The Care and Feeding of Griffins (37 page)

“
Did you meet anyone?”

“
No.”  She regarded him over the rim of her cup.  “Does someone live there?”

He ignored the question. 
“And then you crossed the plains in the dark?”

All this interest was unnerving to her, even if it was of an understandable sort. 
“No,” she said.  “There was a place where I spent the night.”

He stilled, although his eyes continued to shine with that awe-struck fascination.  He glanced behind him to the mantel over his hearth, to the water glass that was still half-empty, and back to her, his brows puckering. 
“What place, Taryn?  Tell me.”

She didn
’t want to.  The memory of the Standing Stones had always been a confusing and vaguely embarrassing one, but when he asked, her mouth opened in unhesitating reply.  “A ring of stones.”

“
You made camp near them?  Tell me, Taryn.”

She shook her head. 
“I slept inside them.”

“
Did anything happen?”  The magus bent over her and took one of her hands.  He was starting to sweat.  “Tell me, Taryn.”

She squirmed in her comfy chair, trying to avoid the confession that strained to come free of her at his request. 
“I had some wild dreams, but nothing—”

“
Tell me your dreams, Taryn.”

And all at once, she wanted to.  The memory-touch of that ghostly phallus, soft and hard as satin over iron, returned to her hand; her fingers curled and half-raised in a thoughtless stroking motion that drew the magus
’s piercing eye.  She wanted to tell him all of it, to relive that night and those dreams.  She could still feel his mouth on her, his tongue inside her.  Her loins began to throb insistently, a hot harmony to the memory of those chill touches.

“
Tell me your dreams, Taryn,” the magus said again.  His voice had hardened.

“
I don’t remember them,” she said, and got up.  Instantly, the sexual ache between her legs winked out and her mind cleared.  “Sorry,” she said, still thinking distractedly of the Standing Stones, that last phantom kiss in the morning.

He looked shocked for a brief instant.  His hand rose as though he meant to shove her back into her chair, but then he straightened up and forced a smile. 
“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said, and gave the water glass on his mantle one last glance.  “But I am amazed at your story.  I can tell by your accent that you hail from the West Coast, although I can’t pin down Oregon or Washington…?”

“
Both,” she said, grinning.

“
And it’s easy enough to know why you came,” he added, nodding to Aisling.  “But the how still confounds me.  Magi spend years in the search for the old pathways, and most never find one.  The ones that do…well, the old roads are treacherous.  Not many make it through.”  He looked her up and down, frowning.  “No offense, but you clearly didn’t spend years looking, and you’re just as clearly unsuited for the dangers of the road.”

“
I’m not as helpless as I look.”

He laughed.  Hard.

“I’m not!” she said, a trifle crossly.  “And I’m getting a little tired of everyone I meet just assuming that I am!”

“
Don’t make me prove it to you,” the magus said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.  “You have no idea how hard I’m trying to behave myself.”

“
You go right ahead.  I don’t have a—”

“
Kiss me, Taryn.”

Taryn
’s mouth clicked shut on her newborn indignation and she stepped up and pressed her lips to his cheek.  She stepped back again, frowning.

The magus
’s smile had faded and that intense and hungry look came back.  “Again,” he said.  “Kiss my mouth, Taryn.  Slowly.”

She did, and his lips parted, pushing hers further open.  His hands slipped into her hair, cupping her head, holding her while he attacked her mouth with bruising force.  He kissed her in short, harsh onslaughts, thrusting deeper with each fresh wave, oblivious to her complete lack of passion.  His breath invaded her in hard pants, and then he tore himself away.

The magus stepped back, staring at her with a conflicted frown and visibly fighting for control.  She started to speak, but he cut her off with a sharp, “Silence, Taryn!”  Her mouth closed again and his lips curved in a crooked smile.

“
You see how easy,” he began, and then suddenly seized her and yanked her into another kiss.  “You see how
easy
it can be!” he groaned, and shoved his hand beneath her shirt to close on her breast.  “Tell me you want me, Taryn.”

