Capture of a Heart (8 page)

Shoraya longed to mimic the creature, place its natural defensive techniques into her own repertoire, and yet she found herself sitting on the bank of the lake and reliving the night before, trying to gain back pieces shrouded in darkness as well as savoring those that were embarrassingly clear.

Gavenas had taken an interest in her toes, suckling each one with leisurely attentiveness. He had painted the soles of her feet with lazy kisses that tickled whenever his tongue darted out to steal a lick. On occasion he had even looked up and smiled at her.

There was a lot of mirth to be had that night, but it dulled a bit when Shoraya placed the foot that he wasn’t worshipping into his crotch. Gently she pressed against the hard, hot root of him, giving him a massage of her own. She recalled him lifting his robe to guide her foot to the naked, pulsing flesh and little more than his groans afterward.

In another memory, Gavenas was lying facedown before her, and it was her turn to pay reverence, to the ivory-and-rose cheeks of his ass. With both of them lost to common sense, there were no boundaries as she played her lips across his taut globes and even less when she parted his cheeks and tasted him at the core.

Gavenas had taken her. She remembered being astride him, rocking with impaired strength but experiencing every one of Gavenas’s thrusts like a lightning strike.

Such memories caused her pussy to ache, craving him greedily, selfishly, as if she would never have him again. And yet, she knew that there would come a time when she would leave. She had to. Gavenas had his life, and she had hers.

While the time between them had been the fodder of dreams, Shoraya was shamed by her desire to do the one thing she had never permitted anyone to do to her. She had allowed Gavenas access to her soul, the place that had been fortified with goals of mastery and aims of education. She had envisioned a future of sword dancing, composed of lessons from nature, not hearth and nurturing. Shoraya had been certain of those feelings growing within her that morning as Gavenas had stirred in her arms to the harping demands of a green-haired wood walker standing boldly and uninvited before their pallet.

If Shoraya had had her way, Gavenas would still be resting. She might have had the opportunity to make him breakfast before he gave her a proper tour of the den’s wares. Then later they could have even made a proper meal…like a loving couple.

Shaking her head of the ridiculous, idealistic notion, Shoraya stood up and drew her swords. Gavenas had not once confessed his desire for a companion, and there she was contemplating a future with him.

She had an objective—a journey to make and lessons to learn. She was not like the other females or males. She had a calling.

Beginning her warm-ups, Shoraya took solace in working her wrists in circles, twirling her blades round and round in wide arcs to loosen the muscles of her arms. She let go of dreams involving bathing Gavenas by the light of the moon, accompanying him on his journeys through the forest, and preparing him supper in the evenings.

They would be good visions to carry with her on her journey and were already more than she could have hoped to ever have. Now her true loves lay in her hands, and as she seamlessly converted the oscillation of her swords into mock thrusts and parries to imaginary enemies, her heart felt light. The weight of wanting lifted from her chest, making each breath easier and every thought clearer.

She practiced for hours until her arms were sore and hands—already callused—ached, but she felt invigorated nonetheless, having come to a decision. Like a succulent butter and berry cake, her time with Gavenas was not one to be exploited, to be gorged upon, but one to be sampled and savored. She had had a good portion, but to attempt to stuff herself would only end in an upset stomach.

She sheathed her swords before going down to the water’s edge. She had left her flask in her pack but was no stranger to drinking from the cup of her hands. Crouching down at the calm edge of the water, she dipped her palms into the cool lake and drank.

She had decided. She would thank Gavenas, tell him that she would be leaving soon. That hurdle would be solidified and clear. She could begin preparations and learn to exist on her own again. It would be an ailment the same as her poisoning and the recovery would have to be done on her own, but she was certain that she could do it—that she would!

A subtle movement off to her left caught her attention, and she turned to witness a disturbance in the muddy bank. Emerging onto the shore was the mottled purple carapace of a Grave Pincer. With its four intimidating claws raised high, it scuttled away from its burrow, making its way toward a rotted log. Several other of its kind began to pop forth from the mud, all of them drawn toward the hollow wood.

