Intersecting Waves

Darkness. Yet awareness remained. Harp music, delicately played, touched him. Steamy summers quenched by cool pools; fragrant blossoms scenting yellow silk; the deep pleasures of the night; all undulated on the sinuous notes that coaxed him toward life. But he remained a tiger made of stone, locked in an unyielding night. A name danced across his mind like a flitting in'risi, but he did not wish to voice it. It belonged to a female that he had long ago left behind. She had awakened him to full adulthood, although she was only a few seasons older than he. That act was but a small footnote in his life.

Liar! Taija left you, Tygra, because she prized her music more than your love.

Quite true. She had chosen the music, and had become one of the greatest harpists that Thundera had ever produced. The rejection still hurt. He had never celebrated her survival. Since her arrival on Third Earth with other Thunderan refugees from the world of the orri'savi, he had made certain that her path had never crossed his.

I will not answer your call, harpist! Go away! Tygra decided angrily. The music stopped.

Silence. Blackness. Awareness. Perhaps he had become truly timeless. If so, the possibility existed that he could detect the presence of the one female he had loved who had slipped beyond time.

Cheetara, now cold as crystal, also chose to depart. She failed in leaving her sons to you, an unworthy soul.

She is not to be criticized for her sacrifice!

He became more keenly aware of his isolation, and the presence of danger. A storm was coming. Panic began.

Talitha help me!

Tygra, you chose this hell. Your bond has broken to the one who loved you the most. But does she live or has she died? It was you who caused all this unhappiness. Arrogant and proud, just like Trel. And now, like him, you suffer.

Tygra screamed, consumed by a fierce whirlwind.

*****

There was nothing better in life than an exceedingly hot bath. The white tigress sank into the tiled pool, and sighed with the contentment of knowing complete freedom from everything. Fruit blossoms perfumed the air in the delightful garden that had no beginning or end. Melodic bird songs promised more sunny days of delicious oblivion. Whatever she had left behind would take care of itself. Whatever she wished to do would be her choice alone, and no one would direct, judge or hamper her.

Yet, something is missing, Talitha.

I was missing, but I have found me, she decided.

The one who vexed you.

Is happily not here.

Your love--

Has been thoroughly tested.

Your bond--

Broken, and my patience no longer tried.

The wind intensified, and carried the mournful sounds of a flute.

Go away!

Tygra is lost.

Aloneness is what he deserves!

He knows that, but he trusts you will forgive him.

For all the gods, why should I!

Not for his sake, but for your own.

Waves that crashed upon a distant shore carried another name.

Tir'shan, your attack seared my mind. You broke your promise to me!

Would you have sanctioned his action if you had known its purpose?

Talitha rose from the pool, her eyes wet with tears.

Do you cry for your cubs, Talitha?

I weep for all I had and all I have lost! My cubs; my mate; my friend.

Victory and failure.

Are the same.

The road home beckons.

Talitha scanned her green prison. I have forgotten the way!

*****

The mystic existed in a nothingness of incandescent white, floating in total peace and silence. The luminous void began to change. An intrusion, but not something unpleasant, he thought serenely.

The drumming was faint, but strong, a proud rhythm that marked the passage of seasons, and the changes that came with life and death. Streaks of colors danced around him. Somewhere hidden, a female sang, a quiet undercurrent that preserved all.

Ayasha has grown quite fond of you, despite your doubts, Tir'shan.

I gave her bonds she did not want, and betrayed her because my heart still belongs to Talitha.

She chose you. What will happen comes from her decision to release great power. The future is ever changing, so what is true may become untrue in a breath. But, of course, you know that, Ri'sar'ri.

Tir'shan considered, and realized that he didn't know very much, except for the odd feeling that he might be dead. But how he had gotten to this strange place was a journey he had forgotten.

Another song began in a lilting language he did not know. Yet he sensed the female sang of mothers and cubs and happy things.

Are you not curious about the destinies of your daughters, Ri'sar'ri?

They always said I was too curious, the white tiger thought wryly. The colors grew bolder and heavier as they bound him.

A discordant note crept into the evolving space. A heart he forgot he possessed began to pound.

Am I alive? he wondered.

Yes. And so are Tygra and Talitha, but, Ri'sar'ri, they require that you heal what you have frayed. Help them before it becomes too late. Your eyes are already opened. All you have to do is see.

