Heart Fortune (Celta) (8 page)

Zem particularly liked fish, but Lepid was unsure of his hunting skills in that area.

The images that rose to her mind when informed of this gave Glyssa the queasies, but she just agreed through a tight throat. She stated her expectations, too, that Lepid go slowly and not fish by himself, and that she wished he would remain in the tent at night with her.

He’d just sniffed.

Jace sauntered to her, Zem perched on his newly padded shoulder.

Greetyou, Glyssa,
said Zem.

“Greetyou, Zem.” Glyssa gave a little curtsey to the bird. Her curiosity about him had been roused earlier, and she was pleased that she now had something more in common with Jace—a Fam. She knew from experience that a FamPerson could talk about their companion for hours.

She glanced at Jace, knowing she didn’t dare push him. Too many other unattached female arms she could drive him into. He was also the kind of man who liked to initiate most sexual moves. Didn’t stop her body from tingling in his vicinity.

So she kept a blandly pleasant expression on her face and said, “And thank you, GentleSir Bayrum, for walking with Lepid this morning.”

Jace ducked his head, a slight flush came to his tanned cheeks. “We aren’t formal here. Please call me Jace . . . Glyssa.”

“Thank you,” she said simply.

A huge grinding noise came and they both focused their attention on the hole—it appeared a portion of the starship had been found and peeled back!

“Oh!” She grinned, knew her eyes sparkled, and shared a look with Jace.

He smiled back at her. “Looks like after two years we are finally making progress.”

She shifted from foot to foot. “I’m so pleased to be here during this momentous time.”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head. “And record it?”

“Yes.” Did she dare refer to their past fling? She didn’t think so.

The next septhour showed excruciatingly slow progress on the hole—they hadn’t wanted to harm the outer shell of the spaceship. But standing with Jace, listening to his comments, being in his company, was luxurious. Even though something low and needy throbbed inside her.

At the end, the Elecampanes called a halt after the descent and tunnel was opened and cleared, then set a guard by the hole.

Most people wandered away and Glyssa knew Jace would follow if she didn’t detain him. Clearing her throat, not quite looking at him, she said, “I spent much of yesterday setting up my tent.”

He looked down at her with a mild expression in his eyes, but one quirked eyebrow. “It’s a pavilion.”

She felt heat on her cheeks, cleared her throat
again
reflexively, why did she
do
that, and continued, “I spent yesterday setting up and arranging the pavilion I was given. Would you show me around the camp?” That was about as far as she’d push right now.

He hesitated too long, but her ego was saved when Lepid raced back to her and jumped around her feet.
I will show you the camp! I know all the tents! I know all who live in the tents!
He sniffed lustily as if demonstrating the power of his nose.
I know where everything is!

“Thank you.” She crouched down and ran her fingers through the soft fur of her dusty pet. “I’d like to see Fish Story Lake and the Deep Blue Sea, also.”

They are not near flights,
Zem said.

Jace added, “Both are some kilometers away. In that, Captain Hoku chose his spot well, to land the starship
Lugh’s Spear
midway between them. We don’t have personal vehicles here, and only the few who have been here through previous seasons can chance teleporting. There
is
a stable, as a few hardy souls rode here across the continent. A dozen stridebeasts. But most of us must walk when we have the time and inclination to do so.”

Stretching her mouth in a too-bright smile, she looked up at him—he was scowling—and said, “I understand.”

He jerked a nod, tilted his head in the direction of the communications equipment that the Elecampanes had moved on to rearrange. “Later, Glyssa.”

Good afternoon, Glyssa,
Zem said.

“Yes, later. Good afternoon, Zem,” she replied faintly, covering the huge well of disappointment inside her.

Jace strode away from her and she spent the day with her FoxFam, forcing herself to banish the letdown and enjoy the simple pleasure of Lepid’s company as she bonded more deeply with him.

The camp was set up in orderly rows, comprised of all sorts of tents—and two living pavilions—hers and the Elecampanes’. The large mess tent was in the middle of the camp, the four cleansing tents and four latrine tents at the edge, and a storage and workshop near the middle. The stable was toward the south, closer to the Deep Blue Sea side of the encampment.

She was impressed by the organization that provided both closeness and privacy if a person wanted such.

As the sun set and twilight deepened the sky, stars appeared. Many more stars than she could see in Druida, thick spangles.

