Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the Airendell Chronicles

by Audra Hart

  Then she gets serious, “It is a lot to take in and I suspect I have so much more I need to learn, and learn quickly. Tonight I was convinced that whatever, whoever is stalking me was after you. And I have been thinking about this tonight lying here listening to you and Breena. What if my physical reaction, the horrible headaches and the intense physical weakness, when I learn new information about myself is some mechanism of whomever, whatever is coming at me? Does that make any sense at all?”

  “Yes it does. And in light of what Breena shared tonight, I can see the motivation. If this ‘enemy’ is trying to neutralize you why not make you sick every time you might learn anything that might empower you? Do you think I am just reaching?” he asks uncertainly.

  “No, no! Not at all! I think you may really have something there. Think about it, healing spells do not help with my headaches, only sleep does. Maybe when I am sleeping I am somehow protected from the ‘enemy’? And consider this; our healing spells do not heal injuries that are caused directly by magic.” She pauses a moment to consider it, then says, “It fits doesn’t it?”

  “It certainly does!” he asserts. “Remember when I said you have disappeared at times? When you come back you have no idea where you have been? What if you do that in your sleep? Well, maybe not asleep exactly, but perhaps in some state where the ‘enemy’ isn’t stifling your mission, sense of duty, or rather awareness of that duty? What if some force that is on your side, like the Elves, for instance, is directing you at those times? More likely it is just your own strength and wisdom guiding you then, your ascended being”

  Morna is quietly considering all of this. When Luca says, “Maybe, I am just reaching here…” he trails off.

  “No, no I don’t think so… you may have something there. You’ve mentioned before that I seem to have a duality to my nature or rather my consciousness since I have come out of the coma. It could fit. We just need more information before we can know for sure. We need to speak to Ari and Almeda. Should we wait until they come to check on me or could you contact them early?” Morna asks.

  “I am thinking I should contact them early, what if you are attacked again? What if those times when you have nearly harmed yourself were a result of this unknown ‘enemy’ attacking you? You were so forlorn, so hopeless earlier tonight, so very convinced that I would reject you, or be taken from you. If an attack can create that kind of state in you now, when you have become so much stronger than you were in the early days after the crash, think of how devastating those attacks could have been when you had no idea who you really are.”

  Morna shudders, “Too bad we can’t just call them on the phone.” Then she giggles at the thought. “That would be a lot easier than weaving a spell. I am glad that you are capable of weaving a finding spell, I certainly don’t remember how,” she admits.

  Luca looks at Morna oddly, then says, “Have you noticed, the only magic your remember how to do is defensive and offensive in nature. And you don’t actually have to weave the spells. Maybe this is because of your position as Protector of the Talismans and Gateways or your magical lineage?”

  Morna concedes, “That certainly sounds logical to me.” Then she shrugs, she’s comfortable in her ability to protect herself and others from threats she recognizes. It is the other forms of magic and other things that she doesn’t understand yet that concern her. “I think that weaving a finding spell could be helpful for offense and defense too. You will need to teach it to me very soon. When will you weave the finding spell?” she asks somewhat urgently.

  “Morna, what is troubling you? What are you worried about?” Luca asks softly.

  “Luca, I am convinced this ‘enemy’ was after you tonight. I can’t fight what I can’t identify. And you may have problems protecting yourself from something you don’t recognize as a threat. Are you following me?” she asks.

  “So this urgency, this fear that I detect, it is for me?” he inquires.

  “Yes, sorry. It’s not that I am not confident in your abilities. I just don’t understand what we are up against,” she confides.

  “No offense taken love, I understand, probably much more than you realize. I have been trying to protect you from things I don’t understand for centuries,” he admits reluctantly. “Speaking of things that I do not understand; what do you make of that woman’s voice that called out to you tonight?”

  Morna pulls back to look at him, not sure what he means. He cups her face and says, “Baby, I heard a woman’s voice, I heard it in your thoughts. She said; ‘Hang on, Sister! Morna you are strong enough to overcome this!’ Obviously it wasn’t Breena, she was asleep in the sitting room. Do you have other sisters?”

