0 comments/ 11583 views/ 0 favorites White Fire By: Alexandrina His tongue flickered across her lips - testing and tasting the pressure of her desire. She felt her breasts tighten, her quim open and remain at the ache for something thrust there: his cock, his tongue, anything to release the sweet moisture growing within. She responded to his tongue by gently taking it with her teeth and pulling his firm, fully-clothed body to hers. Heat flowed between them as she caressed his back and felt the thin stuff of his white shirt slide over firm muscle. He was kissing her eyes, her cheeks with a needful rapidity; stroking her sides, hips ... each became absorbed in this almost innocent exploration. Avoiding their sex was tacit between them. She wanted to delay their nakedness but their need of each other was becoming urgent. His tongue entered her mouth with ferocity; it hurt but her lips swelled and opened to accept it. Whipping their tongues in and out, sucking and biting each other's lips without breath was flooding their brains with hot, smoky blood like waves of Sicilian heat. His breath was becoming shorter, "I can't - I must - please let me see your breasts." He pulled away, stood still with effort and let his eyes slowly slide to her breasts. All became quiet; a suspended silence of sexual tension hung between them and each stood still. She felt strong, in control and pulsing with desire. The room was darker now; neither had noticed the light fading. Pupils dilating, the room began to take shape, however, with the cigarettes burning in the ash-tray and the half full wine glasses on the little Italian table that he'd bought on his last trip there. "Sit down," her voice sounded deep and choked. He sat, looking at her like a young boy to the older woman who has decided to take his virginity. He could hardly contain his excitement as the bulge proved. She turned seductively - and she knew it - to draw the heavy linen curtains. The world was shut out now : time to create their own. He licked his lips. She looked down at him and unbuttoned the black crepe de chine wisp of blouse, dropping it onto the wooden floor. Her nipples were erect and straining at the lace of her bra. She was aware of her shallow breathing and knew her breasts were moving in rhythm - his eyes were fixed on them with unmasked yearning. She wanted to make him wait, so she stroked the bare thigh above her stocking top and slid a finger under the crotch of her lace knickers and began to finger herself. Her juice started to run - oh God, this need coursed through her as she rubbed her clit. Her breasts were becoming full and warm. Unhooking the straps, she sighed as they fell free. Looking straight at him, she cupped each breast and pushed them together. He moaned. Then, she licked the juice on her finger and gently started to rub the erection of her right nipple. "Oh Christ," was his whispered response as she did the same with her left nipple. Waves of electricity crackled from her nipples to deep within. She tilted back her head and moaned gently - he almost wasn't there. She loved the physical sensation of feeling her breasts and would push up her clothes in solitude and lose herself in the tight, tender orgasm that she could make happen when stroking and rubbing her nipples. That orgasm was building now - she wanted him to know it and she desperately needed it. As she opened her eyes, she saw that he'd taken his cock out and was massaging it, gazing at her. She focused on the movement of his hand and stroked the tip of each of her nipples with increasing speed, thrusting her pelvis towards him in rhythm. She closed her eyes and gave in to the pulsing deep inside. "Oh, that's so good, so good," she whispered as wave upon wave of sweet ecstasy flooded through her. Suddenly, she felt his firm grasp kneading and squeezing her breasts. His tongue sucked deeply on her left breast whilst he twisted and pulled the other nipple. The pain was deeply pleasurable contracting again and again... "Bite me, drink from me," she implored as their bodies lost control and collapsed onto the floor. Their limbs entwined and they began to tear at each other's remaining clothes. He gave an involuntary gasp as her cool hand took hold of his member - hard with throbbing blood. She massaged his balls - tight with semen waiting to spray. She lightly licked the tip, pulling back the foreskin as she did so. Tightening her lips around his cock, she thrust it to the back of her throat feeling it contract and swell. He was writhing now. She inserted a finger inside herself and began to masturbate - oh, exquisite, she was about to come - no, not yet ... she withdrew her finger and rubbed her juice over his manhood. Flicking up and down his glans with her fingers; she began to suck him with such vigour that he cried out, "I want to fuck you, Emma - now!" Stillness for a moment : he, hungry; she, curious as they locked eyes. He sprang up, twisted her round and forced her onto her knees on the hard floor. With his hand in the small of her back, he pushed fiercely so that her back arched and her hips flared. Knowing the openness of her cunt, she pleaded, "Please - put it ... please, I need you in me." Her throat and chest were constricted as he put a hand round her throat - and suddenly, a stabbing pain as she felt him enter. He started slowly at first but they both became caught up in the increasing pace of his thrusting cock - in, out, in, out - deep within the core of herself she felt their orgasm begin. Deeper went his cock and tighter were his hands both now on her hips. She bucked as she felt the atoms of her orgasm course through her body like white fire. A hundred thousand tiny, coloured lights exploded behind her eyes as she felt the force of his cum in her cunt. As she turned to lie on her back, she felt a trickle of their juices slip down the inside of her thigh. She watched him get up, move to pick up a cigarette. From the distance he turned and smiled ... She had been standing in front of the picture for quite some time she realised. Looking around, she felt momentarily discomfited and exposed. But no, no one seemed curious nor puzzled by her absorption in the painting of a nude lying on the floor, one hand covering her pussy and her eyes looking at someone not there. "Emma" stated the inscription simply - and she smiled secretly as she walked quietly away. White Fire: the Romance Sithecara picked her way cautiously through the library, avoiding any of the students scattered about in dangerous little clusters pretending to study. She was not one of them, though she also studied at Colaste-inasha, learning the same lessons as they and much more. She passed one row away from a group of giggling girls, catching whispered snippets of conversation. Silly creatures should be concerned about their lessons, but they were whispering about the boys, deciding who would pair with which (this month). One name caught her ear- Lavada, the premiere student, not because of his marks, which were admittedly high, be because of his lineage. He was the only son of the Derine-phayu, eligible to be considered as Taniste himself in a few years. Cara had heard the prince had come to the college this year, but she had yet to see him, and was not inclined to do so. Secrecy and mystery were her companions, so long as none of these young nobles knew who she was, she was safe. Distance was her armor. Cara ascended the spiral stairs to an upper balcony, found a window seat neat the corner, at the far back, in the mustiest and least used section of the library. She carefully unrolled the aged vellum scroll and smoothed it gently. Scholar Reshire's script was small, even, straight, and precise, which she had always admired. Most of the Scholar's writings were intricate and painfully accurate histories, so dry that many students thought the man must have been the most boring and stuffy ever born in Aelith. Cara knew better; her studies were more thorough and advanced, and also more open- and so she had found this glimpse into the Scholar's inner life, an impassioned retelling of the romance of the gods Urlin and Imryse. Cara had already read it six times, but it was a good read