The Marann

by Sky Warrior Book Publishing

  “In junior high I spent all my time on schoolwork and track—all I wanted to do was run fast, really fast, so fast no one could ever catch me again. In high school I became fluent in Spanish in a month and everyone realized I had this huge talent, so after that, language was all I studied, all I thought about when I wasn’t running. Life was comfortable in Casey. I had friends. I had a job. Then Central Command ripped me out of my life and sent me here—and there was you—and I didn’t want to feel about you the way I was starting to feel about you. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, make you pity me... I’m a nobody, it wasn’t possible you could notice me that way. But you were so—so kind to me—so gentle. That night the first winter I was here, when I had a nightmare and woke the whole stronghold—it was the nightmare about the greasy man. It was the first time I’d dreamed about him in years, but that time, in the dream I was looking for you rather than just trying to run away. I figured it was because I was starting to feel too much for you, so I shut it down and pushed thoughts of you out of my mind.”

  “I tried to comfort you that night,” the Sural said. “You seemed to accept it at first, but then you panicked. It was your emotional blast that woke the stronghold, not your scream. It was very powerful. I knew something had hurt you. I could not imagine then what it was, but after a number of seasons, I did begin to suspect what it had to be.”

  She nodded, a strange peace filling her from the heart outward. “I want to be able to—to love someone with everything I am—love you that way—This past year you’ve been so wonderful to me—And I was horrible to you—But I can’t let myself have those feelings, I just can’t. I just can’t.”

  He held her tighter.

  “I will wait for you, beloved,” he said. “I am a patient man, and a Tolari lifetime is long. However long it is, I will wait until you come to me. I will never hurt you.”

  Marianne sighed. “I will live a long, long time, won’t I?”

  “The blessing gives one hundred fifty of our years,” he answered. What he sensed in her response troubled him. “This does not please you.”

  She shook her head. “No, living with my demons for that long isn’t something I can look forward to. That’s the only part about being Tolari I don’t like.”

  “Trust me,” he said. “Will you try to trust me?”

  Marianne didn’t answer. She was quiet, drained from reliving the horror she had related to him. “How long have you—” She stopped.

  “When I showed you the flutter by the cora tree.” He made his smile gentle. “You captured my heart with your smile.”

  “My first day here?”

  “Yes, beloved.”

  She shook her head. “I never realized.”

  “I know.”

  “But now that you know I’m—” she took a breath, “—ruined,” she finished in a whisper. “It’s ugly.” She forced the words out. “I’ll understand if you don’t want me—”

  He stopped short, searching her eyes, his heart aching. “Hear me, beloved,” he said. “I have known from your first day in my stronghold that you hid a deep pain. You are not your pain. It does not define you—it does not ruin you, or make you ugly, or do any of the things you fear. What defines you is that you give the better part of your nature to others though you are deeply wounded yourself. That takes courage, and strength of spirit, and beauty of heart. How can I not love you?”

  More tears coursed down her face. He pressed a cheek against her forehead, grief for her pain making his own tears fall. He felt her struggling to hold down her feelings.

  “You do not need to hold back, beloved,” he whispered. “My heart is yours.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and burst into sobs.

  Resisting an urge to make his way to Earth and kill the man who had hurt her, he carried her back to the keep as she wept herself almost to sleep in his arms.

  <<>>

  Moonlight woke Marianne, shining across her face late in the night. She sat up and stretched. The Sural’s apothecary had insisted she eat a full meal and get some rest before the procedure, but she hadn’t expected to wake before dawn. Rolling off her sleeping mat, she eased onto steadier legs and walked onto her veranda to gaze out over the dark, deserted garden.

  The Sural had waited for her for so long. Eight years! And he never intruded, never let her know. It must have half killed him sometimes, to see her every day, to love her so much, to receive nothing in return. Always so gentle, always so kind, always so patient. And she’d rejected him at every turn. Adeline had been right—the Sural had acted like a spurned lover during deep winter.

  Was it enough that she wanted to want him? She closed her eyes, remembering the long walk back from the Jorann’s cave, his arms warm around her. A wave of longing to be in his arms again came over her, and she tried not to push it down. It would be different with him. It had to be. If in eight years he had never forced himself on her, she reasoned, he wouldn’t start now. She had to try to trust him.

  She could think of only one way to do that.

  Mouth dry, heart in her throat, she left her rooms and crossed the short distance to the ornately-carved door of the Sural’s private suite. As she approached, a guard opened it—the Sural must have left orders to admit her. It was a measure of his trust to allow her access to his privacy. It touched her despite her trepidation.

  She searched the darkness in his sitting room. To the left she could make out the door to his private study, where his apothecary had begged her to give the Sural her heart. Beyond that, she thought, must be his sleeping room. Ahead, on the sitting room veranda, the Sural stood with his back to her, looking out into the night. The full moon shone on him from overhead as he gazed at the far mountains. She sighed and walked toward him, fighting the urge to bolt like a frightened rabbit.

  He turned as she approached. She stopped just short of him and looked up. Dear God, he’s tall. The air fled from her lungs, and everything inside her quivered.

