Cyberevolution Book One: The Awakening: Fifty Shades of Dark Kaitlyn O'Connor by Kaitlyn O'Connor, Kimberly Zant, Marie Morin, Stacey St.James, Goldie McBride (5)

A mantakortus caught her before she could reach the doorway.  Grasping her hair and forcing her to bend forward, he penetrated her with his double pronged member before she could even fully grasp his intent.  He released her almost as suddenly as he had grabbed her, so abruptly that Lilith sprawled onto the pillows strewn about the cave floor.  Even as she struggled to roll over and get to her feet, a hand curled around her upper arm, snatching her up.

Gaelen’s eyes were blazing with fury when she looked up at him.

Without a word, ignoring the gawking surprise of the other demons in the cavern that he’d interfered in the coupling, he marched her through the room and into the corridor.  She began to struggle against him when she recovered from her own surprise.  He ignored that, as well, dragging her behind him so quickly that she had to race to keep her feet beneath her.  She was already short of breath by the time they entered the first of the small ‘waiting’ rooms where she had stayed before. 

Her certainty that he had taken her there to punish her, however, vanished when he went through with barely a pause and out again into another passage.  She was near to dropping with fatigue from the pace by the time they had winded their way along one passage after another, through cavern after cavern, some small, some tiny, some tremendous. 

The light of day shining through the open mouth at the entrance to the labyrinth nearly blinded her when they came upon it, for she’d had nothing but the dull glow of torches to see by for many weeks.  She shielded her eyes from the bright light as he scooped her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as he launched himself into the air. 

Her stomach went weightless.  Too unnerved to concern herself with her anger, she threw her arms around his neck, holding tightly.  It seemed they flew for far longer than they needed to only to reach the mouth of the cavern high in the outer wall.  Finally, Lilith felt them begin to descend.  She did not loosen her grip, though, until she felt the jolt as Gaelen settled to the earth.

As he released her, allowing her feet to slide to the ground, Lilith looked around curiously and realized that they were deep in the forest.  She recognized the stream nearby, for it led past her own cottage. 

He caught her face between his palms, tipping her head back so that she was forced to look up at him.  For several moments, he merely studied her.  Finally, he slipped his hands upward until his palms cupped either side of her head and his golden eyes seemed to glow with an inner blaze.  Mesmerized by the fire she saw in those golden depths, Lilith found she could not look away.  Dizziness swept through her and then the darkness of nothingness.

* * * *

Lilith swam upward through the fog and surfaced, becoming aware of the sounds of the forest around her.  Her head was pounding and she lifted a hand to it as she opened her eyes and sat up.

Crouched no more than three feet from her was a creature of the nether world, a Hawkin she realized as her gaze settled on the golden Hawk-like wings sprouting from his back.  Unnerved by his unblinking gaze, she shifted away from him, afraid even to leap to her feet and try to run.

He made no attempt to stop her and some of the fear dissipated as she stared at him, frowning in confusion as a vague sense of recognition went through her.  To her stunned surprise, his face contorted abruptly as if he was in terrible pain.  His eyes grew glassy, as if moisture gathered in them.  He squeezed his eyes closed, as if he could not bear to look at her, forcing the moisture to overflow and creating a shining rivulet along either pain contorted cheek.

Abruptly, he sprang to his feet and shot upward, flapping his great wings as he climbed skyward threading his way through the boughs of the trees.  Still too stunned to do anything else, she watched until he disappeared above the tops of the trees, hidden at last from her view by the dense foliage.

Frowning, still confused, her head throbbing fit to split, she looked around, wondering how she’d come to be in the forest with no recollection of getting where she was.  A shiver went through her as a breeze tickled over her and she looked down at herself, feeling a jolt of horror and even more confusion when she saw she was completely naked save for the obscene rings she discovered in her nipples, and lower, in her woman’s place.

There was no sign of her clothing, anywhere that she could see.

Had that thing raped her, she wondered?  Was that why she was naked?  Was that how she had come to be so far from her cottage with no memory of even getting here?  Had he so terrorized her when he’d captured her that her mind simply had not been able to hold the memory?

He had not looked terrible, though, or even frightening.  He had looked—hurt, so terribly wounded that she had ached to look at him.

She could not deal with that.  She had no idea why she would feel empathy for his pain when she was in such distress herself, especially for a creature of the demon world, but she could not think about that now.  She had herself to worry about.

Glancing around nervously to make certain there was no one around to see her, she got up, found her bearings and began to race toward her cottage. 

Relief filled her when she realized she was nearing the shelter she sought.  She skidded to a halt, though, when she reached the clearing where her cottage sat, gazing around at her home in stunned disbelief.  Her animals were gone, her garden flattened.  The cottage had no door, no shutters.  The wooden settle where she often sat on her porch to prepare the food from her garden had been broken into pieces.  Fearing what she would find inside, she hesitated for many long moments and finally crossed her yard slowly to peer into the doorway.

Everything inside had been smashed and destroyed, everything that had remained, for it was virtually empty. 

Too stunned even to feel anything at first, she backed away again and sank weakly to the stoop, staring blankly at the signs of destruction while it slowly seeped into her mind that everything that she had had was gone or destroyed.  Tears welled into her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.  “Why?” she cried out with a mixture of pain and bewilderment, not even certain who she blamed, who she thought had done this.  “Why did you do this to me?”

Curling up tightly in a ball, she dropped her cheek to her knees, wrapped her arms around her legs and sobbed brokenly for all the things lost to her; her mother’s belongings, her own, and the curtains and coverlets and pillows her and her mother had made together—all the many things that had given her comfort in the lonely years since her mother had died.

* * * *

Gaelen was within sight of the mouth of the labyrinth before the pain fisting in his chest eased enough that he could drag in a deep breath, before his brain began to function again.  He had meant to stay and watch over her until he knew that she would be all right, he remembered abruptly, feeling an inexplicable anxiety crush down on him as he recalled his concern that the villagers might try to harm her.  Instead of heading directly toward the opening to the labyrinth, he cut a sharp circle in the sky, hovering for several moments and finally turned back the way he’d come.

It was not difficult to find her.  He did not think he would have had great difficulty in any event, but he heard her weeping long before he saw her.  Rage rushed over him at the sounds of hurt, at the protective way she had curled in upon herself.  Once he had swept the area around her cottage with his keen gaze, seeking something or someone to rip to shreds, however, he saw that there was no sign of anyone else, no sign that anyone had been anywhere near the place in many weeks.

Baffled, still struggling against both his own pain and his rage that she was hurt and he could not understand why, he settled finally on a broad bough above her, crouching to watch her and trying to fathom why she was weeping.  She was not injured that he could see.  It occurred to him that she might be afraid, but he could not believe that he had frightened her so much that that accounted for her wailing.  She had looked at him with fear, true, and distrust and without recognition and he had felt pain as if she had stabbed him in the chest with a blade, so much pain that he still ached with it, but that would not explain hers.

Finally, reluctantly, he dragged his gaze from her and looked around in search of the answer.  It was then that he realized everything was a shambles.  There was no livestock anywhere to be seen, no neat fences.  The cottage itself looked battered and broken.  As many years as had passed since he had come to this place, he knew it had not looked like this before.

After a moment, he leapt from the bough, spreading his wings and gliding to the earth on the back side of the cottage and strode to the window to look in.  Surprise and then fresh fury rushed through him as he took in the state of the cottage and understood at last why Lilith was so devastated. 

The villagers had come after they had left her chained at the rock, he realized, and what they had not taken, they had destroyed. 

It was a wonder they had not burned the cottage to the ground, but he supposed they had been too fearful the fire might follow the forest to the village and take their homes, as well.

The longer he listened to her sorrow, the angrier he became.  Resolutely, he turned and left when he could bear it no longer, taking to the sky again and following the narrow ribbon of path that wound through the trees from Lilith’s cottage to the village. 

Most of the villagers were gathered near the center of the town when he reached it.  Curbing the urge to descend at once in a rage, he circled slowly overhead while he considered the situation, trying to decide if he merely wanted to vent his fury upon them, or if it would be better to try to take back what they had stolen to soothe Lilith.

He thought it would make him feel better to destroy something, to release the pain and anger that felt as if it was choking him.

He had not wanted to let Lilith go.  Mostly that had been because he could not bear to think of doing so, but he was afraid for her, too, because of what the villagers had done to her before.  It had been harder still to remove her memories because he was a part of those memories and he had not wanted her to forget him.  It had hurt when he had given Gwyneth the peace of forgetfulness, so much that he had never forgotten the pain even though he had been very young at the time.  But even that had not been as bad as setting Lilith free.

Why had Gwyneth told him Lilith would be him if it was not so, he wondered angrily?  She said that she had seen it, that he must remember the ways she had taught him so that he wouldn’t harm his Lilith or frighten her and then she would give herself to him gladly.  He could not understand what had gone wrong unless Gwyneth had lied to him.

