The Marann (28 page)

She blew out a breath. She
did
want to tell him, but... She fought back the reflex to hide it. He
would have to know, sooner or later. Better sooner, when the
inevitable rejection would hurt less. She took another breath and
began, in English.

“When I was twelve—Earth years—for
humans, it’s about that time most girls begin to become women. My
parents let me walk to the summer fair without an adult for the
first time. I went there with my best friend Susan, who lived next
door. We spent the whole day at the fair, did all the normal things
that kids do—ate too much greasy food, went on rides, played with
the animals in the petting zoo, played games, gathered with
friends. It got late and I wanted to go home, but Susan wanted to
stay. So I said I’d be all right and left the fair without
her.

“When I was walking through the old
Ocheltree farm, a man I didn’t recognize started following me. He
wasn’t one of the farmhands there. He was wearing dirty clothes, he
had greasy blond hair, he was staring at me—a horrible, intense,
icky stare. I got scared and ran into the cornfield to hide, but I
couldn’t get away from him. He chased me—I could run fast, I
thought maybe I could get away. I tripped over a cornstalk that had
fallen across the row.” She stopped. Shaking a little, she took a
breath and asked, “Beloved—do you understand what—what
rape—is?”

The Sural nodded. His face was
grim.

Marianne fell silent, courage failing
her. She took several deep breaths to work up the nerve to say it.
“He raped me,” she admitted in a rush. “He tied me to the corn
stalks with my own clothing, and he raped me. I don’t know how many
times, I lost count. Each time was worse, more... painful. He
grunted like a pig. He yelled louder each time when he was—and the
whole time he was ranting about how I’d better not get pregnant
from it, he’d kill the baby if I got pregnant.”

She drew a shaky breath, her eyes
filling with angry tears. “I was only twelve,” she sobbed, “It hurt
so bad. I wasn’t a woman yet, I hadn’t even gotten my—” She
swallowed. “At first light he stopped. He raved at me about how he
had just gotten me pregnant, how he couldn’t allow it to live, he
had to kill it. He pulled out a barbecue skewer and said if he ever
heard I got pregnant, he’d know it was his and he’d have to come
back and do it again. Then he—he—” she squeezed her eyes shut,
forcing the words, tears flowing, “he used the skewer on me...” She
took a breath. “There was so much blood—”

The Sural pressed his cheek against
her forehead, his eyes glistening.

“My parents called the authorities
when I didn’t come home and people were out looking for me, but
they hadn’t searched the Ocheltree farm yet. Old Alec didn’t like
it when kids cut through his farm to get to the road, and my
parents thought I probably wouldn’t have done that. But I did. I
nearly died.
Would
have died if Old Alec didn’t get up
early. He and one of the farmhands heard me scream when the greasy
man started—when he was—” she forced the words out,
“—mutilating—me.” She stopped, trying to calm herself.

“Human medicine is pretty advanced.
They were able to repair all the damage to—to me and make
everything like nothing had ever happened, good as new. My parents
did all the right things, put me in therapy, all that. The therapy
was supposed to take the emotional impact out of it. But I had
nightmares about the greasy man for years. He must have been
insane, but they never caught him. I couldn’t stand the idea of
ever getting pregnant, couldn’t stand the idea that the greasy man
could come back and hurt me again. I believed him when he said he
would come back. Maybe I still do, I don’t know. When I was
eighteen, I went to the clinic in town and made them sterilize me.
They didn’t want to—they said I was too young to make that kind of
decision. But I was a legal adult and I insisted on my rights and I
was willing to pay cash—I saved every bit of money I ever made,
every summer job, every bit of allowance. I insisted they make it
irreversible. I had to be safe. I kept at them until they gave in
and did it for me.

“I never dated. I never even looked at
boys. I never looked at girls either. I just didn’t want to have
any of… those feelings, ever. The greasy man raved about how he had
to do what he was doing to me because he had
feelings
. He
said I would get those feelings someday too, and then I’d
want
him to do that to me. I swore to myself I never would.
I swore I’d never—ever—I would never let anyone be more than a
friend.

“In junior high I spent all my time on
schoolwork and track—all I wanted to do was run fast, really fast,
so fast no one could ever catch me again. In high school I became
fluent in Spanish in a month and everyone realized I had this huge
talent, so after that, language was all I studied, all I thought
about when I wasn’t running. Life was comfortable in Casey. I had
friends. I had a job. Then Central Command ripped me out of my life
and sent me here—and there was you—and I didn’t want to feel about
you the way I was starting to feel about you. I didn’t want to make
a fool of myself, make you pity me... I’m a nobody, it wasn’t
possible you could notice me that way. But you were so—so kind to
me—so gentle. That night the first winter I was here, when I had a
nightmare and woke the whole stronghold—it was the nightmare about
the greasy man. It was the first time I’d dreamed about him in
years, but that time, in the dream I was looking for
you
rather than just trying to run away. I figured it was because I was
starting to feel too much for you, so I shut it down and pushed
thoughts of you out of my mind.”

“I tried to comfort you that night,”
the Sural said. “You seemed to accept it at first, but then you
panicked. It was your emotional blast that woke the stronghold, not
your scream. It was very powerful. I knew something had hurt you. I
could not imagine then what it was, but after a number of seasons,
I did begin to suspect what it had to be.”

She nodded, a strange peace filling
her from the heart outward. “I want to be able to—to love someone
with everything I am—love
you
that way—This past year you’ve
been so wonderful to me—And I was horrible to you—But I can’t let
myself have those feelings, I just can’t. I just can’t.”

He held her tighter.

“I will wait for you, beloved,” he
said. “I am a patient man, and a Tolari lifetime is long. However
long it is, I will wait until you come to me. I will never hurt
you.”