She sat in one of the two camp chairs she’d placed before her pavilion. Lepid curled on her lap, ready to talk to every curious passerby and be petted in between visits.

Jace didn’t stop by. At first that irritated her—then she just
knew
that they’d be dreaming together tonight. The bonds between them had arisen and twined, thick sensuality layering and cycling back and forth.

They’d enjoy dream sex that she hoped to turn into more than sex, true loving. Become more than occasional lovers—friends. HeartMates.

She just had to figure out how to make that happen.

Glyssa shared some talk with Funa Twinevine and Andic Sanicle, definitely adventurers with an eye on her because of her connection with Camellia and Laev—whom she’d admitted knowing. She thought Lepid had been indiscreet in that matter, chattering about his noble friends.

He liked his glory, her FamFox.

Symphyta, the Healer, whom Lepid studiously ignored, also dropped by. The woman good-naturedly answered Glyssa’s questions regarding the staff’s and the camp’s history. Enough so that Glyssa knew she could really dig more data from the Healer, especially if she served good food and drink. The camp food was simple and filling, but the Healer appreciated the last delicacies packed in the trip basket.

Finally, reluctantly, the Healer rose from her chair with a sigh and a grimace, saying she was sharing a tent with Funa Twinevine—not that Funa would be there most nights. The woman liked her lovers.

The stream of people coming to visit with Glyssa dwindled. She saw the other Healer, Trago, start down her aisle, then he spotted Lepid and turned back. No loss there.

But the serenity of the night, the lovely weight of her Fam on her lap, and the gentle camaraderie had worked on her, soothing her from the slight rebuff Jace had given her in the morning, and his lack of company this evening.

So she let the quietude of the extraordinary place, the different atmosphere showcasing the soft velvet of the sky and diamond brightness of the twinmoonslight and starshine, encompass her. She leaned back and
felt
the link between her and her lover, her HeartMate, hum with anticipation.

Soon they would love.

Eight

G
lyssa waited until no one walked the hard earth of the camp pathways
before she went to the cleansing tent. The waterfall in her pavilion took more water than she was comfortable hogging.

She didn’t like the camp showers—they were antique and stingy showers, not the lush waterfalls that most city residents were accustomed to. The recycled water here had a distinct odor. The only good thing she could say about them was that they were better than any cleansing spell and they relieved the heat of the late summer days.

After her shower, she felt less sticky and just plain better, as if her body was finally adjusting to the local day/night cycle. Lepid, who’d kept her cheerful company both coming and going on her walk, hadn’t seemed to have had any trouble whatsoever with the change in time . . . perhaps hadn’t even noticed it.

As she returned, she saw a few spellglobes in tents, but quiet enveloped the camp. Lepid pushed his basket to the sitting room, before a low window she’d made just for him to look out, and curled up without complaint. She decided that the day of exploration and activity had tired him—and that his behavior was suspiciously docile. He might be hoping to slip out of the tent as he had done that morning.

She toyed with the notion of invoking a spellshield to keep him in, but that showed little trust for her Fam, and all relationships were built on trust. Her FamFox now had a collar that would teleport him to the Healing clinic, and most of the staff had seen him and knew him . . . and gossip certainly traveled fast in the camp. She’d know almost immediately if he got into trouble again.

Glyssa smiled as she heard too-loud-fake-snoring from her Fam, but said nothing. Tonight she intended to have another dream sexual encounter with her HeartMate and it was just as well that Lepid was at the far front corner of the tent from her bed. That would be good when, hopefully, she and Jace made love in reality. She’d already slipped a silence spell on the bedroom walls—they’d be able to hear sounds, but no one, not even Lepid, would hear her or her lover.

She dressed in a thin, white linen nightgown that was barely opaque, deliberately purchased for Jace. She’d discovered during that wild weekend that he became more aroused when she was in a few clothes rather than totally naked. She thought the nightgown would tantalize him, too.

“Good night, Lepid. I love you,” she called from the opening of her bedroom.

Good night, FamWoman. I love you,
he replied.

Then she waved her hand and the flap between the sitting room and bedroom rolled down. She held her breath, but her Fam didn’t object . . . in fact, he went back to his fake snoring.

Settling onto the cushy and comfortable bedsponge, large enough for two, she set the intention in her mind to visit her HeartMate in her dreams. Dream sex, then true rest for the remainder of the night sounded excellent.