He could not believe that, but he wasn’t certain whether it was because he had been tricked by her sweetness and her gentle ways, or if he simply did not want to believe it. 

As he studied the mortals below him, though, it occurred to him that, perhaps, Lilith had not been able to accept what he was.  He did not look as mortals did.  He had thought that it did not matter to her, for he had seen nothing in her eyes that told him she could not bear to look at him.  There had been fear, naturally, because she was only mortal, after all, and he was certain he must be fearsome to such a fragile creature, but not revulsion, not terror.  

Perhaps he had not really done anything wrong so much as he had simply not considered that his appearance might create a problem?  If he appeared to her as they did, she would not be afraid and distrustful, and then she would accept him, he decided.

He had no sooner made the decision than doubt entered his mind.  Would it be enough merely to look as they did?  Or would she still say that he could not feel or understand the way mortals felt?  And what if she did accept him as a mortal?  He would have to live in the world of mortals, behave as a mortal, continue to look like a mortal. 

It was not a pleasant thought, but he discovered very quickly that it did not matter greatly to him, not at the moment.  As painful as it was to think that she looked at him now as if she had never known him, he needed to be near her.  He did not think he could bear it if he could not, and he was certain that she would not allow him to come near her looking as he did.

His decision made, he ceased to circle above the village and dove for the earth.  Hearing his approach, the villagers looked up, froze for several moments in their tracks and then began to scream and run in every direction.  The temptation to avenge Lilith and vent his own spleen was nigh irresistible, but finally, reluctantly, he decided he would have to merely content himself with scaring them. 

He had come for a reason and found another once he had arrived.  He could not allow himself to be distracted by the hunger to kill and maim to purge the pain still churning in his gut. 

After scanning them, he focused on the one man he decided was very near him in size.  Diving for him, he used his wings to back stroke, breaking mid-air, and slammed his feet into the man’s back.  The man plowed the dirt with his face.  Before he could get up again, Gaelen landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground. 

Stepping off of the man, he bent down, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to his feet, sizing him up with his gaze.  “What is this?” he demanded, plucking at the things the man wore to cover himself.

The man merely gaped at him, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets.  His mouth moved, but no words emerged.  Frowning, Gaelen shook him.  “Speak, or I will rip your tongue out and end the discussion now.”

The man began to babble, but Gaelen could make no sense of anything coming out of his mouth.  He shook the creature again and finally caught the man’s face with one hand, speaking slowly.  “What is this you cover yourself with?”

“C …C…C…”

“Bah!” Gaelen snarled, shaking the man again and then releasing him so suddenly that the man sprawled in the dirt once more.  “I do not care what they are called.  Bring some to me.  And take care they are not full of holes or stinking of you.  She would wretch at the foul scent you exude.”

He discovered when he looked around that the rest of the villagers had vanished while he was occupied with the man.  He smelled them though, smelled their terror.  He knew they were close by, hiding.  “The lady of the forest is mine,” he bellowed so loudly that his voice echoed from building to building.  “You took from her.  You will gather all that you took and you will return it—before the sun sets or you will deeply regret it.  Do not look at her again.  Do not even think about offering her harm, for I will know your thoughts and you may be sure that you will beg me for death before I give it to you.”

When he had finished speaking, he listened.  He could hear the scurrying of feet, whispers, quiet weeping.  Satisfied for the moment, he glanced around and spied a well nearby.  Settling on the rim in a crouch, he studied the dirty village curiously while he waited, wondering why his Lilith would wish to live among such creatures when she would have been welcome to live among his kind, cared for, richly rewarded for all that she gave of herself.  Why would she wish to toil as they did to survive?  Why would she be willing to face their hatred and fear when she was accepted in the labyrinth?

Minutes passed.  The sun moved.  He got to his feet purposefully.  As he did, a door burst open down the street drawing his gaze.  A man and a woman, their arms loaded with baskets, shot from the cottage and began to run down the narrow track that led to Lilith’s cottage.  Gaelen settled back against the well feeling a sense of satisfaction as he heard other doors open and watched the villagers spill out of their cottages carrying the things they had stolen from his little bird.

The satisfaction did not last long.  He did not at all care for the fact that he had sent the villagers stampeding toward Lilith and would not be there when they arrived.  He’d begun to think he would have to track the man’s scent to find the things he had sent for.  Before the villagers had emptied the streets, however, the man reappeared carrying a bundle.  He looked nearly as terrified as he had before, witless with it, and Gaelen had to wonder if the man had had enough mind about him to carry out the task.  When he’d set the bundle down, however, whirled away to run and fell over his feet, plowing the dirt again, Gaelen strode to the bundle and untied it, examining the contents carefully and sniffing it.

He did not much care for the smell, but at least it was not the man’s stench that permeated it.  Bundling it up once more, he leapt upward, catching the air beneath his wings and soaring higher and higher until the villagers below him looked like ants racing along the trail to Lilith’s cottage.

* * * *

Having cried herself out at last, Lilith mopped her face with her hands, pushed herself to her feet with an effort and went down to the brook to wash her face.  She was still naked, and had nothing to dry her hands or face and the urge to burst into tears washed over her again.  Sniffing them back, she trudged to the cottage and simply stood in the doorway for a while before she could gather the strength to move inside and begin to examine what was left. 

Slightly heartened when she found a basket that was only a little misshapen and broken, she slipped the handle over her arm and dug through the debris.  She found one of her bed linens beneath a pile of broken wood that had once been a stool.  It was torn and not even the whole sheet at that.  It looked as if two or three people had grabbed it and fought over it, ripping it into pieces.  It was big enough, though, to tie around her waist and cover her lower body to her ankles.  Feeling better still, she looked around more hopefully then and finally found another piece.  It wasn’t big enough to cover her as she would’ve liked, but she bound her breasts with it and felt decently covered, at least.

She’d gone back to shifting through the rubble when she heard a sound that made her freeze in dread and lift her head to listen more intently.  She couldn’t move for several moments after she first identified the sound as running feet, many feet.  Finally, she managed to mentally kick herself into action and ran to the window.  In the distance, along the track, she saw the villagers racing toward her cottage.

Her heart slammed into her ribcage so hard she thought for several moments she would simply pass out.  Fear finally lent her wings, and she whirled and raced across the cottage, climbing out of one of the rear windows and fleeing into the forest to hide.  Afraid to stop until she had put some distance between herself and the cottage, she finally reached the point where she could run no more and scrambled under some brush for concealment, fighting to bring her breathing under control so that she could listen for sounds of pursuit.

She could hear sounds coming from the direction of her cottage, but she could not tell what the sounds might indicate.  The main thing, though, was that she could not hear anything to indicate that they had seen her and pursued.  She’d just begun to think her heart might not beat itself to death when a crackle in the underbrush drew her attention and she turned to see a man coming through the forest, directly toward her.

Fear instantly washed over her all over again, but he moved unhurriedly and it finally dawned upon her that he must not be with the villagers.  In fact, she did not recognize him at all.

He was a mountain of a man, she realized, and probably towered over most men.  Long, inky black hair hung down around his face well past his shoulders.  The lower half of his face was mostly concealed by a beard and mustache equally dark that contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin.

He stopped when he reached the brush where she’d hidden, crouching down and peering at her through the limbs.  “Why are you hiding?”

Lilith stared back at the man with a mixture of fear and embarrassment.  She licked her lips, wondering if it would be safe to tell the truth.  “Someone chased me,” she said, finally settling on a partial truth.

He frowned, searching the forest around them with his keen eyes, which Lilith noticed were a strange golden color.  She found it difficult to calculate his age.  He was certainly a mature man for he had none of the look of growing into his body that very young men often had, but his face was not lined with age either. 

It was a pleasant face, she decided, a very interesting face, handsome even, she thought, though that wasn’t easy to tell either because of the beard and moustache.  The long hair that flowed around his shoulders was as black as midnight, catching a bluish sheen like a crow’s wing as he moved his head and the sunlight filtering through the trees struck it.

What sort of labor did the man do to make his living, she wondered, to be so pale? She could see his body was not fat, but taut and muscular as the body of one who labored long and hard. 

A miner, perhaps?

“He is gone now.”

Feeling awkward and silly, for she knew she could not have been hidden all that well when he had walked directly up to her, she struggled out of the brush and looked him over uneasily. 

He was bigger even than she had thought, she realized, disconcerted by the fact that when he rose to his full height he dwarfed her and wondering if it would have been better to have run after all when he had crouched down and peered at her.

He frowned.  “I do not mean you any harm.  I came because I saw you running and I thought that you might need help.”

“Oh,” Lilith responded, feeling more embarrassed, but very little more at ease than before.  He seemed unthreatening, but she was almost certain that he was a stranger to these parts and it was never wise to trust strangers.  “That is so kind of you!  I think, though, that I shall be just fine, now.”

