Part 19 (1/2)
”I'll see you later,” she promised. ”We'll talk. Okay?”
”Yeah. We'll talk.”
Having done the proper thing, she fled with Windwolf.
7: Carbon-based Transformation
Windwolf's car was a silver Rolls-Royce. b.u.t.tery-soft leather covered the seats. The privacy s.h.i.+eld between the front and back sections turned opaque. The door shut, enclosing them in a womb of darkness, and Tinker discovered that the barriers between her and Windwolf remained down. Despite the couch-sized backseat, Windwolf sat close beside her, their bodies touching in the dark.
”You look lovely,” Windwolf murmured into her ear.
She breathed in his warm scent, of sandalwood and leather. ”How did you find me?”
”I had notes delivered to every place you might be today. You opened one and triggered the tracking spell on it. I would have found you anywhere tonight.”
”Oh.”
He cradled her left hand in his. ”I would have come for you sooner, but there was much to prepare.” He bowed his head over her hand, and kissed her palm, soft as b.u.t.terflies alighting. ”I wish there was more time, but that is something that you, as a human, do not have. Just yesterday, it seems, you were a child. I lost that chance to protect you. Now that I have found you, and come to know you, I do not wish to lose you again.”
He ran his tongue feather light over the pulse point on her wrist, just as he had done at the hospice. G.o.ds, it felt even better when she was fully awake.
Her fingers curved and touched the supple pearl of his ear lobe. She found herself exploring the alien beauty of his ear, so different from her own. ”You don't mind me touching you?”
”Tonight it is you, not the saijin saijin,” he said huskily.
She took that as permission to explore. No stubble marred the line of his jaw, as elves did not have facial hair. He kissed her fingers as she glided them over his full mouth. In the strong column of his neck, she found his pulse just over his high s.h.i.+rt collar. Hard muscles played under the warm silk. By touch she found the structure of his shoulders, the solidness of bone. She came to the line of his b.u.t.tons, and he undid them before her curious fingers. His skin under the s.h.i.+rt was soft and smooth as the silk, sculptured into taunt muscles.
”Do you lift weights?” she whispered as he s.h.i.+fted them, lifting up her knee as he settled back against the seat, pulling her after him. In one graceful motion, she found herself straddling his lap, facing him.
”It is the sword play, it is hard work.”
Her exploration peeled back his s.h.i.+rt, laying bare his upper torso. The cloth lay draped across his back and over his forearms. His nipples were dark coins and his abdomen a stack of well-defined muscles. His s.h.i.+rttails were still tucked into his pants; white silk cut off by black suede. Her dress had ridden up where she straddled Windwolf, and they pressed together with anatomical correctness, only leather and silk separating them.
What was she doing? She just bolted from Nathan, afraid of going too fast, and here she was, stripping the clothes off of Windwolf.
But being with Nathan had been like losing the brakes on a big truck-careening out of control. He had scared her. He picked her up, and overwhelmed her with his strength. What's more, there had been none of this gentle exploration; Nathan had zeroed in on her private zones, ignoring the tiny erotic places that Windwolf exploited. Windwolf had yet to touch her beyond her arms and back.
If she had gone home with Nathan, what they would have had was s.e.x.
What she was doing with Windwolf-it felt like making love. She rested her hand on his chest, and felt the beat of his heart, and knew that she trusted him. She leaned forward and kissed him tentatively. He opened his mouth to her, and he tasted of plums.
”Can the driver see us?” she whispered, her heart hammering in her chest at her own boldness.
”No. Nor can he hear. We are in our own private s.p.a.ce here.”
”Make love to me. I want you to be my first.”
”Gladly.” He touched her cheek. ”But not here. We're nearly at the lodge.”
Lodge? The landscape beyond the windows was dark, and she suddenly realized that they hadn't gone through downtown, that they weren't heading for her loft. Pittsburgh was far behind them, and they traveled now through the primal forests of Elfhome.
