Zonaton (13 page)

           
I thank the heavens you are safe.

           
"He threw my knife away," she managed to whisper, and pointed in the general direction where she'd seen it thrown. The geron quickly recovered it, but wiped it clean on the soft grasses before handing it back to her. "I'm sorry I stabbed him, but he was hurting me."

           
You have nothing to apologize for. You were defending yourself.

            "I'm sorry I took you away from the miners," she added. Zonaton hushed her.

           
Your safety is and always will be my main concern. Come. Let me take you home.

            Nodding, Emmala wiped her eyes and climbed onto his neck. Zonaton leaped into the sky to take her where she would be safe.

Chapter Seventeen

The Reveal

            He could feel her terror and pain as clearly as if it was his own. It left a black and bitter taste on his tongue, making his stomach heave. Clutching her foot where it curled under his neck, he hurried to return her to their cave where he could care for her. As he climbed high into the sky, he could smell the stench of blood, and knew it did not come from her periodic flow.

            Emmala had ceased crying by the time they reached the cave. When he touched down at the entrance, he released her once he was assured nothing dangerous had ventured inside. She immediately ran to the pool where she shimmied out of her clothes and dropped into the water. Zonaton remained at the cave entrance and watched as she cleaned herself.

            Leaning over the pool's edge, she reached for her top. Thinking she was going to wash it, he was surprised when she blew her nose on it and tossed it away from her. "Burn that thing for me. Burn the whole outfit. I never want to wear it again."

            He obliged, sending a thin stream of fire from his mouth to the thin brown cloth. It burst into flames and was nothing but charred fragments within seconds.

            Emmala remained crouched in the pool, naked and shivering. He couldn't see her face, but her pain had eased, giving way to self-loathing and regret.

           
Emmala.

           
She raised her arms toward him. He rushed over to lift her to her feet and pull her into his embrace. Bringing his wings around to wrap her in their warmth, he held her tightly as her arms clung to his waist.

            "Why did he do that to me, Zon?" Her voice was low, soft, and filled with confusion.

           
Tell me what happened. Tell me everything.

           
Without hesitation, she filled him in on everything that had transpired at the berry field. "He asked me if I wanted to fuck. I didn't know what fuck was, but he made me feel good. He touched my breasts. He kissed them, and he kissed me. I didn't like the way he kissed me on the mouth, but I enjoyed how he put his lips on my breasts."

           
Why did he attack you?

           
She shook her head slightly. "He said he was going to fuck me, and said I would enjoy it. But when he started to put himself inside me, it hurt." She peered up at him, the memory fresh in her eyes. "He
hurt
me, Zon! He hurt me, and he wouldn't stop. I told him to stop, but he got mad at me. I tried to get away from him, but he grabbed me. He...grabbed...me..." Tears began to streak her face again. Her voice hiccupped. "He called me a tease. I didn't tease him, Zon. I didn't do anything to him, but he wouldn't stop. He...wouldn't...stop! I felt the knife, and I stabbed him, and I'm not sorry I did."

            Pressing her face against his chest, she sobbed. Zonaton closed his eyes and let her cry. Occasionally, he would stroke her hair and back, and send calm, soothing waves through her.

           
Are you still in pain?
He ventured to ask her, needing to hear her answer, and how she answered. Her physical pain was a ghostly presence between her legs, but the ache in her soul was greater. Although the trauma caused to her body would eventually disappear, the same way the bruises and marks on her skin had finally vanished when she first came to live with him, the memory of what had occurred would never leave her.

            Emmala snuggled closer, then pressed her forehead to his chest. "Why did it hurt, Zon?"

           
Why did what hurt?

           
"When he tried to put it in me. Why did it hurt?"

           
Because you are a virgin. There is a small, thin sheet of skin between your legs. When you fuck for the first time, when you have sex, that skin is broken, there is some pain, and you bleed. The way you bleed during your flows, except it does not last as long.

           
She murmured something, so softly he was unable to hear her.

           
Forgive me. What did you say?

            She looked up at him. Her mouth opened as she started to say something, thought differently, and pulled slightly away from him. "Zon, I have to tell you something."

            He waited without replying.

            "I...I can't be a virgin. I had sex before."

            Zonaton kept his eyes colorless.

            Emmala dropped her arms and turned around so she didn't have to face him. "There is a man. I don't know his name, or where he comes from, but he comes at night when you're away. We have sex."

           
Do you enjoy having sex with him?

            She nodded. "That's why I can't still be a virgin." She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes pleading. "Please don't make him go away. Please. Let him come back to me."

           
Emmala...

            "Promise me you'll let him come back to me so we can have sex. He is gentle, and he doesn't hurt me. I enjoy having sex with him."

           
Emmala, there is no young man. You have never had sex.

            He was immediately hit with her confusion and disbelief. "But I have."

           
No, you have not. There is no young man who comes to you in the night.

            Her eyes narrowed with her rising anger. "Yes, there is. He does! I don't know his name, or where he comes from, but he's been here many times!"

           
No, Emmala.
Zonaton sighed.
He is a dream. Only a dream.

            "No!"

           
Is your lover dressed in white?