He grunted, glanced in the direction of her cottage and finally turned to look at her again.  “I will walk with you to your cottage and make certain you are safe.”

She didn’t want him to, but she could think of no way to dissuade him if he was so inclined.  His legs were long.  She was swift when she needed to be, but she doubted that she could run fast enough to outrun him.  It seemed better not to take the chance of arousing any hunting instincts he might have by trying to flee, especially when he was so close.

Mayhap, once he had walked her back to her cottage and was satisfied, he would go away again?

She would have preferred not to take him near her cottage, but then he had spoken as if he had already seen it and it seemed indisputable that he must know the villagers had been there since he had spoken of making certain she was safe.

Nodding, taking care to keep her distance from him, she struck off toward the cottage.  She was in no particular hurry to return, not when there was a chance that some of the villagers might still be there.

She didn’t know whether to be more relieved or more unnerved when she realized there were no sounds of activity near her cottage as they approached.  She knew the villagers were a threat.  She didn’t know about the stranger, but she didn’t feel particularly comforted by the idea that she would be completely alone with him so far from anyone.

“They are gone!” she said, allowing the relief she felt into her voice.

“They?”

Lilith glanced at him sharply.  “He.  I meant he—the one who chased me.”

She saw the stranger’s eyes were gleaming with amusement.  “You do not lie well.”

She reddened.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It was not a man who sent you scurrying into the forest to hide.  It was the villagers.”

Lilith felt her color fluctuate several times while she tried to think up an explanation that didn’t involve telling the man the villagers treated her with fear and distrust.  Even though many of them had come to her over the years begging potions from her to cure their ills, the way they stared at her whenever she went into the village for needed supplies gave her the uneasy feeling that they believed that she was a witch.

She discovered as she looked around, though, searching her mind for something to say, that there was a large pile of debris near the front of her cottage that had not been there before. 

Chapter Eight

Curious, Lilith forgot the uncomfortable question and crossed the yard to look at the pile, wondering if the villagers had been in the process of trying to set fire to the cottage and been frightened off, perhaps by one of the beasts from the forest?

She saw as she studied the debris, though, that it was not kindling piled at the door of her cottage.  Gasping as she spied something familiar, she crouched down and pulled it from beneath a broken pot.

“This was my mother’s,” she murmured, pulling the faded blue gown from the pile and holding it up to study it.  Feeling a surge of hopefulness, she folded the gown hurriedly and knelt down again, pulling out crockery, much of which was broken, and plates, linens, embroidered pillows that she had made, or her mother.

She was so busy searching the pile that she completely forgot about the stranger until he crouched down on the opposite side from her and lifted something up to study it curiously.  “That was a pot I made when I was a little girl,” she said, embarrassed by the poor craftsmanship that was obvious even though the vessel was broken now.

His face grew taut with anger.  “You are crying because it is broken?”

She hadn’t realized there were tears streaming down her cheeks.  Wiping at them self-consciously, she shook her head.  “Yes.  No.  I am just so very glad to have them back!”

He looked taken aback.  “You are weeping because you are happy?” he asked doubtfully.

Lilith chuckled and then sobbed.  “Yes, I suppose.  I don’t know.”

She sat down abruptly, burying her face against the dress that had belonged to her mother.  It had been stored in a chest with most of her mother’s personal belongings since her mother had died, and it had smelled of her mother.  Any time she had felt particularly lonely, or begun to miss her mother, she would take the things out and feel her mother’s presence again.

Now it smelled only of dirt and unwashed body.

Someone had been wearing her mother’s dress!  They had brought it back, but they had taken something she could never get back.

She jumped when she felt his touch.  She had been so sunk in her misery that she had not even noticed when he had gotten up and approached her.

Well, she had noticed, but she had thought when he got up that her weeping had driven him away.

The glide of his broad palm along her back was oddly soothing, though, so, although she tensed, she did not pull away.  She was surprised at how strong the temptation was to lean closer.  Finally, because the urge was so overpowering, she straightened away from him. 

“I will help you gather up what is not broken and carry it inside.”

Lilith glanced at him in surprise.  “Oh, no!  I could not impose upon your good nature.  You have been very kind, but I am sure you must have business of your own.”

He studied her in silence for several moments, but she had the sense that he was sorting his own thoughts.  “No.”

She eyed him curiously.  “No?  You do not have business you need to attend to?”

“I am a stranger here.”

She smiled up at him.  “Yes, I know.  Do you mean to say you have no place to stay?”

“I could stay here, and watch over you.”

Lilith’s jaw dropped.  “That … that’s so very kind of you! But … but I have no way to pay you.”

He frowned at that.  “It is not kind if you pay, is it?”

Lilith blushed, but she felt thoroughly confused.  His eyes seemed to gleam with intelligence, but she began to wonder if perhaps the man was slow witted.  He seemed almost child-like in his confusion about why she’d been upset.  For that matter, he didn’t seem to understand that it was simply not done for a man to be around a maiden when they were not wed.  The villagers already despised her.  If they discovered she had taken a man in to live with her, they would immediately assume the worst and they would certainly become very self-righteous about it.

Unreasonably so, since it was none of their affair one way or the other and it would not even have occurred to her to consider allowing him to stay with her if they had not done the things they had done.

He was a bull of a man, though, big enough to frighten any of them off if they should take the notion to come again.

“You have no home?” she asked tentatively.

He frowned as if the word was unfamiliar to him.  “Cottage?” he asked, almost tentatively, as if he wasn’t certain that it was the word he was seeking.

She blinked. “Family?  A place to live, yes, but usually home means family.”

He still looked confused.  “You have family?”

She should not tell him she had no one, but then it was not like she could make him leave and if he hung around, he would see there was no one but her.

Poor man!  He must be slow witted.  If he had not spoken so clearly, she might almost have thought he was from some distant land that had very strange customs, for he did not seem to understand the way of her world at all.  He looked as if he had managed to take very good care of himself, though—at least until now.  And he was gentle, and seemed kind-hearted. 

What did she care what the villagers thought of her, she thought angrily?  She had no reason to be ashamed.  She did not intend to lie with him, but she needed help to set the place to rights, and it seemed to her that he had nowhere to go.

“You can stay,” she said finally, “for I do need help, and I can at least find a place for you to sleep and food to eat, but you mustn’t … uh ….” She floundered as she gazed into his eyes, uncomfortable with the idea of telling him he must keep his hands to himself when she was the one who had allowed him to soothe her.  Besides, if she was right and he was simple minded, he probably wouldn’t understand.

He helped her sort through the things in her yard, making one pile of broken and not repairable, one pile of possibilities and then taking the things that were in fair shape into the cottage.  Once she saw that he had the idea, she went into the cottage to sort the things inside and clean it up. 

She had no shortage of firewood, she thought wryly as she piled her broken furniture near the hearth and started a fire.  When she had it going, she took her iron kettle that she had found among the things the villagers had returned and went to the stream to clean it.  Once she had scoured it thoroughly with the fine sand on the banks, she went to her wrecked garden and gathered what she could find that was still edible.  That consisted of very little besides a few withered roots, but she didn’t allow that to depress her spirits.

Pausing to watch the stranger for a moment, she finally approached him.  “By what name are you called?”

Something flickered in his eyes, pain, she thought, but she could not imagine why it would hurt him to be asked his name and dismissed it.

“Gaelen.”

She smiled up at him in genuine pleasure.  “I like that.  Gaelen.  It is unusual, but it has a very nice sound,” she said, realizing that she did like the sound of it.  “I must go into the forest to gather some herbs and hopefully a hare to make stew if we are not to go hungry tonight.  If you would, will you just try to get everything that is still good inside before dark?”

He nodded.  “You will not be gone until dark?”

“I should be back long before that,” she assured him, locating a basket that seemed fairly intact and heading off.

Poor man, she thought as she left.  He was not at all handy.  He could not have had a farm, she decided.  She must have been right.  He must have worked in a mine somewhere, for he had no skills at all that she could see for working around a place like hers. 

She sighed. Beggars could not be choosers.  She was not very skilled at such things as carpentry herself and the cottage would have to be repaired.  She hoped that he was better at that than he was at cleaning and sorting, for it seemed to her as if he was only moving the piles about without making a great deal of progress.

* * * *

Gaelen watched Lilith uneasily as she disappeared into the forest, wondering if he should have insisted on going with her.  He did not think the villagers would dare to come anywhere near her after he had told them that they would have him to deal with if they did, but there were beasts in the forest. 

Turning to stare irritably at the piles of rubble in Lilith’s yard, he wondered yet again why she bothered with it.  He could not see that there was much left of any value, certainly nothing that could be used without some repair, at least.

And he had no notion how mortals did such things.  He had watched her, but he could not see that she had done anything more than pick the things least damaged and piled the rest to one side for ‘repair’. 

The cottage was in more disrepair even than the things taken from it.  There was nothing to close the gaping holes that let in light, but also annoying insects, and would make it easy for animals to climb in, both two legged and four legged.