Whoever you are, you know me too well.

But I am you.

Tir'shan awoke with a start, and remembered his downfall.

*****

The white tiger drained a pitcher of water quickly.

"Blood of my mothers, you will sicken yourself! No more, Tir'shan!" Ayasha retrieved the vessel, and set it back down on a side table.

He was seemingly back from the dead, and his eyes were finally starting to focus. "There is little time remaining!" the mystic declared, stunned by the sound of his weakened voice.

Ayasha placed her right hand against his chest. "Do not even think of rising!" the black woman warned.

The mystic easily pushed her hand aside. He flung his long legs over the edge of the bed, and to his astonishment stood up. He would have crashed to the floor had Ayasha not possessed the sense to know his limitations. She eased him back onto bed, growling in her native tongue what he believed to be potent curses he was certain he deserved.

"Tygra and Talitha--"

"Are stable. Cori and her circle saw to that."

"It will not last. They will deteriorate."

Ayasha held his gaze with her dark brown eyes. "You cannot help them if you cannot stand."

His throat became parched once more. "I cannot let them die," he croaked. "I could not bear it. It is my fault!" He reached for a second pitcher of water.

Ayasha grabbed it before he could, then flung it against the wall. The flying liquid from the smashed pottery wet her brown caftan, and red knit cap. In that moment he believed everything she had told him of the ferocity of the African tribe into which she had been born a millennium ago by Third Earth measure.

Another mystic burst through the door, a thunderbolt in his robes of blue. "What in the seven hells is happening!" Shaktar'ri shouted.

"I'm not dead," Tir'shan replied caustically. He had recalled his battle with Tygra clearly. But how he had survived, and had arrived in a recovery room in the Halls of Healing, remained a puzzle with many missing pieces.

The younger white tiger dropped onto a chair. "Then let us thank all the gods, especially Mrísena. You will need Her help. Te'sara and Sri'rin will send you back to the other realms once they know you have recovered."

Tir'shan took a deep breath to dispel his rising anger, amazed that his lungs worked considering the sword blow he had taken. "You must help me to my healing chamber, Shaktar'ri," he demanded, "for Ayasha won't."

Before the woman could protest, Shaktar'ri said seriously, "If you were still the leader of the mystic council, I would do your bidding without question, but at the moment, you are not."

I expected them to disagree with my approach to Tygra's difficulties, and they have not proved me wrong, Tir'shan thought. My action was supposed to bring Tygra to his senses, and make him set down the sword. Only I was supposed to suffer true harm, but I was prepared to remedy that hurt. That I severely injured him was as unforseen as my collapse.

The reality of his disgrace settled upon him, but it did not deter him from his course. "Tell the council of two that only I can save the Chi'ris'rin and his mate, and it must be soon. Do they really want to see three cubs orphaned!"

Shaktar'ri stood. He put his hands on his hips. With his notoriously changeable aquamarine eyes, he calmly appraised Tir'shan. A smile slowly spread across his face. "That I can do, Ri'sar'ri."

*****

The healing chamber was cool, but not uncomfortable. Outside, it was midday, but the windowless room barred the world and its rhythms. Candlelight and incense created a mysterious and timeless setting conducive to the workings of mystics.

Tir'shan shed the flimsy blanket he had used to cover his nakedness. His long, unbound mane swayed as he approached the statue of Mrísena. The giant knelt before Her, and considered his plight. He had not functioned as a ri'sar'ri since he had become a Circle of One through consorting with Ayasha, and creating Cenatua, the newest Guardian. He could now heal wounds by himself that even a ri'sar'ri's circle could not. But as much as he had tried to deny it, there was clearly something wrong. Over many suns, he had constantly struggled to control his new level of power. In the end, it usually won. Although his great healings had been successful, invariably, he had lost consciousness after each attempt. It would take several days for him to regain his full mystic gift.

An uncontrolled blast of his power had felled Tygra, and in doing so, he had also brought down Talitha. He gazed upon the polished granite statue of the Goddess he served. Great one, I will give them all I have to restore what I have damaged. Take me in their place, for I have misjudged everything, he silently prayed.

The answer when it came was ridiculously simple. You must honor both aspects of yourself, Tir'shan, to do my bidding. You must open completely. Only in this way can you repair the bond between Tygra and Talitha.