  “I am not sure. If Breena is right and Neill isn’t my father, perhaps my father had a daughter with someone else.” Morna looks at Luca and says, “I can’t understand why I never told you about my father, about the talismans. Can you forgive that?”

  “Of course, baby knowing you, you just didn’t think it was that important. It was just part of who you are. Besides, you keeping the fact that you are the Talismans a secret is part of your duty as the First Protector. I understand that with all of your duties, I may never be privy to all of your secrets.” Luca kisses the top of her head. “I can accept that, just don’t hide things from me that hurt you, baby. I can‘t protect you if you do that. Don‘t keep things from me because you think I won‘t accept them or won‘t be able to forgive you, that‘s just not the case.”

  Morna is so moved by his admission that she moves over on top of him to hold him closer to her. She wants to shield him from the unknown. She wants him to know that she understands. Mostly, she just wants to not feel at loose ends. Luca understands her need, because he shares it. He holds her close to his body, trying to share some small measure of comfort, of strength, he kisses her.

  One kiss leads to another, and another. This leads to caresses. Each caress starts a tiny fire, all the tiny fires come together to create a raging conflagration. By unspoken, but mutual agreement they come together in great passion. Their separate needs, identical in source and intensity, pushing them to seek solace in what they know so well, their passion for each other.

  In their urgency to come together they both are thwarted by the presence of his A shirt and boxers on her body. She is struggling frantically to pull the shirt over her head, when he becomes exasperated and shreds the offending fabric. He pulls himself up short, remembering when she told him about another man tearing an article of her clothing from her body, and the pain and humiliation that followed.

  She’s slightly startled by his impatience, then giggles and says, “Well, do you plan spare the offending boxers?” Her laughter intensifies when he takes her cue and destroys them as well. Then they lose themselves in the wild abandon they know so well that is their loving.

  He feverishly kisses her eager mouth. Her audacious tongue traces the contours of his icy, unyielding lips. Her need drives her to want to break past those strong lips and plunder his mouth like they could before his change. He does the same to her lips. She moans loudly at the intense cold, and the burn that replaces it. When the mild prickly, tingly sensation sets in she wants more.

  She draws his face down her body to her breasts, where she turns first her left and then her right breast toward his eager mouth. She holds his head securely, desperate that he doesn’t stop what he is doing. The sensations are too delicious. His icy tongue lashes the responsive peaks. She is writhing in deep ecstasy at the feelings that follow each flicker and swirl of his glacial tongue. She craves more with an intensity she has never experienced before.

  She uses her hands to try to draw him lower. He resists, fearing that he might cause her pain. She lifts his head so that he will look at her, see her need, and understand her urgency. “Please, please,” she whispers. He complies readily. She opens up to him widely, eager to receive his touch that will incite such delicious sensations. He trails his tongue down her soft tummy, tracing languid patterns. Alternat
ing his tongue and lips, exposing her to a kaleidoscope of burn and chill.

  His powerful hands knead her breasts and move slowly, painstakingly down, ever down toward the very center of her need. He gently exposes the tenderest inner flesh, tracing the tiny folds of her labia with his tongue. Teasing the rock hard button that is her clitoris, working her into a frenzy. She moans deep in her throat, thrilling to the delicious burn and sting he ignites. Her fingers entwine in his hair, drawing ever tighter as the tension in her body continues to build, until it nearly seems unbearable. Yet she is greedy for more, much more.

  His icy hard tongue dips below her erect nub, to the engorged, glistening slit below. He traces around this entrance slowly, delaying, denying himself the reward knows await him there. She tenses waiting, steeling herself for the onslaught of sensations. He suddenly flicks his tongue back to the tiny, rigid button, then uses his cold, unyielding lips to manipulate the button until she writhing upward seeking her ultimate release. He resumes laving her clit with hard tongue, and again, the icy tongue dips lower, this time slipping into the slit.

