I don't know how to thank you.
Don't say that, I thought back. You owe me no thanks. I owe thanks to you.
To me? Why? Her gold eyes widened.
I...
I thought about that. For being here. For being you. So many reasons why I felt appreciation, simply for the fact that she was alive. That she was here, with me.
She caught the train of thought, despite that I had not finished it. She smiled.
I am glad to have you here, too.
We lingered silent for a moment, her gold eyes looking into mine. Very tentatively, she lowered a slim hand to touch my head.
I held my breath, scared to disturb anything. Inside my chest, I felt a sudden ache. I glanced up at her face. She looked so beautiful, so peaceable.
She sat a while, her fingers light on my head.
What's your name? She asked after a moment. That she knew bears have names comes as a revelation to me.
Aurelius. My mind made a shrug of it.
As good a name as any, I suppose, but I almost never have cause to use it. People simply call me Brother Luca.
She smiled. I like it.
I felt my heart clench.
You are Kiryla. I thought it back to her.
Yes. Her mind-voice is low pitched and warm. A lovely sound.
Her hand rested somewhere near my hand. I wanted to kiss it. I licked it and felt the coldness of her fingers, the damp salt of her skin. It tasted sweet on my tongue. The slow stirrings of desire lit within in me, despite my being in my other form and ridiculously weak.
Her mind sent out a feeling of warmth. She had felt my desire and she did not repulsed by it. My heart leapt with pleasure, unbidden and impossibly lovely.
Her other hand still rested on my head. We stayed like that for a moment, our minds close, her hand on my hair… gentle, cool and beautiful.
Aurelius.
Kiryla.
We looked at each other a moment, and I knew she had to leave now, before darkness fell and it became too dangerous to return. I did not believe I can say goodbye to her. It would be too hard.
I will see you soon. She thought it to me, in answer to my unspoken farewell. A statement, not a question.
I smiled at the insistence. She saw the smile and grins in return. It lit the cold, dusky blue of evening.
You will see me soon. I did not know if I believed myself—some things seem tragically impossible, and I have lived so long that I have seen the tragic and impossible in too many things. But even I am permitted to hope.
My legs had regained some feeling, so I eased myself, slowly and painfully, to sitting upright.
My eyes leveled with hers. We gazed at each other a long moment, and then she turned and was gone.
I felt something in my heart wrench and crack as she left. I watched the path and the growing dusk, the impartial blue a distant, lofty blank, now that she has gone.
***
Kiryla wandered outside in the blue dusk. It was later in the year, a spring evening, just turning to summer.
A few years ago, she would have loved such an evening. She still felt the excitement of spring weave into her blood, filling her with a coiled anticipation. But now, she had so much more to think of than in those carefree years before.
Kiryla's heart ached. She lowered her chin onto her arms and wept.
Her father had confronted her openly about marriage. She did not know he was so hostile, so resentful of her. He had thrown so many accusations at her and made their poverty her fault.
It is not fair. Her mind rebelled at the injustice, and then chided her for her petulance. It is fair, and inevitable.
He told her she had the responsibility to change their situation. She could marry and change everything for them. If she refused, her parents would die in penury. What sort of an ungrateful sot was she that she would let that happen? She only needed to marry.
His hateful words echoed around her head hollowly. She could not close them out. She was crying and did not want to stop. It is too much. Too much to bear.What do they know of my life? How can they make these demands?
She had more than enough reason now to feel wary of men. And in any case, she shrunk from the boorish farmer's sons who wanted the marriage to gain her father's land.
I am a wise woman! Alena had almost finished training her. That is my life! What I love.
Each inch of her lived and breathed to hear the singing of the stars with her fine-tuned senses. She was a wise woman, a gift, given to her by powers unnamed and unnamable. How could she deny what the Universe had made her?
She could not practice her gift if she was a farmer's wife. Each day, the drudgery and possible abuse would wear away her senses, until nothing remained. And she would have no time to practice her craft. She would be too exhausted, come the end of chores, to be able to try.
I cannot do it. Her face shone wet with tears. I cannot throw away that beauty, throw away myself.
She sat and wept longer. The evening settled into dusk.
After a moment, she shook her head. Sat up, back straight. Resolute.
I will not do this.
She closed her eyes and stilled her breath. There was always guidance, and she would seek it.
She searched inward, seeking the center, as her teacher taught her. I am open to guidance. Guide me.
She waited. Her breath stilled and she becomes aware of the peace around her and within her.
As she did so, she saw Aurelius. She let her mind follow that thought. Perhaps it appeared as part of the guidance. And he was in her heart, this big, loving bear. She could not help but find him when she discovered her center.
In the image she saw in her mind, he roamed the woods, foraging in the trees, a tall, dark-furred form, strong and solid and implacable.
Hello? She felt her heart reach out, carrying all its colors with it—pain, shock, hurt… and love. She breathed deeply, watched the image of him turn and look at her. He was her friend, her wellspring of unconditional love.
Kyrila?
Then the image wavered. She slipped away and into the deep, even rhythm of her breathing. When she opened her eyes, she felt at peace.
She knew now that there was more to live for. His love and hers for him had strengthened her conviction.
