For a while we were busy cooking. The kitchen
apparently hadn’t been designed for two people and we frequently
brushed against each other. I could physically feel the sexual
tension rising. I could smell his arousal; I could clearly see it
through his jeans. Surely, with his sharp senses, Jack could smell
and see my excitement. It was crazy, and it was the best thing that
had ever happened to me.
Had James anticipated that? Was I indeed so
important to them that James hadn’t trusted anybody else but his
stepson, his most competent, reliable and loyal kinsman? Or was it
Jack’s idea? He outranked James, he said. Could Jack have predicted
this strange instant attraction between him and his charge?
The questions multiplied with a geometric
progression. The answers were incomplete, illogical, confusing and
sometimes scary.
We bumped into each other again and I felt
the warm current splash over me. I dried my hands on the kitchen
towel and without a word retreated to the living room, uncertain
how I would react if my body touched his one more time.
Jack didn’t try to stop me. He
understood.
I curled up on the sofa and reached for
The Name of the Rose
under the table. Pretending to read it,
I let my mind roam free and wild.
Like my wizard kin, I was quite capable of
performing more than one mental act simultaneously, but this time I
chose not to. The book was there for Jack’s sake only.
“You okay there?” I heard him.
No, I wasn’t. “Uh-huh. Need any help?”
“I’m okay.”
I buried my nose in the book. I should not
forget to turn the page from time to time, I thought. For Jack’s
sake. He might be busy grilling the fish, but his senses were
focused on me.
One thing was certain: I had never felt
anything like this before. I had been in love before. I’d broken a
heart or two and my own heart had ached on a few occasions. In
fact, I’d come here after I’d ended a year-long relationship. I’d
always craved emotional engagement, and I’d never given up my
dreams about my knight in shining armor. “You are an incurable
romantic,” my grandmother would sometimes say, amused. I was
romantic, indeed, but I was sure, in spite of my dreams, that I’d
been chasing rainbows.
Until three days ago. It was love at first
touch
.
I was sure Jack hadn’t told me the whole
story about that incredible, indescribable feeling of being whole
whenever we made physical contact. If a single touch, a simple
brush of skin, was more sensual, more erotic, more arousing, more
connecting than anything I’d ever felt before, what would happen
when we made love?
And make love we would, sooner or later. That
was inevitable, and we were both aware of it.
An entirely new world was waiting to be
discovered and explored, I sensed, and at its entrance stood Jack,
my handsome kinsman with his outstretched hands, waiting for
me.
MY GORGEOUS companion stood between the
kitchen and the living room, leaning on the doorframe. My heart
made a mighty thump. It’d stopped bothering me that he could hear
it. As far as I knew, his heart could be doing the same.
“It’s ready. Come to the kitchen.” Jack moved
aside to let me pass. “You’re quiet. I thought you’d have more
questions to ask,” he said. “It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t
it?”
Yes, I had so many questions. I just didn’t
know where to start.
We sat at the small table, across from each
other. I started eating. Whatever he’d done to that fish, the
result was excellent.
His leg brushed mine—accidentally?—and I
shivered, feeling the warm tide inside me.
Very well then, I would start there.
I lifted my head and found his eyes, trying
to ignore their amber allure. “When I eventually touch another
werewolf, I will not feel the same sensation I feel when I touch
you, right?”
He held my gaze. “Right.”
“Good. And you don’t feel it when you touch
somebody else?”
“No. And I had never felt it before I touched
you.”
“So it’s yours and mine. Good again. Now can
you please explain to me what it is?”
“I’VE TRIED not to scare you,” I said. “And I
didn’t lie. It does happen between werewolves and it is because of
who we are. But I knew you would see a hole in my story.”
“It’s a rather big hole. It’d be awful to
share this incredible sensation with every single one of you.
So?”
“Astrid, can we eat first and then talk?”
“You think I’ll lose my appetite when I hear
the whole story? I’ve heard quite a few peculiar stories in the
last few days. A little bit more won’t do any harm,” she said, but
continued to eat.
