by Megan Hart
“That’s Mao’s boat.” The small voice piped up from just outside the doorway.
Jodah looked up to see Teila’s son peeking in at him. He paused to make sure the whirring saw he’d been using to trim away the damaged wood was well out of the way. “Yes. I’m fixing it for her. Want to come in and help me?”
The boy looked solemn. “Amira Densi says I’m not to bother you.”
“It’s no bother. My father never let me—” Jodah stopped, flickers of memory rising to his mind’s surface like the shadow of a reflection in a mug of caffah. “He never let me help him with anything. He always said I’d get in the way.”
The boy sidled his way into the shed, but didn’t come any closer. Jodah didn’t try to make him, either, but he did keep an eye on him as he finished removing the damaged wood and tossed it into the pile of scraps. This left a fist-sized hole in the bottom of the scudder. Carefully, Jodah put the saw away and gestured to the boy.
“Come here, Stephin. Look at this.”
Reluctantly, the boy came closer, though he looked ready to run at any minute. Jodah held out his hand, fingers curling. Stephin didn’t take it, but he did move within grabbing distance. It was a start.
“You see the hole here?”
The boy nodded. “It will make the boat sink if the sand gets in.”
“Yes. So we have to fix it. See how I cut away all the ragged pieces?” Step by step, Jodah walked Stephin through the repair. Smoothing the edges of the hole, cutting a new piece of wood big enough to repair it, affixing the patch.
They hadn’t gotten further than picking out a piece of scrap wood big enough to make the patch when the shed door opened and Teila came in. “Stephin! By the Three, you scared the life out of us! Amira Densi has been looking everywhere for you. You know better than to just go away without telling anyone.”
“She was sleeping,” the boy said. “I couldn’t wake her up.”
Teila shook him a little by the shoulder. Not hard or rough, but firm. Then she gathered him into her arms for a hug, which he protested, as she looked over his shoulder at Jodah.
“I’m sorry if he was bothering you.”
“He was no bother. Really. He was a great help. He can come help me anytime.”
The way to a man’s heart was well known to be between his legs, but the way to a woman’s could very well be through her child, he thought. At this thought, that he wanted a way to her heart, the data stream became clear and blinding again. Wincing, Jodah put his hand to his temples to press away the pain.
“Stephin, go inside and find Amira Densi and tell her you’re sorry for scaring her.” When the boy made a small protest, Teila gave him a serious look. “Go. Now.”
When he’d gone, she turned to Jodah. “It’s not good for him to go off without telling anyone.”
“The boy’s old enough to be allowed some freedom.”
It was the wrong thing to say, he saw that at once. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth went grim. He might not remember much about his life, but he instinctively knew when he’d pissed off a woman.
“You think so? You think he should be allowed to wander around by himself? He’s four years old. You think he should be allowed to go where he pleases? Maybe you think he ought to make himself at home in the sea, ride the back of a whale? That would be a fitting occupation for a four-year-old, would it?”
“If you never give him any freedom, how can you ever expect him to learn any caution?” Jodah set the tools to the side of the workbench and dusted his hands on the seat of his robes.
“I realize,” she said in a voice as chilly as the sunsless night, “that you think you’re being helpful, but you’re not.”
He didn’t need another hint. Jodah held up his hands, conciliatory. “You’re right. I’m sorry. He’s not my son, I shouldn’t interfere.”
Teila made a startled sound as he turned to face her. “It’s just that he hasn’t had . . . there hasn’t been . . . anyone. To be a father to him.”
The pride in her expression moved him. They stared at each other across the small space, a heat that had little to do with the suns overhead rising between them. He understood a lot about her now, or at least he thought he did.
“Nobody for you, either.”
Her eyelids fluttered a few times before she ducked her head. Then she covered her eyes with her hand. Her shoulders heaved.
He’d made her cry.
The fucking they’d done hadn’t been about seduction. He’d taken her—though not by force, at least there was that. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he knew he’d done that. But it had been under false pretenses on his part. He’d wondered at her motivation for allowing him the use of her body. Now he understood.
“Come here,” he told her.
Teila looked up at him with wet eyes and parted lips. At first she didn’t move, but then slowly, one foot in front of the other, she went to him. He pushed the weight of her hair off her shoulders so it fell down her back. Then, unable to help himself, he gathered it in his hands and pulled her close to him.
She smelled so good. He breathed her in again and again. Again. He pressed his face to the fall of her hair, his hands roaming over her back. She was so small, yet not delicate.
“You’re strong,” he whispered into her ear. “Do you know how strong you are?”
Her arms went around him. “I don’t feel strong.”
“You are.” He rubbed her back in slow circles, feeling the knobs of her bones through her robes. Lower, over her hips and then to her rear, which he cupped to pull her against him.
It should’ve made sense. He’d been without real human contact for a long time. Without a real woman’s touch. It should’ve been nothing but natural for him to want her . . . except that it was just her and only her who affected him this way. Pera’s overtures had left him cold.