Shoraya was riveted to her spot as crabs rushed past her to join their kind in a mutual journey.

It wasn’t until the log jostled fitfully that a pale-gray giant of a crab, nearly three times the size of the largest purple one, peeked from its hiding place. It was a female, Shoraya was sure of it as the spectacle began with the smaller crabs, dancing, warring, showing off their strength and skills against their brothers. Everywhere she looked there were displays of beauty, of horror, of courage and pride…

There was so much to learn, too much as she sat down and stared. At the setting of the sun, a winner was presented…and although she had committed a few movements to memory, Shoraya lamented when the crabs began to dig back into the loamy mud.

She still told herself that she had to leave, that she could not allow herself to become attached to a man she barely knew and who barely knew her, but she could not lie to herself about the need to travel far and wide. There were countless lessons in the forest that she was ignorant of…in the same way that she was ignorant of Gavenas’s heart, and she was overwhelmed by all of them.

Chapter Twelve

Gavenas knew that there was something different about Shoraya the moment that she drew back the den’s panel and stepped inside. If he had to be honest with himself, he had suspected something when she chose to linger just past nightfall. Fear, however, kept him riveted to the hearth.

He had occupied himself with the preparation of the night’s meal, an ample-sized shimmer trout stuffed with mashed
quari
root paste and nuts, a simple salad, and wine. It was a meal fit for royalty and one that would show off his cooking skills. Not that Shoraya had ever professed any of his meals to be anything less than extraordinary, but he relished the opportunity to please her, had become accustomed to it, and yet he could see it in her eyes, the very moment that he had dreaded.

As Shoraya moved to the pallet and placed her sheathed swords beneath the bed, Gavenas pretended to be overly concerned with tending the grilling fish, which was wrapped tightly in leaves and smoking nicely without his meddling fingers.

He heard the pallet creak as she sat down and swore he could detect the exhaustion in her bones as she settled. He wanted to believe that he was just paranoid. That rather than coming to the conclusion that she was well enough to be on her way, that she had realized her need for him. It was an absurd hope that he had aptly displayed his capacity to care for, feed, provide for, and love her. Surely a woman such as Shoraya could attain any male she wished for.

There was nothing truly special he had done, and yet Gavenas wanted to believe. He cursed himself for ever uttering that what he had done for her was the equivalent of how he might have tended to a wounded bird, even as he sat back and left the meal to cook on its own.

“There is a chill in the air.”

“Yes, there is. Winter is not far off,” Gavenas said as matter-of-factly as he could.

A measure of silence passed between them, where Gavenas stared into the flame, praying silently. Then Shoraya spoke.

“I should be getting on my way soon, before the snow begins to fall, I think.”

A horrible pressure settled into Gavenas’s chest as the desire to change her mind, to beg her to stay, raged within him. There was so much that he had planned to show her, things he wished to teach her about the forest and about herself. He felt sure that somehow he could incorporate not only magic but himself into her life. More importantly he felt she was his mate and that she simply didn’t realize it. Instead of prayers, Gavenas looked to the shimmering flames for emotional support, as each breath hurt to take.

“Does the forest get much? Snow?”

Gavenas heard the wavering hesitation in her voice and knew the decision had not been an easy one for her. Yet as she seemed strong enough to endure it, so would he be. He stood up from the hearth and drew his robes tightly about him, as if the warmth being provided by the cook fires wasn’t sufficient enough to keep the chill out of his bones. “It does. Several feet. But as you move toward the desert, the climate will warm to a furious heat. The nights, however, carry a harsher cold than you might expect. You should be properly prepared.”

He had several chests along the far side of the den but knew which one he wanted and moved toward it. Inside there were several items of fabric, clothing, furs, and blankets. He knelt down and searched through stacks of cloth until he found what he was looking for. The item he required was at the bottom. It was a soft, broad length of a pelt from a rare creature indigenous to the very lands that Shoraya was headed to.

He brought the pelt over and handed it to Shoraya. “You will need this for your journey.”