A divine plan formed in his mind. He looked to his companions. He stood, somewhat unsteadily, but waved them back when they came forward to assist him. "I can manage for now. I know what I must do."

Te'sara, who stood near the elaborately carved door to the chamber, narrowed her blue eyes in suspicion. The middle-aged mystic indicated Tygra and Talitha. The comatose pair lay near each other on a large green blanket that covered the stone floor. The white gowns that they wore suggested that they were attired for a funeral rite, not a healing. "How could you dare to harm them!" she snarled.

Sri'rin, who was not much older than himself, attempted to placate the white tigress. "In the name of Mrísena, surely no one is beyond redemption, Te'sara. We still do not have a full accounting of what transpired last night.We only know what little Shaktar'ri saw, and that he summoned help."

Had Shaktar'ri followed him to Tygra's dwelling? If so, who had sent him? Tir'shan caught the notice of the younger mystic. It seems I have a double debt to you. By your actions, you saved the three of us. And now, you have managed to put your lover on my side. Shaktar'ri shrugged sheepishly, and so, confirmed his opinion.

Tir'shan faced the council of two. He bowed in respect. He straightened slowly, hoping that he would not faint. "I call Ayasha and Shaktar'ri to Circle!"

"Shaktar'ri is o'ril , like me! He cannot integrate his energy into a circle," Sri'rin protested, his pale blue eyes widening in agitation. "His vibration is highly specialized. You know this to be true. How can you even suggest it!"

"Your level of power would kill any mystic in a circle with you." Te'sara added.

"Untested conjectures all. I require them for this healing to save these two and myself," he replied firmly.

"What do you mean, yourself?" the black woman asked.

That he could look at her directly, because she was as tall as he, always pleased him. It suggested that they saw the world with the same view. He replied, "We have been wrong about my gift, Ayasha. With you and Shaktar'ri to help me, I can open those healing pathways in me that are blocked, so that I can finally function as both a true Circle of One and a ri'sar'ri, and anything in between."

"Madness!" Te'sara exclaimed. "You cannot be all things!"

"Perhaps we should discover if this is so," Shaktar'ri remarked. He placed his right hand affectionately on his companion's shoulder. "I am willing, Sri'rin."

"Name of the gods, no!" his lover cried. "To lose you would be--"

"Not possible," Shaktar'ri interjected lovingly. "I would never leave you. Trust the Ri'sar'ri."

Tir'shan considered the o'ril pair. Both were matched in height. Shaktar'ri, who was ruggedly built, enjoyed the physical challenges that warriors endured. Slender Sri'rin preferred more refined pursuits. The council member found expression in music and the arts. They were two perfectly matched people in very real danger of parting if he had guessed wrongly.

As if giving voice to his fears, Te'sara countered sharply, "Tir'shan's judgement lapsed regarding my nephew."

Everyone was connected. If he failed this time, families would be destroyed. If he had given even a causal thought to leaving behind his daughters and his lover, he could not move forward.

"Where do you wish me to be Ri'sar'ri?" Shaktar'ri asked, as he disrobed down to his ak'ti in calm defiance.

Not wasting the opportunity to act, Tir'shan ordered, "You must lie between these two. Then place one hand on Talitha, and one on Tygra."

"And if we forbid this!" Te'sara argued.

"Then you will have to answer to Mrísena, "Ayasha remarked, leaving the white tigress speechless. She turned to Tir'shan. "And what of me Ri'sar'ri?"

There was no doubt in her rich voice; she exuded courage. She is like Talitha in so many ways. Why haven't I really seen it or felt it until now, Tir'shan thought with unanticipated insight. He resisted reaching for her hand, convinced that his resolve would fail. When this is over, you will have all of me. This I promise you, Ayasha. I will keep you before Talitha in my heart, for you have earned that place.

"Ri'sar'ri?"

This healing was going to happen despite his growing dread. He forced out the next few words. "You must also lie down, Ayasha. As amusing as it may seem, your feet must rest against Shaktar'ri's to make a connection."

The younger mystic chuckled. "I hope your feet are warmer than mine, Guardian."

"I am no longer a Guardian, merely myself," she said with a sharp regret that knifed Tir'shan's heart. Ayasha undressed, and stood naked before the company. Astounded, Shaktar'ri whistled softly at the sight of her smooth black skin.