He needed her mouth. Her tongue. He needed to taste and feel her, to be inside her. When his fingers threaded through her hair, she moaned and pressed against him. Her breasts, so full, beckoned for his kisses, and he pulled open the laces of her robes to get at them.
The skin there was paler, more golden than the rest of her skin. Her nipples, the color of sweet wine and as delicious. He suckled them, groaning as her sweetness exploded on his tongue.
His cock was aching, rock hard. He lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist, her robes falling open so he could still get at the sensitive flesh beneath. She shook her head, murmuring what sounded like a protest but became a plea when he rubbed his erection between her legs.
He walked her to the workbench and settled her ass on it. Kissing her mouth, he worked a hand between her thighs to find her clit. She was wet already, her cunt slick and hot. He slipped his fingers inside, relishing the way she shuddered as he curled them upward. His thumb pressed her clit. His other hand captured the back of her neck, holding her to his mouth even as she squirmed.
He wanted her to beg him to take her.
He first spread her legs, then her labia, and found the pearl of her clit with his tongue. The workbench creaked as Teila arched under his mouth. Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling hard enough to sting. His hands lifted her ass, holding her still as he worked between her legs .
She cried out when she came, bucking against his lips. Her taste flooded him, sending shocks of pleasure straight to his cock. He looked up and found her glassy-eyed, mouth moist from the swipe of her tongue over her lips. Her hair had tumbled over her shoulders and forehead.
She drew in a breath and made as though to speak, but he didn’t give her the chance. His mouth was on hers, silencing everything but her moan. He shifted her to the edge of the workbench. His cock nudged her entrance, but he didn’t push inside. He pressed his thumb to her clit, moving it in infinitesimal circles, feeling the pulse of her orgasm still beating there.
His eyes met hers. She licked her mouth again, and though he desperately wanted to kiss her, he held off. His thumb moved, s
low. Slow. His cockhead pressed her.
The suns had set. The automatic solar lights in the shed had come on, bathing her in golden light. The heater hadn’t come on, however. Teila shivered. When he put his fingers to his mouth to taste her, never letting his gaze leave hers, she gave a low cry, her body jerking.
Jodah kept the circling pressure steady on her clit. It swelled under his attentions, her flesh slippery and swollen. He eased the head of his cock the tiniest bit inside her, the feeling of her wetness on him making it nearly impossible for him not to slam inside her—but he managed. The cold air had begun making him shiver too, though the heat between them rose so fiercely he barely noticed the chill.
“I want to know you want me,” he told her.
“I want you,” she said at once, her longing clear in her voice. “So much.”
He shook his head. Slow, slow circles. A little deeper inside her. “I want to make sure it’s me you want.”
Teila blinked and wet her mouth again. She linked her hands behind his neck and put her forehead to his. Her voice was hoarse. Raw. “I want you . . . Jodah. You.”
With a low groan, he seated himself all the way inside her. She gasped, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Her teeth sank into his neck. Her cunt clenched around him.
He pumped into her slowly, then faster as the pleasure built. Kissing her, he breathed in. She breathed out. Everything about her felt so good, better than any dream ever had. Better than anything he could remember.
Jodah spent himself inside her, her name on his mouth when he came. Blinking, he focused on her face. She smiled at him.
And all at once, he was overtaken by darkness.
Chapter 22
The random string of words made no sense, but Kason spoke them as though they did. His gaze had gone shuttered, blank, his hands still on her. He was still inside her.
“Jodah?”
He withdrew so fast Teila almost fell off the workbench. He backed up, shoulders rigid. Face without expression. He muttered rapidly.
Not another language, she thought, pulling her robes closed and getting off the workbench to go to him. She said his name again quietly. Then louder. When he didn’t respond, she stood on her toes to cup his face in her hands.
So fast she didn’t even have time to blink, he’d grabbed her wrists and twisted her away from him. It hurt, but mostly she was surprised. She didn’t struggle, even when his grip ground the bones of her wrists together.
“Jodah, it’s me. Teila. You’re in the lighthouse,” she told him as calmly as she could. “You’re safe here. You’re fine.”
He was breathing hard, his skin clammy. The heaters in the shed that would keep it at a comfortable temperature had not come on, and now the chill had become suddenly noticeable. Her teeth chattering, Teila let herself go still in his arms.
“Are you remembering something?” she asked him and sent a silent plea to the Three Mothers that he’d answer her.
He did, to her relief, though his reply wasn’t comforting. “Data stream. It won’t stop. More and more and more and more . . .”
His voice trailed off, but then he shook himself. He let her go. His gaze focused on her. He grimaced when he saw her rubbing at her wrists.
“Teila. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m fine.” He had, a little, but there was no point in telling him so.
He’d put distance between them, and she wasn’t sure if she should close it. She concentrated on lacing up her robes and smoothing her hair, making herself presentable as though nothing strange had happened. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he got dressed.
“You’re doing a wonderful job on the scudder,” she said. “Thank you.”
His expression cleared, and he went to the scudder, touching it with almost reverent hands. He looked at her. “I’m not sure exactly how I know what to do with it. It just seems right, though.”
