Love Never-Ending (10 page)

“No,” Rebaccah clarified. “What are you doing
here
,
at Samara’s?”

Turning to face her, he crossed his arms over his chest and
smiled pleasantly. “How old is Samara?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Then don’t you think that should be between me and Samara?”

Rebaccah floundered, looking for an answer. “I, uh…”

“Samara is a big girl now, Rebaccah. It’s time for you to
let her go.”

His implacable posture left Rebaccah with no defense so she
stood up, bent to kiss Samara’s cheek and announced that it was time for her to
go home. Before Samara had time to usher her to the door, she was gone. Samara
stood in the kitchen doorway and stared at Bishop with awe.

“That was wonderful!” she declared before rushing over to
fling her arms around his waist.

Immediately at the touch of her soft curves against his
body, his cock took note, poking against the front of his
sharda
,
seeking the warm home hidden between her thighs. He slid his arms around her,
palming her ass with his big hands and tugging her closer.

“I should be shot.”

“Shot?” She tilted her head back to look him in the eye.
“Why?”

“Oh, because I came here specifically to stuff my cock in
your pussy and fuck you until we pass out from exhaustion.”

“How long must I wait for you to begin?” she teased as she
pressed her hips closer to the hard cock outlined beneath his
sharda
.
Then she found the tabs that fastened it and released them, brushing the fabric
out of the way. “Ahhh. You’re so hard and soft at the same time, Bishop.” She
wrapped her hand around him and stroked and squeezed. “I love your
kzusha
.”

When she would have stooped to take him in her mouth, he
stopped her. “Turn around and bend over the table,” he commanded abruptly.

She did so at once, wondering what he had planned. He
tweaked the fastenings on her
meerlim
and slid it down her body, leaving
her naked except for her house sandals. In a moment, his feet nudged her legs
farther apart until she was totally exposed. The cool air whisked across her
slick folds, setting off new sensations. She shifted restlessly and his palm
came down sharply on her butt.

“Do not move.”

Immediately she froze. Why did he strike her? It stunned her
when the heat from the blow spread to her pussy.

He trailed a finger over her soft, wet petals. “Hmmm. I
think you might like to be spanked, Samara. You were hot and wet but that just
made you wetter. Shall we try again?” He smacked her other butt cheek with his
open palm before massaging the sting and heat away. Her scent taunted him until
he could bear it no more.

Inexplicably Samara realized that she was torn between
wanting him to continue and needing him to slide his cock inside her at once,
filling the emptiness that she had never been so conscious of before. How did
he make her need him so much? On the heels of that shocking question she felt
the hot, blunt head of his cock pressing at the entrance of her vagina and she
rocked her hips back, helplessly greedy for his hard shaft.

Though he had gently finger-fucked her as they played since
that first day in the garden, she was still incredibly tight. Bishop knew that
he needed to go slowly. She didn’t make it easy, poking her ass out
demandingly. He pushed. She pressed.

Suddenly, she cried out in frustration, “Fuck me!”

“I don’t want to hurt you!” he said grimly.

“Now! I need you!”

“How do you want me, Samara? Slow and soft or hard and
deep?”

“Hard and deep—and never-ending!”

On his next thrust, he filled her completely stopping only
when his belly was against the soft curves of her ass. For a long moment he was
still, amazed at the sensations of wet heat and the tight clasp of her pussy.
He’d never in his life had sex without a condom. Never had he experienced the
astonishing sensitivity of skin touching skin.

He bent over, surrounding her with his body, pressing his
warm, damp chest to her back. His hands twined with hers on the table. He laid
his cheek against hers and asked because he had to know, “Are you afraid?”

He felt her smile when her cheek moved against his. “No. I’m
not afraid. I feel… I feel secure. And cherished. And filled with wonderful
pleasure.”

“We’re only beginning.”

“I can’t imagine more pleasure than this.”

He kissed her cheek before nibbling on her shoulder. “Allow
me to demonstrate.” Reluctantly, he lifted his chest away from her and stood
up. Withdrawing until only the head of his cock was still inside, he thrust
back in. She quickly caught the rhythm of his thrust and withdrawal and added
her own counterpoint to the melody. “Play with your clit, Samara! I want you to
come!”