Marianne sighed. “I will live a long,
long time, won’t I?”

“The blessing gives one hundred fifty
of our years,” he answered. What he sensed in her response troubled
him. “This does not please you.”

She shook her head. “No, living with
my demons for that long isn’t something I can look forward to.
That’s the only part about being Tolari I don’t like.”

“Trust me,” he said. “Will you try to
trust me?”

Marianne didn’t answer. She was quiet,
drained from reliving the horror she had related to him. “How long
have you—” She stopped.

“When I showed you the flutter by the
cora tree.” He made his smile gentle. “You captured my heart with
your smile.”

“My first day here?”

“Yes, beloved.”

She shook her head. “I never
realized.”

“I know.”

“But now that you know I’m—” she took
a breath, “—ruined,” she finished in a whisper. “It’s ugly.” She
forced the words out. “I’ll understand if you don’t want
me—”

He stopped short, searching her eyes,
his heart aching. “Hear me, beloved,” he said. “I have known from
your first day in my stronghold that you hid a deep pain.
You
are not your pain.
It does not define you—it does not ruin you,
or make you ugly, or do any of the things you fear. What defines
you is that you give the better part of your nature to others
though you are deeply wounded yourself. That takes courage, and
strength of spirit, and beauty of heart. How can I not love
you?”

More tears coursed down her face. He
pressed a cheek against her forehead, grief for her pain making his
own tears fall. He felt her struggling to hold down her
feelings.

“You do not need to hold back,
beloved,” he whispered. “My heart is yours.”

She threw her arms around his neck and
burst into sobs.

Resisting an urge to make his way to
Earth and kill the man who had hurt her, he carried her back to the
keep as she wept herself almost to sleep in his arms.

<<>>

Moonlight woke Marianne, shining
across her face late in the night. She sat up and stretched. The
Sural’s apothecary had insisted she eat a full meal and get some
rest before the procedure, but she hadn’t expected to wake before
dawn. Rolling off her sleeping mat, she eased onto steadier legs
and walked onto her veranda to gaze out over the dark, deserted
garden.

The Sural had waited for her for so
long. Eight years! And he never intruded, never let her know. It
must have half killed him sometimes, to see her every day, to love
her so much, to receive nothing in return. Always so gentle, always
so kind, always so patient. And she’d rejected him at every turn.
Adeline had been right—the Sural had acted like a spurned lover
during deep winter.

Was it enough that she wanted to want
him? She closed her eyes, remembering the long walk back from the
Jorann’s cave, his arms warm around her. A wave of longing to be in
his arms again came over her, and she tried not to push it down. It
would be different with him. It had to be. If in
eight years
he had never forced himself on her, she reasoned, he wouldn’t start
now. She had to try to trust him.

She could think of only one way to do
that.

Mouth dry, heart in her throat, she
left her rooms and crossed the short distance to the
ornately-carved door of the Sural’s private suite. As she
approached, a guard opened it—the Sural must have left orders to
admit her. It was a measure of his trust to allow her access to his
privacy. It touched her despite her trepidation.

She searched the darkness in his
sitting room. To the left she could make out the door to his
private study, where his apothecary had begged her to give the
Sural her heart. Beyond that, she thought, must be his sleeping
room. Ahead, on the sitting room veranda, the Sural stood with his
back to her, looking out into the night. The full moon shone on him
from overhead as he gazed at the far mountains. She sighed and
walked toward him, fighting the urge to bolt like a frightened
rabbit.

He turned as she approached. She
stopped just short of him and looked up.
Dear God, he’s
tall.
The air fled from her lungs, and everything inside her
quivered.

“I’m here,” she whispered. He folded
his arms around her, and she slipped trembling arms around him. His
entire being lit with joy that spilled over into her.

The Sural studied her upturned face.
If he said or did the wrong thing, she would stop seeing him—and
see the demon who hurt her instead—and flee. She buried her face in
his robes, shaking with apprehension. He sensed her struggling to
control it.

“You said—” she started. She took a
breath and looked back up at him. “You said you would come back
from the dark to bond with me.”

He stroked her hair, almost overcome
by the sensation of her arms around him. “Yes, beloved,” he
whispered.

“Tell me about bonding.”

His breath caught. Had she come to him
this night... to bond? “It is not easy to describe,” he said,
pausing to gather his thoughts. “When two Tolari find they cannot
live without one another, each one shows the other everything that
they are, and then—their hearts join. It is indescribable.
Afterwards, there is always a part of the one in the other, each
always has an awareness of the other.”

“Have you ever done that?” she asked,
avoiding his eyes.

He chuckled at the sparks of jealousy
shooting through her. “No, the bond is for life. When one of a
bonded pair dies, the other usually follows. Those few who choose
to continue living never bond again. They lose the capacity to do
so.”

Fear stabbed her again. He waited
while she took another deep breath and fought it down. When it
subsided, she lifted her face. Moonlight caught her eyes, washing
them silver.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
“And so brave.” He ran his lips across her forehead and sensed the
shock of longing it sent through her. “I can no longer imagine my
life without you in it.”

He hesitated. She had spoken the
words, called him
beloved
, but fear still ruled her heart.
Yet—though she trembled, she had returned his embrace, had allowed
the touch of his lips on her forehead to arouse her desire. He
caught her eye.

“Will you bond with me?” he
whispered.

He held his breath, awaiting her
answer. He sensed her gather her courage, and then she pulled his
head down to press her lips to his. Heart soaring, he buried a hand
in her hair and lost himself to the soft touch of her mouth, all
the years of longing transformed into joy. Parting her lips with
his tongue, he tasted her, deepening the kiss as she responded, but
shielding her from the desire she lit within him. The tiny sigh she
uttered came close to shattering his hold on himself, and he tore
his mouth away from hers, panting.