He took her by surprise when he pulled her close again. Tentatively, as though she might pull away. He cleared his throat, his voice low. Such a change from the man who’d owned her body so thoroughly such a short time ago.
“This feels right too,” he told her. “Maybe it shouldn’t, but it does.”
She couldn’t stop herself from stretching onto her toes to kiss him then. “Take each day as it comes, Jodah.”
His arms tightened around her. “You know when you say it, the name almost feels like it’s mine.”
Teila wasn’t sure what to say to that—it wasn’t his name and if he got comfortable with it, would that prevent him from remembering his real name? It was all so complicated. She frowned.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t.”
Teila shook her head, forcing a smile past her frustration. “No. You can. I’m glad I can help you.”
His gaze grew serious. “You are helping me, Teila. So much.”
Chapter 23
“My father told me I was a fool,” Kason had told her. “He was right.”
Both of them had stared out at the sea, calm after the storm. There were no signs of the pleasure cruiser, not even any bits or pieces of it tossed up onto the shore. The sand had swallowed it whole and might spit it out tomorrow or in a full cycle from now, or a hundred cycles from now. Or it might keep all of it forever.
She hadn’t known what comfort to offer him, not then. He’d seemed a mighty fool to her indeed, to have gone out onto the sea alone without making sure every part of his craft was in top working order. It would be the only time she’d agree with his father, but she didn’t know that then. All she’d known was that the storm had wrecked his cruiser and that she’d had to rescue him, and that he’d eaten all of the milka pudding for breakfast, leaving none behind.
“I’m sorry about your ship,” she’d said.
That’s when he’d given her the widest, most shining grin she’d ever seen. “It’s okay. There will always be another ship, but how often do I get to enjoy the company of the most beautiful woman under the three suns?”
Another woman might’ve melted at that, especially one who’d been so little courted. But though Teila had never been in love, she had grown up around her father’s crew, all of them to a one masters of flirtation. She’d raised a brow at him.
“Does that line usually work for you?”
He’d had the grace to look a little ashamed. “Yes. Usually.”
Teila had laughed at his honesty. He had a good face. Strong body. He came from money. If the pleasure cruiser hadn’t proved that, she’d have been able to tell that right away from his clothes, as filthy and wretched as they’d been after the sea had had its way with him.
“Are you hurt at all?” The night before she’d shown him to one of the small rooms on a lower floor, far away from her quarters. In the bright sunslight, she could see scrapes and bruises all over him, but that was to be expected.
“Mostly my pride.”
“Better that than your bones,” she’d told him.
That was when he’d given her his hand. “I’m Kason.”
“Teila.” Their fingers had touched, then linked briefly before she’d pulled away. “Do you want to contact your family? Let them know you’re all right?”
Kason had tipped his face to the suns, squinting, before looking back at her. Another grin, this time one that warmed her so thoroughly it might as well have been made of flames. “Nope.”
“They’ll wonder where you are.”
“Yes,” he’d said. “But then they’ll want me to come home.”
She hadn’t meant to smile at that—he was clearly working hard on being charming. “And you don’t want to go home?”
“Nope,” Kason had said. “Not yet.”
Chapter 24
The nights were hard. He could turn on the lights, and the lighthouse was never cold, but the night was never the same as the daytime. During the night it was impossible not to dream.
Part of him welcomed the dreams, since they seemed to l
ead him closer and closer to his memories. He was more and more convinced the female figure who led him toward his recollections and kept him safe from the grasping claws of the Wirthera was meant to be Teila, even if he’d never seen his guardian’s face.
She’d become so much to him. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she made sure everyone here was taken care of, even when he could see sometimes that the burden weighed on her.
She was a true woman of valor and he . . . he paced, pushing the thoughts away.
Sheira had three suns but no moons. At night the stars pierced the black sky but cast very little light to the ground. He could look out his windows to the Sea of Sand, but it had become shadows. The dark and cold beckoned to him, but not like a lover. Like an addiction. He wanted to lose himself out there beyond the safety of the lighthouse, to run and jump and fight and destroy. The worst part of that was that he had no idea if that was how he’d always been—a man of violence—or if something the Wirthera had done to him had infected him with the need to feel fury.
Teila would soothe him, but she’d be sleeping now. He couldn’t wake her. She’d get up to check the lamp the way she always did, and maybe he could see her then. But if he saw her, he’d want to touch her, and if he touched her he’d want to kiss her. If he kissed her, he’d want to make love to her. He wanted to lose himself in her body, and that need was almost as strong as his desire to attack the night.
When it got too strong, when his fists began their ceaseless opening and closing and his breath went tight in his throat around the urge to scream, Jodah gave in to the urge to flee the comforts of the lighthouse. Pulling on a thick overrobe with a hood, he ducked out of his room and into the hall beyond. A shadow moved in the lamp room. His heart thudded.
“Teila—” But it wasn’t her.
Rehker turned when Jodah came into the lamp room. He had nothing in his hands, yet his expression was of a child caught with his fingers in the milka pudding. The man’s grin was wide and bright and without guile . . . and utterly suspicious.