Immediately he felt the small rolling contractions as she
peaked with a ferocity he would never have expected. The strong tug of her
inner muscles robbed him of his legendary control. For the first time since he
was a very young man, his climax was controlled by someone other than himself.
He stood panting, knees locked to keep from melting in a puddle at Samara’s feet
as he faced the uncomfortable realization that each day she was gaining more
power over him than he was ready to give away.

Silently, he withdrew and patted her butt. “Stay there. I’ll
be back.” Padding into the bathing room, he located a tiny washcloth and used
it to clean himself before he went back to Samara. She was exactly where he’d
left her with a dreamy smile on her face. She lay still, permitting him to
gently cleanse her well-used and very happy pussy. Then he helped her stand up
and led her into the bedroom. There were so many other things to teach her and
he was a thorough man at heart.

Midsummer Gathering

The next day the Midsummer Gathering began. It was a bright
sunny morning that glittered with the promise of heat to come. Bishop walked
hurriedly toward Samara’s dome through the cool woods. She had agreed to be his
guide. Neither of them thought that the polite fiction would last long but
Bishop suspected that it would deflect the first few questions. He still didn’t
understand why it was such a big deal for Samara to have a lover, though he was
more than willing to take whatever steps would protect her reputation—short of
bonding.

When he reached her yard, she was waiting on the porch with
two neatly packed baskets. For the first time since he’d met her, she had a
filmy embroidered and beaded cap covering her beautiful golden brown hair. The
dark brown and gold embroidery on her beige festival dress matched the cap’s
embroidery. She wore dainty dark brown sandals with bits of gold leather
peeking through the cutouts.

For a long moment, he stood staring at her with a small
smile on his face, thinking that all the makeup and sexy clothes in the world
wouldn’t make her more beautiful than she was right at that moment.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful, Samara.”

“Me?” She stepped down into the yard and touched his pale
green
shera
. “I am merely pretty. But you are most handsome. I like this
shera
and
sharda
.”

“A festival gift from Llyon and Tyger.” He bent his head to
kiss her, taking his time, tasting and savoring her mouth. “You are beautiful
to me. What the other idiots in the valley think isn’t important. Now I suggest
that we get moving or I’ll carry you into the dome and remove that gorgeous
dress and cap.”

“Ummm.”

He tapped her rear. “Get the baskets. Now.”

“Oh, all right.” She flounced over to the porch, retrieved
the baskets and handed them to him before picking up her festival shawl and
beaded bag.

“Something smells delicious,” he observed, sniffing at one
of the baskets.

“That’s my contribution for the feast. Everyone brings
something to share.” They set off for the village, walking the path with the
visitors streaming up from Broken Pine and Goodspeed’s Delight.

“Where is everyone coming from?” Bishop muttered just loud
enough for Samara to hear.

She giggled. “You’ve only seen the people that live in Lost
Market. Wait until you get to the practice field. There will be people from all
over the valley. This is the annual market gathering so people will bring their
wares to trade. And the valley council will meet and enact the new laws for the
valley. Papa even prints extra copies of the paper to hand out at the
gathering.”

“What are you taking for trade?” he asked.

“Beaded bags.” She held up her own bag so he could see. “I
make them in my spare time.”

“You made that? All those tiny beads? That’s incredible!”

“Thank you.”

“How many credits do you charge for one of them?” he asked
curiously.

Samara smiled at the way Bishop cut right to the heart of
the matter. “Fifty credits if it’s one of my standard designs. One hundred
credits if they want something special like a name glyph.”

“What?” Bishop yelped in shock. “Who has that kind of
credits?”

“Young men buy them as a bonding gift.”

“Oh? And what do the young women give them in return?”

“Usually? Many of them gift their men with a
slith
.”

Bishop stopped walking and sent her a hard stare. “You made
that up. I know I’m an easy target but I’m not that stupid.”

She turned to the young warrior who was patiently waiting to
pass them. “Luka, may I see your
slith
for a moment please?”

With a light shrug, Luka unhooked a small ornament from the
braid that hung along his cheek and handed it to Samara.

“Actually, will you show Bishop the blade?” she requested as
she returned it to Luka.

“Sure.” Luka released the tiny latch and slid the small
blade free from the fancy case, displaying them both on his palm.

“Why such a tiny knife?” Bishop asked. “What in the world
would you use it for?”

