(Anthology) Forever Read online

  “Catherine,” he said with a sigh, “some men and women have less. I know I’ve settled for less—”

  “You’re just being kind. I know I must scare you. I know you don’t want to want me. I know you don’t believe for a moment that we belong together. You think we go past being wrong for each other into poison.”

  “Geez—I’m doing an awful lot of analyzing here.”

  Why was Hawk smiling? she wondered, when he had to be in pain.

  Hawk had raised scars on his wrists and hands. She could see them clearly now that he was raking his fingers through his hair. The scars were red, still fresh. He had been through so much during his imprisonment! He had risked his life to save others, and now he needed a peaceful mind to recuperate from the torture he’d gone through. She was desperate to help him, desperate to love him and to have him love her, but sometimes the greatest love of all is in letting the beloved one go.

  She recalled his psychic entreaty to her, remembered that branch Hawk spoke of. Well, they were both out on a branch, and Catherine was very much afraid that the tree limb was cracking under their combined weight. It was up to her to fly away and leave him in peace.

  “Hawk, there is a way to sever our psychic connection. I could try to travel back in time to the year 1644, to when our ancestors were lovers in an early pilgrim settlement in Plymouth Massachusetts. I could try to sever our psychic connection before it ever took hold—”

  * * * * *

  In the summer of 1644, the pniese had claimed exclusive rights to Euphremia Prim’s body, but he had refused to wed her in traditional tribal ceremony.

  One night, in a Neesquattow—house with two fires—there was a ‘get together’ for the unattached male and female members of the tribe. Hawk was an eligible buck, and the tribal pniese; it would have been considered an insult if he did not participate.

  Euphremia was among the naked females who sat cross-legged on one side of the Neesquattow’s bulrush-covered walls. Bucks, stripped down to their loin skins, sat on the other side. As was the custom, each side silently eyed the other.

  Once the ‘getting acquainted’ part of the evening was over, a wise woman entered the wetus and blindfolded the females. This was done to avoid petty jealousy and squabbles amongst the women.

  Soon, the skin-covered communal sleeping platform was rife with the grunts and sighs and scents of sex as bucks chose females to mate. After copulation, the female partner was swapped, and often times shared, amongst the males.

  Like the marriageable Wampanoag females, Euphremia was touched and stroked and fondled by the bucks. At times, by one set of hands, sometimes by two or three pairs, the eventual coitus done in every conceivable configuration.

  By dawn, when the wise woman re-entered the wetus to remove the blindfolds, Euphremia’s vagina was raw and sore from non-stop intercourse and her buttocks were bruised from a gentle but insistent anal penetration. The things that had been placed inside both her back and front openings were still lodged there; they made her unable to stay still. Like the rest of the females, Euphremia writhed on the sleeping platform on her hands and knees, needing to copulate. Now! With anyone who would have her; she didn’t care who—

  The males, grinning wickedly, didn’t comply. Instead, the females were herded like animals in heat, naked and writhing, through the village to the stream.

  At the stream, the arrogant bucks watched while the frustrated females bathed and rubbed themselves, generally putting on a lewd show for their entertainment. By that point, the females were more than willing to wed whoever asked them, just for sexual relief.

  Euphremia didn’t know how many men had shared her body the night before or who they were, but Hawk knew.

  The reticent pniese refused to speak of it…or to ask her to marry him.

  He had returned her to his wetus, and after removing the stone from her vagina and the smooth animal bone from her anus, he’d indulged both of her needs. Afterwards, he told he would release her back to her people—

  * * * * *

  It was time to tell Hawk the truth.

  “You are the ancestor of a proud Wampanoag pniese, a wise warrior called Hawk Black Sky, nephew to sachem Massasoit. I am the ancestor of Euphremia Prim. Your ancestor took my ancestor as a raiding party trophy and raped her. They lived together for a summer and were blissfully happy, but he never told her he loved her. He set her free, Hawk, without ever saying the words! She married someone else, as did he.”

  Hawk left his side of the room and began to approach. Slowly. Methodically. He was a careful man, even when his emotions were volatile.

  In the intervening seconds before he closed the space that separated them, Catherine listened to the rapid tempo of her pulse, her heart, her breathing. All her senses were agonizingly sharp, magnified far beyond reality.

  He took one more step and leaned into her; only a buffer of air kept their bodies from touching. His tortured face was within millimeters of her own. His nostrils were flaring. He seemed to breathe her in, cell by cell.

  She was doing the same. They were each of them trying to absorb the essence of the other without ever making contact. The futility of that notion had long ago been written in the stars.

  It hurt to witness the extent of Hawk’s aloneness.

  It hurt to experience the extent of her own.

  A person could die of loneliness long before disease ever claimed them. A person could die of a wasting spirit long before their physical body gave out. That’s what was happening to him. John Hawk had never allowed himself the simple pleasure of being close to another human being and he was shriveling up inside because of it. He needed to be inside her as much as she needed to have him there. But Catherine knew he was refusing the pull, he was fighting their connection. The psychic energy was draining him of his inner spirit. She had to let him go!