Taryn groped at his hand clumsily.  It felt like she had to reach through a pool of tar to find him, and as soon as she did, he stepped back and snapped,
“Be still, Taryn!”  Her hand fell again.  She stood quiet and calm as he circled around her, wolf-like, hunting for a new line of attack.

“
Tell me you want me, Taryn,” he said again.

“
I…want…”  Her mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds more and then she just stood quiet.

His hand darted out to snatch at her t-shirt.  He pulled, muttered a curse, and then awkwardly pushed it up as far as her neck.  He stared hungrily at her naked breasts for a few seconds, then cupped one in his hand and squeezed it tight. 
“Now touch me, Taryn.”

She lifted her finger obediently and touched the tip of his nose.

He gave her a look that was two parts irritation to one part amusement and every part stained with lust.  He caught her wrist and moved her hand to the hardness jutting beneath his robe.  “Here, Taryn.  Touch me here.”

He released her hand and she stayed there, the head of his stiff shaft pressing on her palm.  She could feel herself frowning, but she couldn
’t seem to muster any emotion.

“
You want to stroke me, Taryn,” the magus said, rolling her breasts beneath his hands.

“
No,” she said seriously.  “No, I really don’t.”

He cut his eyes heavenward, still massaging her in his singularly crude manner. 
“Fine, but do it anyway, Taryn.  Now.”

“
N-no.”  Dizziness assailed her, rising like bile until it consumed her entire body, but when it ebbed away at last, she was stepping back.  “No, I don’t want to.”

“
Taryn,” the magus said sharply.  “Be still.”

She froze for a while, then roused sluggishly and looked for Aisling. 
“It’s getting late.”

“
Don’t go, Taryn.”

She bent and got Aisling from the denning place he
’d picked under the table.

“
I said, do not leave this house, Taryn!  Taryn, be still!”  Sweat popped out on his brow like bubbles appearing in a heating pot.  “I command you, Taryn, to be still!”

She stopped again, head bent, Aisling heavy in her loose grip, but again she stirred and started moving. 
“I’ll come back another day,” she heard herself say mushily.  “I do enjoy these visits.  It’s getting late.  I do so enjoy these visits.”

He circled her again, the muscles of his jaw jumping as he glared at her. 
“Tell me your name,” he said, once he stood before her again.

“
My name is Taryn.”

His fist flew up, cocked and aimed, and Aisling, who had been looking from one to the other of them with growing perplexity, went rigid in her arms and shrilled out a piercing cry of attack.  Taryn gasped, her mind freezing in an instant
’s clear thought—her Aisling in danger!—and then she faded again, aware of the struggling griffin but unable to respond.

The magus opened his hand slowly and showed it to Aisling.  He took a bite from the snapping beak without flinching, and then another one, this one scarcely a pinch.  Aisling quieted, still bristling and suspicious, and allowed the magus to stroke his quivering feathers. 

“Tell me your whole name, Taryn,” he said tightly.  His eyes on her were burning.  She could feel them in her mind.  She could feel all of him.  “All the name your mother gave you!”

“
I…I have to go now.”  Her leg twitched, but she couldn’t make it move.  She stared down at her foot, feeling her heart continue its steady beats, just as though she were in no danger at all.  “I do so…enjoy…”

Aisling hissed.

“All right, all right.  Shh.”  The magus, his breath still rough and angry, plucked Aisling out of her grip and set him on the floor.  He pulled her t-shirt down to cover her breasts and then gripped her shoulders, lightly rubbing.  “It’s all right, Taryn.  You are free to leave, only listen a moment longer.  Be easy, Taryn.  Listen.”

She relaxed with a sigh of relief, waiting.

“I can wait,” he said, and bared his teeth in an feral snarl, but then laughed.  “You are making me play all these old games again, and I just can’t decide whether it excites me or just infuriates me.”  He raised a hand to caress her cheek, the way he might caress the lines of a fine vase.  “What do you think, Taryn?”