Shoraya gazed up at him with wide, curious eyes, but she took the offering into her hands. “What…”

“It looks flimsy, but I assure you the pelt of the sun seeker is a wondrous thing. Even in the starkest cold, it will keep you warm with the sun it receives. If you wear it during the day, it will cool you as it stores the sun’s rays. At night it will release its energy.”

“Gavenas. You…you don’t need to—”

He waved a hand to discourage any issue with her pride. “I do as I please, warrior. Just as you. Anyway, I have no need of it. It was a gift from the guardian of a desert much like the Pusharak. We do occasionally mingle, my kin and I.”

“Oh, really?”

He chuckled at her attempt at jealousy, although it did burn for he wished more of it, yearned for her ownership. With a sigh he returned to the fire, which would undoubtedly be his only lover once again.

“What do you do in the winter months?”

“Plenty. While many of the animals sleep, all do not. It is not much different from when the creatures of mountains sleep, I suspect. Even when the snows reach the peaks, some slumber but not all.”

“Aye, that is true.”

It was the tone of sadness, her forlorn sigh, that caused Gavenas to break from his moment of self-pity and recall that the decision was no easier for her than it was for him. Still, she had made her choice, and despite the opportunity to sway her presenting itself, Gavenas could not bring himself to such a low.

As he returned his gaze to her, Gavenas noted she clutched the pelt, smoothing her hands across its length. She looked exhausted, weary…in no condition for a journey. Suddenly he was struck with worry for her safety, and one gift didn’t seem adequate enough. He fetched a box from one of the enclaves built into the wall of his den and set it upon the table. From inside, he drew forth a set of bells and a jar, which he rushed to present to Shoraya.

In his haste, he forgot himself and sat down beside her, close enough to be teased by her warmth. Yet when she looked toward him, flight was not an option. He showed her the wares he held, hoping to direct her brown eyes away from his own deceitful ones, so ready to beg.

“With these bells, you will always be able to find your way to water. You only need to hold them up in the air. They will ring if water is near. The closer you are, the faster the tempo of their ringing will be. And this” —he held up his other hand with the jar—“this is a very powerful concentrated antitoxin. It is a cruder version of the one I used with you, but should you be stung or bitten, just a pinch of this mixed in with water will help you to neutralize anything foul. I wish you to take these as well.”

She parted her lips, and Gavenas steeled himself for her attempts to refute his gifts, but instead she nodded. She folded the cloak neatly and set it aside before taking the gifts from Gavenas’s hands and placing them gently atop the cloak.

Then might have been a good time for Gavenas to get up, to separate himself from her side, but he did not move fast enough, could not.

She turned to him, her cheeks flushed, her lips stretched by a brilliant smile, and her eyes like warm dark pools that he could have swum in. “I can’t say thank you enough, Faeyanin.”

“You don’t have to, child of the Deipma,” he answered, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. The truth he kept to himself. That if anyone should have been thankful, it was him.

Her smile widened, and the first hint of tears, a subtle gloss over her eyes, appeared as she reached out to cup his cheek. “I will miss you.”

Gavenas began to tremble, dealing with the foreign sensation of a weakness he could not battle overtaking him. He fought against it, clasping his arm about her shoulder and hugging her close. With her head against his shoulder, she would not be able to view the agony he was sure his features could not disguise. He rested his head upon the crown of her head. “And I will miss you,” he said. “But I will look forward to your visits.”

“I warn you that I will make them. And I hope not to find your bed occupied, at least not when I arrive.”

“You have little to worry about in that respect,” was his reply, even as she embraced him back. The confession that yearned to spring from his lips, his selfish dreams of dragon-kissed skin, of tending to her every need, and of sleeping soundly in only her arms need not foul her free spirit.

True love was freedom, not oppression, he forced himself to recall…and to believe.

Chapter Thirteen

Shoraya had told Gavenas that she was leaving soon but did not know how swiftly she would need to leave until she slid into the bed that night and welcomed him beside her.