for a cloudy, wet day like today. She settled in and began reading the familiar words. After a time, she felt eyes on her, and studiously ignored it, turning to the cool window pane and away from the source of the sensation. She let her impossibly long locks fall around her like a curtain to shield her from the observer's curiosity, but it didn't work. Still she was watched, as if she were the first girl to ever sit in a windowsill and read a romance. She looked up finally, looked around, and met the piercingly blue eyes of the watcher. He was clearly a student, young and well dressed in deep blue; he had a golden look to him, smooth golden complexion, unruly golden mane. Something inside Cara fluttered as she took him in. He smiled, and she could not help but to smile shyly in response. Encouraged by her smile, he crossed to her. Cara looked for a quick escape, but it was too late, he had her. "Hello. You must be new? I've not seen you around." He began as soon as he was close enough to speak in hushed tones. "No, I'm not new," Cara stammered, then added, "I just like to be alone." He seemed unphased, as if her predilection for solitude could not possibly pertain to him. "What is your name?" "Nice meeting you, I have to go...I'll be late for class." Cara breathed, looking down, and started past him. He caught her arm and turned her smoothly back to him. "Wait, what should I call you?" he insisted. Cara shrugged, looked up quickly into his blue eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. "Whatever you like," she whispered, and pulled away, hurrying off as she rolled up the precious scroll. He had not choice but to let her go, or make a scene. She felt his eyes on her back until she finally turned out of view. Professor Borathin Ephesi Maca-eseca, the magical studies instructor, had summoned Cara to his classroom. She set aside her independent research, storing it in one of the secure locations only staff and a life long student such as herself knew of. She passed through the halls unnoticed as ever, she knew which passes were seldom used, but her effort was all for naught. When she arrived at Professor Borathin's classroom, she found class was in session. Eyes wide with shock and anxiety, she froze in the doorway. "Students, I present our demonstrator for the day. Come on in, child, don't be shy." The Professor said calmly. At least he didn't say her name, Cara thought, blushing as she crossed the room, feeling a room full of curious eyes on her. She glanced towards the students through her hair, then looked again. The watcher from the other day, the golden boy, was staring at her, riveted, from the first row of seats. When he caught her eye, he smiled slightly, curiosity writ large on his features. The Professor didn't give her away, but he broke the rules all the same. He put her through her paces with simple, first-year magical tasks of each color. Cara obediently performed each one, careful to use the most traditional methods, focusing on the magic and ignoring the students who watched, some bored, some obediently taking notes, one intensely attentive. The golden watcher never took his eyes off her, did not even seem to blink- even trying not to be, Cara was aware of him peripherally. She was held there for the duration of the class. As soon as Professor Borathin dismissed her, and the other students, she bolted for the door. Not fast enough. The watcher left his supplies on his desk, and rushed to catch her arm. "Tlexepa," he breathed softly, close to her ear: beauty. "What?" Cara squeaked, avoiding his eyes. "You said I should call you whatever I liked. So, until you give me your name, I'll call you Tlexepa." Cara glanced at his face, then looked past him at the other students, some converging towards the door. Several off the girls were glaring at her hatefully. "I have to go." She said softly, slipping free of him. He called after her, "Where do you have to go?" He sounded unhappy, like he expected her not to answer. Which she didn't. She expanded her hearing as she hurried away, and heard the watcher speaking to Professor Borathin. "That girl? She's just an advanced student." Is all the response he received. Why was he so interested? Cara wondered, and returned to her research, but in her room, not the library. She finally learned the identity of her watcher in the temple during the services on First Day. She worked behind the scenes with Morgan as usual while Seaphen Athar performed the services. She glimpsed him in the first row, and he looked right at her. Her hands shook as she handed Morgan the bowl of sacred water and rose petals. Morgan quirked a brow. "What's the matter with you, Cara?" she whispered. "That boy is watching me again." she responded in a tight voice. Morgan glanced, then smirked at her. They were not able to say more until after the service. Cara tried to flee, but both the watcher and Morgan converged on her. "So, I find you again at last, Tlexepa." he said as he casually blocked her escape route. He had caught her in the priest's preparation room behind the altar, so at least this time there was no audience other than Morgan. Cara looked to the older woman for help, but Morgan just smirked in self-satisfied quiet. Cara was on her own. "I-I didn't realize you were looking for me," she mumbled. "I think you've been hiding from me," he accused mildly. "This college is not that large, and yet you alone of all the students are hard to find. You're not a ghost, are you?" Cara smiled and cast her eyes down. "No, I'm not a ghost." "Why all the secrecy? The professors will not even tell me your name." He leaned closer, Cara looked up into his piercing blue eyes. She opened her mouth to respond, but could think of nothing to say. Morgan laughed. "Your Highness is having too much fun with a simple mystery." Both Cara and the watcher- was he truly the prince?- turned and looked at her. Smirking, Morgan continued. "Cara, this young man you're so afraid of is none other than the son of the Derine-phayu, Lavada Eoceda Maca-nuada. Your Highness, this mystery girl is Sithecara, the most gifted sorceress born since the time of your Thaina Shicana ancestors, and she is a foundling of the Faith." She made sweeping gestures to each as she spoke, then placed one hand on her hip and waited for the result of her mischief. Cara was stunned, hurt, by Morgan's revelation. She blushed furiously, and began to back away. "You're a foundling? A Piresa?" Lavada was shocked as well. Cara looked at him, saw his face shuttered. She turned and ran. Morgan's laughter chased her all the way to her room. In her room, Cara sat in the middle of her bed and stared at her hands. She put Morgan's revelation and the Prince's expression out of her mind, and simply focused on her hands. She imagined them growing, the fingers lengthening and growing claw like. A light fuzz sprung up on the back of her hand, while the underside grew leathery, the color drained out, and her nails thickened and lengthened into talons. Cara closed her eyes, imagining her body growing, stretching, she sprouted wings and flexed them, arched her long neck. She blinked and looked about, seeing the colors brighter and clearer. She climbed into the window and leaped out, catching the air with unfurled wings. The reverie felt so real, she never heard the door open and close. When some one touched her arm, she jumped and hissed. "Easy, Cara." Morgan said, arching a brow. "Sleeping sitting up?" "What do you want?" Cara frowned, not ready to forgive Morgan for the embarrassing introduction just yet. "I just came to check on you. You ran away so quickly." Uninvited, she sat on the edge of the bed. "Seaphen Athar doesn't want anyone to know more than necessary about me. Why did you tell him who I am?" Cara snapped. "Because I could tell he would not stop until the mystery was solved. Now he knows you're beneath him, by his standards. You won't be bothered by him anymore." came the airy response. "What were you dreaming about, Cara? The Stralis in here is fairly thick. You know you're not supposed to use unauthorized magic in the college." "I wasn't using magic, I was just thinking." Cara frowned. Her skin tingled, and