            She froze, her eyes widening. He could almost read what she was thinking.

           
I created him to make you happy. To keep you happy. He comes to you in your dreams to love you.

            "No." She shook her head in denial. "No. He's real. He's
real!
I feel him! He puts his thing in me, and it feels good!"

           
It is a dream, Emmala.

            "It's not true! He comes when you're not here! You don't know about him!"

           
I am here the entire time, Emmala.
He pointed to the far corner where he would sit
.
I am over there, watching you as you dream. Giving you these dreams of your phantom lover to make you happy.

           
"No!" The tears started falling again, and she moaned softly. "Please tell me he's real. Please tell me he's real."

           
That is why you were hurt when the young man from the village tried to have sex with you. Because you are still a virgin. You have never had real sex. You only dreamt of having it.

            She believed him, and that was why her misery enshrouded her. Thick and overwhelming, he could almost see it.

            She covered her face with her hands.
"Zon, I want a real lover."

           
Her silent admission was like a punch to his gut. The blow nearly took all the air from his lungs.

           
"I want someone who'll make love to me. Who'll love me. Who'll keep me safe and warm, and happy."

           
I keep you safe and warm and happy.

           
"Not like someone like me can. A human like me." 
Removing her hands, she gazed up at him. "I want a real lover. A real man. Someone from the village, like me. But someone who won't treat me like Hawse did."

            He bowed his head, unable to hide the distress coming over him. She would get her wish soon. Sooner than she expected. In a few short days, his life here with her would be over, and he would have no choice but to leave her at the village before that occurred.

            Turning his back on her, he started to leave, when she called to him.

            "Where are you going?"

            Without looking around, he answered.
You need some new clothes. Wrap yourself in the blanket until I return. I will not be long.

            Not waiting for her response, he launched himself into the sky.

Chapter Eighteen

The Confession

            Emmala lay in a light ball as she huddled under the blanket.

            She knew she had hurt Zonaton when she'd confessed she wanted a human male. She knew she had hurt him in the deepest way possible because he believed that once she found a human companion, she would no longer need him. No longer want him.

            When that was the furthest thing from the truth.

            "What I want is you," she whispered into the dark corners of the cave. Speaking aloud without him there allowed her to be open. It gave her the security of knowing he wasn't able to hear her because as long as she kept these thoughts, these wishes within herself, she feared that one day she would inadvertently send them to him. And that possibility frightened her like no other. She had no way of knowing how he would react, other than be wounded in ways she could never forgive herself for inflicting.

            "The truth is, every time my phantom lover came to me, I imagined it was you. I dreamed and hoped it was you, but I was too afraid to say so."

            She sniffed and wiped her nose on a corner of the blanket.

            "I love you, Zon, like I've loved no one else. But I know there's no way we can be mates. No way we can be lovers the way humans do. But that doesn't stop me from dreaming."

            He had known of her need for physical love, and he had created the silvery human lover to take care of that need. Although they had all been dreams, the emotional and physical release she'd gotten from her ghostly lover had been real. Real enough to temporarily satisfy the craving for more intense interaction.

            Which was why Hawse had appealed to her. An unspoken wish that appeared, as if in answer to her secret cravings. A real person, a real human man, and one she'd known in the past. How could she not have wanted to have sex with him?

            It had been a terrible mistake, and one she would never make again.

            She had Zonaton. With him, she had security, and happiness, and fulfillment. More than anything, she had love.

            "Keep sending me my silvery, ghost-faced lover, Zon. If I can't have you, then let me have the false you. The you that can make me feel joy inside and out. Keep sending me that, and I can be happy for the rest of my life."

            The confession left her with a bright warmth enveloping her heart. He may not have heard her words or thoughts, but through whatever miracle connected them, that miracle Zonaton referred to as their True Pairing, he understood she had reconciled with herself and with what had occurred with Hawse. She would not suffer nightmares, or be made to deal with horrific flashbacks because of the man. And Zonaton had sent her a loving sense of peace as solid as if he had held her in his arms and caressed her.

            Closing her eyes, Emmala allowed herself to drift to sleep.

Divoll

           
He watched her practice writing her name and his. Sometimes she gathered small rocks and laid them out in her language. Or she would take a stick to draw them on the ground. He had seen her write them in snow, in mud, and on the stones using rain as her temporary medium.

            At the moment, she was using the membranes in his wings, using her index finger to make the nap flow in the opposite direction until the letters stood out. It tickled, and he loved the feeling.

            "Emmala. Zonaton." She pointed out each word as she spoke it. Glancing up at him, she squinted in the bright sunlight. "I wish I knew more."

           
Forgive me, little one. I do not know your language, or I would teach you.

           
"Would you teach me in your language?" She smiled. Her happiness swirled within him. She may not be old enough to understand how he was able to receive her feelings, or—more importantly—how to send them to him, but that would come later. Once she was older, he might be able to teach her, so that once he felt secure enough to leave her alone for any length of time, she would be able to notify him of any impending problems or danger.

            But right now, right at this moment, he was content to spend every moment with her.

           
I do not know how to write my language,
he admitted.
Our language is not written.