Shrugging, he glanced in the direction that Lilith had disappeared and, when he saw that she could no longer see the cottage or the clearing around it, he summoned his powers and set about bringing order and neatness to the place.  Satisfaction settled over him when he studied it a few minutes later.  It looked as it had looked when he had come with Gwyneth.  Lilith would be pleased, he decided.

He settled then to await Lilith’s return, but discovered when he was no longer distracted by her, or the things she had set him to do, that he did not find the guise he had assumed the least bit comfortable.  The hair itched, and the things the man had given him made him to cover his body itched, as well, besides binding his body uncomfortably.  His man root was not accustomed to being restricted in such a fashion and although he tried to reposition his sensitive flesh for comfort over and over there was simply none to be had with the twice damned bindings.

He got up after a time and paced the yard, realizing that Lilith had been gone for some time.  Would it take her so long to find what she had said that she was going for, he wondered?

After several moments’ indecision, he strode into the forest, discarded the man-things that were irritating is flesh and shifted back into his own form.  He would not allow her to see him, he decided, but he wanted to make sure that she was all right.

She drew him to her by a strange sound.  It was an oddly pleasant sound, but he could not recall ever hearing her make the sound before.  He wasn’t even certain of how she was making it.  He could not see her lips moving.

Settling amongst the trees, he watched her for a while, relieved that she didn’t seem to be in any danger, but curious as to exactly what it was that she was doing beyond making the strangely pleasant sounds that reminded him of bird song—except more rhythmically appealing.  She searched the ground, frowning in concentration and stopping from time to time to pull a plant from the dirt and toss it into her basket.  She would cease to make the sound for many moments, too, and then pick it up again.

Enthralled, he became incautious. 

He knew the very moment she spotted him, for she went perfectly still, her eyes rounding.  He held his breath, wondering whether to leave or stay where he was.  After a moment, she seemed to come to a decision.  Instead of turning to run, she began to walk directly toward him.

Disconcerted but strangely pleased, he settled to wait to see what she would do.

She stopped several arm lengths away as if she needed the distance to feel safe from him.  The thought made something clench painfully inside of him.  She had not looked at him like that before he had taken her memory.  She had looked at him as if she felt—safe.

“Are you … hurt?” she asked tentatively.

He felt something twist inside of him at the question.  “I feel pain,” he said, thoroughly confused by it, surprised that she seemed to know and feeling a mixture of relief and hopefulness that she would also know how to make it stop.

She hesitated, and then set the basket she’d been carrying down and moved a little closer, her gaze wandering over him.  “I do not see a wound,” she said finally.

He frowned.  That was why he did not understand the pain himself.  Even if he had been wounded, it would not have mattered.  Such things healed very quickly.  There was pain, regardless, when his flesh was pierced, but it left him when the wound closed.  “I was not wounded,” he said slowly.

Her frown cleared.  “Perhaps it is something you ate?”

“I do not think so.”

“Then, perhaps you are hungry?”

It was not the pain of an empty stomach.  He knew that, but he did feel hunger.  He could not look at her without remembering what it felt like to bury himself deeply inside of her body and remembering made his body draw into painful tightness.  She did not remember any of that, though, and he sensed that if he told her that was where he hurt she would flee. 

Besides, the pain was higher more often than not.  Almost as often, he mentally amended.  He rubbed his chest.

“It hurts there?”

He nodded.  To his surprise, she moved closer. 

“You are not trying to trick me?” she asked, stopping again and looking at him suspiciously.

“No.”

After studying him for several moments, she lifted a hand and placed it over his heart.  Instantly, his heart began to race, sending blood surging through his body, making it difficult to breathe normally.  A shudder went through him as she leaned toward him and placed her cheek against his chest.

She jumped back after a moment, her gaze dropping to his engorged cock.  She stared at it for several moments as if it was a snake and then her head jerked upward.  He tried to look impassive, but he did not feel the least so.  He had to struggle very hard to keep from grabbing her and dragging her back.

“You are not hurt,” she said accusingly, her voice shaky now.

He swallowed with an effort, but he didn’t understand why it hurt when she looked at him that way and did not at other times and he didn’t think that she would understand if he didn’t.  “I did not lie.”

She studied him suspiciously for a moment.  “Your heart is strong.   You breathe rapidly, but I cannot see that that would hurt your chest.  There is nothing else there to hurt.  When does it pain you?”

He swallowed, casting around in his mind for an answer that would not involve telling her the entire truth.  “It is the way … this mortal woman looks at me,” he finally said lamely.

A look of surprise settled over her features.  After a moment a mixture of sympathy and amusement entered her eyes.  Her lips curled.  “You are in love with a mortal woman?”

He was too stunned to say anything at first, but irritation surfaced after a moment.  “I am not.”

She looked unconvinced and more amused.  “Then why does it pain you when she looks at you?”

“Because she does not remember me!”

The remark confirmed her suspicion as far as Lilith was concerned, but she frowned, wondering why the woman wouldn’t remember such a creature, for he was certainly not forgettable.  “But she should?”

“No.  I took the memory from her because she did not want it.”

“Oh!”  The lingering amusement vanished and something completely unidentifiable washed over her, empathy for his pain, but admiration, she thought, too, and perhaps even a touch of envy.  He must love the woman very much to be willing to do such a thing for her.  She couldn’t help but feel for him, and admire such generosity of heart.   “You poor thing!”

He glared at her.  He didn’t particularly care to be called a poor thing.  “I do not like this.”

She smiled at him pityingly.  “I am certain you do not.”

“How do I make it stop?” he demanded.

She shrugged.  “Unless you can make yourself forget, I don’t suppose you can.”

His frustration magnified.  “I do not think I want to forget,” he said finally, wondering why he did not when, if it was as she said, forgetting would give him peace from what was often nearly intolerable pain.

“In time, it will not hurt so much if you will not go to see her,” she said gently.  “The memory will fade on its own.  If you loved her enough to take the memories and give her peace, then she did not appreciate you as she should have and it is far better to stay away.”

He swallowed, his face twisting with pain.  “I do not think I can stay away.  I fear someone will hurt her if I do not guard her.”

Deja’vu swept over Lilith at that remark.  Disoriented by the strange sense of having done this before, been here before with the strange creature, dizziness assailed her for a moment.  She frowned.  “You are … most noble and good hearted.  I confess I had not believed ….”  She broke off.  “That is to say, I do not know anything about Hawkins at all.  That is what you are?”

He looked pained by the question.  “Yes.”

He looked so hurt and miserable, she felt the urge to cuddle him and offer comfort.  She supposed it was because she always had so much trouble resisting anyone or anything in pain.  Something inside of her compelled her to try to comfort, even when she knew that there was danger in doing so.   She stepped away instead.   “I wish I could do something to take your pain away, but I’m afraid I cannot.”

He studied her for several moments, realizing abruptly what he needed.  “Teach me how to make her love me.”

“Oh!  My!  You really do not understand mortals at all, do you?”

“It cannot be done?” he demanded with a mixture of anger and dismay.

She grimaced.  “I am not at all certain I could help you.  I have never been in love myself, you see.  And then, too, I think it is something that simply happens between two … uh … people.”

His eyes sharpened.  “You are saying a mortal woman could not love one of my kind?” he demanded harshly.  “Why?  You said that what I felt for her was love.  If this is true, when this is something that I have never known to happen to any others from the nether world, then why would she not be able to love me in return?”

She reddened.  “I suppose it is possible, but … The thing is, you see, love is nature’s way of insuring the renewal of life.  It is part of mating, and like must mate with like in order to do that.”

“I gave her my child,” he said harshly.  “It cannot be that.”

Excruciatingly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, Lilith looked around uneasily.  “Oh!  Well, this is very complicated.  I think I must go now.”

He looked so miserable when she backed away from him that her heart failed her.  She could not think of any way to help him, and yet she could not bring herself not to try.  If she could do nothing more than distract him from his grief she felt like she had to make the effort.  “I will think about it,” she promised.  “Perhaps something will come to mind, some way that I can help you, but I must go now and find something for my cook pot or I will have nothing to eat tonight.”

He did not follow her, to her relief, and when she glanced back a little later, having gathered what she could to fill her pot, he was gone.  The snare she had set in hopes of capturing meat for her stew was untouched she discovered when she went back to check on it.  Sighing dejectedly, she finally dismissed it.  Soup was not going to be very filling, especially for a man the size of Gaelen, but it could not be helped. 

Distracted as she was by her encounter with the demon and her pathetic gathering for her cook pot, she was half way across her yard before it dawned upon her that nothing looked as it should.  She dropped her basket from suddenly nerveless fingers then, halting abruptly in her tracks.  Speechless, disbelieving, she stared at the cottage and yard, expecting to find after a moment that her mind was playing tricks on her in the gathering gloom of the late afternoon.  Gone was any sign of the destruction she knew the villagers had wreaked upon her place.  Save for the fact that none of her livestock milled about the yard, everything was as she remembered before the attack---long before the attack.  For she saw things that she could not recall seeing since she was a child; her garden where it had been before she had cleared an area for a new garden; the coop that had once housed her and her mother’s birds, but that had fallen down many years ago.