“Normally, it is used at a bonding or declaration of
warrior’s vows. It is not intended as a weapon, though in the hands of a master
it could kill.” Luka’s grave answer surprised Bishop. With the speed of
familiarity, Luka sheathed the blade and hooked it on the braid. “If you will
excuse me, I must get to the field. I have second watch today.”

“Of course. Thank you for your time, Luka.” Samara nudged
Bishop to the side of the path where they waited for several people to pass
before they resumed their walk.

“Samara, why would you need a knife to bond?” Everything
about Bishop’s hesitant question demonstrated just how uncomfortable he was.

“During the final act of bonding, the couple joins
physically for the first time on the altar stone while clasping their slashed
palms together to signify their joined lives. The
slith
is used to make
the cuts on their hands.”

They walked quietly for a while as Bishop contemplated that
nugget of information. He tried to picture either one of his ex-wives taking
part in such a ceremony. Of course in the valley, neither of them would have
been eligible, either. With surprise, Bishop wondered if that would have made a
difference in the end. He had never looked for a virgin, never even thought
about it but now he wondered if he had undervalued himself when he was young.
What did he have to show for his life so far? Two divorces and no children.

When they reached the bridge over the river, he was jolted
back to awareness. “We’re already here!” He looked around blankly, wondering
how he could have walked the length of the village without saying a word or
noticing his surroundings. “You should have poked me or something!”

“You seemed deep in thought.”

“I was rude. Next time poke me.”

“I thought that was
your
job.” She turned toward a
large open pavilion. “Come this way.”

Bishop lagged behind, still shocked at her first statement.
Abruptly, he realized that she was leaving him behind and he hurried to catch
up, oblivious to the speculative stares that followed him. By the time he
walked into the controlled chaos in the pavilion, Samara had staked her place at
the long tables set up in the cool shade. He wove his way through the crowd
until he reached her table. “Now what?”

“Now you go meander around for a while,” she said firmly
while she relieved him of the baskets he carried. “Once I have my things on
display, they will disappear very quickly. Then I will be free to enjoy the
rest of the gathering. Go look at the other wares. Maybe you’ll find something
you like.”

With surprising reluctance, he left her and wandered out
onto the wide field, amazed at the number of people who milled around in
colorful confusion. Festival caps and gaily embroidered
meerlims
competed with
shardas
and
sheras
in eye-popping colors. In the
background, the domed
hurkas
were muted punctuations of smoky greens and
blues and tawny tans. It was almost more than the eyes could process.

“So, Bish! I see you decided to wear a sissy skirt after
all,” a low masculine voice behind him teased.

Bishop whirled around to confront his friend Dancer. “You’re
a fine one to talk with your pointy ears and fangs!” He studied the amazing
changes in his friend. “I think I would like to be a fly on the wall at one of
your concerts as you look now. That would be a sell-out crowd for sure.”

Dancer just smiled, flashing his impressive fangs. “That’s
in the past, Bish. I’m happy here.”

“Have you seen Trav?”

“We stopped up there on our way here. He’s still healing.
After our visit Wolfe put him back to sleep. It’s best that way as he just gets
agitated otherwise.” Restlessly, he looked around at the crowds. “I suppose I
should find Eppie and see what she’s up to.”

“You’re really attached to her.” Bishop’s sober statement
caught Dancer’s attention.

“More than you can possibly imagine.”

“Try me.”

Dancer frowned at him. “You’re different. Something is
changed.”

“Aside from your brother abducting me, us living through a
bombing and then ending up in this valley that’s a baby utopia?” Bishop
laughed. “I’m living my own weird fantasy adventure in the Land of the Blue
People. Why would anything have changed? I keep waiting for someone to pop out
and tell me I’m on one of those strange television shows.”

“It is a bit odd,” Dancer admitted.

“Do you remember Hamilton and Rebaccah McCrory? They used to
work with Uncle Nathan and Aunt Morgana.”

“
My
aunt Morgana?” Dancer looked at him as thought
he’d lost his mind. “Are you crazy?”

“Heads up because Rebaccah’s headed this way.” Bishop tilted
his chin at someone approaching them from behind Dancer.

He turned, his eyes widening in shock as Rebaccah and
Hamilton stalked through the crowds. “Fuck. How did that happen?”