she wondered if she truly could become the beast of her imaginings and soar above all rules and troubles and secrets. "Well, put the prince out of your head, Cara. Focus on important matters, like controlling your daydreams, before they get you in trouble." Morgan said. "He isn't in my head," Cara protested. Morgan simply walked out of the room, laughing softly. Unfortunately, the prince told everyone about the foundling sorceress, and Cara had to keep to her rooms and the hidden chambers and passes to avoid scrutiny and whispers behind her back. Once, in the hall leading to the library, several female students followed Cara and cornered her in an alcove. "Can I help you?" She asked, forcing her voice calm. She sensed trouble in the hard set of the girls' faces, and hugged her satchel close. "Aren't you that Piresa everyone has been talking about? What do you think you're doing?" Said their leader, a blonde too arrogant to be truly pretty. "I'm minding my own business, as should we all." Cara replied simply. The girl went livid. "How dare you speak to me that way? I am your superior." She stepped closer, and the others followed. Cara was flustered, she felt overheated. She had not been taught what to do should this situation arise. They should not know who she was, then they would not care. Suddenly she was very angry with Morgan and the prince all over again. "I don't want to fight, please, there is no need. Peace has prevailed for so long, there is no reason to disrupt it now." She managed to sound calm, soothing, despite her own rising temper. Her efforts had the opposite effect, however. The girl snaked her hand into Cara's hair and pulled. Cara had not choice but to let her head be yanked down, or else risk loosing a clump of hair and possibly scalp. Then the other girls joined in, crying like cats as they tore at her clothes and hair. Cara screamed and struggled, struck out when she could, but there were more of them, and she was cornered. The futility of her situation was sinking in when she heard another voice join in the fray, though she could not make out what was said. The newcomer waded in, but instead of helping the girls as Cara thought he would, she felt herself forcefully removed from her assaulters. She looked around, expecting her savior to be one of the professors...but it was Prince Lavada who had her arm now. She planted her feet and tried to pull free. "Seaphen Athar sent me for you," he growled, and yanked her arm. "I can find my way to his office without you," Cara insisted, wildly yanking her arm free. He caught her wrist and pulled her hard so she stumbled against him; he caught her other arm, too, then. "Come with me," he hissed, "Seaphen Athar wants to see both of us." He glared at her icily, then looked past her, back to where the cluster of girls were still grumbling and making cruel remarks. Cara glanced back at them, then calmly stepped back from the prince and started for the Seaphen's office. He all too quickly released her once he saw she would go with him willingly. They walked in silence for some time, then he spoke. "What did you think you were doing back there?" Cara glared at him. "I didn't do anything, I was going to the library. They cornered me." "So you attacked them?" Cara stopped in her tracks, aghast. "They attacked me!" He stopped and faced her, crossed his arms over his chest. "You must have provoked them somehow, I know those girls, and they don't roam around in packs looking for some one to tear to pieces." "So, it must be all my fault." Cara declared hotly, continuing down the hall. "Hm, well, your lack of respect for those above you is certainly annoying. You had better learn to be careful- you may be something special here, but out in the world you're just a useless Piresa." He snarled, spitting the last word at her. Cara froze and stared at him until he stopped again, waiting for her, but not turning. It was true she had never been conscious of social class. The realization that some people were hated for something out of their control- being born an orphan, for example- sunk her into a deep, introspective, and wounded silence. Neither said anything else until they reached Seaphen Athar's office. Seaphen Athar was clearly surprised by Cara's disheveled state. "Cara, child, what happened to you?" He asked, and held out his arms. Without a thought of the watching prince, Cara ran to the man who was the closest thing to family she had in the world, and hugged him tight, stifled a sob against his beard. She muttered the whole story to him, including her new revelation, as the old man nodded, and stroked her long raven hair. Lavada stood by the door, watching with his usual intensity. At last Athar released her, and gestured them both to sit. They did, in the seats across from the Seaphen's desk. "So, Cara, what did you tell our young Prince here about yourself?" he asked sternly. "Nothing, I swear. It was Morgan." Cara swallowed. "I did my best not to say anything, but she just blurted out..." "She- this Morgan- told me her name is Sithecara. That she's a gifted sorceress, which, I presume, is why she's here, despite being Piresa. Though there are other places one such as her could study." Lavada finished, his displeasure evident. Seaphen Athar looked at him a long moment. "These things may be true, Your Highness, but let me remind you, it is a matter of business of the Faith who attends what college. Also, you are but a student, and subject to the rules of this premises. Your actions have endangered this girl, and it saddens me to see that you do not even see what you have done." Cara glanced at Lavada, who looked completely taken aback, then she stared at her feet. "How have I endangered her?" He blurted out. "I wasn't the only one who had seen her and was curious, you know." "You were the one who found out, then told everyone else. Because of this knowledge, those girls felt they had the right to confront and assault Cara." Athar said calmly. Lavada fell silent, holding back his defense this time. After a while, Athar continued, "I'll be appraising your parents of the situation, of the entire situation. As for your noble sensibilities, you needn't worry. Your peers and yourself will not be troubled by the disruptive presence of a Piresa anymore." He stood. Cara stood immediately, trembling with fear of what his words must mean. Lavada stood stiffly and left the room, looking at neither of them. Seaphen Athar sent her away. Not far, just to the manor house where the Alire that governed the territory the vausilica was on lived. She was to be treated as part of the Alire's household, and her lessons would continue. Most of her study was independent anyway; when she needed a professor, they would come to her. It was a distinguished honor. The Alire was Seaphen Athar's nephew, Coril Gireste Maca-ferel. He seemed as kind as his uncle, but even so, Cara was uneasy. She felt exiled, and even more lonely in unfamiliar surroundings. Worst of all, she could not stop dreaming of Lavada, the golden prince who was the cause of this exile. Sometimes she dreamed of screaming at him, slapping his face...but more often her dreams were different; a kiss, a touch...she'd wake up aching with longing for something she could not quite name. Sometimes she even had these dreams while awake. When she was not dreaming of him, she dreamed of becoming the strange white beast as before. She felt she could do it, if only she could remember how. But try as she might, the freedom of flight on leathery wings was elusive as the wind itself. She wondered far into the woods to find the right place to meditate and make at least one of her dreams reality. She had been exiled for nearly two months when she finally found it, a small clearing with a pool of water rich with Stralis. She brought her lunch and ate under a willow near the pool. Then she sat and emptied her mind of all but transformation, willing it to happen. Weeks went by with little progress, but still she persisted. It occurred to her that part of the problem might be that she could not clearly recall the details of the beast in her dreams, and so could not clearly establish them in her spellweaving. Her