“
I think I want to go home,” she said.  There were tears in her voice, although she felt no sorrow.  She felt nothing at all but that faint relief that he had told her she was free to leave.  She only had to listen a moment longer.  It was all right.  But he had asked her what she thought, and so the thoughts at the fore of her brain came spilling right out.  “I think you want to hurt me.”

“
No, no,” he said soothingly, and laughed again.  “I don’t want to hurt you, Taryn.”  He slipped a hand down to cup her buttocks, pulling her against her weak resistance until the rod of his erection pressed firmly against her.  He guided her hips in lazy circles, his eyes sliding shut.  “But I could,” he murmured.  “You don’t have to think about that.  In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.  But I do want you to know it, somewhere down deep in the back of your mind.  I could hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine.  But I choose, Taryn, I
choose
to love you instead.  Thank me, Taryn.”

“
Thank you,” she said with pauseless obedience.  Her hands rose to brace against his chest.  She pushed, tears welling in her staring eyes.

The magus chuckled, a sound without humor, and put her at arm
’s length.  “Hush, Taryn,” he said, rubbing at his eyes.  “Don’t cry, Taryn.  I won’t touch you.”  He raised his gaze to hers, his jaw clenching.  “I can wait.”

She met his angry stare, withstood the weight of his eyes as they raked down once in frustration over her body.  She could feel nothing but the desire to be gone.

The magus drew in a breath and let it out slow.  “I command you, Taryn,” he said.  “I command you to forget everything that happened here.”  He touched a finger to her brow and said a word, one that coiled around her thoughts like a living thing, echoing and building on its own unpronounceable sound until it swallowed her consciousness whole.

Taryn closed her eyes, opened them, and had forgotten.

“You came to see me, Taryn.”

“
Yes.”

“
We had tea.”

“
Tea.”  She focused on his face with timid remembrance.  “I…like your tea.”

He gave her a weary-looking smile. 
“Thank you.”  He removed his finger from her forehead.  “You’ll come again soon?”

Was she leaving already?  Taryn looked around, trying to orient herself in a room that seemed to have gone slightly skewed.  Aisling was hunkered at her heel, glaring at the magus with his feathers slicked flat.  She bent and scooped him up. 
“As soon as I can,” she promised.

“
I look forward to it.”  He went ahead of her to open the door and stood behind it.  He was still smiling, but it had a tightness to it that robbed it of much of its warmth.  Maybe he had a headache.  Taryn did.

“
So do I,” she said, but a sense of unpleasant vertigo crawled through her as the words came out, making them feel like a lie.  She eyed him uncertainly, then leaned around the door and kissed him on the cheek for goodbye.

He didn
’t relax much, but at least his smile twitched slightly toward a genuine pleasure.  “Goodbye, Taryn.  Visit again.”

Taryn hupped Aisling up higher in her arms and started for home.

47.  The Wizard

T
he wizard shut his door and barred it, then turned and went swiftly to his private chamber and opened it.  The cat was stretched out comfortably on his bed, but raised her head the moment he appeared and regained her petulant posture to say, “I hate him.  He locked me up in the dark.  I would like to kill him.”

The wizard ignored her words and pulled his robe off.  The rough fabric scoured at his rigidity, a sensation not entirely unpleasant.  He went to the bed, his loins throbbing harder with each new step.  The cat sat up to watch him.

“He wants to do sex,” she said.  “I want to do sex.  I will kill him later, maybe.”  Her tail lashed and she rolled onto her belly, arching her bottom towards him with anticipation.  “I want to do sex!” she moaned, kneading at his bedroll.

The wizard made a gesture and his cat
’s voice was gone.  She wasn’t aware of it; her lips continued to move in soundless, plaintive cries.  Another gesture and the cat dropped limp, still conscious, still aware, but utterly unmoving.  Being an animal, he needed no secret name to command her, only his will.  He had grown complacent, he supposed.  It was a frustration. 

The wizard turned her onto her back.  He looked at her and saw, not his creature
’s flawless and well-used body, but Taryn’s.  Ah, even the air was a torment on his swollen shaft now.

