My God! Don’t help me.... You’re as wonderfully frightened as I.... So beautiful.... Laughter goes with unions.... It’s so very, very...
He wasn’t aware when they removed their clothing, exposing themselves to each other as naked physically as they were mentally.
Her skin was ambrosial, her touch more erotic than anything he’d ever known before.
“Is it you or me?” he asked in wonderment.
“You. Just you.”
He believed her. His hands stroked her hips and inner thighs, reluctant to end the wonderful connection, but needing to unite in man’s most elementary way.
Kendra moaned again. Her breath was light and airy, as shallow as his. She let her hand drift over his hand, loving the feel of his touch so much, she wanted to experience it in every way. Finally she led his hand to the small of her back and pressed herself against him.
Dan knew she was as ready for him as he was for her. Though he was confident he could still maintain some last shred of control, with the first plunge into the softness of her he was gone, riding rainbows through a thunderstorm so loud and frightening, so wicked and wonderful, that he thought he’d been struck by lightning. Brilliant and varied colors exploded in his head. Her own tightening and arching told him she was exploding, too. They were wrapped together in ecstasy, and clinging to sanity—just barely.
His breathing slowed, breath by breath, matching hers as they lay in each other’s arms, coping with the unbelievable while reality lay in the quiet around them.
He brushed her hair away from her cheek. “Are you all right?”
She smiled, her eyes still closed, as she nodded.
“Did you do that?” he murmured.
Slowly, with effort, she opened her eyes and stared up at him. “I had nothing to do with it. I had no idea....”
He already knew but needed the confirmation. It was his turn to grin. “Honey, that had to be something for Kinsey to shout about. For both of us.”
Her dark eyes widened. “Is that why your species is so very preoccupied with sex?”
Dan chuckled, then sought the soft skin on her neck. “Is that what you think? That humans are preoccupied with sex?”
She smiled. “We were told not to have sex with any human. It could lead to pregnancy, without first analyzing the genes for disease and faulty traits.” She nuzzled her head against his chest and he loved the feel of her. “I just didn’t know.”
“This was called the big O, honey.”
“Why would anyone purposely keep this from themselves? That felt so wonderful, surely they’d want to share it with anyone.”
Dan chuckled. “It doesn’t happen with just anyone. Some people never feel what you and I just did.”
“But why? Anything that wonderful should be experienced all the time, not just once or twice.”
Deep-throated laughter echoed in the darkness. “I agree. Wanna try again?”
She frowned, her mind still on the original question. “Then why us?” Her brow cleared. “I remember. Chemicals.”
“Chemicals?”
She nodded. “Human chemical reaction is very strong in likes. And some women—and men—become addicted to a chemical called sebum. It’s created and exchanged in kissing.”
“What?” He squinted through the dappled darkness. The full moon shone through the cedar hills around them, lighting the clearing just enough for him to see her face.
“It’s...” she began.
“I heard you, I just don’t believe you. You mean that men and women are attracted because of chemical reactions to each other?”
She nodded. “We studied it before I came here.”
“How do you make love on your planet?”
She looked surprised. “We don’t. Reproduction is the main reason for sex and we have reserved that function for the laboratory. Now I wonder why we eliminated this experience.” She frowned. “It mustn’t be that freeing for our people. Perhaps we don’t have that chemical attraction. I was never aware of it before.”
He moved his hips, thrusting into her again. Surprisingly, he could make love a second time. In fact he didn’t think he could get enough of her. “I don’t care what you call it, this was more than a chemical reaction. Much more.”
Her arms squeezed his waist, then lingered to caress the bunched muscles in his back. “I don’t care what it is, either. I want more,” she whispered.
His moan was his agreement. His actions followed through until they were nothing but a tangle of arms and legs and overflowing emotions.
It seemed so natural to make love to Kendra, yet so new and different an experience. Emotions he hadn’t dealt with before threatened to overcome him in a mélange of feelings he wasn’t able to sort through. In ways he couldn’t understand, this Kendra was different from his wife, and yet he felt as if he’d made peace with his wife’s ghost by making love to this Kendra.
When they both were sated, sleep overcame him. His last thought had nothing to do with his dead wife. It had everything to do with the caring woman who had cradled him in her arms while he’d cried in both joy and mourning.
* * *
DAN ANGLED THE RAFT toward the American side of the thousand-foot cliffs as they maneuvered through another section of rapids. The white-water segments weren’t really difficult, just a normal degree of caution had to be observed.
He grinned at Kendra, who sat in the bow of the boat, her eyes glued to the whitecapped waves swirling rapidly below.
They had made love off and on all night, and again early this morning. He couldn’t get enough of her, and when he thought he had, she wanted him again. She was as eager to come to him as he was to be with her.
Somehow, whether she was alien or not, he would do everything in his power to keep her with him.
Oh, he knew, deep down, that she wasn’t Kendra. He was reminded of it each time she spoke of subjects Kendra wouldn’t have been interested in, each time she tried a new way to make love—something that had always frightened the old Kendra. Each time she looked at him it was as if she was offering all her thoughts to him at one time. If he could have read the old Kendra as well as he was getting to know the new Kendra, they’d have been so much better off....