Tir'shan crossed over to a wooden chest, one of the few appointments in the room. He retrieved a small crystal sphere, and handed it to Ayasha. Struggling to keep his own focus, he said to his companions, "The effect will be like a waterfall if we are successful. A single, strong pulse from you, Shaktar'ri, will start the cascade within me. As a ri'sar'ri, I will channel Elidi'a'ra, the light of the Goddess. It will purify my power for healing. Like a vessel, I will fill to overflowing. Elidi'a'ra should remain in me, but the healing wave will not. It will have to flow from me into Tygra and Talitha. With Mrísena's blessing, it should restore their bond, and heal them. The excess will hopefully be drawn back into you, Shaktar'ri, due to your unusually strong vibration. It will then be your job to rein your own gift, and pulse what you have gathered from me into Ayasha.

"Normally, non-mystics function best as grounds, because there are no interfering vibrations to hinder the flow into the crystal. Although mystics have performed this function in a circle, it is never the optimal arrangement. I am gambling that your own healing abilities, Ayasha, will not conflict too much. Your origins are different from our own. I am counting on you to relax, and simply be a conduit, as anyone without the mystic gift would be in a ri'sar'ri's healing circle. The wave should flow through you directly into the gather stone. As you will be reclining too, it is best if you hold the crystal lightly, and rest it on your abdomen for support." He had spoken his plan without breaking down, and that was an achievement he would long remember if they lived.

Sri'rin was not convinced. He rebuked, "You must consciously direct the mystic wave to perform an actual healing. You cannot do that when functioning as a ri'sar'ri. In that aspect you are a mere vessel, and powerless to do anything. You would have to split your soul into two to do what you propose!"

"That is what I intend to do." He had stated what was clearly impossible, but remained the only way to proceed.

"The five of you will die," Te'sara said with certainty.

"Tygra and Talitha will clearly die if we do not act," Tir'shan reiterated. "You and Sri'rin have examined them. You know their bodies will eventually fail. In the name of Mrísena, please give us your blessing, or cast me out."

That she actually surrendered surprised him. Te'sara said to Sri'rin with resignation, "Why do those born in the north always cause trouble?"

Sri'rin's eyes brimmed with tears, but he did not answer. Te'sara took his hand and drew him into the shadows so the healing could commence.

*****

Tir'shan knelt on the blanket. Mrísena give us strength, he prayed one last time. He placed his left hand on Talitha's forehead, and the right on Tygra's. He sent his thoughts to Shaktar'ri, *Connect, my friend.*

In circles past, the flow of mystic power into him would gently lift him out of his body, and into a realm he could never clearly recall, except in his dreams. There his spirit would wait until his function as a vessel ended, and he returned into a body still filled with the light of the Goddess.

The blast that Shaktar'ri sent into him violently evicted his spirit. To his amazement, he saw not only his material form glowing violet, but also an ethereal version of himself, a diaphanous, confused rainbow. Without acknowledgment of his presence, the specter raised his arms, rose up, and disappeared. The corporeal mystic abruptly changed color from violet to silver.

The remaining insubstantial Tir'shan began to rise like his ghostly twin had done. The room dissolved. He fell with a thud upon a rocky road under a sky patterned with the billowing clouds of a hot summer afternoon. A mild breeze lifted the tufts of white fur that shielded his pointed ears, and caressed the umber stripes of his flowing ivory-brown mane. He studied his strangely solid hands. Where in the name of the Goddess am I? he wondered. He stood, his left hip twinging in pain from the hard landing.

The single road stretched both backward and forward into a misty landscape. A glint of gold caught his attention. He walked toward the anomaly, and found a frayed, golden cord crossing his path. It pulsed disturbingly like a beating heart. To the left, the glittering line entered a forest, and to the right, a cave in a wall of rock. Talitha will surround herself for protection, and Tygra will bury himself in guilt. He shook his head, knowing that he was correct in his judgement. He gathered his resolve and said, "Talitha first!" He jumped at the sound of his voice which echoed loudly.

He followed the lifeline into a maze of trees. The forest thinned eventually, and a clearing emerged. Talitha stood silently at the edge of a pool as if in a trance. The cord looped about her right ankle, but green vines wrapped around her naked body. As he approached her, new leaves sprouted on the vine in defense. If he did not act, she would soon be covered. He opened his hands, and let his power flow. Golden rays attacked the vine's root. The vine whipped about madly, not wishing to relinquish its grasp. Small flowers popped open along its length, their petals opening and closing with malevolent hissing. "I'm sorry, but you must release her," he declared, his power changing smoothly to hot white. Under his influence, even the trees began to shed their leaves.