“From what Samara told me, your aunt and uncle were here
first. Then Samara’s parents. Then Baron and Jade. It’s old home week,” he
muttered satirically. “Smile and say cheese.”

“Dancer? Samara told me you were here,” Rebaccah announced
breathlessly.

Ruthlessly Bishop nudged Dancer forward. “Allow me. Dancer
Devereaux. His brother Traveller is at the Llewellyn domes recovering from an
accident.”

She looked at him intently before slowly nodding her head.
“You’re the violin prodigy. The last time I saw you, you were about eight. You
look like your mother.”

Absurdly pleased that she remembered him, Dancer chuckled.
“That’s what my father always said.”

“How are your parents?” she asked eagerly.

Bishop intervened hastily. “Why don’t we find a more private
spot to talk? Dancer?”

Dancer glanced around wildly, wondering where he could take
them when Eppie popped up out of the crowd and suggested that they move to the
council pavilion that just happened to be empty. Bishop trailed along,
uncomfortable yet feeling responsible in some strange way.

When they were all seated, Hamilton spoke for the first
time. “It’s bad news so you’d best just tell us.”

“They’re dead.”

Dancer’s abrupt announcement hung in the still air as though
waiting for a fanfare of trumpets so Bishop leaped in once again. “They were
murdered a little over two years ago. As was Teacher. Tracer and Raven… well, I
guess you might not know about them. They’ve disappeared. The best intelligence
I could dig up places them in the Middle East. And the most likely culprit is
my father.”

The silence stretched out until finally Ham asked, “How did
Dancer and Trav find the valley?”

“I stumbled in here in by accident and found Eppie. We had
an
attachment
.” Dancer took Eppie’s hand in his. “We’ve been talking for
a long time.”

“You’re the one she bonded with so quickly.”

“Yep, I’m the one.” His pride and love radiated all around
him.

“What about Traveller?”

Bishop raised one hand. “That would be my story. We were
trapped in a cave by an explosion that injured Trav. I was looking for help and
found the valley.” He shrugged. “More or less, anyway.”

Eppie squeezed Dancer’s hand. “Trav is Wrenna’s mate. They
have an
attachment
also.”

Rebaccah had a thoughtful look on her face. “Doesn’t it
strike you as odd that two in one family would have
attachments
?”

Very softly Eppie replied, “It’s stranger than you know.
Robyn is attached to Tracer and Wolfe to Raven. That is why we know that they
are still alive.”

“And you, Bishop? Have you come seeking a woman?” Ham
queried coolly.

Bishop looked up and saw Samara silhouetted against the
bright sunlight. He jumped to his feet and went to meet her, planting a kiss on
her cheek before leading her back to the small group. “I found a woman,” he
said firmly without considering the consequences of his words.

There was another long silence before Dancer said with a
very peculiar smile, “Congratulations and good luck!”

Hamilton nodded soberly. “We will talk later.”

Alf Campbell, the council leader, poked his head through the
wide doorway. “You must find someplace else to visit. It’s time for the first
council meeting.”

“Well then. Obviously, that’s our cue to vacate. We will no
doubt meet several times over the next few days. For now, I need to go relieve
Andrew. He’s watching our market table.” Ham stood and tucked a hand under
Rebaccah’s elbow.

The two couples remaining watched them walk away. “I wish
there was some other way to tell her,” Dancer muttered.

“There’s no easy way to impart ugly news. No gentle way to
talk about murder. When she’s ready, she’ll be back for more details.” Bishop
smiled down at Samara. “Don’t tell me all your pretty bags are gone?”

“All but two or three special ones.”

“Where are your baskets?” Bishop asked with a frown.

“They’re in our
hurka
. Come, I’ll show you. It’s the
purple one near the bridge.” The look on his face sent her off into a cascade
of laughter.

“Since when do we have a
hurka
?”

“Since Papa set one up for us.”

Bishop grabbed her hand and led her to a small open-sided shelter
near the edge of the field. “Samara! What does that mean in the valley?” he
demanded suspiciously.

“It means that my parents are finally viewing me as a
woman.” Her serious expression tore at his heart. “My father is telling
everyone here that he approves my choice, whether we formally swear a covenant
bond or not. There will be no recriminations.”

“Just like that?” Bishop snapped his fingers for emphasis.