Finally, remembering the food she’d gathered, she knelt to retrieve the basket and pick up what had fallen out.  She saw, when she looked again, that the view was unchanged—or rather drastically changed from when she had left it only a little earlier.  The yard and the cottage looked as it had before it had been ransacked and everything trampled over.

Even her garden looked as it had before, lush with growing things—except in the wrong place.

Wondering if her mind had snapped, she crossed the yard and opened the door to the cottage, peering inside.  Gaelen was kneeling at the hearth, placing a rack of hares over the dancing flames. 

The inside of the cottage looked the same as she remembered before it had been destroyed by the villagers.

Gaelen looked up at her entrance, studied her stunned expression for several moments, and then, looking somewhat conscience stricken, looked away again, studying the flames on the hearth. 

“You have … gotten so much done!”  Lilith said a little faintly.  “I must have been gone far longer than I thought.”

“I thought it best to start inside since we would need a place to sleep tonight.”

“But …”  When she turned and looked at the yard, Lilith saw it as it had been before she had gone into the woods to look for food.  Another shock wave washed over her, leaving her feeling dizzy and ill.  Her mind had snapped!  There was no other explanation.  She had been so devastated at what they had done she had simply wished everything back as it had been and begun to believe she saw it that way.  “I do not feel at all well.”

Gaelen surged to his feet and took the basket from her limp hand.  She gasped in surprise and a touch of alarm as he swept her into his arms and carried her across the cottage to the little room where she slept, settling her on the bed—which had been repaired just as everything else had.

Or maybe, she thought, nothing had been damaged—except, possibly, her mind? 

Something had happened to her in the woods.  She had avoided even trying to sort through the why and how she’d come to find herself in the woods, naked, and with no memory of having gotten there.  But she simply could not remember, and she had to wonder if whatever it was had deranged her mind completely.  Gaelen could have set the cottage to rights, but he had not had time to repair the furnishings that she had thought were destroyed.

“Rest,” Gaelen said after studying her worriedly for several moments.  “I will cook.”

“Oh no!  I should do that.  You have worked so hard.  You must be tired.”

“I am not tired.  I will cook.”

She settled back, feeling guilty, but vaguely ill, too.  Her head was swimming.  She thought, perhaps, that she had overindulged herself with her self-pity, weeping and wailing over every little thing until she had further unsettled her mind.  Maybe it would be best if she did rest?  And then on the morrow, if she was still not as she should be, she would find herbs to steady her nerves. 

That must me it, she decided, shock and hysteria. 

Finding that she was worn out from everything that had happened, she drowsed.  Gaelen woke her when he came into her room a little later.  She saw that he had brought food.  Disconcerted that he had come into her room, twice, she looked at him uncomfortably, trying to think of a kind way to tell him that he was not to take such liberties.  She was fully clothed, but nevertheless, not properly dressed and ….

He settled the platter he carried on the bed and plopped down beside her.

Lilith stared at him in stunned surprise as he tore off a bite of food and lifted it to her lips.  “Gae ….”

He shoved it into her mouth when she opened it.  Blinking in surprise, she chewed the piece of meat instinctively, swallowing.  “You shou ….”

She frowned at him when, again, the moment she opened her mouth, he shoved food into it.

The next time, she grabbed his wrist.  “I can feed myself,” she said, trying not to sound too mean about it.

“I enjoy feeding you, little bird.”

Lilith glanced at him sharply, feeling that same odd sense of familiarity that she’d felt before in the forest with the Hawkin, as if she had done this, or something very like it, before, which was very strange when she had never set eyes on Gaelen before she had met him in the woods.  She frowned, realizing that the other time she had felt that way she had been when she was with the Hawkin. 

“Why did you call me that?” she asked curiously.

Something flickered in his eyes.  He looked down at the food, frowning, as if he was trying to decide what he wanted.  “You are tiny and quick, bright eyed, and also soft and white with brilliant locks of hair.”  He swallowed audibly.  “And you only sing when you are free.”

Flattered but also embarrassed, Lilith couldn’t think of anything to say for several moments.  “I am not tiny,” she said finally.  “It only seems so to you because you are so very big.  I expect everyone seems tiny to you.”

He shrugged.  “I do not notice everyone.”

Lilith was so disordered she didn’t even think to object when he lifted another bite of food to her mouth.  She took it, nipping at the tips of his fingers as she did so.  Embarrassed all over again, she reddened, but a strange warmth spread into her belly when she met his gaze that seemed to have very little to do with that kind of discomfiture.  “I am so sorry!  I didn’t mean to bite you.”

The gleam in his eyes grew more distinct.  A faint smile curled his lips.  “I do not mind your nibbling, little bird.  If you are hungry ….”

Chapter Nine

Abruptly an image, conjured by his comments, rose in Lilith’s mind that was so carnal that it sent a flash of heat sizzling through her.  Her belly clenched, moist warmth filling her woman’s place.  She ducked her head, wondering what in the world had come over her to think such thoughts.  She had never even kissed a man on the lips!  Why would she be thinking about kissing … nibbling on … the rest of his body? 

She was far more disconcerted when she realized it was the Hawkin’s body that filled her mind’s eye.  It was certainly not Gaelen, for she had not even seen him without his shirt.  She knew he was strong, and very muscular, but she doubted very much that his body looked like the Hawkin’s.

He broke off at her expression, returning his gaze to the tray.

It was desire, she realized, and still wondered at it.  Despite her inexperience, she was hardly ignorant of such things, but she could not recall that she had ever equated it to herself.  She could not recall ever having felt any hunger of the flesh at all, let alone anything as powerful as the images in her mind had produced.

“Thank you, but I am not very hungry,” she mumbled uncomfortably after a moment.

He glanced at her.  “I will leave it.  Perhaps your appetite will return.”

He hadn’t eaten much himself and she knew the tray contained all of the food that he’d prepared.  “You eat,” she urged him.  “You have worked hard. You must be hungry.”

“Only if you will eat.”

She stared at him a moment, vaguely irritated with his insistence, but finally chuckled.  “All right.  But I will feed myself so that you can eat.  And you can tell me about where you come from.”

Gaelen choked on the bite of food he had just taken and sent her an uneasy glance, keenly aware that he had not considered that it might be necessary to concoct a story to explain his presence.  What made it worse was that he had no notion of how men lived, what they did with their days, or even more than a vague idea of their social structure.  She had mentioned family, home, and work, but he could see that she did not think that he knew anything about the workings of a place such as hers so he doubted she would believe him if he tried to tell her anything of that sort and unfortunately his experience with her was the limit of his experience outside the nether world.  “I will get water,” he said in a strangled voice and got up abruptly and left.

Lilith watched him worriedly, but finally decided that he could not be strangling or he would not have been able to speak.

When she had waited for what seemed a very long while, she got up and went to look for him, but although she called to him, she heard no response.  After debating the matter for several moments, she left the cottage and headed toward the brook.  Reaching the place where she usually drew her water without having seen him, she called again.

A splash further along the brook drew her attention.  “Gaelen?”

“Yes.”

“I was worried when you did not come back.”

The splashing drew nearer.  “I decided to bathe.”

Since he said that just as he stepped within view of her Lilith hardly thought it was necessary.  As dark as it was, he was pale skinned and the moonlight left little to the imagination.  Lilith clapped a hand over her face, whirling away, but it did not help much.  The image was burned upon her mind’s eye.  “Merciful heavens! I beg your pardon.”

She beat a hasty retreat back to the cottage, scampered into her room and slammed the door.  Spying the remains of their meal, she dashed to the tray and rushed into the main room of the cabin with it, setting it on the hearth before she retreated once more, closing her door and barring it with the small table that usually sat beside her bed.

A hysterical giggle of shock escaped her as she clambered into her bed and drew the covers over her head.  She covered her mouth with her hand and then her pillow, trying to listen for his return.

She did not know what to think of the man beyond the fact that he was the strangest mortal she had ever known.  One moment, he seemed not to know the simplest of things and she was certain he must be slow witted and the next he spoke or behaved perfectly normally, even cleverly.

She decided when time passed and he did not return that she had embarrassed him as much as she had embarrassed herself.  Or perhaps he thought he had frightened her and was wary of returning for that reason? 

She fell asleep worrying over it. 

The sound of chopping wood woke her the following morning when the light had barely begun to spill into the room.  She lay listening to it for some time trying to place the sound and then wondering at it when she realized that it was indeed someone chopping wood.

