Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (86 page)

It is late at night, now. My candles are burned down.

My memories are dragging me back to the time we truly touched. The time that ignited the fires that burn inside me now. I have to set them down and assuage my torment.

In this memory, I am still a bear, and the trees are still leafless. Rivulets of ice have settled on their bark, glinting blueish in the crisp evening…

Spring evenings. Cold. I hate the cold
. I walked up through the trees, grumbling. 

Even my mind was exhausted by the effort, as I pulled my emaciated body up the incline.
Rest. Wait
.

My breath whistled in my lungs. I looked at the back of my hand and saw my bones curled beneath the fur.  I needed to eat. And soon. I paused for breath a moment longer, and then carried on.

My senses told me someone was coming.  The footsteps sounded light and crisp.  Whoever that approached I felt was happy. It was good to hear such lightness of foot, if a little incongruous, given my exhausted state. Just the sound wearied me.

But there were more footsteps here. And a smell of adrenaline mixed with sweat, which meant that whoever else stood nearby felt tense, in waiting.
Someone planning something that even they know is dangerous, or wrong
.

I stepped back and waited.

Sure enough, a man appeared, creeping through the undergrowth. He stood tall, and clad as a verderer—someone who manages the forests of a lord.  The man stepped onto the path, just as the lighthearted steps reached us.

A girl appeared in the clearing. It took my mind a moment to see any further details.

Her! Kyrila.

Across the clearing came a whirl of sudden action.

The man grabbed her throat. Ripped open her bodice.

Her skin showed white against the darkness. Pinned against a tree, bruises on her forehead already darkening, she gagged.

“
No!
” I shouted it as I throw myself forward. It came out as a roar, erupting from my throat. The man turned white, whipped around

Kyrila moved down the bole of the tree, rolling out of the way. I faced the man who trembled before me, white and afraid.

He had a dagger, and he tried to use it. I was so much taller. I swatted down with my hand, a contemptuous gesture. My long nails raked his arm, and he howled. In truth, I felt utterly exhausted.  He did not know how weak I had become.

I was roaring, standing on my hind legs. It was all I have the energy to do. I could not even step toward him.

It is enough. He drops the dagger, and runs, taking the path from the forest. He is bleeding, the blood dripping on the blue-cold ice. I think the wound is not fatal, but I do not really care.

She stood in front of me. I could see nothing else. Her hair hung loose, and she was again dressed in white. She was shaking. Her trembling hands clutched her dress. She looked shocked, but radiant.

Thank you.
Her brows furrowed.

No need
. I thought it slowly, down a narrowing tunnel. My head ached and my senses swam. I collapsed.

Everything dropped to black, and I felt the ground. And then nothing.

Focus.

It is a while later.
I do not know if the thought belonged to her or me or came from somewhere apart from either.

Everything ached. My body felt coldly numb on the right side, where it laid on frosted ground. I could not move my arm or leg.  My head rose, then fell. I managed to pull myself into a crouch, my legs useless. I was utterly exhausted, too tired to move.

It will be well.
Her voice. Unmistakable. It sounds cool, like the water of a lake at sunset. 

I edged forward. She stood before me, not more than two paces away. She lowered herself gracefully, until she was kneeling, and my head rested on the ground at her knees.

              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 muc
h.
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.

***