Sleep and lucid dreaming came quickly. She stood over the man who lay on a mattress supported by a cot. Close by,
his
FamBird sat on a perch, head bowed, beak tucked into his front feathers, sleeping. She smiled, then glanced at Jace again, seeing the glitter of his gaze as he stared at her face—no doubt pale, though blood flooded her cheeks as his scrutiny went to her breasts until her nipples tightened, then he scanned down to the shadow between her thighs.

Her blood pounded and she knew she flushed more, including her breasts. Her knees weakened and breath came quick and her insides quivered with desire as her body readied for him—his touch, his sex inside her.

Even as her mind spun, and she swallowed, she understood that this night needed to be more than physical intimacy. She needed to move their fling into the past, ensure that sex moved more into loving. How, she wasn’t sure, but could only follow her instinct . . . and her heart.

So she smiled with all the tenderness, all the joy she felt at seeing him again, finally being with him. Everything she could show him, and that he would accept here in dreams, that he might shun in the public light of day in the camp.

“Jace,” she whispered, and thought
beloved.
Again she swallowed, held out a hand. “I want you.” Her hand trembled. “Do you want me? Here? Now?”

He flung off a thin blanket and stood, naked, ready for sex. In the dream there was twinmoonslight that limned the fine bones of his face, touched the glitter of his eyes with silver. And tonight she saw him better, their bond not so stretched over a long distance.

She touched his chest, muscles more defined than they’d been, wider, and with a few scars. Smiling, she trailed fingers to his hips, then back up, rubbing his tiny nipples. He shuddered and a pulse of pleasure surged through her that she could please him, that they would rise to ecstasy together, explode into release together.

She wet her lips and he groaned, bent his head, kissed her, then his hands settled on her hips, brought her close so that she felt his passion. Her lust spiked, she wanted to be naked, too, reached down and yanked up handfuls of cloth.

His mouth brushing against hers, tantalizing, lifted and curved in a wicked smile. “Shhh,” he said. “Let me.” His eyes were half-closed and she knew she’d judged him right. He liked her partially clothed best.

He let loose of her hips, then took the gown, pulled it back with a fist on the curve of her bottom until the little excess material was tight against her, binding around her breasts and hips. He stepped back, looked at her, and even in the dim light she could see that his cheeks and lips darkened with his own sexual flush.

“Jace,” she panted. Her nipples felt too tight, and the cloth chafed them slightly, pinging sizzles of desire through her. She took a step forward, pressed against him again,
rubbed
against him, his sex thick and hard against her abdomen, her breasts against his chest.

“Lord and Lady, woman!” He picked her up and tossed her onto the cot and bedsponge. Surprisingly comfortable . . . he lifted her hips, pulled her gown up to her waist, then lowered himself on her. His left hand turned her head; she must have looked startled because he chuckled. His right hand was busy sliding down the front opening tab on the yoke of her nightgown, slipping inside and palming her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple, making her twist, needing more, needing him.

“Jace.”

In a low voice, he said, “I like how you say my name, especially breathless like that.” His smile turned wicked. “I like you breathless and writhing.” His lips were hard on hers now and she groaned and opened her mouth and let his tongue plunge into her, sucked on his—that simply tasted of Jace, a flavor she’d never forgotten. She yearned to taste him for real, not this shadow taste of memory. Soon. Soon. She hoped. She prayed.

His hand skimmed from her breast lower, stopped as he reached the end of the yoke opening.

Any other man would have ripped the gown from her. Not Jace. He took his hand from inside her gown, shifted.

And in that few seconds of reprieve from his tormenting touch, she understood what she needed to do . . . simple and instinctive. Give. Give herself to him, give him all the tenderness, all the loving, all the respect she felt for him. Hold nothing back.

So when he touched her damp folds between her thighs, stroked and drove her mad with need for him, she surrendered.

He was repeating something, but her mind had hazed so much, the yearning spiraling so high within her that she couldn’t understand him. Her hands clenched over his shoulders, distantly she heard her own whimpers. He was so much larger that she couldn’t move, especially not in desperate need.

But she could tilt her hips, rotate them, tease
him
. Set her hands on his shoulders, dig her fingernails into his skin.

Which had him groaning, swearing, and lunging into her.