Memory of the night before flooded back abruptly and Lilith felt her face heat.  It was Gaelen, the stranger she had welcomed to stay with her, though his body was certainly not unknown to her anymore.  With great reluctance, she got up and headed out of the cottage toward the brook.  Gaelen paused as she passed him.  She nodded and kept going. 

When she’d attended her needs and bathed, she felt a little more able to face him. 

She saw when she reached the clearing again that he was chopping posts.  She thought that was what he was doing.  The logs he was cutting were far too long to fit into the fireplace.  “Have you broken your fast?”

The distraction made him miss the log he was chopping at and Lilith felt her heart leap into her throat.  Fortunately, he managed to miss his leg.  Unnerved by the incident, she hurried back into the cottage without awaiting a reply, wondering if she should even allow him to chop wood since he did not seem particularly skilled at it.

There was food left from the night before, she saw, and she stirred up the coals in the hearth, fed more wood into the glowing embers and heated the food.  She was setting out chipped plates and crockery when Gaelen came in.  “We have no bread,” she announced.  “Nor anything to make more with, I’m sorry to say.  I think I must see if I can find something to trade and go into the village, for we must have bread.”

“No.”

Lilith glanced at him in surprise.

“I will go.”

She frowned, uneasy at the idea of sending him to trade for her.  “They do not trust strangers.  I would rather go myself than risk that you will run into trouble.”

He sent her a speculative glance.  “I am not concerned.”

She smiled.  “I am sure you are not, and I do not doubt that you are capable of taking care of yourself, but I would not want trouble on my account.”

“I will eat the bread also.”

She settled on the opposite side of the table from him, realizing that the longer she argued the matter with him the more determined he would probably be to go himself.  “You will try not to get into trouble, though?”

He seemed to consider that for several moments and finally shrugged.  “Yes.”

She was not greatly reassured, but she left it at that.  When they’d finished eating, she got up to clean and search for something to trade.  There was no livestock to use in trade, but she remembered that the miller’s wife liked pretty things and dug around in her mother’s chest until she had found a gown she was willing to part with. 

“That was your mother’s.”

Lilith glanced at him in surprise.  “How did you know that?”

He looked disconcerted.  “That is your mother’s chest.”

“Oh.  Yes, and I am reluctant to part with it but mother would have thought that I was daft to consider keeping something I cannot use when I—we, need the food.”

Bundling it carefully, she explained how much she thought he should be able to get for it and sent him along his way, watching worriedly until he was out of sight.  She decided, though, once she had examined the pile of wood that he had cut that he could not be in any more danger from the villagers than he was from himself. 

She decided to hide the ax before he managed to hack his foot off with it.  She did not want to embarrass him, and she was afraid that she would not be able to express her concerns over him injuring himself without wounding his male pride.  Hiding the ax seemed the most prudent thing to do.

After surveying the garden and the shed, she was forced to admit that they would have to work very hard—assuming that Gaelen did stay a while—or they would not have enough food to keep body and soul together.  Her first garden had been ruined, but it was still early enough in the year, she thought, that she could replant it.  She spent the morning gathering what she could from the demolished garden and storing it and then reworked the rows and planted what seed she had left. 

It would not be a very large crop, she thought wryly, rubbing her back absently when she had finished, and if Gaelen did stay they would need more food even than she usually grew for herself.  Glancing at the sky, she saw that the sun was almost directly overhead.  Her stomach rumbled with hunger at just about the time she noted the noon hour, but she was hot and sweaty from working the garden.

After a brief mental debate, she decided that it would be safe enough to go down to the brook herself and bathe.  Gaelen was not likely to return for several hours yet.  Stoking the fire again when she went inside, she tossed what was left of the food into her cook pot to make a stew and settled it where it would cook slowly and then gathered what she would need for a bath and headed to the brook.

The water was icy.  Mostly she was glad it was, because there was an endless supply of cool water to drink and the water helped to preserve some of her foodstuffs, but it was not a pleasant place to bathe and she always found herself dreading the first few moments until she became accustomed to the chill.

Today was no different, but she was not confident enough in her guess of the time when Gaelen would return to want to linger anyway.  Scrubbing herself quickly with the soap she’d brought, she rinsed off as quickly and stepped from the brook, shivering, breathless from the chill.

The Hawkin, she discovered, had settled on the fallen log where she’d left her change of dress.   She came to a jolting halt.  It wasn’t until his gaze moved over her with patent, heated interest, though, that she recovered enough from her surprise to cover herself.  She glared at him.  “What are you doing here?”

He sat up.  “I came to talk.”

She’d forgotten she had promised him that she would try to think of a way to help him with his lady love.  “I am not dressed!”

“No.”

“You must go away until I am dressed!” she said sharply when he made no attempt to leave.

His brows rose.  “It bothers you for me to see you?” he asked curiously.

“Of course it bothers me,” she snapped. 

“Why?  You are beautiful to my eyes.”

Her jaw dropped.  She blinked rapidly for several moments, trying to think of an answer.  “Because.”

He got up slowly, lifting her gown and moving toward her.  She would have retreated except that she could not seem to command her feet to move in any direction. 

He stopped less than an arm’s length away and held out the dress.  When Lilith reached for it, he reached for her, flicking one of the rings in her breasts with his finger.  A wave of heat washed through her dizzyingly.  “Why do you wear this?”

Snatching the dress from him, she turned her back to him and shimmied into it.  “I do not know.  I do not remember how it came to be there, but I could not take it out,” she muttered shakily.  There had been a thin chain, as well, strung through the rings, and through another ring lower, in her woman’s place, connected at each end with a collar.  She had no recollection at all of having gotten any of it, but she had found that she was reluctant to speculate on it.  The rings had simply been there where before they had not.

She had wakened naked in the woods with no recollection of having gotten there, her home destroyed.  It took no great leap to imagine that the villagers who must have destroyed the cottage had done that to her also, but she could not think of a reason for it and she did not want to remember how, or why, or when they had done it to her.

Feeling better once she was covered, she turned an irritated glance upon the Hawkin.  “It is not at all gentlemanly to stare at a lady in her bath,” she muttered.

He tilted his head, studying her with amusement.  “I am not a gentleman.  I am a Hawkin.”

That seemed inarguable.  She sent him a resentful glance.  “If you are in love with a mortal woman, you should know that … that she would not like for you to stare at another that way.  You should be devoted to her alone.”

His eyes narrowed speculatively.  “This is the way of mortals?”

Lilith had already drawn breath to assure him that that was exactly the case, but she knew that was not true.  Women generally devoted themselves, men rarely did.  “If she knew she would not like it,” she said finally.

“Why?”

Lilith pursed her lips in irritation.  “Because.”

“I do not understand this ‘because’.  What is the meaning?”

Lilith huffed irritably.  “I am only saying that, if it was I, I would not like it and I think most ladies would feel the same.”

When she glanced at him again, she saw that he was looking thoughtful. 

“Because then she would doubt that you loved her and fear that you would leave her for another who was prettier.”

To Lilith’s relief, he moved back to the log and settled on it.  She would have been more relieved it he had not been naked.  She had been too wrapped up in her fear when she had first seen him to be really aware of it and too focused on her sympathy for him the day before to notice—much.  At least, she had been so wrapped up in her empathy that she had managed to mostly ignore it, but she could not help but be acutely aware now.  She didn’t know if that was because of the thoughts that had so disturbed her the night before, because she had felt so vulnerable when she had found him watching her, or because he had breached a barrier when he had touched the ring in her breast.  Whatever the case, it made her feel uncomfortably warm to look at him, unnervingly aware of her own sexuality no matter how carefully she tried to keep her gaze upon his face.

“You said that you would teach me the way to make her love me.”

Lilith rubbed her temple.  “I said that I would try.  I do not know her.”

He tilted his head.  “You know you.  Tell me what would please you.”

There was a huskiness to his voice that sent quivers of heightened awareness through her when she had only begun to relax, distracted by his questions.  She swallowed with an effort.  The images that had assaulted her the night before when she’d come upon Gaelen bathing descended upon her like a thunderclap, so vividly that she felt a flash of scorching heat.  “I do not know,” she whispered finally.  “I have never been wooed.”

Confusion flickered in his eyes.  “This woo is to make love?”

Lilith reddened to the roots of her hair.  She cleared her throat.  “It means something different when you say it like that.”

He looked more confused.  “The woo?”

Lilith bit back a smile.  “The wooing is the courtship, the mating dance.  First you see, and then if you are attracted, you want and you try to attract their interest—by being pleasant, and clever, and doing things to please.”

“So, the wooing is to make love?”

“Something like that,” Lilith muttered, deciding that it hardly mattered that he did not seem to grasp the distinction between making love, and making someone fall in love, since doing so led to the former.  She did not feel up to explaining the difference in any case, particularly since she was convinced that he knew far more about the culmination of love than she did.  He had said that he had given his lady love his child.

Not that she was certain that she believed that—that he would know.  Men didn’t know.  Women didn’t even know at first.  She knew that there must be a vast difference between the beings of earth and those of the nether world, but she couldn’t imagine having control of such a thing as conception.

