by Renee Wildes
“Well, you missed one. ’Tis feeling neglect-ed.” The last part of the word was all but a squeak as he captured her nipple betwixt his lips. She felt the pull of it betwixt her thighs.
“So sweet…” She caught Benilo’s thought, the wonder of her silken skin sliding against his body. She felt her tightly puckered nipple on her own tongue and panicked at the momentary disorientation.
“Easy, beauty.” Benilo was right there with her. “Do not focus on you, or me. Just go with the feeling, the sensations. It is us.”
It was like the dream, but a hundredfold more intense. Wonder and awe, softness and hard strength, drowning in fiery need. She rained kisses down his stomach, no longer hesitating at the trail of flame that flickered across her own skin. He stroked betwixt her wet swollen folds, and she felt the hot cream coating her fingers. She ached to be buried in all that softness, feel all that hot, wet tightness squeezing around her. She took him in her hand, in her mouth, and the exquisite agony of her tongue circling the sensitive head of an organ she didn’t even have almost made her shatter then and there.
“Do it.” His voice was rough, almost harsh, in her mind. He spun her about so she straddled his face. He buried his head betwixt her thighs, his tongue probing for the sensitive bud hidden in her folds. Embarrassment warred with excruciating arousal. “Do not hold back.” His need for the wet heat of her mouth, the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue, drove her to take him into her mouth, tracing the engorged vein that ran along the underside of his shaft. She moved on his mouth, rubbing against his tongue.
“Mmph!” Pryseis jerked as he suckled that bud into a point of pure fire and she shattered over him. Relaxing her mouth, she took him deeper, down her throat.
Benilo, too, was beyond words, at the wet heat of her tongue, stroking, pressing. She sucked him down, squeezed around him, and his body erupted. She started, gagged and then swallowed. The second shock of pleasure at that action all but knocked him senseless.
Pryseis collapsed. Utterly spent. Warmth flooded her as she slid off him, and Benilo turned her so she draped over him like a blanket, her head tucked under his chin. He stroked her back, her hair, his touch no longer arousing but soothing. Relaxing. She yawned, too tired to move.
“Sleep, beauty,” he whispered in her mind. “The Light shall hold. Sleep…”
The world slid away in a comforting cocoon of fern-scented warmth. They’d face the dark together when she arose.
Chapter Eight
Stealthy footsteps snapped Benilo from his sleep. A pregnant goblin approached, her outstretched hands holding a bowl of porridge to him. He shook his head at the writhing grubs and pointed toward the back entrance where the lad was kept.
She looked resigned at his refusal, as if it was naught more than she expected. But she crept around him and Pryseis and went to the lad. A few harsh, guttural phrases were exchanged in a whisper, and when she returned, her hands were empty. She stared at Pryseis, her eyes widening. Benilo did not ken if it was at his mate’s faded appearance or the fact that she was entwined with him in a knot of pale skin and tangled limbs. Surprisingly, she pointed to Pryseis’ healed wing and then at him with a question on her face.
“Did I heal her?” He nodded.
Wonder crossed her face, a look of…hope. She pointed toward the hidden lad and then at him.
“Can I heal him?” How to convey “I’m working on it”? Benilo pointed at her instead, cradled his arms as if holding a baby and pointed back toward the suffering lad.
She shook her head, held up a hand as if to say “wait” and scuttled out the front entrance. Within moments she returned with Benilo’s pack and the female who had been standing vigil over the dead goblin.
Benilo shook Pryseis awake. “Beauty, wake up. Your pregnant friend is here with the lad’s mother. I think.”
Pryseis sat up with a start that made both goblin females squeak and jump back. “Sorry,” she apologized, making a show of yawning and stretching. They relaxed, even grinned in their snaggle-toothed way. The pregnant goblin dragged her friend over to the faerie, and they both touched the healed wing with mirrored looks of wonder…and the same hope. The lad’s mother pointed toward his location with a yearning expression.
“Go.” Pryseis shooed her toward him. “Go to him.”