meditations were interrupted one day. She felt the transformation was almost in her grasp, actually felt her body lengthening, growing, but then her spell was shattered by a voice calling in the woods. "Tlexepa? Tlexepa!" Cara grew cold all over. She knew who called, and who he was calling for- but why? She leaped to her feet and yelled, "Go away!" She scanned the forest around her. He was close, but she could not see him. "No, I want to speak to you." He said calmly. He was getting closer. Cara growled and ducked under a bush, hoping to delay the inevitable. It was the wrong choice; now she saw his legs, he turned her way and stepped into the clearing. "There you are." He looked around the clearing appraisingly. "Lovely place, and a Stralis nest. Very nice." "Go away," she repeated, standing slowly. She glared at him, though her heart fluttered like a bird in a cage to see his regal profile and untamed golden mane again. "I'm sorry about what happened." He looked at her, his blue eyes piercingly sincere. Cara blinked. She didn't know what to say. He continued. "I've thought about what happened quite a lot in the last couple of months. I behaved badly, but you see, I thought you deceived me deliberately." "Why would I do that?" She frowned. He shrugged. "I can think of many reasons, and I'm so used to everyone trying to gain some advantage, using me for my status, I just assumed you were doing the same." White Fire: the Romance "I did not know who you were when we met." Cara crossed her arms over her chest. "And besides, I did not want to have anything to do with you. You were the one chasing me down, why? Because you could not let a mystery stand?" He looked away, and said softly, "Because you are so stunning. I've never seen any woman as beautiful as you. Perhaps..." He swallowed, and looked at her, irony writ large on his face. "Perhaps I did what I did because I was angry I could not have you." Cara was speechless. She felt her cheeks on fire. She turned away and walked to the pool, stared down at her own reflection. She could not see what was so special about her. She was very short and too skinny, like she hadn't finished growing. Her face was pointy, eyes too big, mouth too big, ears too big. As she stared, she imagined the white beast of her reverie overlaid her form; if she could be that creature, then she would be beautiful, but not like this. She turned back to Lavada to refute his claim, but he was gone. She could not return to her meditations either- his words played over and over in her mind. The more she remembered what he said, the more her heart swelled. He wanted her, too. Cara wished he would come back so they could talk some more, but he didn't. Day after day she went back to the pool and tried to meditate, but only dreamed of him, wishing she'd said something to make him stay that day. Or maybe she should have kissed him. She had wanted to kiss him... Months passed, Cara celebrated her eighteenth birthday with Athar and Morgan, though technically it was an off year, as her true 'birthday' only occurred once every four years. Technically Cara had not been born, either- but they counted the day she came into being as the same. Cara feared it was not the same at all. The New Year came, and with it came spring at last, officially. This was a great relief, for during the worst of winter Cara had not been able to meditate in her special clearing. She felt her efforts to transform were being thwarted at every turn. As soon as the weather permitted she began her efforts anew. The results were still the same- she could almost feel the release from her body...but then the crush of defeat. By Willowfest, the most revolting of holidays in Cara's mind, she still had not succeeded, and had sunk into an even darker mood than usual for the time of year. Willowfest was the holy day of Urlin, the god of Water and of Love; it was the only holy day she truly despised. It was a time for romance and celebrating with loved ones. Cara had never had a romance, and was not likely to ever have one, different creature that she was from everyone else. Even those who claimed to love her like family, Athar and Morgan, never let her forget. She was 'special', mortal concerns like friends, romance, celebrations, were below her. Except, she did not feel so special and lofty. She felt left out. So, despite Alire Coril making the effort to include her in his triva's celebration of the holy day, Cara excused herself. She took a basket of food and some of her books out to her special place, so that she could forget what she was not able to share. Perhaps Urlin would take pity on her- if truly she was the daughter of his essence, and the essence of his brethren. Perhaps today she could fly at last. She spent the day studying, but as evening came she could not focus on meditation. The beauty of the clearing filled her; the wildflowers like pale stars in a sky of gently waving grasses, the pool reflecting the setting sun's colors. The fronds of the willow dancing slowly in the slight breeze. Cara lay back in the flowers and watched as the sun set, leaving the pale full moon to tend the sky, hostess of a ball of thousands of twinkling stars. She wondered what sort of music stars would dance to, and awakening her silver magic, she experimented until she had just the right haunting, romantic melody. She pointed, pairing up the stars with partners, and setting them dancing in the great dark ballroom of the sky. Smiling, she turned to the flowers around her, adding their lively tune to the noble melody of the stars, and set them to dancing as well. She spun around, watching the dance she designed, and, laughing, began to dance herself. Out of the shining water of the pool, a young man of golden light emerged. He walked through a column of bowing flowers, and offered Cara his hand. She curtseyed and took it, and he spun her into his arms. They danced, first around the small clearing with the flowers, then out onto the clear still pool. She danced with him on the surface of the water, and their reflections danced with the stars below them. When the music slowed to something more intimate, her ethereal paramour leaned close for a kiss. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips... "Is this how you spend all of your holy days?" Said a most unwelcome voice. Cara yelped as all her illusions burst like soap bubbles and she was dropped into the water. She came up spurting and furious, refused the hand he offered. She tried to maintain her dignity as she gained her feet. He was laughing at her, she was humiliated, and very angry. "What are you doing here?" She growled. "That was an amazing show you put on, how could you manage so many illusions at once? You did not even seem to be focusing," Lavada persisted. He offered her his cloak, but she refused it, taking up her own instead. "You had better not have lead all your mooning girlfriends here, Your Highness." Cara ran her fingers through her hair- calf length and curly, she was going to have a hard time with it after this dunking. "No one knows where I am." He assured her. "Well, why are you here? Couldn't you find a companion for the night's festivities? I find it hard to believe you'd ever spend a Willowfest without at least a dozen women lined up to share your bed. Or any other night for that matter." She hoped her words would wound, not flatter him. He was quiet for some time, and she began to regret being so harsh. When he spoke, he retreated to a safer topic. "So, Morgan was telling the truth, you really are a gifted sorceress." "Morgan rarely lies. She finds the truth more amusing." Cara glanced at him, still wringing water out of her hair. "I'm not really all that gifted. More like an...unnatural creature." He quirked a brow. "You're hardly a creature, nor would I call you unnatural. Ethereal, exceptional, yes. I would say you are." He paused, gave her a long look, then continued very softly. "Beautiful, bold, intelligent, entrancing- that is how I would describe you." Cara looked at him. Her heart careened in her chest as he spoke, but she was still embarrassed by what he'd witnessed her doing, and angry to have been intruded on. She tried to gather