Keir (33 page)

Keir shivered. “Again?” he murmured, his eyes closing. Even though his body responded willingly to Quin’s, his stomach ached with hunger. With a start he remembered more than a day had passed without a meal.

“We should eat soon,” Quin agreed, and her own hunger rippled through him. “We’ve certainly burned a lot of calories. And sharing mind to mind takes it out of a body more than just the physical side alone.”

“Is that why I feel so tired afterward?”

Quin laughed. “Actually, I think that’s typical for a human male. But I think in this case your accelerated healing probably compensates for the telepathic demand. Maintaining that connection is draining.”

“You give back as much energy as you take. I can feel that.”

“But it all gets spent in the end. No one can maintain that forever.”

“What would happen if I tried?”

She levered herself up to look him in the eye, her expression very grave. “It could kill you. Don’t ever try it.”

Keir stared at her.

“I love you, Keirlan de Corizi. So don’t kill yourself trying to prove anything to me.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. “I love you too,” he managed. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you in the gardens on Lyagnius, though I did not realize it then.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

Her guilt wound through him, and he shook his head. “Quin, I would have waited for you forever.”

“I kept telling myself that I didn’t see you as anything other than a friend, that you would never think of me as anything more.” Quin laid her palm flat on his skin, against the roughness of the runic patterns on his chest. “I didn’t want to confuse you when you already had so much to learn. And, perhaps, I was afraid to admit it even to myself.” She sighed regretfully. “I don’t think I should have let myself fall in love with you, though. It makes it complicated.”

“Not for me.”

“Surei won’t approve.”

“Damn Surei!” Keir spoke vehemently, but he hoped without rancor.

Quin laughed and moved over to kiss him.

“Do not start that again,” he told her, holding her shoulders as she leaned across him. “You said we must eat. Feed me first, then my body and mind are yours.”

“Damn your stomach!” She tried to kiss him again, but Keir threw her off and rolled over, pinning her down with his body.

She stared up at him and he could not keep himself from kissing her. After a moment, he made himself release her, but her fingers locked around the back of his neck and he sank into the kiss again.

“Quin, you must eat too,”
he urged her. Even as she merged into his mind, tried to draw him in, he could sense the wavering in her thoughts. She could not hold her focus as she had done before. What would happen if they tried to reach that perfect union now, with both their bodies weakened?
“I need you strong. For me. For both of us.”

Another moment, then he broke her hold and leaped out of bed. She threw a pillow at him and missed. “Go stuff your face then,” she snapped.

Keir hesitated, uncertain how much of her sudden fury was genuine. “Are you not coming?”

“Of course I am,” she growled, a crooked smile belying the anger in her voice.

He grinned at her reluctant compliance, replacing her failed weapon on the bed as she rose to join him.

“I’ll get dressed.”

* * * *

They ate hungrily, as if they had starved for longer than a day. As his hunger eased, Keir felt a tremor of shock to see how much food it took to sate them. He wondered if their supplies would last if this was a side effect of sex combined with telepathic union, or whether they would have to restrain themselves for the rest of their sojourn.

Having lost a day to passion, he suggested they work on the raft and Quin agreed, much to his surprise. Perhaps the mundane task of eating had focused her back on their original purpose of escape. They made steady progress and by the end of the day Quin was confident they had enough poles for the main part of the raft. They set to work assembling it–securing the logs with three further beams set at right angles to the rest–but when she insisted on testing it, Keir agreed reluctantly.

Once they had launched it into the shallows, she ordered him onboard, then propelled it out to deeper water herself, holding onto the side as she kicked. The strong tidal surge forced it back toward land, so she clambered on and allowed the current to take them home. The raft performed without a flaw. Quin stood on it, balancing with a skill Keir envied as they rode the foaming tide inwards. As the raft settled she jumped up and down a few times.

“What are you doing?” he yelled, his fingers hooked so tightly into the rope that bound the raft’s timbers together he wondered if he would ever be able to pull them free again.

“Just testing,” she replied, then shot him a crooked grin. “Why? Am I making you nervous?”

Keir bit back a retort.

As the raft shuddered under her repeated stomping, he tried to focus his attention on the approaching shoreline, tried to suppress the twisting knot of fear in his stomach. If the raft was to fail, better now with the shoreline within reach than far out into the ocean, surely? But even that vague reassurance failed to ease the tightness in his chest or to slow the pounding of his heart.

“Keir, what’s wrong?” It seemed to have taken her far too long to recognize his distress, but then he had his shields back up, an old habit.

“I cannot swim,” he reminded her, grinding out the words.

She knelt and grasped his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten that.”

Though her gaze held his and he could see the apology there, it did not ease his fear. She gave him a final squeeze of reassurance before attending to the raft–one of them needed to be in control of it and clearly it could not be him.

After what seemed like a lifetime, they grounded with a jolt and dragged the raft back above the tideline before heading home. On the way back, Keir lingered to dig up more of the tubers, and Quin decided to brave preparing the crabs for dinner. By the time he returned from washing at the pool, one spiny specimen sat cooling on the side, its shell glowing a brilliant scarlet in a cloud of steam, while its companion bubbled in the pot.

He came bearing gifts–pod-shaped fruits and a pretty blue flower he tucked behind Quin’s ear as she cooked. The crustaceans turned out to be tough to open but tasty, their pink flesh sweet. Keir ate until his stomach protested, and Quin debated whether they should fish again in the morning.

“There are still fish in the cooler,” Keir pointed out. “If we catch more they are going to go to waste.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, sighing. “But they were good.”

Keir cleared everything away and held out his hand to her. She took it, and smiled as he tugged her to him. He looked down at her and tangled his fingers deliberately in her hair.