The goblin’s thin lips trembled, and she ducked out of the tent.
The pregnant goblin rummaged through Benilo’s pack, pulling out the trail cakes and wey-bread, holding it out to Benilo. He nodded and reached for it. Finally, food he could share with Pryseis. They would not need much, but anything to keep their bodies working and supplement the elemental energy would be welcome.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded.
“Is there a way to open the tents so we’re not so secluded?” Pryseis asked. She pointed to the two tent entrances, swept her arms up and open, making a rolling motion with her hands.
The goblin cocked her head, considering, then opened the part to the main encampment, tying the curtains back.
It surprised Benilo how few goblins remained. There were a few females and oldsters who stared back at him with suspicion. Every able-bodied male and neither had been recruited on whatever mission the sorcerer decreed. “How long shall they be gone?” he asked their sole ally.
She blinked, uncomprehending.
“This is maddening,” he told his mate. “Somehow we have to figure out a way to learn to speak goblin.” Air could be used for communication, and as a spirit healer that power was his greatest strength. He could already speak mind-to-mind. All the locks were in place…and he had no key.
He made as if carrying the staff, twisted his face into the most sneering, condescending look he could summon. She nodded, her wary look conveying that she comprehended he referred to the sorcerer. He wiggled his fingers, like someone walking away. Again she nodded. Then he held up one…two…three fingers in series, paused and made as if someone walking back, returning.
It was the best he could do.
Maddening.
Surprisingly, she looked as if she understood. At least she appeared as if she was considering the question—head cocked, her expression thoughtful. Cautiously she held up three…four…three fingers, closed her eyes as if sleeping, then pantomimed waking again with a helpless expression on her face. Mayhaps three or four days, but she was not certain.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
At least they had some time, he and Pryseis, to work on the problem at hand without the sorcerer’s interference. Benilo figured they had better plan on two and hope for three just to err on the side of caution. The sorcerer was going to be enraged enough to return and find both he and Pryseis restored to full health and strength.
The lad’s mother opened the curtains separating her son from the others in the tent. The lad caught Pryseis’ gaze and he held out a cloth to her. Another weaving. His mother’s eyes glistened, and she nodded for Pryseis to take it. Pride. Hope. Curious, Benilo moved to peer over his mate’s shoulder as she unfolded the latest weaving.
Pryseis gasped. There, in living color for all to see, was her net, standing golden betwixt the monster and prone bodies Benilo hoped conveyed sleep and not death. The mother pointed at the net and then at Pryseis, who nodded back. Unexpectedly, the goblin grabbed Pryseis in a fierce hug. After a moment’s hesitation, his mate returned the embrace.
“Feels like hugging a frog,” she commented.
The goblin pulled back and shooed her son forward. He was visibly reluctant, fearful.
“Down,” Pryseis commanded. “Don’t tower over him.” She squatted down, and Benilo followed suit so they both were level with the lad.
“What a bossy little mate I have,” he teased.
Pryseis held out her hand to the lad, palm up and fingers curled as if luring a stray pup. “’Tis all right, little one. I came to help you. I’m here to help you.” She waddled forward like a bony duck, just to be brought up short by the ankle c
hain, which had entwined with his and kinked.
“Bony duck?” She sent him the mental image of her smacking him upside the head. “Lursa, I hate being chained like a dog.”
The goblin lad stretched his hand out to brush her fingers. Benilo held his breath. Slowly the child curled his fingers around Pryseis’. She smiled, projecting every positive emotion she could convey. Calm. Helpful. Happy. Peaceful. He crept closer, until he could wrap his arms around her neck. She returned the hug, holding him to her with the utmost gentleness—a hold he could easily break should he panic and pull back. Benilo placed a hand against his mate’s back. The lad was shaking with a mixture of fear, relief and exhaustion. Benilo felt Pryseis relax a shield so some of her energy could seep into the wounded child.
A twinge of wrongness was all the warning Benilo got afore something in the lad latched onto her energy and began pulling it from her, faster, harder. How was he able to do that? “Pryseis, stop him!” he sent.