He got off of the log and approached her again.  This time Lilith took a step back.  He stopped, studying her for several moments.  “It is this form, yes?”

Lilith blinked, all at sea.  “What?”

“You said that she must see me as pleasing.  She is pleasing to my eyes, so beautiful to me that cannot breathe when I am near her and I am so slow witted I cannot think.  She would feel the same if I was pleasing to her eyes, yes?”

Lilith stared at him a little helplessly.  To save her life, she could not resist looking at him when he impelled her to do so by his anxious question.  At first, her impressions created so much chaos in her mind that everything seemed a great blur.  When her perception finally sharpened, however, she discovered her gaze was riveted to his man root.  She hadn’t realized that was what a man looked like.

But perhaps it wasn’t?

She could not recall what Gaelen’s man root had looked like.  She had been too stunned by his nakedness to remember more than bare skin, a lot of bare skin.

She cleared her throat, dragging her gaze upward with an effort until she met his gaze once more.  “Does she see you like that?” she asked the first question that popped into her mind.

He looked offended.  “We do not wear c—c—c.”

Lilith stared at him blankly.  “C—c—c?”

He plucked at her sleeve.  “Man things.”

Her mind went instantly to his man thing.  She looked down at it again before she thought better of it.  Like the rest of him, it was massive and intimidating.  She meditated over it for many moments before she could draw her mind from it.   It dawned on her when she looked up at his face again that he had plucked at her sleeve.  “Clothes?”

He thought it over.  “He did not say clothes.  I recall very clearly.  C—c—c.”

“He?”

He brushed that aside.  “Clothes would please her?  It is not the face that fails to appeal?  It is not the color of the flesh?  Not the wings?  Not because I have no locks such as yours?”

Lilith rubbed her temples, wondering if there was any way to say, without offending him, that it was all of him together that was appealing, but also so different that it was unnerving.  “I do not even know your name,” she said finally.

“Gaelen,” he responded promptly.

Lilith gaped at him, stunned.  “Gaelen?”

Wariness entered his eyes. “Yes.”

“That is—so very strange!”

He looked offended again, but there was something else in his eyes, too, something she couldn’t quite interpret.

“I did not mean the name was strange.  It is a very nice name. It is only very strange that the man who helps me is named Gaelen, as well.”

He looked disconcerted.  After a moment, he looked away. “This man appeals to you?”

Her jaw went slack.  “I—uh—I don’t know.  What I mean to say is he is very sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Kind, helpful.”

“But does he please your eyes?”

“Oh!” Lilith said on a sudden thought, feeling blood pulse in her face at his question even as it hit her that Gaelen was liable to return at any moment and find her with the Hawkin.  “He will be back soon.  I must go now!”

Whirling abruptly, she charged back up the path that led to the cottage, torn between relief that she had suddenly remembered something that was a very good excuse to depart and the uneasy feeling that she had been extremely rude when she had left.  Her dinner was sizzling and popping in the kettle when she burst into the cottage.  The smell of scorched food permeated the air.  Muttering irritably beneath her breath she grabbed a handful of her skirts to protect her hand from the heat and removed the kettle.

It was just as well, she thought, that she had lost her appetite for there was very little left in the pot that was not blackened and even the food that wasn’t burned tasted dreadful. 

It was almost sunset before Gaelen returned from town.  Lilith had grown so anxious that she’d begun to contemplate going after him.  It flickered through her mind to wonder if he had simply taken what she had given him for trade, traded for what he needed and kept going, but she found she could not accept it.  He had been nothing but kind and gentle and helpful since he had found her hiding in the woods.  She could not believe that he had broken her trust in such a way.

She was standing near the track that led to the village watching for him when he first came within view.  Relief and gladness poured through her as she searched him for any sign that he had been embroiled in a fight, any sign that he was hurt.  It was for that reason that she did not at first really notice the barrow that he was pushing. 

Curious when she finally did notice the thing was filled almost to overflowing, she hurried down to meet him. 

“You did not have trouble?” she asked anxiously when she neared him.

“Nay.”

Joining him, she turned and fell into step beside him.  “What is all this?”

“Supplies.”

Her eyes widened.  “You got all of this for my mother’s gown?”

He slid a speculative glance in her direction.  “Aye.”

She frowned.

“And other things,” he added when he saw that she looked skeptical.

“What other things?”

He frowned pensively.

“Gaelen!  You did not … take, did you?”

He sent her a wary glance.  “Nay.”

She stopped him as he reached her yard, placing a hand along one cheek to make him look at her.  “Then how did you get so much?”

Something flickered in his eyes.  “I took a boar, as well.”

Surprised again, she allowed her hand to drop.  “A boar?” she echoed.  “You killed a boar on the way to the village?  With what?”

He shrugged.  “My hands.  I broke his neck.”

Lilith’s eyes widened.  Feeling a jolt of uneasiness, she checked him once more for any sign of injury.  “How?”

“He was caught in a mire.”

“Oh, Gaelen!  That was so … dangerous!  You could have been hurt badly.”

“I was not.”

“But you could have been!” she said almost angrily, feeling perilously close to tears.  “You must never do anything like that again!  Promise me!”

He settled the barrow and straightened, studying her with a mixture of confusion and anger.  “Why are you angry with me?” he growled.  “I thought it would please you.”

“I am pleased,” Lilith said, mopping at the tears blurring her vision.  “But if you had been hurt I would not have forgiven myself.”

“But I was not hurt,” he said irritably.  “Why are you upset about something that did not happen?”

Lilith studied him for a long moment and finally forced a chuckle, realizing that she was upset as much for herself as for him, for it had occurred to her immediately that he might have gotten himself killed trying to take down a boar bare handed and that she would be alone again.  Despite what the villagers had done, she had not really been fearful since Gaelen had come back to her cottage to stay with her, because she had believed she was safe as long as he was there.  The truth was she needed him far more than he needed her. “I am being silly, aren’t I?”  She turned to look at the barrow.  “What did you get?”

She felt like weeping all over again, this time with joy, when she saw that he had brought enough flour to keep them far into the winter and salt, and fresh baked bread and seeds for planting.  Laughing, she caught his face between her palms and kissed him soundly on the lips.  “You are so very good at trading!” she said when she stepped back, and then danced away from him as he lifted a hand to reach for her.  “Come!  We must put it away quickly while there is enough light to see.  We do not want the forest creatures to help themselves to it.  It is a shame that you had to trade the whole boar.  Roast pig would have been good after so much rabbit.  But I will find the fixings for a nice stew and we will have bread!”

Chapter Ten

If Lilith had suffered any doubts before about her understanding of men, she was quickly enlightened.  The impulsive kiss she had given Gaelen seemed to have fractured a barrier between them that she had carefully erected.  He did not try to press her, but he took to studying her with hunger in his eyes when he thought she did not notice and she was torn between uneasiness and, as much as she hated to admit it even to herself, the desire to test him. 

She had undoubtedly offended the Hawkin, for although she dashed through her bath each day and watched warily for him every time she went out, days passed with no sign of him and then a week.  She told herself that she was relieved that he had decided to bother her no more with his troubles, but she knew that was not true.  She was distressed.  Partly it was because she had been so touched by his broken heart that she hurt for him and still yearned to soothe his hurt, but she knew that wasn’t the whole of it. 

She was drawn to him.  She had dreams about the two of them together that woke her to a restless ache that dogged her much of every day.

It shamed her and confused her.  She knew what it was.  She would have been inclined to merely accept it as a rite of passage, to concede that she had come to that time when her natural life cycle was urging her to mate and produce a child, but there were several problems with that simple answer.

She had had no cycle.  She knew that there was a gap in her memory from the time of the attack on her home, but she could not think that it was a very large gap, and in any case, she knew the time of her monthly cycle and that had come and gone.  It might have been disrupted by the attack, but she knew it might also be because of something that had happened that she could not remember.

Beyond the fact that she was not prepared to reproduce, she was ashamed that she seemed to be as drawn to Gaelen, the man, as she was to the Hawkin.  One of them, she could understand.  Wanting both made her feel as if she lacked discrimination or morals, particularly since one of the things that drew her most to the Hawkin was his love for another woman.

She worked hard to put all of those anxieties from her mind, focusing on the real need to set her home to rights until it was producing the food once more than she needed to survive, for although Gaelen had said nothing about moving on, she expected him to announce most any time that he would go. 

In one of her treks through the woods, she discovered the nesting place of a flock of geese.  Since she no longer had livestock and was in desperate need, she studied the birds carefully for nearly a week until she found a nesting pair that was somewhat removed from the others.  It was a tricky task she had set for herself, for geese were very territorial and capable of vicious attacks.  That ferocity would be magnified by their determination to protect their young.

