Heart Search (15 page)
Camellia was all too aware of the hurt a HeartMate could cause. Since she’d let that door inside her swing wide, had admitted Laev Hawthorn was hers, she’d experienced again all the pain and despair and anger. She couldn’t bear yet to talk to her friends about Laev, so she wouldn’t press Glyssa. Instead Camellia drank her wine.
“I’ve set up an appointment for the three of us with the starship
Nuada’s Sword,
MidMorningBell tomorrow,” Tiana said.
Nuada’s Sword,
MidMorningBell tomorrow,” Tiana said.
“You sent me a cache message. That time’s good for me.” Glyssa drank some more, but her body slumped a little as if tension had seeped from her muscles.
“Fine,” Camellia lied.
Tiana’s gaze went to the window, which showed a black night and pinpricks of stars. “I know I have a HeartMate. I want him.” She nearly slurred her words, snuggled into her pillow, then fell asleep.
“So.” Glyssa wiggled a little more, sipped her drink. Her eyes were shiny, her voice a little clogged. “I suppose I can say that Laev T’Hawthorn is one good-looking man. Tell me all about those Passage sex dreams.”
I
t must have been the short—very short—conversation Camellia had
had with Glyssa about Passage sex that had primed Camellia. Or the fact that she’d finally admitted, out loud and to more than just herself, that Laev T’Hawthorn was her HeartMate. But after her guests had left and she’d checked the house security and fallen into bed and asleep, Camellia found her mind reaching for Laev’s.
t must have been the short—very short—conversation Camellia had
had with Glyssa about Passage sex that had primed Camellia. Or the fact that she’d finally admitted, out loud and to more than just herself, that Laev T’Hawthorn was her HeartMate. But after her guests had left and she’d checked the house security and fallen into bed and asleep, Camellia found her mind reaching for Laev’s.
He, too, was asleep—and aroused. His lust flowed easily to her, without any emotional or rational-thinking barriers.
She found it difficult to keep up the shields she’d built between them. Before last night, it had been so long since they’d connected sexually . . . four years since her own last Passage . . . and only two or three times since. Until her spell affected her dreams, too.
The rare mental sex they’d shared—when he hadn’t turned to Nivea—had spoilt her for any other man. Camellia had gone ahead with occasional sex dates, and minor affairs focused on the physical, but hadn’t opened up emotionally with any of her short-time lovers.
She didn’t intend to open up to Laev. But now it was safe to love him . . . no, have telepathic sex with him. He wasn’t married. He couldn’t hurt her by making love with his wife. He might not even recognize her, since he never had before.
And the warm sensuality wrapping around her felt so good. She could give in to it.
She could revel in it.
The next moment she was in the large bed with him, pressing her body to his . . . just
feeling
him, his size, the texture of his skin. Her breath came fast. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this.
feeling
him, his size, the texture of his skin. Her breath came fast. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this.
It had been too long and last night too brief . . . but she’d touched him in real life now, been pressed against him . . . and now feeling him naked and front to front was so much different. Her hands trailed over the strong slope of his shoulders. She dared to touch the nape of his neck, feel the silkiness of his hair fall across her fingers.
His hands clamped on her butt, kneaded, brought her close to his erection. In another minute . . .
No! Not ready, not ready, not ready.
With a gasp she jerked away and awake. What had she been doing!
Enjoying herself. Enjoying Laev. Laev, her HeartMate, whom she was free to love now. Whom she was afraid to love now.
Rolling off the bedsponge, she rose and headed for the waterfall room. Even as she stood under a tepid plunge of water, she swore. There would be no going back now, she understood that. Her libido would not be stuffed back into a box. Not when every day brought some reminder of Laev, or chance meetings, and destiny was determined to bring them together.
Lady and Lord, she hurt from unfulfilled need, from her body wanting her HeartMate and her mind and emotions shying away from him.
I don’t think you should do that,
Mica said. She sat just outside the sill marking the waterfall area, protected from the wet by a Flair shield across the open doorway.
Mica said. She sat just outside the sill marking the waterfall area, protected from the wet by a Flair shield across the open doorway.
Avoid Laev T’Hawthorn?
Camellia replied blankly.
Camellia replied blankly.
Not that, either!
Mica emphasized that with a short yowl that pierced Camellia’s brain.
See, you don’t make sense. All that water on your head can’t be good for you.
Mica emphasized that with a short yowl that pierced Camellia’s brain.