And, although she wasn’t the old Kendra, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making up to his wife, as well. Where he’d been strong and silent before, now he revealed his tenderness and vulneraability. All his regrets were being soothed and patched over by allowing the new Kendra to delve into his mistakes and his sorrow. It wasn’t logical, he knew, but it helped ease his already-confused state of mind.
“This is so beautiful,” she murmured, looking at the pale blue patch of sky between the tall earth-toned cliffs. Then she spotted a bird and squinted her eyes to get a better look. “The peregrine falcon,” she whispered with awe in her voice.
“You don’t have them?” He followed her glance to see the falcon drift playfully on the air currents.
“No, nothing so exotic. We have barbums and such, but that’s about all that’s left of the animals of our world.”
“Barbums?”
She nodded absently, her gaze still fixed on the bird’s flight. “They’re little animals that are a cross between a lizard and a worm. They speak a language similar to a porpoise.”
“My God!”
She glanced over at him, surprise written on her face. “What’s wrong?”
He gave a weak smile. “They sound horrible.”
“They’re very useful fellows. They dig up the damp earth without disturbing new growth. They resist disease and are harmless to us. Besides, they breathe our atmosphere. They let us know through their own language when our soil and atmosphere need help.”
He nodded, pretending he was too busy to pay attention to her as he steered the boat. Her eyes were focused on him, as if she was finally willing to acknowledge the difference in their...cultures. He said what was on his mind. “Here, a bar bum is someone who hangs out at a ba
r and leeches drinks.”
It was good to hear her laughter. Different from his wife’s, it began deep and moved up the scale slowly, sounding much like a delicate musical instrument.
“I forget how some of our language meshes,” she said finally.
“I’m sure there are other similarities, but I’m at a loss to remember them just now,” he said dryly, realizing just how little he had asked her about her world. The questions came back again, forcing their way to the forefront.
Kendra sighed. In time, Dan. But not now. Let us just enjoy today.
The words were clear although her mouth never moved. He was glad to shift the time of confrontation away from the here and now. Their relationship was too sweet, too new, to stress with more information yet.
He wanted to hold her in his arms and breathe in the scent of her own special perfume. He wanted her head near his heart where she could listen to the rhythm that she had created in him, feel the peace she had given him. “Would you like to go dancing tonight?” he asked abruptly.
She looked surprised. “Dancing? On the river?”
Dan looked even more shocked. “Can you dance on the river?”
“No, but...”
He laughed, relieved that there wasn’t another talent she had that he wasn’t aware of. “I meant at the trading post at Lajitas. We’ll be passing there around four this afternoon. They usually have a dance once a week and I heard there’s one tonight.”
Her glance was filled with shy anticipation. “I’d love to. Will we be allowed in even though we are in shorts?”
She was so worldly and yet so naive. It was an intoxicating combination—one that infiltrated his defenses more than he cared to admit. “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.” His gruff response and his need to concentrate on boat maneuvers ended their conversation.
They hit the banks of Lajitas just after four o’clock and stored the raft, complete with supplies, in the boathouse one of the raft tours used. Then, hand in hand, they walked to the hotel, booking a room for the night. While Kendra showered, Dan stepped into the boutique and bought her a Mexican broom skirt in magenta and pink and a pink T-shirt. A pair of Mexican sandals completed the outfit.
After she opened her gifts and gave him wonderful, sweet, drugging kisses for each one, he made slow, deliberate love to her on the king-size bed. They slept for an hour and when he awoke, he was replete, never before having experienced such a sense of satisfaction. It had to be because of Kendra’s brimming happiness.
The party had begun early, and on the trading-post patio a band was playing pure Mexican salsa music, loud, with a beat. The beer-drinking crowd kept time, tapping their booted toes on the uneven concrete. Others danced, circling the floor in counterclockwise steps, laughing and drinking between times.
The patio was crowded with Mexicans and Americans alike. Dan held a laughing Kendra in his arms, her face tilted up toward his as he led her around the floor. Their feet shuffled, and her legs entwined with his, heating him to a point where all he wanted was to be deep inside her warmth, rocking against her. Possessing her. Telling himself that it would come in due time, he forced himself to relax and began to enjoy the tension they both knew was building to a fever pitch.
Meanwhile they pretended they fit into the motley group on the trading-post patio. Kendra reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulled his head down to her lips. “You are a very wonderful, special man, Dan Lovejoy,” she whispered.
His answer was a dizzying kiss that had her closing her eyes and wrapping her arms even tighter around his neck. Feelings he’d thought were long submerged arced through his body. He was a teenager again, with Kendra in his arms and the hope of his youthful happiness in the future. Only this time the happiness was even stronger; this Kendra was wiser and more responsible for her actions, and she was pulling him inexorably toward her with a chain of steel.
She drew back, touching his cheek with her hand. “I’m not really Kendra.”
He covered her hand, pressing it to his skin as if light contact wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. “You need to read my mind more often,” he said, his voice rasping in a low whisper. “I know who you are. This is different. It’s better.”
