the bond kills the other.”

  She cuddled closer. “I’ve never seen HeartMates die.”

  “I saw one die once, but the other didn’t follow immediately.” His mouth moved against her head and she knew he grimaced. “It took her two more weeks to fade away, I heard. But now you’ve seen and now you know why I…avoid…the HeartBond.”

  She sat in silence for a moment; then she met his steady blue-gray eyes. “I grant you that the dream was more than a dream, but I won’t accept that it is a premonition that can’t be changed.” She lifted her chin.

  He closed his eyes, then opened them, and they had turned to stormy gray. “Each time you throw me the HeartBond it gets harder for me to resist—”

  “Good.”

  “—and I think it is harder for you to accept that I won’t bond with you.”

  “Yes.” She sat up straight. “But I’m a mature adult. I don’t expect my own way all the time. I’ve experienced rejection before. I don’t like it, but I can live with it.”

  “Can you? Can we?”

  “I’m not giving up yet.”

  He just shook his head.

  “You are looking too sober,” she said, and jumped him.

  He smiled as he toppled over, and then she seduced him and did her best to drive them both mad with passion.

  He still refused the HeartBond.

  Ilex rose early and dressed, leaving Trif sleeping in his bed. She looked good there, natural, as if she should always be there. But the vision that they’d shared had renewed his determination. He would die, but he would not take her with him.