He closed his eyes, summoning Taryn
’s face in his mind, and kissed the cat.  He tasted blood, old and sour, and moved at once to kiss the curve of her jaw instead.  Taryn’s breath had been sweet with tea, soft and moist and exquisite.  He found her breasts—Taryn’s full, firm breasts—and rolled them in his hands as his loins ached.  He sucked a nipple between his teeth and teased it with his tongue, pulling her bodily up against his mouth in imitation of her lustful response.

He needed her name.  He
’d forgotten that the humans of Earth took so many.  With her whole name, he could have compelled her to lie with him willingly.  He could have painted his manhood with virgin’s blood.

Sex was the fir
st magic and in many ways still the strongest.  Sex would amplify his hold over her even if he did nothing else but take her.  But that union lent itself so well to spell-casting.  The energy, the intimacy—all the primal powers of that ancient rite supplied their own magic, needing only a wizard’s will to guide it.  He could take her name easily once he’d placed his seed in her willing body.  He could make her willing if he had her whole name.  Two halves of a perfect circle…but they wouldn’t fit together, and the aggravation of it burned in him like live embers.

But in a way, this was best.  He was being too eager.  A virgin could be milked of so many valuable commodities.  Life
’s blood, moon’s blood, tears, hair, the oils of pleasure—the list was not endless, but it was lengthy, and when it did end, there would still be the having of Taryn herself.  But not yet.

The wizard opened his cat
’s thighs and brought them up around his hips.  He entered too easily, but could well imagine Taryn’s tightness, the resistance of her maidenhead.  And the slickness of the vessel that did admit him was a gratifying fantasy of desire.  He drove into her again and again, imagining her cries, her moans, her hands clutching at his back.

She had asked him about the last time he
’d looked forward to anything.  As obscene as it now seemed to him, it had been this.  All those months of waiting for his latest creature to mature, to be ready for him.  He had taken her six times that first day.  And it had been six months since last he’d lain with her, and he’d needed magic to make his body willing.  She’d been in heat then, and he’d taken her only after several days of slowly being driven mad by her frantic wails for sex.  She repulsed him now.  In no small way, he repulsed himself that he lay with her.

But this was no longer the cat.  It was Taryn beneath him.  He could feel his shaft swelling even harder as he took that beautiful body and his mouth crushed down on her ripe breast.  His virgin.

She should be tighter.  The wizard pushed her legs up around his shoulders, withdrew into the hell of open air, and then shoved delightfully into the clenched sweetness of his creature’s nether side.  His virgin Taryn.  He began to pump hard, shaking the bed on which they lay.  His innocent Taryn.  It would be years before she learned all the ways in which she could be used.  His creature Taryn.

He burst inside her with a groan, feeling the sheath of her constricted passage grow that much tighter with the pressure of his seed.  He continued to thrust, a desperate bid to prolong his pleasure, but it was done.  It was done and now it was just his creature again, and he knew only disgust at her touch.

He rose, releasing her from her paralysis with a weary wave, and the cat arched up, shrieking.  Not from pain.  Not from outrage, or anger, or even spell-cast shock.  She screamed purely from frenetic, animal passion, as mindless in her pleasure as she was in her speech.

The wizard watched her spring to the floor with her easy grace, her tail whipping through the air as she ran to see if the door would open.  From her mouth poured an endless stream of violence, of the hunger for hot blood and soft flesh that always followed her cummings.  He had no stomach to listen, not with Taryn
’s face still fresh in his mind and imaginings.  He raised the bar and opened the door, her scratching at it with her dainty claws the whole while. 

The cat dashed out to hunt and the wizard left the door open for her return.  He went to his kitchen to stare in grim longing at the clear water that had touched Taryn
’s lips.  The proof of her continued virginity was there. 

He needed her whole name.

The next time she came to him, he would have it.  She had eaten his food, and when she’d eaten enough of it, he could form the Augment to root in her.  She could not possibly deny his commands after that.  She would tell him her name.  She would give him her body.  She would become all his creature.

He could wait.