She smiled in delight at his understanding. They danced around the room.
Dan didn’t know how he would be without her for the rest of his life, but he had her now. She was his. For the moment. For the time. For the loving.
Suddenly Kendra pulled back and looked around, a quizzical frown marring her brow.
“Are you coming down with a headache, honey?”
She drew him toward her and whispered in his ear. “Pretend you’re down at the river,” she ordered. “See the river and concentrate on it.”
Her body was stiff in his arms. He pulled her even closer. “Why?”
“Block yourself!” she whispered again, her breath a hiss against his neck.
A light probe touched his mind and he stiffened, too.
Fear of whatever she feared shot through him. He obeyed by thinking of the sound of the river. The trickle turned to a roar as he concentrated everything he had on it.
The probe came again, harder.
He continued to concentrate.
He heard a squeak and thought of a night bird finding a mouse’s nest. Dinner.
A lizard squiggled on the muddy riverbank before hopping to a low mesquite branch and watching the festivities, its throat popping out into a red balloon in time with the beat of the music.
All the while, the river was the focus of his thoughts. Nothing else mattered.
The probe retreated. Still he listened to the river sounds.
The music stopped, then began again. He didn’t notice, just continued to shuffle his feet automatically to whatever beat was available, or to no beat at all.
The next probe was so strong it hurt. It prodded at him so sharply he felt as if it might pierce his brain. It took all his concentration to hold his vision of the river. He imagined the gurgling sound the water made as one of the passengers on the rowboat stuck their hand in the swiftly moving current. He could hear it, see the finger in the water. The water was night-dark, swift-moving.
The probe retreated once again.
But this time, with a flash of recognition, he knew the person who had done it. A tall, lean cowboy wearing boots that looked as if they were meant for riding and not for show, stood by the low adobe-patio wall, a long-neck beer in his hand. A sweat-stained black hat pulled low kept his face in shadow. He was menacing. Then the image disappeared.
Dan kept dancing, unaware he was dragging Kendra around the circle with him.
She patted his neck. “It’s okay.”
Still he moved.
“You’re hurting me. Stop. It’s gone now.”
He took another two-step.
Her hand touched his face, turning his chin down to her gaze. “It’s okay, Dan. You can stop now.”
His eyes focused slowly on the beautiful woman in his arms. His breath was short, his throat dry. “What happened?”
“One of us was in the crowd. He wanted some answers so we gave them.”
“But why did he probe me?” The memory of pain he should have felt was still with him. His forehead broke out in cold sweat.
“He was checking.” She squirmed in his grasp. “You’re hurting me.”
As if it were someone else’s body, he looked at his hand holding hers. Her fingers were squashed together like a cluster of all-white lead pencils. With an effort, he relaxed his grip.
She gave a sigh, as her hand drifted back to his shoulder. “I’m very sorry.”
“I want answers, too.” His voice was curt. He didn’t care. His legs were leaden weights; tension sang through every muscle in his body. “Let’s find the son of a—”
“Not here. Not now.”
“He’s here. I saw him.” Dan’s gaze darted around the wall in an effort to spot the man. “I want his damn hide.”
> “Not now.”
“Did he hurt you, too?”
She smiled. “No. He just wanted information. I gave him the answers. He’s one of us, Dan, and he’s here to ensure that Herfronites have guidance while they’re here.”
“I don’t give a damn what he’s supposed to do. He damn well won’t hurt you and I’ll make him pay for hurting me.”
“He’s gone.”
He took a deep breath and forced his shoulders to relax. For the first time Dan noticed that while everyone was dancing to a fast tune, he was still moving to a ballad. Quickly he grabbed her hand and led her off the patio and into the darkness toward the river.
As he passed one of the picnic tables where he had left their drinks, he picked up two cans of Coors beer from an open six-pack.
“What did you take?” she asked.
“Silver bullets,” Dan answered, referring to the ad campaign the beer company had used for years. “It’ll ward off werewolves.”
When they reached the bank he realized the river sounds were exactly as he’d imagined them earlier. Had he actually heard them or had he made them up from his own recollections?
“You heard them,” she replied.
“How do you know?”
“I was the first probe.”
He remembered the first one, so soft and gentle compared to the others. “Why?”
“To make sure you were doing what I told you to do.”
“And what would you have done if I hadn’t?”
She shrugged, and the moonlight filtered through her hair as it moved. “I don’t know. I might have tried to cocoon your mind myself, but then they would know I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“Our probe.”
“Ours? Yours and his?”
“No, ‘ours’ as in ‘our race,’” she explained. “We are a collective society. Everything we do is for the benefit of all of us. Not just ‘I’ or ‘me.’”
“You’re three-quarters human and you live in a collective society?” he accused.
“Right,” she confirmed.
“Then why protect me?”
She searched his gaze, her forehead marred by wrinkles as she tried to reason out her own behavior. “I don’t know. I didn’t want them to know how much we care for each other. It’s against the rules to get involved with humans. If we do, we can get so lost in your world we may not want to return to our own. The Elders have explained it to us, but it is still beyond our wisdom.”
Forms of Love Page 7