”Where are we going?”
”When I'm in Pittsburgh, I use this hunting lodge.” Windwolf looked out into the pa.s.sing darkness. ”It was the only structure here before Pittsburgh arrived. I've had it enlarged, but it is not very convenient. We're just arriving.”
She got the impression of the forest growing only slightly less dense before the Rolls came to a stop. For a moment she was annoyed that they hadn't gone to her place, and then she thought of all the dirty dishes piled in her kitchen sink, and her dirty clothes strewn on her bedroom floor. Okay, so Windwolf's place would be cla.s.sier than hers.
”Come.” Windwolf slid out from under her. ”There is not much time. We must hurry.”
The driver opened their door. Windwolf got out without bothering to b.u.t.ton his s.h.i.+rt.
She scrambled after him, puzzled and frustrated. She thought things were working up to them making love. ”Why are we hurrying?”
”There are times when a spell is more likely to succeed than others.” Windwolf took her hand and led her through a row of tall trees, branches interwoven, their pale bark gleaming in the candlelight. Moss-covered boulders lurked like giants in the shadows beyond the trees. ”It has to do with the alignment of stars and planets, the Sun and Moon, the nature of the magic. A blessing should be done at noon, when the Moon is full and in the day's sky. A curse should be done at night, after the set of the new Moon, when none of the planets are on the horizon.”
Windwolf chose a path down into a steep ravine, across a stream on an arched wooden bridge, and up steps cut into living rock. ”Sometimes there is leeway. An optimal effect comes when the conditions are right, but still, the spell can be cast even if the time is wrong. A blessing can be placed at night, but it will not be as strong.”
”Perhaps it has to do with gravity.” Where were they going? Where were they going?
On the summit sat a lone structure; an open shelter with fairy silk hung from the eaves. It glowed softly like a Chinese lantern, surrounded by dark, silent forest. Tinker paused, glancing back the way they'd come, and found they'd climbed up above the treetops. Pittsburgh was nowhere to be seen on the night horizon. The moon was rising, bright as a spotlight, already was.h.i.+ng out the brilliance of Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, and Venus' conjunction.
”This spell should be done now.” Windwolf kissed her brow, his breath warm on her face. ”The conditions will never be this perfect again, not in a human's lifetime.”
”What spell?”
”Come,” he urged her to the shelter.
One of the silk panels had been tied back, and looking inside, she recognized the building for what it was.
One heard of such places, where elves did powerful spells. Secluded away from anything that could affect a spell, the sites rested on the intersection of strong ley lines, tapping directly into an incredible amount of power. Those ley lines were permanently carved into a floor of white marble. White to show the tracings of a spell. Stone to act as a natural insulator. The marble sat on limestone bedrock, and the wooden shelter was constructed with no nails, containing not a single sc.r.a.p of metal.
”Wow!” Tinker whispered.
A ma.s.sively complex spell was inked out onto the shelter's stone floor. Even without knowing the spell, Tinker recognized it as a major enchantment. She studied the design, trying to find any components she knew. She could pick out that they built in an error-testing loop, and a slight blur on the tracings indicated that they had done a debugging run already.
”Take this off.” Windwolf slid her jacket off her shoulders. ”There is metal woven into it.”
Tinker shuddered at the thought of wearing metal near an active spell. She stepped out of her high heels, balancing with one hand on Windwolf's arm; her shoes might have a steel shank worked into them. Jacket and high heels went onto a wooden table beside them, well outside the shelter. Tinker fished through her bra until she found the key to her loft. The key joined the others on the table.
”So, what is this?” Tinker asked. ”I thought we were going to make love.”
”We will.” He kissed a line up her bare shoulder to the nape of her neck.
”Oh, good.” She reached for him and found his s.h.i.+rt still unb.u.t.toned, all that wonderful, warm skin to explore.
He unzipped her dress and eased it off her, murmuring, ”This too must go.”