an appropriate response. "You're not going to charm me into...letting you have your way tonight." He sighed, exasperated. "I don't want to bed you, Tlexepa. There's no point. I'm Dur-era, you're Piresa. We live in different worlds. We could never marry, could not even be seen together." Cara clenched her teeth and her fists. "So what are you doing here, Your Highness, if I'm so below you?" she hissed. A red haze began to fall behind her eyes. She blinked, trying to clear it. "I did not mean it like that. I want to be friends. Don't be angry- you're the one who keeps accusing me of thinking of nothing but bedding you. And every other woman I encounter, if I recall correctly." He said hotly. Cara frowned. She felt disappointed he did not share her longing, but pleased he offered to be friends. She didn't know how to respond, and eventually found herself falling back on what Seaphen Athar had told her since she was only a lonely little girl: "I...I do not need friends, I have more important things to occupy my time than such mortal- such lowly- concerns." She saw his jaw working irritably. "You're impossible." He stalked past her back into the woods. Cara felt crushed, kicked herself for driving him off again. She considered running after him, confessing her true feelings- but she was afraid to be humiliated further. He did not feel the same. He came back. Cara opened her mouth to ask him why, but he seized her arms, pulled her close, and kissed her hard on the mouth. She was too shocked to even kiss him back. He released her suddenly, and she swayed on her feet. "Goodbye, Cara. I will bother you no more." He said evenly. Then he left again. Cara hoped Lavada would change his mind, but he never did. In her dreams, she imagined she had kissed him, held him, made him stay...but it was too late. He was true to his word, and she was too paralyzed with doubt to go to him. She was deep in mourning for what could have been when finally she discovered the way to free herself from her Aelithian-shaped prison. It was three weeks later, she was beside the pool meditating, trying not to remember what happened that night, or imagine what could have been, when she burst into tears. She screamed at the gods who gave her their essence, but left her so flawed and alone. She splashed the surface of the pool to destroy her awkward reflection. Then she stood, tried with every ounce of will to force her body to comply with her desire. It worked. It felt cold and hot at once, a pain like she'd never experienced. Her limbs grew and reshaped, her body lengthened and thickened, ripping her clothes beyond recognition. When it was done, exulted, she bent her head to see her new-formed reflection in the clear pond. She was covered in a thick white fur, though her mane was long, curly and black as her hair had been. Her face was long, with a muzzle like a wolf's; here eyes were still too big, with the same indigo irises. Her ears were long like a rabbit's with odd serrated tufts along the outside of each. From her neck to the tip of her new-formed tail her body was long, lean and sinuous as a serpent. Her fore and rear limbs were short for her body, thickly muscled, and each bore talons that were somewhat bird-like, but each having an opposable 'thumb'. Just behind the shoulders of her forelimbs was another set of 'shoulders', even more thickly muscled, where her snow white wings had sprung. The fur covering these new appendages was thick and feather-like, bringing to her mind the result of taking the pelt of some animal and carefully weaving the fur until it resembled the shape of a feather. She flicked her new tail, making the air around it whoosh in a most satisfactory way. The end of it had long, curly hairs that gradually darkened from white to gray to black. Her joy of success crumbled when she tried to walk. Moving four feet instead of two should not be difficult- but it was. She wobbled like a new foal on her short legs. It didn't help that her senses were so keen she not only sensed, but smelled, even saw the flow of Stralis in the air. Every color, every sound distracted her. The entire world was a new place. She dared not fly at first. She stayed in the clearing, mastering her new senses, and the use of her body on land and in water. She learned to hunt like the horse-sized predator she was. She wondered if she could return to her former shape, but did not wish to loose the glory of the new one after finally attaining it. She did not need to wonder what manner of beast she had become, for now that she saw herself entirely, she knew. Everything Athar had presumed about her was true. She was no mortal Aelithian, even if she had been given life in the shape of one. She was a Selianessai Dur-era, graced with a shape like that of her divine parents. The only mystery was why had she been born in Aelith instead of her proper home? She had only four days solitude before Morgan came in search of her. When the older woman saw Cara, she did not seem surprised. It was Morgan, after all, who had witnessed Cara's 'birth' from the mingled Seven colors of Stralis on that Black Star day eighteen years ago. "So, this is what you've been up to." She said softly, taking in the creature who stood, somewhat shyly, before her. "You look different, but you really haven't changed much. Look at you, bowing your head so modestly." Morgan laughed. Cara shook her mane and stood more upright. She tried to ask, "Is this better?" but only a hissing sound escaped her lupine jaws. She blinked with dismay. She had not tried to speak, it had not occurred to her that her new mouth would be unable to shape Aelithian words. "Sithecara, you silly girl. You are Selianessai, you must speak like one. I know you know how...just think past these years you have been trying so hard to be mortal, and just be your true self." She spoke softly, and Cara could smell salty tears standing in Morgan's eyes. "Please do not cry, Morgan. This is better, isn't it?" Cara said impulsively in True Saendis. She was pleased with herself for figuring it out, even while anxious for her friend's sadness. Morgan smiled. "There you go. I never thought to see a Dur-era of the Selianessai, even though I've always believed in you." She paused. "I'll bring Athar, he has been worried about you." Morgan left her then. Cara curled herself around the edge of the pool, finally contemplating what these changes might really mean to her life. When Athar saw Cara, he began to weep. She rose and hurried to his side, nuzzled his cheek gently and surprised herself by making a sound rather like a purr. He hugged her sinuous neck. "Ah, you've grown up at last, Cara. Does this mean you know what your purpose in Aelith is?" He looked so hopeful, so full of faith, that Cara just nodded, though she had no idea. The three of them talked for hours, Cara told them the less embarrassing aspects of her new form, and admitted she had not tried her wings yet, though she had practiced flapping and flexing them. They both came to see her every day after, until finally, she decided to fly. It was everything she had dreamed of, and easier than she feared it would be. She flew as far away as she could manage, afraid that if she lingered close, she'd change her mind and stay. Her life may be lonely and unhappy, but how lonely would she be without anyone at all? Still, she had to go. So, she flew high and far until she had to shelter beneath an old oak miles away from anywhere she ever thought she'd be. Sithecara flew far and wide over Aelith, and even as far as she could over the sea that surrounds it. She looked for signs of her true people, practiced her magic, and stayed away from mortals- unless she saw that some were in dire need of her. She was not surprised that her dreams did not change; in them she may shift freely between her Aelithian and her Selianessai shapes, but more often than not what haunted her was longing for the golden haired prince, and imaginings of what could have been if only she'd been bolder. Months passed, then seasons, then years. Cara searched with all her power and will, but could not sort out what her purpose was meant to be. On her twentieth birthday- her actual birthday- she