She stood and walked back to the farm, back straight. She would fight this.
She did not need to suffer to save her family. There was always another way.
***
The light in the room glows softer now, night overlaid with the first gentle touch of morning.
The next part of my memories are the sweetest, and so the hardest to tell. But I will tell them. I will set it all down here.
In these memories, I reside in the woods, near my cave. It is the height of spring. For some reason, I am still a bear, although each day I expect the shift will happen…
I rested against a tree, blithely enjoying the first truly-warm evening, when her thoughts twined into my mind.
I saw her in a sudden flash of vision. She looked distressed, tears running down her cheeks. The vision wavered and started to fade.
Kiryla? My mind called out to her.
Her mind showed me fields and a farmhouse. The vision broadened, including a tall tree. I sensed pain and sadness, woven through with a tenderness that made my heart ache. Then her mind withdrew.
I know that tree. I could so easily find her. In that instant, I decided to try. All winter, my heart had been numb. She had woken it. That proved too enormous an occurrence to ignore.
My bear-form found its way down the path towards the tree quite quickly. I felt stronger. Moving as a bear is always a surprising pleasure, especially when you are strong.
As I entered the clearing she showed me, I noticed the scent of humans. That always made me feel uneasy in my bear-form. An eons old threat, tacked onto that smell, I recoiled from the threat, preferring the woodlands. Counter-intuitive, I know. I am, after all, a human myself sometimes. But
true.
I breathed in again, cautious. I smelled her.
All my senses ignited. I would not stay in the woods then for any threat or promise. The scent was beautiful. Honeysuckle and musk. It drew me onward.
She stood below the last pine tree, pale in the dusk. As I neared her, my mind called an ecstatic greeting and I feel a stab, like lightning, in the back of my head. It ached and throbbed, pressing me down. I fell to the ground, unconscious.
I do not know how long I laid there. Eventually, I felt my mind come back to itself. It was darker now, almost night, and I was looking into her face closer than I had ever been.
Her skin was pearls, her eyes mirrors of gold. She smelled of honey and clover, lips dusky rose. I reached up, planning to rest a paw on her shoulder. I saw a hand—a fine-boned, scholar's hand—reach out, a little unsteadily.
Oh, heavens. Now she knows.
I sat up, feeling stupid. I hoped that I could simply shrug it off, that she had not noticed the spectacular transformation. As if anyone could fail to see it! Even I knew that was a hopeless case.
Then I saw her eyes. They rested golden and focused, and I had never seen such an expression.
My body understood it, even if my mind did not, and responded shamelessly and violently, the stab in my groin a physical pain.
“I...” I began, desperate to explain myself. My voice was fogged with longing.
“Don't.” Her voice dances out low, melodious and musical.
This was the first time I had ever heard her speak. It thrummed through my body, making the arousal even worse. I had never wanted anything this badly, this intensely.
“Very well. I won't.” I manage.
She smiled. It gave her sudden dimples. Then she looked down into my eyes. “Aurelius.”
To be here, in my human form, beside her on the grass in springtime! My body ached, and my mind saw only her. “Kiryla.”
We, neither of us I am sure, knew what comes next. Despite my long life, I was completely inexperienced. But I think we both wanted to find out.
My hand reached out to hers. I leaned over, and my lips found her mouth. I had never done this before. Somehow, the body must have a deeper knowledge, for it seemed to guide me.
Her lips parted under mine. Her mouth tasted honey-sweet, and warm, and cloying with its scent of woman and sweetness. It flooded my senses, making my loins ache.
I pressed her backwards with my weight, and she bended, yielding, until I laid over her on the grass. Her breasts pressed against my chest, and I lost myself in the sweet softness of that sensation.
I kissed her yet again.
My touch wandered over her body. Soft and amply-curved and graceful. I had never felt anything so precious. I needed to undress her, to feel her smooth, cool skin against my own.
Beneath me, she murmured. A soft moan that destroyed, finally, all my self-control. My fingers fumbled awkwardly with her bodice, while my mouth discovered the silken skin of her breasts. It felt impossibly smooth and warm.
I have been to Damascus, and felt all the silks of the Orient. None of them come even close.
She moaned again, her lips a small line of disapproval. I was mortified. What did I do?
I sat up and looked down at her, my chest heaving with longing.
“Not... here.” She managed, her eyes half-closed, her cheeks pink.
I nodded. I understood. Anyone could come upon us here. I felt surprised I did not think of it. Desire had overwhelmed all my other senses.
With my hand in hers, she led me to the barn. Soft hay lined the floor.
She stood with her back to me as her fingers, more clever than mine, found the strings of her bodice and untied them fully. I heard a soft protest in my own throat. No. I will do this.
I moved behind her, and slowly peeled the dress to her waist. My mouth found the skin of her shoulder and kissed it. My teeth nipped her flesh, taking a soft bite of her smoothness as I nuzzled her throat. Her body was warm and scented, and my loins throbbed with my need.
I eased the dress down her body and kissed her skin as I went. The scent of her grew stronger, a cinnamon-sweetness that cloyed as flowers and which fired my desire beyond anything I had ever felt. My tongue explored her body, running down her thighs. She gasped, and the sound ignited me.