See, you don’t make sense. All that water on your head can’t be good for you.
Camellia huffed, stopped the waterfall, and dropped the shield.
Mica hopped back, hissed at the few droplets that evaporated before they reached her.
Big baby,
Camellia said. She dried herself under a quick heat lamp, contemplated sleep again, and decided to drink a soothing tea with a spell that would narrow the link between her and Laev. She’d concocted the recipe and made the tea herself. Some was in the kitchen no-time.
Camellia said. She dried herself under a quick heat lamp, contemplated sleep again, and decided to drink a soothing tea with a spell that would narrow the link between her and Laev. She’d concocted the recipe and made the tea herself. Some was in the kitchen no-time.
A few minutes later she was asleep and dreaming of searching for something in a cavelike HouseHeart.
T
he sexual climax rolled through Laev, leaving him shuddering with
satisfaction and waking him. The best dream sex he’d had in years—well, since last night. The best sex he’d had since even before Nivea had died. They hadn’t had much sex in the last years of their marriage—only when Nivea decided it was time to try for an heir to the Hawthorn line again.
he sexual climax rolled through Laev, leaving him shuddering with
satisfaction and waking him. The best dream sex he’d had in years—well, since last night. The best sex he’d had since even before Nivea had died. They hadn’t had much sex in the last years of their marriage—only when Nivea decided it was time to try for an heir to the Hawthorn line again.
The pounding of his heart eased from ragged after-orgasm and edged toward the rapid beat of caution. His HeartMate had been with him. He didn’t know her. Didn’t want to know her. They’d only come together because people, beings, had been pestering him about her lately, that was all.
But he’d enjoyed the sex, even though she’d left him to experience release alone. Thinking about the brief encounter, he understood that the bond between them had been strictly physical. Nothing more than a tiny filament connected them otherwise.
So she didn’t want to acknowledge him, either. His first stung pride gave way to amusement that he’d been irritated.
HeartMate sex, without emotional trauma-drama. He liked that idea. And that was all he could accept now, perhaps all she could, too. Fine with him.
He rose and headed to the waterfall room. Earlier he’d chanted a complicated spell on his sheets to keep them clean, and now the fragrance of herbs wafted from his bedroom.
Glancing at the wall timer, he saw it was close to TransitionBell, that time of deep night when many souls passed to the next world. Energy still hummed along his nerves.
Like the night before, he reached mentally for Cratag. The man was asleep. The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon wasn’t open. With a roll of his shoulders, Laev passed through his suite to the sparring room on the end. There he stretched, then began a fighting pattern. It was more work than he’d anticipated. He’d lost his edge, but he’d get it back.
“T’Hawthorn?” the Residence asked.
Laev kicked high and grinned. The Residence had initiated a conversation! Ha! “Yes, Residence?”
There was a quiet soughing through the house. “It is the time for the annual visit with Captain Ruis Elder of
Nuada’s Sword
to check on our investments with him and the starship.”
Nuada’s Sword
to check on our investments with him and the starship.”
Grunting, Laev finished the second pattern and bent over, hands on thighs, until his breath was even. “Is Captain Elder available?”
“No, the Elders keep Celtan time, not Ship or Earthan time. Ship, of course, is available.”
“Of course.” Occasionally he’d gone with his FatherSire to the meetings, but Ruis Elder was older than he. And Ruis was a Null, suppressing all Flair, having an odd effect on everyone. Yet his FatherSire had enjoyed those meetings. Laev ran through his schedule for the next day. “I can meet Captain Elder at MidMorningBell. Ask Ship if that is acceptable for them.”
Laev had moved smoothly through the third drill before the Residence said, “Captain Elder can give you his undivided attention at MidMorningBell, and Ship states that it can ‘multitask.’ ”
“Fine.” One more pattern and he should be weary enough to sleep. “Fill my bathing pool, please.”
“Done.”
A few minutes later he sank into the pool, letting the water soothe his muscles. He wasn’t sure what herbs went into the bath and swirled around him in scent, but they meant comfort and home.
“You have only been in the HouseHeart once this month,” the Residence said.
Laev opened one eye. He was beginning to think that the Residence keeping silent for the last six months had been a boon.
“I will go when I am ready.”
“T’Hawthorn should spend twenty-eight septhours in the HouseHeart every month.”
Laev stretched his senses. The Residence was full of Flair, all spells were funded, everyone in the castle was healthy. “All the spells are fine, both in the HouseHeart and here.”