  Her climax is instantaneous, and from her perspective, earth shattering, causing her to writhe wildly against his mouth and move her thighs to his shoulders, to trap him in place. He responds to her desperate need by actually sucking her tender flesh into his mouth, and gently gnashing the sweet flesh between his sharp, venomous teeth. She goes rigid for several seconds, and then shakes uncontrollably, yet she never releases him from the grip she has on him with her thighs. She is desperate for him to continue. The burn is intense, bright, and searing, not only where she was exposed to his mouth, but deep within her entire body. Her very blood has been ignited. She sighs in contentment, and her body relaxes, its goal achieved.

  And then her body starts to shudder violently as the venom moves through her bloodstream. He cries out in anguish over what he has done, he scoops her up into his arms and takes her to the bathroom. He’s holding her violently trembling body close to his as he starts the shower. Without waiting for the water to warm up he carries her into the stall. He holds her in front of the spraying water. Working efficiently, he washes all traces of his venom from her body. Her shaking body is calming slightly; the violent tremors are replaced by small shudders. The burn on the surface of her skin has been replaced by a numb sensation, but her blood still sings with white hot heat and deep pain, not a crippling pain, but a metamorphic pain. She turns to face him and holds onto him desperately for a very long time.

  Finally, she lifts her face from his hard, cold chest and looks into his face. What she sees there is exactly what she feared she would. He is angry with himself for he has done, and frustrated with her for urging him to do it. She understands, but she certainly isn’t sorry for what they did together. She tries to reach up and kiss his mouth, but he stays her movement. When he sees the pain on her face his rejection causes. He holds her tighter and then kisses her on the forehead, then relents entirely and gently kisses her lips. “I love you Luca, it will be okay,” she whispers softly.

  She’s starts trembling more violently again. Her quivering becomes more brutal than before, and deeper. Her entire body is vibrating. Her blood still burns hotly, but she is feeling cold. The water is cooling off. He looks at her questioningly. He decides he needs to get her out of the shower. He turns her around and gives her another efficient scrub down. Then he turns the water off and lifts her into his arms and carries her out of the shower. He wraps her in the thick terry cloth robe and carries her to bed. She doesn’t resist when he lies her down and wraps the covers around her. She looks into his face, she has never seen him look so indecisive and unsure how to proceed. She tries to smile at him in what she hopes is a reassuringly way.

  The pain and intense burn deep within her body is intensifying. She asks for her prescriptions and some water. He is back in just moments with the items she has requested. She fumbles with the bottles. She gets two Lortabs and a couple of Valiums. She takes them with several gulps of water. “Are you in pain?” he asks fearfully.

  “My head,” she lies. Then she closes her eyes. Hoping he didn’t read the lie clearly exposed there. Her body is still vibrating deeply in the core of her being. The burn hasn’t abated any; in fact it has spread through every part of her, even her brain. She drinks deeply of the bottle of water. When it is empty, she asks for another. After she drinks half of that one too. She burrows deeper into the covers of the bed. How can she be burning up and cold at the same time?

  She is afraid to look at him but she knows she must. He has gotten dressed sometime while she wasn’t paying attention. “How did I miss that?” she wonders. “Hold me, please?” she asks feebly. He complies immediately. He settles in behind her and pulls her upright and tightly to him. She doesn’t like this position because she can’t see his face, but she doesn’t argue. The burn in her body is reaching a crescendo. She just snuggles into his strong body and tries to ignore it, but it won’t be unheeded. She drinks the rest of the water in the bottle. Then leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes.

  The heat in her body intensifies yet again. She is soaked in perspiration. She asks him to strip and hold her close again, to help cool her off. He quickly complies, and she seems to be comforted by the presence of his icy cold body. She relaxes slightly in his arms. But he can still feel the tremors rack her body and hears her muted moans of agony.