  “I’m here,” she whispered. He folded his arms around her, and she slipped trembling arms around him. His entire being lit with joy that spilled over into her.

  The Sural studied her upturned face. If he said or did the wrong thing, she would stop seeing him—and see the demon who hurt her instead—and flee. She buried her face in his robes, shaking with apprehension. He sensed her struggling to control it.

  “You said—” she started. She took a breath and looked back up at him. “You said you would come back from the dark to bond with me.”

  He stroked her hair, almost overcome by the sensation of her arms around him. “Yes, beloved,” he whispered.

  “Tell me about bonding.”

  His breath caught. Had she come to him this night... to bond? “It is not easy to describe,” he said, pausing to gather his thoughts. “When two Tolari find they cannot live without one another, each one shows the other everything that they are, and then—their hearts join. It is indescribable. Afterwards, there is always a part of the one in the other, each always has an awareness of the other.”

  “Have you ever done that?” she asked, avoiding his eyes.

  He chuckled at the sparks of jealousy shooting through her. “No, the bond is for life. When one of a bonded pair dies, the other usually follows. Those few who choose to continue living never bond again. They lose the capacity to do so.”

  Fear stabbed her again. He waited while she took another deep breath and fought it down. When it subsided, she lifted her face. Moonlight caught her eyes, washing them silver.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “And so brave.” He ran his lips across her forehead and sensed the shock of longing it sent through her. “I can no longer imagine my life without you in it.”

  He hesitated. She had spoken the words, called him beloved, but fear still ruled her heart. Yet—though she trembled, she had returned his embrace, had allowed the touch of his lips on her forehead to arouse her desire. He caught her eye.

  “Will you
bond with me?” he whispered.

  He held his breath, awaiting her answer. He sensed her gather her courage, and then she pulled his head down to press her lips to his. Heart soaring, he buried a hand in her hair and lost himself to the soft touch of her mouth, all the years of longing transformed into joy. Parting her lips with his tongue, he tasted her, deepening the kiss as she responded, but shielding her from the desire she lit within him. The tiny sigh she uttered came close to shattering his hold on himself, and he tore his mouth away from hers, panting.

  “What do I do?” she asked, breathless.

  He pulled his scattered thoughts together. They should go to his sleeping mat and remove their robes, but that was almost certain to terrify her. Better to leave it until their hearts had begun to join, when he would be able, to some extent, to dilute her fear.

  “Open your heart to me,” he said, his voice low and ragged, “and look into mine.”

  He dropped his barriers.

  Marianne drew a sharp breath. His radiance burst around her as she sank into him, and he was glorious. Strong, determined, caring... but parts of him were cold, calculating, and manipulative. A part of him stretched out over his province—his ruling bond. Near it lay a scar and a tight ball of grief connected to yet more griefs.

  “My father,” he murmured. “He died before our bond had faded. And... the sons I lost to the great trial.”

  “My heart grieves for your pain,” she whispered, turning her empathic gaze away from the sadness, toward the more passionate side of him. Panic threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Do not fear me,” he said. “I am not enslaved to desire. I will not hurt you.” He held her, his arms gentle, as she fought down the fear yet again. “Show yourself to me, beloved. I want to know you.”

  He wouldn’t hurt her. He would not hurt her. Marianne forced herself to calm and relaxed the walls around her feelings. The Sural reached into her with his senses, gentle, tender, seeing everything… and didn’t recoil. The fear, the pain, even the aching, pulsing part that she wished she didn’t have—he took it all in and lit up with joy and wonder.

  He loved her. He knew what had happened to her, and he could see what it had done to her, and he still loved her. Her heart burst from the cage she’d built around it and soared, the Sural’s happiness soaring with it. Time seemed to stop as they shared the radiance. The Sural sought her mouth, and this time, she met his questing tongue with her own.

  Like a bursting dam, something between them dissolved, and their hearts crashed together. Marianne and the Sural gasped. The radiance flared and filled the night. Euphoria, rapture, the need to be closer, to be inside each other, blazed through them, pounded in their loins. Marianne pressed into the Sural. He kissed a burning trail across the empathic nerves in her forehead.

  “Take joy in me,” he said, his voice a rasp.

  “Yes,” she whispered. She clung to him, her kisses hungry.

  “You will never be alone again.” He swept her up into his arms and carried her inside.

  <<>>

  Marianne basked in the moonlit sleeping room of the Sural’s apartments, every inch of her skin tingling. The Sural lay on his side next to her, propped on one elbow. With her eyes closed, she could see him glowing like a sun, feel his gaze on her face, the playfulness sparking through him, the joy lighting him, as if all of it were her own.

  “I will never be able to hide from you again,” he said, as he traced the line of her jaw with a finger. “You will always be able to close your eyes and know where I am.”

  “Fair’s fair,” she murmured in English. “I couldn’t hide from you anyway.” He gave a soft snort of amusement. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him, touching his face with her fingertips. “I never, ever dreamed it could be like that.”

  “Nor did I.”