“T’Hawthorn—”
“That’s right. I am T’Hawthorn. I will go when I am ready. Good night, Residence.” He rose from the bath and headed to bed.
He hoped for more sex, but he didn’t expect it, and she didn’t grace his dreams. Instead he capered in a meadow like a damned fool—a lord dancing without his lady. Joyful but not complete. He tried not to care.
T
he day was bright and beautiful with no wind, and the last thing
Camellia wanted to do was enter the huge six-kilometer, twenty-fivestory-high metallic starship
Nuada’s Sword.
Most of the people in Druida were descended from the multigenerational crew. The FirstFamilies were descended from those who’d had psi powers on Earth and had funded the trip.
he day was bright and beautiful with no wind, and the last thing
Camellia wanted to do was enter the huge six-kilometer, twenty-fivestory-high metallic starship
Nuada’s Sword.
Most of the people in Druida were descended from the multigenerational crew. The FirstFamilies were descended from those who’d had psi powers on Earth and had funded the trip.
Her ancestors had not traveled on
Nuada’s Sword
and that was a remaining secret.
Nuada’s Sword
and that was a remaining secret.
Mica was hopping through the high grass of Landing Park. The cat surprised moths and chased them, then rushed back to Camellia and her friends. The cat was excited, hoping to be initiated into the FamCats who visited the Ship to watch the
History of Cat
s—and maybe even get a ride on Samba cat’s flying saucer.
History of Cat
s—and maybe even get a ride on Samba cat’s flying saucer.
They walked through the park to the Ship and up a ramp. The iris door of the bay opened. They were greeted by Dani Eve Elder, a petite eighteen-year-old with a heart-shaped face, auburn hair, and brown eyes. She was a Null—a person who suppressed Flair—like her father.
“Welcome, ladies!” She curtsied, and Camellia and her friends curtsied in return.
Like most people, Camellia didn’t care for losing her Flair—it was like losing her eyesight or hearing—and like everyone who dealt with Ruis and Dani Eve, Camellia gritted her teeth and accepted it when her psi power vanished. As she spent more time on the Ship, she’d become accustomed to the lack.
“Glad to see you,” Camellia said.
Mica mewed, scowling. No one could communicate telepathically in Dani Eve’s presence.
Dani Eve chuckled, reached down to pet the young cat. Camellia held her breath.
“Who’s this?” Dani Eve asked.
“My FamCat, Mica,” Camellia answered. She glanced at Tiana. Shouldn’t her friend have notified the Elders and the Ship that Mica would be there?
Tiana bit her lip. “I forgot to tell them.”
“Mica has only been with me a few days,” Camellia said. “She wanted to visit to see
History of Cats
.”
History of Cats
.”
“Ah,
History of Cats
, of course.” Dani Eve rolled her eyes. “Our bestselling holo.”
History of Cats
, of course.” Dani Eve rolled her eyes. “Our bestselling holo.”
Mica meowed. Loudly.
Male voices echoed off the sides of the metal corridors and Laev Hawthorn appeared alone, obviously talking to the Ship.
Camellia froze, then memories of the night before, the incomplete sex, flooded her with warmth. The pressure of her teeth clenched together pained her jaw as she used irritation to vanquish the recollection. Was she fated to see Laev T’Hawthorn walking toward her wherever she went?
She glanced at her friends, who were both staring at her, Glyssa with a look of surprise, Tiana with a hint of smugness that destiny seemed to be working on Camellia’s behalf.
Ten
L
aev joined them and greetings were made all around.
aev joined them and greetings were made all around.
Mica’s yowl pierced the air, drawing all attention back to her.
Dani Eve laughed. “As I was saying, we sell
History of Cats
.”
History of Cats
.”
“I’ll take one,” Camellia said.
“The two-, six-, or twelve-septhour version?” Dani Eve asked, her mouth twitching.
“Rrrrrowwwrrr!” Mica said, began tapping her paw.
Camellia ignored the twelve taps. “We’ll go with the two-septhour one for now.”
With a wicked grin, Dani Eve turned to Laev. “Your Brazos is watching
History of Cats
now.”
History of Cats
now.”
His lashes lowered for a moment, then opened to show his lovely lavender eyes. Camellia slid her own gaze away but caught her friends’ smiles.
“I’ll take the twelve-septhour one,” Laev said. “Anything to keep the cat occupied.”
Camellia hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe it would be worth the gilt . . . “How much is the twelve-septhour—”
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