After we ate, we moved to the living room.
Astrid sat across from me in the armchair. She drew her knees up to
her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
She raised the perfect arch of her eyebrow
and her eyes found mine. I savored them for a moment, holding her
gaze and thinking how I’d never before seen eyes more beautiful:
almond-shaped, with deep-blue irises and thick, dark-brown lashes.
At that point I was sure her wolf eyes were amber, like mine, and I
knew, once Astrid’s spirits were connected, her eyes would change
too. I was wondering what their permanent color would be.
“You have a Norse name, but you don’t look
Norse to me, in spite your fair complexion, blue eyes and all.”
She tilted her head. “And how do I look to
you?”
“There are a lot of warm colors in you:
reddish, honey, gold, sunny.”
“Jack, please.” She gave me one of her lovely
heavy-lashed glances and my heart came to a sudden halt. “You don’t
look like a poet, either.”
“How do I look to you, then?”
Her blue eyes slanted into two piercing slits
as she scanned me quickly, head to toe. A little smile danced on
her lips. “If your hair was long enough to be tied up with a
ribbon, I’d say you look like a pre-revolution French nobleman.
Don’t get excited, I can also imagine you on a horse, behind a
cattle herd. Wild West, late nineteenth century.”
“It’s okay, I like it. How about a rock
star?”
“Hmm, let’s see. Electric guitar, yes,” she
said. “Or maybe a singer.”
“Why don’t you sit here with me?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I
would distract you. I asked you a question, and I want the
answer.”
“All right, then.” Boy, she wasn’t going to
like it. “It’s called ‘love at first sight’ among humans and ‘blood
call’ among vampires. We call it simply a ‘bond’—”
“Holy shit!!!” Her eyes went round in
disbelief. “Even I’ve heard about it! Does it mean that I have no
choice? That something is trying to tie me up with you forever and
ever? And nobody asked me if I wanted it?”
She was yelling, her voice high-pitched and
angry. “Is that what you meant when you said you were going to be
my choice?”
“Astrid, calm down. You do have a choice; you
don’t need to do anything you don’t want.”
“I thought it was some sort of... of an
extreme physical attractiveness. And I liked it. But this is
serious. Oh, my God, I’ve been thrown at you like a spell! You
would’ve felt the same if I’d been stupid and ugly. You would’ve
been tied to me even if you had somebody else… That’s horrible and
cruel.”
“But you are smart and beautiful, and I
don’t—”
“Oh, aren’t we lucky then? Yeah, it could’ve
been much worse,” she said sarcastically. “You don’t know me, Jack,
and I don’t know you. At least not enough for something so
definitive as a mating bond.”
I tried a lighter approach. “It’s like
swallowing a love potion, but most of the time it works. People are
not bonded so randomly. There is usually a solid base for further,
ahem, development—”
“I don’t know about the other species, but it
doesn’t always work with humans.”
“We’re not humans—“
“Do you want a couple of examples? Mark
Antony and Cleopatra, Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, Henry and Anne
Boleyn—”
“Odysseus and Penelope, Abelard and Heloise,
Aragorn and Arwen—”
“Abelard ended up castrated and Arwen was an
Elf. Ha!”
Astrid was clearly more upset with the
bonding than with anything else she’d heard these past few days.
And that hurt a bit.
“I was shocked, too. I also didn’t ask for
it. But I think we’ll be fine if we—”
“If we what? Work on it?” she said tersely.
“For heaven’s sake, Jack, it’s like an arranged marriage. It rarely
works.”
All I wanted was to take her in my arms and
hold her tight until she forgot about anything but me, but she was
still too upset.
“I thought you wanted to screw me. That
thing
when we touch worked just fine for those
purposes.”
“You mean sex? Come on, Astrid. You’ve had
more than just sex on your mind. You wanted to know I was going to
stick around, don’t you remember?”
“Right, but I was thinking more about a
relationship. A work in progress, to see where that would take us.
Boyfriend-girlfriend sort of stuff, you know? I haven’t thought
about marrying you and having little cubs with you.”