decided to look in on her family, Morgan and Athar. Both were still at the college; Morgan surprised her, walking hand-in-hand with a man in the garden. Athar she spied sitting at his writing desk, adding to his journal as he did every night. Cara flew high around the octagonal buildings of the college, watching those few who were still awake and about outside. She hoped to see a certain young man, if he was still a student. She circled once, twice, but no luck. She flew on, over the vausilica, to admire it's shape and spires before flying on. She spotted some one poised on the slanted roof of one of the broader spires. Letting out a sharp bark of surprise, she swooped in for the rescue. He saw her coming, and fell back. She landed in front of him, blocking the way down with her body. She was even more surprised to see who it was- Lavada. She trilled and shook her head, blinked her eyes. It was him. "By the Seven...are you real?" He whispered. In response, she seized him carefully with her foreclaws, and flew him to the flat top of a turret. She set him down carefully and stepped back, sitting on her haunches. He could flee down the stairs if he wanted to, but instead he just stared at her. "I wasn't going to jump," he said at last. "But I suppose you knew that, My Lord. Was I...was I going to fall?" Cara was taken aback for being confused for a male, but then, in her new shape it was hard to tell. She was not certain she would have been able to distinguish male from female either, if she had been in his place. She flicked her tail in response to his question, letting him interpret that how he may. He stared at her, drinking her in with his eyes, long enough to make her shift nervously. He seemed to take this as a prompt to speak. "I am honored to have one of the Seven's kindred appear from Selian to guide me in this dilemma, Lord...I truly don't know what to do. My heart, my conscience says to abide by tradition. My Father says I should think politically, that the tradition is just a romantic ideal. Are you here, Lord, to show me that my heart is correct?" Cara thought about this one, wondering what what he was referring to. She finally decided that tradition was probably better than politics in any situation, and nodded slightly. He caught his breath. "And...are you going to tell me where to begin? Or some clue? How will I know when I find what I seek?" At this point Cara was beginning to feel like a sham, but she couldn't leave him with nothing, either. She slowly lifted one taloned finger, and pointed at his heart. He nodded, looking for all the world like this simple gesture was the most perfectly clear and wise answer that could be given. She turned and leaped into the air, feeling that their reunion was far less than fulfilling, and hoping he'd have the sense to do right even if she had pointed him wrong. She wondered why the Seven birthed her only to leave her here, bumbling through life among mortals, probably causing more trouble than good. She journeyed on for over a year, before she decided to try living in both worlds. She found a small village in need of some one who could cure ills and bless crops, and settled near. She had not been Aelithian for over three years, but she found that returning to her original shape was as easy as breathing. She also discovered that despite her not wearing it, her mortal skin had matured all the same. She wondered if she would continue to age, or would she be immortal as her race was said to be? She conjured clothes, wove a cottage from the living forest, everything she needed to be comfortable. Even a small pool of water rich with Stralis nearby. The village accepted her readily enough, but if she thought to fall into a normal life with them, she was quickly disillusioned. They respected and adored her, but from the eldest to the youngest, they all seemed to sense her true nature. She forbade them from worshiping her, but accepted the role of priest and fortune teller on top of the duties she had thought to claim. After a time among them, she thought to choose a young man from among them to take as husband or lover- but she could not get to know any even so well to call friend, let alone become more intimate. It seemed she was destined to forever long for her golden prince and to be made to settle for her own company. Sometimes she dreamed she would encounter one of her own kind to love- but when she did, he also had shining golden hair and sharp blue eyes. Elystríon Straliscaláin, formerly Sithecara, was just beginning her morning meditations when two village lads ran to the door of her cottage and banged loudly. Both were breathless. She knew them even before she rounded the building and saw them- Jaise and Colin, both known for mischief, but not likely to try it with her. When they saw her, they ran up and began shouting in unison. She raised her hands, palms out. "One at a time, what has happened?" White Fire: the Romance Jaise, the eldest, spoke first. "Papa found a man in the woods, looks like he was set on by bandits! He's bleeding!" Cara needed no further prompting. She rushed inside her cottage to gather the tools she did not truly need, but used anyway, because the villagers expected her to need them. She hurried back out, and followed the boys back to their father's house, a small hovel on the outskirts of the village, luckily closer to her home than not. The boys' father, Malaigm naForaisbhala, had brought his find indoors, he and his wife doing their best to clean and bandage the wounds as they awaited Cara's arrival. She greeted them quickly and set to work right away. She could tell the man was in bad shape. She checked his pulse and found it weak, his skin cooling already. "I need boiled water, and a few clean rags if you can spare them," She said, more to get the hovering couple away than out of true need. Cara quickly mixed a poultice, imbuing it with her white magic. She turned to her patient, smoothed it over the wounds in his chest and shoulder. She glanced at his face, and froze. How could he show up in her life again, after more than five years? What sort of joke were the Seven having? It was him, Lavada. He was dying. She pushed the shock out of her mind and focused on saving his life. As it turned out, he was lucky to have her there. His wounds were severe, without magic he would surely have died. With the skills of a lesser sorceress, he might have died anyway, or at least have had severe scars, perhaps never walked again. She managed to mend him completely, his golden skin scarless as she imagined he had been before the attack. The naForaisbhalas admired her work while she cleaned up. "Truly you are a wonder, My Lady, I never imagined you could fix him up so perfectly." The woman exclaimed, ogling Lavada as she dressed him in some of her husband's old clothes. "His face looks familiar, perhaps I've seen him in Gara-casale?" The man mused. Cara glanced at them as she packed up her things and cleaned up the mess she'd made. "I suppose it is possible. His name is Lavada Eoceda Maca-nuada." She said casually, seeing no reason to keep his identity secret. The woman gasped, and both were quiet long moments. "You mean, this young man is the Taniste?" It was Cara's turn to be surprised. "He's...what?" They looked at each other. "He's Taniste. Oh, Lady Elystríon! You've done more than saved a man this day, you've saved the world! Imagine, loosing two Taniste to disfigurement before they even ascend the diarchy!" the woman gushed breathlessly. "How did you know his name, but not know he was Taniste?" Her husband asked, being the quicker one of the pair. "He studied at the college where I learned my trade," Cara responded distantly. He was Taniste, even more out of her reach than he had been before. "I'll have to watch him for a few days, make sure the job is thoroughly done. Will you help me cart him to my cottage?" The couple readily agreed, probably feeling that their sorceress' cottage was far more suitable to house the blood heir of the diarchy than their small hovel. In less time than it took for all for Foraisbhala to learn the identity of their mysterious wounded man, and decide to stop in to see if they could 