She staggered, bracing herself, accepting. “Nay, he needs this. I’ll be fine.”
“It is not all right. He is draining you.” She had only just gotten her strength back.
“Shush. I’m bigger than he is. He won’t take as much as you think.”
It was the hardest thing he had ever done, doing naught whilst a goblin parasite sucked the life from his mate. Benilo shook himself back to sense. It was a helpless child, one who had gone too long without any Light, minimal compassion. The sadistic sorcerer kept even his mother from him, until the child was all but dying. Acourse Pryseis would help him.
At least when it was done, he kenned he could help her. Heat flooded him at the thought of just how he could help her.
“Lursa, that sort of energy he doesn’t need,” Pryseis admonished him. “He’s almost done.” She staggered when the lad released her. The child looked horrified, as did his mother. Pryseis shook her head. “’Tis all right,” she reassured him, smiling. “You needed it. I’m glad I could help.”
The child looked a lot less drawn and faded, but yawned. His mother motioned for him to sleep, and pointed to Benilo and Pryseis, making a bookending gesture with her hands.
Did that mean what he thought it did? “Pryseis?”
“She’s right—he needs to sleep, and the best chance he has of doing it is betwixt us, surrounded by Light.” He felt her tremble with weariness herself, but nodded at the goblins and drew the lad closer.
The thought of sleeping with the goblin youngling betwixt them killed all arousal.
Pryseis stumbled back a step. “Mayhaps he took more than I thought,” she admitted. She glared at Benilo. “But I would do it again in a heartbeat, so you just keep your objections to yourself.”
“Pryseis, you need to replace the energy. What sort of mate would let his mate suffer?” He reached for the stone pillar, the hot spring, the air around them, touching and pulling on the elemental forces, thanking the Lady for the new ease to do so. Then he cradled the back of her neck and his other hand around her hip and sent the energy through her. It was an incomplete solution, but it would have to do.
Pryseis lay down with the child, motioning Benilo to join them. He did, drawing the blanket over them. She reached for her net, sending the image of it to her mate, and he curled the Lady’s Light around them in a glowing cocoon of warmth and Light. The lad shivered, visibly reluctant to let his consciousness fade.
Monsters had always awaited him on the other side.
“Not today, little one,” Pryseis whispered. She began to hum. No words, but little sparkling notes appeared in Benilo’s mind. Encouragement. Reassurance. She hummed, rubbed the child’s arm. The lad’s consciousness sank into the Light as if it were a feather pillow.
The two goblin females left, closing the tent flaps behind them.
“Thank you for letting me do this,” Pryseis sent. “I ken it was difficult for you, to just stand there and let it happen.”
He shuddered. “I am ashamed to realize my compassion might have limits,” he admitted.
“I saw the runes on the staff.” She yawned.
“Did the sorcerer sense your presence?”
Pryseis shook her head. “An echo of it was seared into the net. The word is M-O-R-E, and I think the runes are dwarvish.”
“I think Pahn would be very interested in such a relic.”
Pryseis bit her lip and shivered as Benilo’s sky blue eyes darkened. “I’m not sure it was intended as a weapon. If it increases or enhances, it could be used for good or evil. It just causes harm now because of whose hand wields it. In the right hands, who kens what good it could do to counter the darkness?”
“He shall not release it willingly,” Benilo reminded her, “and he can inflict a great deal of harm afore he does.”
“He’ll probably release it only in death,” Pryseis admitted. “I can’t kill, not even him. Could you?”
“I do not ken.” Benilo’s expression was troubled, his face taut. “A portion of a spirit healer’s power comes from having no blood on his hands, on his soul. That is why we are forbidden to hunt, to even consume meat. If killing a rabbit or squirrel is forbidden, I shudder to think what taking a person’s life—even a dark soul, like the sorcerer’s—would cost me.”