Then I was taking off my clothes with all the urgency that flooded my veins like fire. She lay before me, and then we were sinking into the straw, as my body covered hers. The need to be within her drove me like nothing I had ever known.
Inside her. Finally.
I drew back and thrusted into her, and the sweet pleasure of her tight damp well proved too much to bear. She cried out once and I kissed her throat, distressed to cause her pain. I knew of this, the loss of maidenhood.
She seemed unhurt. I thrusted in again, slowly this time, and she moaned, in pleasure now. The sound was too much for me, and I withdrew and move in again. Withdrew and thrusted. Until my body was riding a driving, unconscious rhythm which was within me and greater than me, driving me on to a peak of pleasure so intense I thought I would die, I pressed into her silken dampness. I heard the blood sing in my ears as the pleasure flowed through me and into me, a rising tide.
I cried out, my voice throaty and primordial, as I had never heard it. To my amazement, she cried out too. Our voices join together, our sighing breath.
I do not know how long I was transported away from myself. But when I awoke, she rested in my arms. Her cheeks were damp, and so are mine. I kissed her, and she kissed me.
We were together in this. For all time. Whatever happened.
***
Now, I sit here in this monastery and write as if the fires of Hell were on my heels. That is as I remember it. That was how it was.
I am a man tormented. My blood sings her name. My heart, too, longs for her gentleness and closeness.
But it is impossible.
I am only half-human. And, worse—far worse –I am condemned to live forever. Or at least, much longer than her fully-human life.
I will love her and I will see her die. I cannot bear it. Cannot give my heart to her, and have her take it with her.
Perhaps worse, her life throbs within me. I feel her memories and I hold them in my heart. I am no longer of my own experience, but hers as well. The lives marry in my mind and I clutched my chest at her thought.
What can I do?
There is nothing anyone can do to remedy it. There is no cure for my curse, no end to my torment. And so I write madly, every day. I want to set it all down, make a record of each of our precious memories.
It seems I have. There is nothing left to say. I close the book and sit back, exhausted, tears streaming down my face.
I will leave this mad, passionate narrative for her. It is written in a leather-bound book, a gift from the prior. It is all that I can give. Then I will leave.
***
“Luca? Brother?”
That is him, now. Prior Alexy. I hear his limping step behind me. He crosses the floor and comes to sit beside me at the desk.
“Prior.” My voice is grating and harsh. When did I last sleep?
“Brother?” His voice is gentle. “I repeat my offer. Tell me what torments you. Please, my friend. Trust me. There is nothing so terrible that it is not redeemable, you know.”
Can I tell him? I am certain he would think my love a sin, would condemn these longings of the flesh. And yet he is a good and holy man, a learned scholar, not a bigot. I can trust his opinion.
I tell him. Everything, almost as it is set down here. Leaving out the bit about bears, of course. And about immortality. I love my friend and would not scare him so.
At the end of my story, he looks up at me, his eyes clouded with pain. “My brother, that is a hard story.”
I incline my head. It helps to hide the tracks of tears that weave across my cheek.
“I believe you are right in your choice.” He says, his hand covering mine. “You should say farewe
ll to your sweetheart. Return to your vows.”
“I know.” I choke. I cannot bear to say it.
“You will leave now, to say your goodbye?”
I nod. I cannot say it.
“When you return, perhaps we can discuss a pilgrimage?” he asks, his voice soft. “I have documents to deliver to a brother in Constantinople. Perhaps you would take them?”
He must believe the traveling would be good to help me forget. He does not say it, but it is clear that that is why he asks.
I nod, my throat closed with my reined emotions. “Thank you, Brother.” I manage. The kindness he shows me is a fresh cut to my heart. I did not know we were so close, that he feels my pain as I do.
He nods gravely and squeezes my hand. Then he leaves, his steps slow and echoing in the silence.
So it is I come to my decision.
I end my account, close the bindings, and find my feet on the road towards the farmhouse.
It is the first day of summer. I have had all spring to love her, and now I must leave. Turn my steps to pilgrimage and a long, slow life without her.
I kiss the leather binding of the book, pack it carefully, and set off on the path.
***
Kiryla is at Alena's house. Still light, this summer evening passes without scene. They have been discussing a case of Alena's, but Kiryla is not listening.
“What is it, dear?” Alena's voice is soft.
“Nothing.” Kiryla's voice is dreamy. She is silent a while, considering, and then continues. “Actually... I would like to tell you. To share this pain.”
And she does. She tells her teacher all of it. Her meeting, her loving, the depth of her feeling. And why she is so sad.
“He is immortal. He told me so last time I saw him. I can do nothing about that.”
“No.” Her teacher looks at her from the corner of her eye. She pauses for a while, then carries on.
“There are things I have not told you, Kiryla.” She says. “One of these, is that life is truly endless, when we move beyond form.”
Life is eternal, beyond form and after death; she knows that. It is scant help, and sounds trite. Kiryla looks up, as if stung.
“I know all souls may persist eternally.” Her voice is harsh and cold with hurt.
MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance) Page 7