  Then, something miraculous happened. The harsh planes of Hawk’s face which had first reflected disbelief, now showed a reluctant…not acceptance…that was too much to expect…but maybe the start of coming to terms with who he really was.

  “I was adopted,” he said slowly. “There are no records of my birth.”

  “You have the blood of the Native People flowing in your veins.”

  He traced the outline of her face; the stroke of his fingers was so, so sweet. “My ancestor had to have loved your ancestor back then. If Euphremia was anything like you, how could he not have loved her? It was cowardice on his part that caused him not to commit to her; it was fear that caused him to set her free. My ancestor was a cowardly fool!”

  Hawk was touching her face, his fingers lingering, and the action was entirely of his own volition! Hawk was giving her a Valentine’s gift beyond compare, and it would be the height of selfishness not to reciprocate in kind. Despite the fact that he was touching her, she knew Hawk must still wish to be free of her! Well, her Valentine’s gift to him was to make his wish come true.

  Chapter 10

  Less than an hour later, Hawk followed the melodic singing into the bedroom.

  Catherine was standing against the wall, chanting. Her beautiful face was radiant, transformed by something he saw, but couldn’t give name to, or totally understand. Perhaps he never would…

  When she saw him, she stopped her song, closed her eyes, and repeated the words he had written with his own blood:

  Witchy-woman,

  A wild raptor trembles on the branch, his plumage broken.

  Flight is impossible; the sky is too far away.

  Will you catch the bird before he falls?

  SOSays Accipiter

  “We are one another’s receptor,” she said, staring at him, unblinking, eyes wide open. “That’s how I knew where you were in that horrid jungle. You called to me and I heard you, the same way we heard each other when we were children. The only way for me to free you of our psychic bond is to go back in time.”

  Hawk went to her, not touching her, but so close the fine hairs around her temples l
ifted at his breathing, so near he breathed in the scent of roses and the breath she’d just released. From her mouth to his mouth. A kiss without touching.

  Catherine had shaken him to the core of his beliefs. Was his ancestor a Wampanoag pniese? Had his ancestor mated in a green forest with a beautiful fair-haired pilgrim, a woman he had raped, fallen in love with, and then refused to marry? Was the psychic connection between Catherine and him real? And, most importantly, did any of it really matter?

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Hawk,” Catherine said, and held out her hand.

  “What is it?” he asked, as the contents of her open palm settled into his own.

  “It’s a feather from a ceremonial headdress your ancestor wore in 1644. The feather is my Valentine’s Day gift to you. That, and making your wish come true: I’m going away, Hawk.”

  “I made no such wish!” Then, his horror escalating: “You’re leaving me?” He was unable to believe his ears, to grasp what she was saying. “But where are you going?”

  “To a calm stream in a green forest. Our ancestors met there in 1644. Somehow, someway, I must break our psychic connection.”

  “No. Don’t go. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave me!” He thumbed her lush mouth. “Catherine, please, sweetheart, we can’t change the past. We can only change the present.”

  “W-what are you saying, Hawk?”

  “I’m saying, don’t go. Please don’t go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want you to. Because I couldn’t bear it if you left me. Because you’re the only thing that has kept me alive. Because you’re the only woman I’ll ever love. Because you’re my damn bliss. You can’t make it right in the past. But I can make it right now. Right this very minute. Forgive me, Catherine. Please forgive me. For what I said, for how I treated you. I’m begging you. And I swear if you do, I will spend the rest of my life making this night up to you.”

  “Hawk, no. Shh. There’s no need.” She touched his lips with a fingertip and he felt her love flowing over him, healing him.

  “There’s every need,” he insisted, feeling stronger than he had felt in a very long time. “My ancestor needs me to say the words. I need to say the words.”

  “Then, I forgive you, Hawk,” she murmured. “Of course, I forgive you.”

  Hawk took Catherine by the shoulders and brought her so close that even a ceremonial feather couldn’t come between them. Neither could a mistake from the past.

  “I love you, Catherine. I’ll always love you. Forever. Marry me?”

  At Catherine’s softly answered, “Yes,” Hawk slanted his strong jaw to hers and took his beautiful witch’s lips.

  A Man Called Lust

  © Stephanie Burke, 2002.

  Prologue

  Hold these close to your heart,

  So that you will never forget me.

  Our time is short!

  We are blessed with such a short time.

  One day

  Yet I know that this one day

  This one day eternal

  Will sustain me for the year.

  For if they discover our secrets

  Those secrets will destroy us.

  A letter from the box

  Trembling, I reached inside and let my hands gently caress the aged parchment paper.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I felt each bump and ridge of the old papers, felt the emotion that permeated each thin sheet.

  The appointed hour was almost here.

  I stared intently into the mirror that sat on my dresser and again saw nothing special, nothing unique, and nothing that I could figure would make me the recipient of such a wondrous gift.

  Large brown eyes, Plain Jane eyes. Same medium length black hair, caramel colored skin. Nothing exotic or beautiful, just plain old me.

  I wondered what my parents were thinking when they made me, plain old me, guardian of their secret treasures, the letter and the carved wooden box.