Finally noting him, Talitha shouted in distress, "Tir'shan!"

He could not stand to wait an instant longer. He bounded forward, and tore the vine away from her. It shriveled instantly under his mystic touch.

Talitha swayed. He gathered her up into his arms. So petite, and so light, he thought with affection, but so strong.

Her sapphire eyes reciprocated the love that was demolishing his heart. She reached for him, and gently touched his neck.

If he kissed her now, they could remain at peace in the garden, all their trials and suffering forgotten. Let the others save themselves, he thought, weakening with desire. He pulled her close, his light enveloping her. This was how it was supposed to have been. Her body radiated a passionate red in response. "It is our decision," he murmured, his lips brushing hers.

The four simple words broke the spell. In another time and place, they had indeed celebrated their love, but in this life, they had chosen another road. In other lives, she and Tygra had also made the same decision. "No!" they said in unison. "No," they whispered in sad agreement

Tir'shan set her down, his light fading. Talitha insisted on holding his left hand like a frightened cub. They walked silently back to the road, as the forest disappeared. The lifeline trailed innocuously behind her.

Howling issued from the mouth of the cave. Talitha released his hand, and moved forward. He blocked her path. "You must wait here, "Tir'shan said sternly. He pointed to the damaged cord. "Reweave it, mystic," he ordered. She hesitated. "Your strength is his best chance."

Talitha knelt over the lifeline, and began to pour violet light into it."Goddess bless you, dear one," she said. Tir'shan wondered for whom she offered her prayer.

He walked into the cave, and was swept off his feet. A gale carried him in a great circle of despair. A winged, misshapen creature from nightmares bit his arm. Another latched on to his leg. "Enough of this nonsense," he roared, and flared with the potent light of a newborn star. The creatures vaporized. The wind calmed to a zephyr, and carried him over to a body so ravaged that little skin and fur remained to cover bone and sinew.

"In Mrísena's name, Tygra, why have you let yourself suffer so?" Tir'shan asked, anchoring himself with the lifeline that encircled Tygra's left ankle.

The person trapped inside the torn body could not reply in word or thought. But his dark amber eyes pleaded for release from his torment.

"The one who loves you awaits, Tygra. It is time to surrender your grief, and chose life. The dead would wish that for you," Tir'shan said, drawing the tiger in a close embrace. They drifted together on the gentle winds. Indescribable colors that emanated from the mystic washed over the architect, who opened his mouth in a wordless cry. The tiger lord resisted the healing, as if to punish himself for the grief to which he had succumbed. Tir'shan persisted in the healing until fatigue and pain began to take its toll on his stamina.

Tygra's eyes closed in exhausted relief. The wind intensified once more. An unpredictable force within the architect still manifested. Now was the time of greatest danger, for the mystic needed to break free of the maddening whirlwind that kept them in the dark cavern. Like a storm god, Tir'shan rode the wind toward the entrance of the cave. Still holding the tiger, he pushed forward with a roar, and broke free. He dropped onto the hard ground, taking the brunt of the fall. Together they tumbled out of the cave and into the sunlight. The wall of rock faded into nothingness until all that remained was the road, a featureless plain and the distant mists.

Tir'shan stood, another bolt of pain coursing down his already abused left leg. The recumbent tiger had not moved. "Gods, damn you, architect!" the white tiger shouted in frustration. "Rise!"

"Please don't yell at him," Talitha said, without withdrawing her focus or her power from the throbbing cord she attempted to reweave.

Limping, Tir'shan dragged the tiger over to the Talitha. She had done her work well, but the lifeline required the touch of her lover to become whole. "Kiss him," he snapped, his patience and strength dwindling.

A smile flitted across her face. "You have read too many fanciful stories, Tir'shan." She bent over Tygra, and stroked his face. The architect opened his eyes. With words Tir'shan could not hear, she coaxed her lover over to the damaged section of cord. Leaning over it together, they applied their power. To the white tiger's shock, the healing wave that emanated from Tygra was a priestly violet, not blue. That fact would introduce a whole new catalogue of complexity to the architect's already turbulent life.