“I want more than just to screw you, Astrid.
You know that.”
Oh, God, couldn’t she pick an easier topic?
I’d warned her she didn’t need to know all the details. She wasn’t
ready. Except for taking me as a sexual partner, although I doubted
that my little Miss Spock was even ready for that stage. But she’d
touched a raw nerve.
Well, honey, watch me now.
“If you need to know, I wasn’t entirely happy
either. You were not even my type,” I said.
“Oh, is that so?”
I looked at her in amusement as she angrily
jumped from her seat and placed her hands on her hips to make her
elbows go wide and her whole body larger. She stood upright and
erect, with chin up, legs placed apart: a perfect example of
dominant body language.
You are a hell of a wolf, Astrid
Mohegan, and I wish your friend Tristan could see you now.
“And who is your type, if I may ask?” she
said.
God, she looked beautiful, so angry and
upset. I madly wanted to kiss her.
I managed a straight face. “Seven-of-Nine,
from
Star Trek Voyager
, if you need to know. Lovely as you
are, you’re totally different. And Astrid, I said you
were
not my type, not you
are
not. It’s irrelevant now.”
“Well, you were not my type either,” she said
tartly.
I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just a
slip of the tongue, but I was glad she’d used the past tense. “Tell
me about your type, then. I’m curious.”
“A cross between Hugh Grant and Daniel
Day-Lewis.”
“They’re too old!”
“They are not! They’re... they’re
timeless!”
“Ha! You like older men?”
“What if I do?!”
She crooked her head, making sure that all
her little arrows hit the mark. I wasn’t concerned with my
competition, though. Even less with her alleged preference towards
more mature men. Suited me fine. Overall, I was happy with how
Astrid was handling the newest revelation. At least she didn’t try
to run away. She wanted to screw me, and that was a good sign. The
bond would do the rest.
“Please, Jack, try not to touch me,” she said
slowly, trying to control her angry voice. “Do not come to pick me
up from the hospital. Do not cook for me. Do not feel obligated to
have anything to do with me, screwing included.”
She turned to leave, but I grabbed her wrist.
“Astrid, I’m here to protect you, and I’ll do that. I’ll come to
pick you up, that’s not negotiable. I’ll still take every
opportunity to make you fall in love with me, as I’ve promised. I
won’t screw you, though. When the time comes, and if you want me,
we’ll make love. You’re stubborn, prickly, and impossible
sometimes, but you’re also caring, smart and funny, and I like you
a lot. Forget about the bond and try to see me instead. You might
find me worth your attention. Now get ready and I’ll take you to
the hospital.”
I could see how she wanted to protest, but
gave up. “It’s too early. One more question.”
“Fire away.”
“Is bonding in any way related to me being
the Ellida?” she said quietly.
“No. Those are two separate things. But as
with the bonding, as Ellida you’re not without options. We can’t
keep an Ellida against her will. It must be her free choice to stay
with us. And I won’t keep you unless you want me, either. Feeling
better now?”
“No.”
She turned and walked toward her room. I was
sure I saw tears in the corners of her eyes. She briefly stopped in
front of her door, murmuring something in her wizard’s tongue.
When she closed the doors behind, I couldn’t
see her blue outline anymore.
I let out a deep sigh. I had expected her to
ask me about her wolf spirit and the connection with her other part
that hadn’t happened yet, not about the mating bond. “If you think
you’re upset now, wait until you hear that part,” I said quietly,
glad her hearing was way below average for a werewolf and that she
couldn’t hear me.
I decided to give her a few moments to
collect herself and then I’d knock on her door and deal with the
consequences of our first fight.
ASTRID CLOSED the door and, pressing her back
against it, slid down to the floor. She pulled her knees up and
wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. Her eyes filled with
tears she didn’t even try to suppress. She sat motionless, with a
painful knot in her chest, as if her heart had been torn out from
her rib cage.
She heard him coming toward the door and her
heart jumped. Darn, he’d surely heard it, Astrid thought miserably.
It was pointless to try to hide anything from him as long as he
could hear her heart.