  But I blessed them, wherever they were, for the duty that became a gift of immeasurable delight.

  From the moment I’d received it so long ago; it had changed my life.

  As the clock struck midnight on this night of all nights, I felt my pulse quicken and my eyes flash.

  It was time…time to greet my love.

  Even as I watched, the mirror began to grow cloudy. White and purple mists swirled and danced on its surface. Faster and faster they twirled, creating a cyclone of color in the rather dullness of my room. Faster and faster they turned, keeping pace with my pounding heart, and then I saw his face.

  Large lavender eyes blinked owlishly at me, before the mist began to fade. As I watched, a slender, almost delicate hand pressed against some invisible barrier, leaned against it and without a sound, forced its way through.

  “My love,” the reed thin tinkling voice, distorted by distance and space, whispered as the hand beckoned me to follow.

  It was time.

  My heart racing in anticipation, I eased the lid closed on the letters and placed my hand in his.

  It was Valentine’s Day and, for a few hours, I would be away from the wasteland that the wars of 3009 created. I would be away from the land that never produced enough to eat, away from the struggling people, the constant darkness that surrounded the Earth, away from the misery of my life here.

  For a time, I would be free, I would be with him, and this yearly blessing allowed me to stay sane, to survive another year here.

  Without him.

  Chapter One

  Come quickly, come alone!

  If you are followed, disaster will surely be fall us!

  Together, we will defy those who would separate us

  Those who are against us.

  But as I stare into this mirror,

  At my reflection, know this.

  In my eyes, I see you.

  And I love you, forever

  A letter to my love; from the letter box

  As always, I first felt a chill as I pressed one hand against the glass.

  This mirror is all the vanity that I have left, all of my femininity, the only thing of beauty that I own. And as I leaned against its familiar chill, I again prayed that this time I would find a way to stay.

  The hand I held was warm, pulsing with light, almost hot to touch. And he was mine.

  Pressing harder, I began to feel the barrier of glass, like some thick gel, part for me. Its coolness eased past my face, making my nose itch as I began to force my way through. That warm hand was a beacon urging me to move faster. I closed my eyes and my body tingled as my face began to pass through.

  This was always the hardest part, the face. Even the popping of my ears never sent a shiver up my spine as the coolness of magic and time slipping by, as if it would rip me back or toss me into an eternity lost in a void of darkness. I never watched, once I opened my eyes and was almost thrust into shock as the colors filtered and danced before my eyes. They surrounded me like they knew I was some anomaly that didn’t belong.

  But as soon as I felt the coolness on my neck, the hand that still held mine gave a tug, and almost like a pea popping from a pod, I was forced through. I was free of the mirror and once again, I faced my love, my life, my air, my reason for being.

  “Sinopee,” he breathed as I threw myself into his arms. His voice was as raspy and deep as I remembered.

  “Lust,” I breathed into his chest, inhaling the rich sent of him, almost tasting him as I lost myself in his touch.

  His name was Luster, but I called him Lust. But oh, how he sparked and shined in the sunlight.

  His large almond shaped lavender eyes perfectly matched his hair so silver it sparkled. This long mane hung to below his buttocks and shimmered with his every movement. His skin, so pale and delicate in appearance, gave him an elf like quality, an illusion supported by his set of high pointed ears. But that is all that’s fae about Luster.

  He was over six feet of strong muscled warrior. The sword that hun
g at his back was no mere ornament. I had seen him practice with the sharp blade and he could do serious damage when he wanted.

  Like always when he greeted me, he was dressed only in tight black leather pants and knee high boots. The silver ring in his left nipple glistened, as did his hair, as did his whole body. On his wrists was a set of huge black braces, tooled with the name of his clan and the land that he was born to control, but denied…by them.

  “You have come back to me.” His hands, those warm, work hardened hands, caressed my face as he lifted my head to meet his gaze.

  “I will always come back to you. You are my life.”

  “I am your fuck toy and you know it.” His rumbling laughter belied any seriousness in his tone.

  “And I only have a day, so let’s get to it!” I playfully demanded.

  “Commanding creature,” he hissed as he tangled his hands in my thick hair. “Do you not know who you order about?”

  “Yes, my fuck toy, and the best fuck toy I ever happened to own!”

  “Own? Me? Great warrior that I am? It is you, who are my object! And it is you who will find herself in serious trouble if you do not give me the respect I deserve!”

  One would almost think he was serious, if it were not for the laughter sparkling in his eyes.

  “I respect you,” I taunted. “Now take off the pants! I don’t have all day!”

  He threw his head back, roaring with laughter, this merry sound carrying over the lush green grasses and tall trees that I would have never experienced had he not been the one to perform the sacred ritual that drew me, through the words in the letters, through the mirror.

  “I have missed you, Sinopee.”

  “And I you, Lust,” I replied, tears against my will, welling up in my eyes.

  “None of that! You have time for tears after the mirror draws you back. For now, I intend on enjoying what I have missed during you long absence.”

  “No relief?” I teased as he took the wooden box with the letters and placed them in a pouch at his side.