Both stopped, leaned back on their legs, and looked questioningly at the tall mystic.

"Twenty demons," Tir'shan grumbled, for the lifeline remained frayed. There was only one way to finish it. He reluctantly knelt beside the lovers. Extending his hands, he applied his gift. Shifting wavelengths of light rewove most of breaks, but some stubbornly remained. He withdrew his power, a shudder going through his body. This is taking too much time, he thought with increasing concern for Ayasha and Shaktar'ri. He raised his arms in supplication. "Mrísena, deliver unto me what I require."

A thunderclap reverberated above them. Two flames materialized over the cord, one red and one green. A piercing sound transformed them into violet pillars of light. The thin columns sank into the lifeline. A blinding flash ended everything.

*****

Tir'shan sat back on his numb legs. Filled with Elidi'a'ra, his aching body demanded release. He dismissed the o'ril pair that glowed green, and the insignificant, dull blue male. All the females shone an enticing red, which deepened his desire. To his chagrin, not one of the three seemed to notice his obvious dilemma.

Tygra and Talitha silently embraced. Sri'rin tenderly supported Shaktar'ri. Ayasha held the glowing gather stone, while Te'sara conversed in muted tones about the release of its power.

Within the space of a breath, the room inexplicably emptied, leaving him quite alone. His shoulders became warm. He leaned back. A tigress now sat beside him, lightning bolts of white striping her incredible ebony fur and mane. Her aura blazed a most impressive scarlet, which drove his desire to unbelievable levels. She kissed him, and the world fell away.

*****

Someone blew on his ear. He did not have the opportunity to be pleased or irritated. Tir'shan reflexively opened his eyes.

Shaktar'ri leaned back on his chair in smug satisfaction. "I told you," he said to Ayasha, who stood by his side. "A puff of breath never fails to revive a sleeping ri'sar'ri."

"I will remember your trick," remarked the black woman.

Tir'shan flushed from his head to his toes in embarrassment. He sat up in the bed, the blanket that had covered him dropping to his hips. He scowled at Shaktar'ri.

The younger mystic laughed heartily at his discomfort. A length of red silk, which he had loosely arranged on his muscular body, barely covered that which made him male. His disheveled mane only enhanced his state of disarray.

"Where did you leave the rest of your wardrobe?" Tir'shan snipped, wondering what equally remarkable state he would find Sri'rin in should he decide to look. Ayasha placed her right hand to her lips to hide her grin. At least she was respectably attired in her caftan and knit cap.

The smile still on his face, Shaktar'ri replied, "Strange words for one who conducts his circle in the nude." He stood. "Forgive me, Ri'sar'ri, the night grows old. As you might surmise, I must attend to urgent matters...affecting the mystic council." He bowed, and quickly left the room.

"Sri'rin will never stop Shaktar'ri from sitting in your circle again, Ri'sar'ri," Ayasha said, her dark eyes twinkling in amusement

"Did my circle sit well with you?" Tir'shan asked, unsure of how much information his tired mind could hold.

The black woman sat on the edge of the bed, and studied him carefully. "You do not remember, do you?"

"I recall telling Shaktar'ri to initiate the circle, but after that...." Niggling thoughts percolated to the front of his mind. He simply could not order the fleeting images, which refused to take root in his memory."I was ignored!" he blurted suddenly, wondering how he had formed such a bizarre thought.

"Hardly," Ayasha snorted. "When you ended the healing, you were conscious. Te'sara and I attempted to communicate with you by word and thought, but you disregarded us. You stared intently at something we could not see. We--"

He was too distracted for a full accounting of events. "Please tell me: Were we successful?" he interrupted.

Without bristling at his rudeness, Ayasha answered, "I would venture to guess that Tygra and Talitha have spent their time since the circle in the same manner as Shaktar'ri and Sri'rin."

Tir'shan ran his hands through his long mane. He flopped back, his head hitting the pillow with a soft thump. He rested his hands over his abdomen, and relaxed. Contentment eased the burdens he had carried in heart. The Goddess had heard his prayers, and had seen fit to answer them.

"Only Te'sara has suffered disappointment this day," the black woman added dryly.

He realized that Ayasha had removed the touch of the Goddess from his willing body, even if he could not recall it. As if to verify her involvement, she casually stroked the planes of his broad white chest.

Under the blanket, his desire began to build. Goddess help him, it would be a long night.