The rhythm, the connection between them perfected. Almost, almost, she could see the golden HeartBond. But he would have to accept, and he’d be shocked with it, and . . . thought was gone, desire ruled, the rising to ecstasy, the feel of her lover’s body against hers, the thin cloth caught between them, maddening and exquisite all at once.

His groan and emptying that pushed her into fabulous pleasure.

Her arms fell from him, limp, and he collapsed on her, and the bedsponge on the cot cradled them both.

When she could lift a shaky hand, she funneled her fingers through his hair, bit her tongue to keep the comment about how much longer it was, how the sun had burnished it until she could see deep auburn notes. A pity for their children, that, to have both parents with red in their hair. Someday.

She was ready to claim him, to give him her HeartGift and let the law force him to wed her. And that was simply wrong. Coercing him would lose him.

Though his heart, his emotions, might want more than sex, want the loving and affection and respect she’d given him tonight, she didn’t think he’d acknowledge that even to himself. If she let her eyes close she could see the thick and brilliant bond between them.

He rolled and they settled on their sides, facing each other. With thought trickling in, she hoped she looked all right.

Jace touched her cheek. “Glyssa.”

She snuggled closer. “Mmm.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Sighing, she said, “Nice.” Wasn’t foolish enough to comment further. She believed he’d regret any vulnerability on his part in the morning.

His voice roughened and he curved his hand over her bottom, kneaded. Her eyes opened to see him grinning again.

“I really like this nightgown.”

She shrugged. He didn’t know her well enough to realize she liked big, sloppy, flannel gowns, nothing at all like what she wore.

He raised her leg and placed it on his hip, rubbed his sex against her. He was reviving fast, and she felt her own smile. Again she stopped a comment behind her lips—it had been a long time since she’d had sex. Do
not
get into that conversation.

With a hand stroking him hard and another wiggle, they were joined again, and it was wonderful, him inside her, where she’d wanted him since the night he’d left after their fling.

They stared into each other’s eyes. Hers had to be wide.

She could see no trace of color in his irises, and wanted light as part of their loving. Not now. Not yet. Maybe soon. That might become a mantra.

“Glyssa,” he said, and it echoed in her ears and whispered in her mind and sizzled in her blood.

One stroke.

She moaned, saw a bead of sweat appear on his temple, slide slowly down his face, out of reach of her tongue. She leaned up and nibbled along his jaw. His turn to moan, to plunge again and again, then stop, driving her to move under him more.

He kept her still by anchoring her to the bed with the weight and angle of his hips. “No,” he said. Bent and brushed a kiss on her lips. His every movement sent waves of pleasure through her so she craved him.

“No,” he panted. “So good. Need to make it last.”

She tried to relax, to savor him inside her. He was here and hers for now, for this exquisite moment. Savor. Bind him to her with the physicality of sex, as she’d been bound to him for years. No other would do—not for her. She’d prove to him that no other would do for him, either.

His face, so dear already. The clean lines of his bone structure, a rectangular face, beautiful to her. A face that matched his long, lean body.

He grunted, moved again and again, slow, measured thrusts that had her gasping, arching, sharing each iota of pleasure, the fullness of him within her stimulating her desire, stoking her passion, enthralling her mind until only the drive to release mattered.

The scent of him, bay rum like his name, spicy and masculine, mixed with perspiration, mixed with the heady perfume she’d worn. All so real.

Soon. Soon.

Her body throbbed with pleasure, burst asunder. She cried out at her climax, heard his low moan and he collapsed on top of her, fitting
right
. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she claimed him this way.

“Glyssa.” Once more, his saying her name caused rippling thrills—this time the tenderness in his tone went straight to her heart. He mumbled unintelligibly then his body loosened as he fell asleep.

Yes, he was heavy, and the cot wasn’t wide . . . she could have formed a pretty dreamscape for them, but she’d wanted the hint of reality. Having him close was all she’d desired for a long, long time. That he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with her had tears of joy creeping from under her own lashes.

With Flair, she moved them slightly until they curled together, as always after sex—making love? She thought so, this time, at least on her part. Even in dreamtime they stayed together, resting, touching, petting.

She fought sleep as long as she could, knowing that once she fell deep into that state, she’d move away from him, leave him. She could hold on to him until then.

And, sometimes, when she fell asleep first, she sensed he held on to
her
until he succumbed. That was the best feeling, and gave her hope.

But not tonight. The emptiness waiting in her luxurious tent claimed her.