'help', Lavada was comfortably installed in Cara's own large, four poster bed. She learned, listening to the gossips as she went about her work, that there was a lot of romance surrounding her golden prince. He had defied his father's wishes, and set out unescorted on his Quest to seek his divinely-chosen mate. He had been spotted since, criss-crossing Aelith, not only searching the households of the Dur-era, or even the Era, but also meaner homes. It was said that many maids had tried to sway him, but he was too focused, too pure and faithful, to be deceived or tempted. So he had spent the last three years. Several of the village girls rushed home after peeking on him, to put on their best clothes and glamour, hoping to be the one to finally catch his eye. Several of the older villagers speculated that if anyone in the village were to catch the Taniste's eye, it would be Lady Elystríon- and wouldn't that be perfect? They had known each other as students. Cara had to shoo them away with threats of changing them to frogs to get some peace. Lavada did not wake until late evening. Cara had a thin broth with minced vegetables and a soft bread ready for him, and had left the bedroom door open so she could hear him. She heard him stir, heard muttered curses, and knew he was going to be a difficult patient. She grabbed his dinner and hurried into the room. "Don't you dare get up," she scolded. He was quiet, surprised to see her as she had been to see him, she imagined. "Tlexepa?" He whispered. "I must be dead." She looked at him sideways. "No, you're not dead, Taniste, though you nearly were." He swallowed. "I can't be Taniste anymore, if I'm not dead." He closed his eyes and lay back. Cara noticed he looked both relieved and regretful. "No, you are still Taniste," she whispered, setting his soup and bread on the bedside table. She tapped his arm to get his attention. He looked at her, perplexed. She gestured for him to sit up, then she propped pillows behind him. "I do not want to seem vain...but I am still possibly the most talented sorceress in Aelith today...you are whole, Your Highness. Check yourself if you must.." He was silent for a while as she took up bowl and spoon. He insisted on feeding himself, and she let him. After a while, he spoke softly, "Thank you, Tlexepa." neither spoke after that; there was simply too much between them. When it came time to retire, he insisted she take the bed. She refused, said she'd make a pallet on the floor- he was still not well, and needed comfort more than she. Still he insisted, and would not take the bed even if she also would not take it. Finally, exasperated, she told him to sleep in the bed, and she would too. It was more than big enough for two, and she was probably safer with such a 'pure and faithful' man in her bed than sleeping alone. He gave her a hard look, but said nothing. They both lay down, backs to each other. After a while, Cara turned over and stared at his broad back, letting old longings wash over her. She woke well before him, and set about her normal routine. They managed to get a silent breakfast out of the way before the villagers began showing up to help and to show their respects. Cara debated it, then decided to just leave him in the care of some of the more reliable old women. She went deep into the woods to spend time in her other shape, and think. She returned in time to relieve the old women so they could return home and finish their own chores, and once again with threats of a lifetime as a frog chased away the younger ones. Only then did she check in on her patient. "There you are," he said as she came in, eyes shining. "You look better," she observed. "How do you feel? Have you been outside today?" "They would hardly let me. Those fussy old women would hardly let me be alone even to-" he stopped. She nodded, knowing what he meant. He was sitting at the table, so at least they had let him up to walk a little. Cara set to preparing dinner, ignoring his staring. "They call you a different name here. They think very highly of you." "I only do what I can for them." Cara replied modestly. "They say you work miracles. They said you worked one on me, and I'm inclined to believe it." She met his eyes, held his gaze a long time, then said softly, "I only did what I could." He nodded and sipped at his cup of water. She turned back to her work. "They told me a few other things about you, too." He said airily. Cara winced, wondering if they'd sung her praises as a sorceress, or as a potential bride, or both? "I'm sorry, I had matters I had to attend to, or I wouldn't have left you with them." She glanced over her shoulder at him, then began mincing the carrots and potatoes. "It's fine, Tlexepa. They are good hearted folks, and your nurses kept the eager young ladies at bay." He paused. "I was informed that you and I were childhood friends. Though they were curious how we could be so close and you not know I had become Taniste." She looked over at him, chagrined even more. He looked amused, one brow cocked as he waited for her answer. "I did not say we were friends, merely that we had attended the same college. These rural types love to embellish and romanticize a story." she said slowly after some thought. "Well, I merely told them we had not spoken in several years." He shrugged. Cara nodded and went back to her preparations. "I never thought you to be the romantic type." "What do you mean?" He sounded guarded, as if expecting another of her verbal attacks. Cara stopped, tried to gather the proper words for once. "I mean, I do not know the true details of course...but, you have been on your Quest for three years? Why?" He was silent long enough for her to assume she had offended him despite her best efforts. "There is supposed to be a sign from the Seven to help me find my partner, according to tradition." "How did your father find your mother?" She asked softly. "He told me he just looked at the marriageable young women among the Dur-era, and picked the one he felt he could live and work with the easiest." He sounded slightly disgusted, and perhaps guilty. "He...wanted you to do the same?" Cara began to tremble, remembering the last time she'd seen Lavada- three years ago, or a little more. His long Quest was her fault, she began to fear. He was waiting for a sign from the Seven that would never come, because of her. "Yes he did, but it wasn't right. One Taniste is chosen by blood, the other by the Seven themselves. It isn't just an empty tradition, it is essential for balance to prevail." He sounded certain of himself, beyond any question or doubt. Cara stood before him, looked into his determined, piercing eyes. "What if it was right, for your parents, at least? I doubt the Seven are going to send you a sign like a pillar of light to tell you who to choose. It has to be dependent on your own heart and mind-" "Exactly, Tlexepa. I know what I'm doing on my Quest." He sighed. "I did not expect this from you." "Expect what?" she asked, genuinely perplexed. "That you would argue with me about my method. Don't you want to be the one?" He muttered. Cara was astounded. "No! I am not among the throngs of silly girls who share that foolish hope, and I never will be. I was just curious." She glared at him, then turned to finish dinner. Both were silent the rest of the evening. They retired for bed without a word- and when she was sure he was soundly asleep, Cara stared at his profile and wept silent tears of longing until she, too fell asleep. In only three more days he was well enough to leave if he wanted to, but he still lingered. By then only the hopeful young women still came to Cara's home each day to 'help' the Taniste. He seemed to enjoy their attention, much to Cara's frustration. By this time, they had managed to fight at least twice each day, but yet she found herself wanting him more than ever. Worse, he seemed aware of her desire and frustration, and teased her subtly. Cara stood at the west-facing window in the main room of the cottage, watching the sun slip below the horizon. She felt the prince move in behind her, close enough she could feel his warmth, almost smell the sweetness of his breath. He stood there, still as she