“Mayhaps everything,” echoed in Pryseis’ mind. She didn’t think that was a conscious thought on his part, which just reinforced her greatest objection to this whole life-mate thing. There was no use dwelling on something so dark, which might or might not come to pass. They would cross that bridge when they got to it. When the sorcerer returned.
Now might be the sole chance they got for an uninterrupted conversation on themselves and this new marriage they found themselves in.
The lad wriggled in his sleep, but his face was relaxed, peaceful.
“How did you ken we’re life mates?” she asked. “How do you ken there’s not some poor lonely girl waiting for you, and you threw her away to help me?”
Benilo grinned. His amusement brushed her mind. “I have lived for over a thousand years, beauty, and have seen couples innumerable bond together. Never have I personally felt a psychic connection that invoked a physical response. That first night, I was drawn to your need. We bonded then. It is what you drew on to lay the trail for me to follow. The locking of mind, heart and soul only occurs with the joining of bodies, so the bond pushes and tempts both parties to make it so. Once bound, it holds permanently, two halves of a whole.”
“But how did you ken it was me? Why bind yourself forever to a stranger, someone of a different race?”
He reached across the sleeping goblin child to run his hand over her arm, a warm, soothing caress. “There is but one person for each of us. The Lady finds a way to bring the two together, no matter how long, how far. My king traveled to the mortal realm to find his queen. His best friend did, as well. Soul mates do not ken such thing as race. Once they find each other, they are bound until death.”
Her heart pounded with trepidation. “We’re immortal, Benilo—what if we find out we hate each other?”
“Easy, beauty. Never fear on that account. We shall disagree at times—sometimes emphatically. We each have our own ideas and opinions. But being bound heart and soul prevents irreversible damage. When you receive the other half’s every thought, every emotion as your own, hurting them hurts you. Most fights do not last long.” He grinned and waggled his brows at her. “Making up after a fight, I hear, can have its own rewards.”
Heat flushed Pryseis’ skin at the thought. The warmth made her drowsy, and she yawned.
“Sleep,” Benilo advised. “Rest whilst you can.” In contrast, he felt wide awake to her. “I shall work on the other issue. There must be something here, something tangible that influences people’s thoughts and emotions. I want to see if I can locate it.”
“I want to see if I can find him—” She stroked a finger over the lad’s temple, “—on the other side. I have an idea how to get the goblin language, but he’ll have to trust me.”
Pryseis smiled and fought down another yawn. “Wish me luck.”
“We need to be able to communicate.” A wave of conviction from Benilo washed over her. “If you think you ken a way, then good luck with all my heart.”
Pryseis drifted off, winging her way to inspect the net. It shone bright in the darkness. The monster glowered at her through the golden strands, unable to get through. It appeared dimmed, faded. Probably because there were fewer goblins to support it, strengthen it. Weakened was good. With any luck soon it would be vanquished altogether. Gone.
Laughter drew her—happy, carefree. She turned from her net to follow the sound. The darkness lifted, and in the pouring of Light danced the goblin lad, twirling on bandy legs and turning somersaults like any other active child his age. He spun about her until she was dizzy with it. How did he not fall down?
She smiled. “You should be resting.”
“But I’ve been still for so long,” he complained. “It feels good.”
Aye, it did. This was how it was supposed to be in real life. His joy and enthusiasm were contagious. Pryseis opened her arms wide, threw her head back and twirled with him, laughing aloud when she staggered and fell down into shining dream-mist. It was as soft as dandelion fluff.
He dropped down aside her. “Can’t we just stay here forever?”
She smiled and ran a hand over his bald grey head. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“I don’t want to go back.” His thin bottom lip quivered. “’Tis so awful.”
Why could she ken in the dreams but not in real life? “Because of him?”
He nodded.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Mog.”
“I’m Pryseis.” She held out a hand to help him up. “Let’s run.”
He grinned and took off, racing in a wide circle as she paced a step behind. In a crazy way, he reminded her of Dax at that age. At last they stopped running, and dropped to rest. Pryseis tread carefully.
“Mog, was he always like this?”