  She stared at him, searching for words and not finding any.

  “Yes, I have coupled many times,” he said. “For pleasure, for lust, to father heirs, often when I was young and learning to control my heightened appetites. Never before with a woman who possessed my heart, never with the bond.”

  “But you’ve had so many—”

  He smiled in the moonlight. “Beloved,” he said, “before you, there was no one.”

  “And then you showed me a flutter.”

  “You were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. And then,” he added, twining his fingers with hers, “I held your hand with the hevalrin—do you remember I did not take my hand away? From that moment, my heart was yours.”

  A lump rose in Marianne’s throat. “Beloved,” she whispered. “I must have broken your heart so many times.”

  “I regret nothing.”

  <<>>

  In the morning, Marianne lay on a bed in what she thought of as the infirmary—a screened area in what would have been the sitting room of the head apothecaries’ quarters. She trembled under the blanket covering her, though not from cold. The procedure to remove the locater chip from her brain would begin as soon as the head apothecary came out of her study. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. If she died—

  The Sural approached, camouflaged, his barriers shut tight to prevent anyone else from sensing him. He appeared next to her.

  “Beloved,” he greeted her. Joy turned his dark eyes into pools of molten mahogany.

  “Beloved,” she said, taking his hand, her heart glowing. “What are you doing sneaking around?”

  “My head apothecary would not approve of my presence here,” he replied with a crooked grin. “I thought it best to give her no reason for further displeasure. But with bonding—this interruption is difficult. Normally we would remain secluded together until the bond is fully formed.”

  “Maybe we should have waited until after this procedure,” she said.

  He laid a gentle hand against her cheek. “But you came to me, after so long, and I could not imagine being with you any other way.”

  “If I don’t wake up—”

  “You will. My apothecary is the best in Suralia.” He bent to press his forehead against hers. She gasped at the raw lust that pulsed through him. “When you wake, I will be here,” he whispered, and disappeared.

  The head apothecary rounded the screen. She stopped and frowned, then focused her attention on Marianne. “Are you ready, high one?” Other apothecaries and nurses came in behind her.

  “Yes, apothecary.”

  The apothecary placed a now-familiar device on Marianne’s forehead. “Let us begin,” she said, then pressed a button. Marianne slipped away.

  <<>>

  Adeline poured her husband a drink—whiskey—well-aged. “John got the authorization to pull Marianne out,” she said, handing him the glass. She curled up next to him on the sofa in their sitting room. “They’re almost finished repairing the phase platform.”

  Smithton grunted. “You just made my job a whole lot harder, Addie.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” She gave him an apologetic smile.

  He grunted again and knocked back the whiskey rather than sipping it. “Why are you doing this, Addie? First you talk the Admiral into it, then you try to talk Marianne out of it, now you’re pushing to get her pulled off the mission altogether. What’s in this for you?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart—I’m just trying to follow my conscience,” she answered, resting her head on his shoulder.

  If Central Command is your conscience, he thought.

  <<>>

  “Lock on to her signal,” the Admiral ordered the phase tech.

  “Signal is acquired... an-n-nd... locked.”

  “Engage.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The Admiral walked over to the phase platform, prepared to face an angry schoolmarm—or perhaps a half-dead, unconscious one. The air over the platform shimmered.

  No schoolmarm.

  He looked down. There, on the platform, in what had to be a surgical tray, lay a tiny locater chip.

  He swore and raced for the
bridge.

  <<>>

  Marianne stirred and opened her eyes. Her head throbbed. This must be what a migraine feels like. An apothecary she didn’t recognize stood over her, but she could feel the Sural nearby.

  “Do you desire something for pain?” the apothecary asked.

  She rubbed her face. “No,” she said. She didn’t want to take a potion that would make her sleep again, not with her whole being yearning for the Sural. She could feel him aching for her. “It’s just a bad headache.”

  “As you wish, high one.”

  “You got it out?”

  “Yes, high one. Moments ago, the chip was phased away. We removed it with little time to spare.”

  Marianne’s stomach quivered. That was too close. “Have there been any communications from the ship?” she asked the Sural.

  “No,” he answered, flickering into view. He nodded at the apothecary, who bowed and left. “I suspect they are spending their time composing an abject apology—which I do not plan to accept.”

  “They’ll just keep sending it.”

  “Of course. And I may even relent. Someday.” He shifted his shoulders, as if the robe irritated him. “But not today. I want every human on that ship replaced before I will accept an apology from Earth.”

  “All for one insignificant schoolteacher from Iowa?” she asked.

  He smiled down at her and pulled her hand to his chest. She felt his heart flow into the bond between them. “Yes,” he answered, fire lighting in his eyes. “All for one beloved schoolteacher from Iowa.” She started to pull him down toward her.

  “You may take the Marann back to your quarters, high one,” the Sural’s head apothecary said, entering the room to interrupt them. She nodded to Marianne, and then spoke to the Sural. “I am not pleased to see you initiated your bonding before the procedure. Her body is flooded with the bonding hormone—I had difficulty keeping her unconscious.”