“I’ll have to teach you something else tomorrow,” she warned.

He raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“How to swim.”

* * * *

In the silence of the beach at dawn, Quin crouched barefoot on the damp sand, a small pile of bamboo twigs at her feet and a torn piece of fabric a hundred centimeters square. The tide was at its peak, half a dozen steps from the tree line, and ready to turn. Using strips of leaves as lashings, she fashioned a miniature model of their raft, fixed the cloth to it as a tiny sail, and launched it into the sea. At first it swirled backward and forward in the frothing surf, making no progress. Then the tide turned, and she walked in measured paces along the curving rock ridge, following her craft as it was carried out by the current. The surge obligingly swept it out of the bay, past the jagged promontory and toward the west at a steady rate.

She watched until it disappeared into the swell of the open sea then made for home. She collected more fruit along the way, humming to herself. Despite her anxieties over their situation and the shadowy premonition that had haunted her recent dreams, she was happy–her current contentment overriding her previous forebodings.

Back at the hut she slipped into their bedroom, her bare feet silent on the smooth floor. Keir lay on his front, one arm trailing over the side of the bed and his back uncovered, his tattoos crawling like black spiders across his skin. For a moment, she stood still, her breath catching in her throat at the youth and beauty of him.

She knelt beside him and ran her fingers lightly up his spine, enjoying the way the cool smoothness of his unmarked skin contrasted with the rough feel of the symbols. He twitched and fidgeted at her teasing caress, waking with a start.

“Good morning,” she said.

He stared at her, his eyes as blue as the deepest ocean. “Good morning. You were up early.”

“Things to do,” she told him, scolding lightheartedly.

He rolled languorously onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. “Does that mean you wish me to get up?”

“Yes. Come on. Breakfast is waiting.”

Keir rose, dressed and joined her in the kitchen where she had set out their morning meal. He ate slowly, every mouthful eloquent of his reluctance to face the morning’s planned activity. His anxiety seeped into her consciousness until she felt her own stomach knotting with his apprehension–an unnerving experience.

“You’re worried about this, aren’t you?”

Keir dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “I am.”

“Don’t you trust me, Keir?”

“If I did not, would I have agreed to this?”

“You’re a fast learner. You’ll pick it up no trouble.” She gave him a smile, and he returned it briefly before resuming his breakfast. Even with his unease playing on her nerves, she could not resist adding in jest, “And I promise I’ll try not to let you drown.”

The look he shot her was scathing and she kept her silence for the rest of the meal.

* * * *

“Relax,” she said. “You said you trust me.”

She walked backward in the water, facing him with both his hands held tight in her own. It reminded him of the night she had led him to their bed–just as terrifying but without the same promise of pleasure to come. Keir followed as they waded deeper, tension buzzing in his veins.

As the water rose to his waist, and then further, his steps faltered. Quin tugged at him, relentless, her thoughts offering silent reassurance. She stopped only when the sea reached halfway up her chest.

“I cannot do this…”
The prospect of letting himself sink into the water made him feel faintly sick.

“You
can
do it.”
Her words broke over him and took the edge off his fear.
“I won’t let go of you.”

She made him turn around, so that he had his back to her, then crouch in the water until it reached his chin.

“Now, relax back and trust me to hold you.”

Keir tried to uncoil the tension in his limbs and obey, but as soon as the water soaked into his hair he flailed forward, gulping a mouthful of brine. He thrust himself upright, choking.

“Easy.” Quin smacked her hand on his back until he stopped coughing. “Let’s try that again.”

And they did. Over and over again, until his throat and nose burned. Each time she asked him to trust himself to the water, he knotted himself up and sank, to end up thrashing uselessly and bringing up saline.

“This is no good,” Quin admitted finally.

Ashamed of his inability to have faith that Quin and the water would support him, Keir stood shaking, sickened by more than the sea water in his stomach. “I am sorry–”

“No.” She cut off his apology. “Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted. I’m just afraid…”

“Afraid of what?” He reached for her hand.

“Afraid that if anything goes wrong, when we’re out on the water…” She clutched his fingers tightly. “If you could at least keep yourself afloat, that would be something.”

He sucked in a long breath. “It is hard.”

“Yes. I can see that.” She frowned. “Would you trust me to try something else?”

Sensing her desperation, he nodded. She stepped in closer to him, cupped his face in her hands and pushed her mind into his. He gasped and then forced himself to relax, to accept, as she blanketed his thoughts with her own. It was not the same as when they spoke telepathically, nor the communion they had during sex. There was no sharing. Instead, she smothered his fears, his anxieties, deadening them. An odd sense of dislocation filled him, as if part of his self had been taken away. For an instant, panic cut between their minds as he resisted instinctively but she suppressed that too. It hurt–a little.

Then his mind drifted free and his awareness narrowed. When Quin told him to lie back in the water, he did so, his limbs loose. Water closed briefly around his face as he dipped down, but this time he allowed it, felt it peel away from his skin as he floated back to the surface. Quin’s hands were under his shoulders and she leaned over him, her gray eyes fixed on his face.

Warm water held him, rocked him gently. He found it no effort to let it carry him. Quin moved out of his sight, but he knew she would not go far, that she would stay with him.

The tension eased from his limbs. For a while he watched a handful of small winged lizards spiraling across the sky as the sea cradled him. The strange feeling of separation from a part of himself faded. Several moments passed before he realized he could no longer feel Quin’s hands under his shoulders, or feel her presence in his mind. He twisted in the water and promptly sank, swallowing another mouthful of brine as he did so. Flailing, he resurfaced and Quin giggled at him from a distance.