was and irritatingly close, until she could barely stand it. She shifted her gaze from the sunset outside to the reflections in the glass, opened her mouth to demand he back off...but her objection died on her lips. His gaze was not on the sunset, or their reflections, or the window at all- instead, eyes cast downward, he seemed to be staring at her shoulder- or perhaps down her shirt. Quickly she checked, but her neckline was high enough he surely wasn't getting to see much. Just then, he lightly stroked her hair, and brushed it to one side- the opposite of where he was gazing so intently. "Tlexepa," he breathed softly, meeting her eyes as she turned her head to look at him. His piercing eyes were almost painful to look at, but she held her ground. "Don't you ever get lonely?" "What?" She snapped testily. Loneliness was the very core of her being...not that she wanted him to have the satisfaction of knowing. He moved closer, until she felt his body against hers, and she felt sure he would kiss her. "I asked if you are lonely, Tlexepa," A moment's pause, he placed his hands lightly on her hips, "Because, if you are, I would be happy to keep you company. All night, any night." Cara caught her breath as he bumped her with a thrust of his hips. She blushed, and he burst out laughing. She considered slapping him, but instead just pushed him away and fled into the cool night. One week was more than enough torture. Cara had never shared her bed with a man before, though she had wanted to; and since she was younger and began having such dreams, she'd fantasized about one man, the golden haired one who had awakened such fire inside her. The golden haired one who had slept beside her chastely for a week. She lay beside him, gazing at him longingly as he slept, as she had since he'd arrived. Without a thought she inched closer and stroked his soft silken mane. She didn't remember falling asleep, but in the barest light of dawn she woke...her head on his chest, her fingers still twined in his hair. Blushing, she rose quickly, dressed and fled from the room. The next night she retired well after Lavada, giving him plenty time to be deeply asleep before she went to bed. His arm was flung over her side, causing her to hesitate. Then, slowly she climbed into the bed, rested her head lightly on his arm. She kept her eyes on his face and reached up, stroked his silken hair. He was even more beautiful when sleeping, but perhaps this was simply because she knew his barbed tongue would not harm her. She traced her finger along the line of his jaw, feeling the barest stubble growing there, then over his chest, barely tracing his skin, barely brushing the slight patch of downy curls in the center of his chest. She carefully laid her hand over his heart, feeling its slow rhythm. Suddenly he turned on his side, towards her. Cara tried to move away, but he flung his arm over her, and she was afraid if she moved he'd wake. She could smell his breath, his musky male scent; his lips were so close, she wanted very much to kiss him...but she did not. She lay still, and just enjoyed the feel of him almost holding her. The next night she grew bolder. She stroked his strong arms, his muscular chest, his rippled stomach, traced the hair there to the line of his underpants. He arched his hips as she did, a small sigh escaping his lips. Quickly she pulled her hand away and pretended to sleep, not daring to crack an eyelid until several long moments had passed without him stirring. After a while, she rolled onto her back, watching him, and touched herself how she longed for him to touch her until she climaxed quietly, and fell into sated sleep. The next night she grew curious, and loosed the string of his underpants to peek at him. He was limp and unimpressive, but the potential she imagined set a fire inside her. She stroked his stomach and chest, kissed his shoulder lightly, and began stroking herself between her legs. Her eyes were closed, she didn't see him turn his attention on her. He seized her by the wrist of the hand she stroked his chest with, pushed her onto her back and kissed her mouth fiercely. She squeaked and struggled to be free of him, eyes wide, cheeks aflame. "This furtive little night-time game of yours is driving me mad," he whispered against her lips. It was dark, but she could make out his eyes, glittering with lust in the moonlight. He caught her other hand- the guilty hand- as she flailed and pushed against him. "What have you been doing in the dark while you've been caressing me, invading my dreams?" She could see his slow grin, and much to her shame, horror, and fascination, he sniffed her fingers, then sucked them into his mouth. "Sweet, so sweet, my Tlexepa," he whispered, and kissed her again. She kissed him back, tentatively. He moved above her, pushed his knees between her thighs, pulled his loosened trousers down, and lay between her legs. She could feel his hard member pressing against her nethers, blushed as she thought he likely felt her heat and moisture. He moved, grinding his hips against her, then before she knew it was happening, he was inside her. He filled her completely, a glorious ecstasy. She gasped and stared at him, flexed her interior muscles experimentally. He groaned with pleasure and pushed against her, settling on his elbows above her. She slipped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, as he began thrusting slowly into her. She clung to him, rocking with his motion, lost herself in the passion as pleasure built and broke inside her. He collapsed on top of her, panting, his penis quivering inside her, filling her with his seed. Cara stared at him, amazed and sleepy. She kissed him and held him tightly, then fell asleep. She could not have slept for long when she woke feeling him nibbling her neck, caressing her breast. She stretched, turned toward him, kissed his lips softly. She tried to examine his face, but it was still dark, she couldn't see much. "Lavada," she said breathily, and stroked his hair. "Yes?" He pulled her close, held her tightly. Cara lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He waited quietly, then pressed on. "What were you saying?" "I only said your name." She replied shyly. She was suddenly afraid to voice her true thoughts. He leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Sithecara," then kissed and nibbled along the edge of her ear, making her shiver with delight. She could not recall him ever calling her by her full name before. She kissed and caressed him, pulled him close to her. He slid his hand down her body, pulled her leg up around his waist and pushed into her. She moaned softly and wrapped herself around him. They made love again and again, sometimes barely resting between, before both fell into a deep, satisfied sleep. Before she drifted off Cara thought to herself, now the real torture begins. The morning after, she could hardly believe it, but there she was, naked and twined with him, her body sore in ways she never knew it could be. He had his hand on her stomach, his head on her shoulder. She kissed his forehead and closed her eyes, smelling his hair and reminiscing about the night before. She wondered if he had really been so 'pure' during his Quest, and felt a pang of jealousy and shame to think she was just another girl to warm his bed while he looked for his soul mate. Then she felt a stab of heartache like an arrow through her chest to think that he would leave, and marry some other woman, who the Seven had 'chosen' for him. She sighed heavily. No, it would be some other woman he thought the Seven had chosen, because she had pretended to be a divine messenger, and why? So she would not have to tell him the truth. He roused, moved to kiss her, then stopped. "What is the matter, Tlexepa?" he asked softly, wiped away her tears. She blinked. "Nothing, it's nothing." she tried to smile, focused on his mouth, not his eyes. "No one cries over nothing, Tlexepa." He held her chin and made her look into his probing blue eyes. "Do you regret last night?" She blinked again. "No, not that...not exactly." He quirked a brow, leaned back on one arm as if to give her space. "Not exactly? Then what, exactly?"