  Finally she is exhausted, and a deep sleep overtakes her. Her dreams are violent affairs of rivers of lava, destruction and restoration. Kaleidoscopes of colors and sensations fill her senses. She thrashes and murmurs unintelligibly in her sleep. In turns, she is a quivering mass of burning lava, and grinding glaciers of ice. Perspiration soaks her body, the robe and blankets.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Finally, the burn is gone, the cold is gone. The erratic, frightening, and out of control images and feelings are gone too. She feels peaceful and strong. She opens her eyes. Luca is still holding her. But he has moved their positions so that she is lying beside him, they are facing each other and he is dressed again. As she opens her eyes she looks directly into his beautiful luminescent blue eyes. She smiles happily because her true love is still there, waiting for her. Those gorgeous eyes are clouded with deep fear and worry. In a split second he searches her face and looks deeply into eyes. He gasps in shock and horror. He flies out of bed. Picks her up and carries her into the bathroom. He places her before the mirror and says, “Morna, my God! What have we done? Look at your eyes!”

  At first she can’t understand what he’s talking about. Then she sees what has caused such horror in his reaction. Her irises are still the vivid emerald green they have been since age twelve of her original life, but now there is a very thin, brilliant crimson ring around the pupil. It would be imperceptible to ordinary people. But Luca spotted it immediately. She continues to look at her eyes, then looks up to find his eyes in the mirror. Then she shrugs, and says, “I am still me, I can feel it.”

  He steps back from her, rubs his hands over his face like a man in deep in turmoil. “You don’t smell the same, and you don’t feel the same Morna,” he rasps out. “You still smell like you, but with a hint of my kind. Your very blood has been altered. Your skin is much cooler, paler, and slightly luminescent. Your flesh is firmer, more defined under the softness that is you. You are you, but more, I don‘t know different… I am not making sense,” he murmurs. He looks like a man who is being tortured.

  She turns and takes his face in between her hands. “Luca, I don’t know what, if anything has happened to me, but I am still me. I can feel it. Okay?” She kisses him gently, and backs away because of the unexpected inferno that simple kiss ignites in her body. Then she says. “I am a sticky mess and ravenous. I need a shower and food. Can you order a couple of burgers for me?”

  She turns and walks to the shower. She opens the door and turns the water on waiting for it to warm up. When it feels close to the temperature she wants, she opens the robe and dro
ps it to the floor. She runs her hands down her belly and spreads them out over her hips. Her flesh is clearly much firmer just beneath her softness. She quickly, self-consciously cups her breasts. They are firmer, more pert than they have been in years. She can tell what he meant about her body feeling more defined under the softness. It’s a strong, resilient feeling. She likes it, a lot. A sense of peace, of rightness envelops her and she smiles brightly.

  Morna looks back over at Luca. He is watching her closely, warily. She smiles at him and steps into the shower. She vigorously washes her hair and scrubs her body. She rinses off and then turns the water off and steps out the shower, towel dries her hair and then wraps the towel around her body. Luca is still standing where he was before she entered the shower. There is a look of disbelief and almost horror on his face. She goes over and kisses him, then walks into the bedroom to use the phone and order her food since he doesn’t seem to be going to do it for her.

  Once she’s ordered the food, she quickly selects some clothes from her suitcase and returns to the bathroom. She blow dries her hair, brushes it smooth. Looks at herself in the mirror and stops short. The scar is barely perceptible. She looks closer at her reflection, looks down at her left arm. That scar too, is nearly imperceptible. She looks at her leg and finds the same thing. She looks up into the mirror at Luca; he’s staring at her, his face unreadable. “Did you notice this?” she asks. He nods. Then he steps up to her and gently peels the towel from her body.

  “Morna, look at your body in the mirror,” he whispers. She complies. And gasps. Her skin is paler than before, but with a slight luminescent quality. When she shifts and turns she can see marks on her body, like a hologram shimmering just below the surface of her skin. The marks look like finger prints, hand prints, indefinable smudges. Slightly darker than her skin tone, and only perceivable in glimpses as she moves. “What is that?” she whispers.