Deciding that it would be easier if she had Gaelen’s help, she took him with her the day they finally finished the pen for her new chicks.  For hours, they crouched in the tall grasses, watching.  Finally, the male left to feed.  Motioning for Gaelen to follow her, Lilith crept up as closely as she could to the nesting goose and then burst through the brush.  The goose immediately let out a threatening honk, extending her long neck and arching her wings.  Distracting the bird by waving one hand in front of her face, Lilith quickly grabbed the goose by the throat, dragging her from the nest.

“Take her,” she said, turning to Gaelen, who merely stared at the wildly thrashing bird doubtfully.  “And take care you do not hurt her.  We will need her to finish hatching the goslings.”

Reluctantly, he caught the goose around the throat just below Lilith’s grip.  When she was certain he had the bird, she knelt down quickly to gather the eggs carefully into her apron.  A loud squawk distracted her.  Since it was followed almost simultaneously by a roar from Gaelen, Lilith froze in her task and looked quickly around for the threat.  The goose had nipped Gaelen, she saw, all up and down his hand and arm since he hadn’t shifted his grip upward when she’d released the bird, and had finally managed to latch onto him hard enough he’d released his grip altogether and begun trying to shake the bird loose. 

The goose, finding that she was free, attacked.

“Don’t you dare hurt that bird!” Lilith yelled at Gaelen as he uttered a feral growl and swung at it with a balled fist the size of a small ham.  Her apron was already half full of eggs or she would’ve leapt up to catch the thing again.  As it was she could do nothing but watch in helpless dismay and yell directions at Gaelen, and, to make matters worse, the gander, having heard his mate’s shrill honks, returned in a rush and attacked Gaelen on his flank. 

Seeing that the birds were occupied, for the moment at least, with trying to chase Gaelen off, Lilith returned her attention to the nest and hurriedly gathered the last of the eggs, holding them gently, but snuggly against her as she rose.  The goose, discovering that Lilith had her eggs, broke off the attack on Gaelen and rushed her in a flurry of honking, thrashing wings and fiendishly determined pecks.  Shielding herself with her free arm, Lilith yelped for Gaelen, who was running round in a tight circle trying to elude the gander, which had targeted his buttocks. 

Hearing Lilith’s cry, Gaelen changed directions abruptly and charged the goose.  The goose, hearing his approach from behind, instantly whirled upon him to attack again.  Lilith managed to grab the goose around the neck as she arched it back to avoid Gaelen’s hand.

Panting, Lilith held the goose up for him to take her again. 

Gaelen glared at her.  “I will wring her neck if she bites me again,” he ground out, still waving one arm to fend off the gander. 

“You’ll do no such thing unless you want to squat over her eggs yourself!” Lilith snapped.  “We cannot hatch them without her.”

Uttering a growl of frustration, Gaelen took the bird, managed to subdue her and tucked her beneath one arm, trying to ignore the gander, which continued to follow him no matter how rapidly he departed, nipping at his buttocks and occasionally making a painful connection which put an added boost to Gaelen’s step. 

They’d nearly reached the cottage again before the gander finally gave up and both Lilith and Gaelen were huffing with the exertion of trying to outrace the gander.

Heaving a sigh of relief when she finally managed to unburden herself of the eggs inside the pen, Lilith stepped back and told Gaelen to release the goose.  He looked at her suspiciously for a moment, but finally let go.  The goose hit the ground, ruffled her wings furiously, and chased Gaelen around the pen several times before Lilith managed to corral her and lock her inside with her eggs.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Lilith stood watching until the goose finally climbed onto the eggs, wiggled to settle herself and uttered a few last warning honks at her attackers.

Pleased with their triumph and relieved to have the task over and done with, Lilith glanced at Gaelen.  He was examining his arm and rubbing his buttocks.  Abruptly, the vision of Gaelen running around in circles with the gander attached to his backside hit her and Lilith struggled with the urge to laugh.  She lost. 

Gaelen looked at her indignantly when she started to giggle, but that only made her laugh harder.  She laughed until her sides hurt and tears began to stream down her cheeks. 

After a few moments, his anger faded and a gleam of amusement lit his eyes.  “I have been brutally attacked by your beasts, little bird!  You find this humorous?”

Lilith bit her lip.  “Poor darling!  I am so sorry,” she said unsteadily, mopping at her eyes, “but it not as if I did not battle them, too, and take my share of bruises … and you looked so funny running from the gander!”

He thought back over it and chuckled.  “You were funny, also.  Your eyes got very big and your mouth round and then you began to flap your arm like the birds and squawk, ‘Gaelen help!’”

Lilith chuckled, moving closer to him and pushing his sleeves up to examine his bruises.  “Did I?  Well I would not have had to if you had not let her go,” she said, mock stern as she examined the red marks on his arms, rubbing them gently to take the sting away. 

She didn’t know why she bent her head to kiss his hurts.  It was something her mother had often done to chase her tears away, but she certainly did not feel motherly toward Gaelen.  She supposed that it was merely an impulse to soothe the hurt, but it was not one she should have yielded to.  He stiffened when she brushed her lips lightly along his reddened skin, a fine tremor running through his arm, and she looked up at him with a mixture of self-consciousness and sudden, breathless awareness.

He swallowed thickly, his gaze moving over her face.  After a moment he reached up and plucked a feather from her hair. As if he could not resist, his hand returned, smoothing her hair. 

Heated desire washed through Lilith in a fiery tide.  She tensed, swayed, poised for flight, fighting the urge to yield to the need she saw in his eyes and move closer.  Even as she felt her inner battle sway in Gaelen’s direction, however, an image of the Hawkin rose in her mind.

Swallowing against the need clogging her own throat, Lilith moved away, reluctantly at first and then rushing to escape her desire to stop and turn back.  There was no real impediment to taking what she knew Gaelen was offering … except the Hawkin, whom she had no business desiring at all.  It was enough that he loved another and it would be wrong to come between them, even though the woman did not seem to return his affection.  But it was far worse that he was a Hawkin, a creature of the nether world.  He would return to it, eventually, if he had not already. 

And she did not think she could give herself to him without losing her heart.

The thought made her feel like crying.  Gaelen was a worthy man, good hearted, gentle.  She should not tease him with her own needs, lead him to believe she could give him something that she was afraid she couldn’t.

Or worse, that she could. 

She cared for him, too.  He made her feel safe.  He helped her without asking anything for himself beyond a pallet to sleep on and food to fill his belly.  He drove away the loneliness she had not even realized she felt until he came.  He did not seem to be comfortable talking about his past, but in the weeks since he had come to live with her it seemed to her that they had formed a companionable bond.  Most nights, when the work was done and they had shared an evening meal, she settled in the main room of the cottage near the fire with him to attend the seemingly endless rounds of mending. And although they rarely spoke about anything beyond the chores that would need to be done the following day, or those they’d taken care of that day, his presence was enough in itself to chase away the loneliness that had dogged her days since her mother’s passing.

Locking herself into her tiny bed chamber, she threw herself onto her bed and tried to sort through her chaotic emotions, listening tensely to see if Gaelen would follow her.  Disappointment swept through her when he didn’t, and then relief, and then frustration. 

Her body tormented her almost endlessly now.  She had no idea why when she had never felt the need to be with a man at all before.  Now, she had begun to feel as if there was some fever inside her, eating away at her control.  Every day, it seemed worse, stronger, until it seemed to have become a never ending hunger. At times, the need seemed barely noticeable, simmering beneath the surface. At others, she could scarcely train her mind away from the need that danced along her nerves until she felt like screaming.

Something had changed her.  She wasn’t certain if it was something natural, a life cycle that she had been unaware of before, or if something had happened to her during the time she couldn’t remember.

She couldn’t believe it was that, though.  She didn’t doubt that the villagers were perfectly capable of attacking her and using her.  She’d seen the way many of the men looked at her, but they disgusted her.  Nothing they could have done, she felt certain, would have changed the way she felt about them—revolted even at the idea that they had coupled with her.  It certainly would not have filled her with a need there after to experience it again.

She had begun to suspect that she was breeding, though.  It wasn’t just that her cycle had been broken.  She felt different.  Her belly was swollen and tender and she felt ill and dizzy at times for no apparent reason.

She had not conceived, though, if she was indeed with child, by herself. 

It was hard to decide which part of that was more difficult to accept, the possibility that she was pregnant, or the possibility that one of the villagers had gotten a child on her and so terrorized her in the process that her mind had blocked the memory.

  Gaelen had disappeared by the time she nerved herself to face him again and went back to her work.  Relieved to put off any sort of confrontation for a little longer, feeling horribly guilty for making him think that she would not be averse to his overtures and then dashing away, she tried to put both from her mind and focus on her chores. 

He did not reappear for the evening meal, or later to find his rest on his pallet.

Nearly a week passed and Lilith had all but given up on the possibility that he would come back, when he appeared on the track one day leading a sow and her piglets.

She didn’t ask him where he’d gotten them, or how.  In the back of her mind, she was uneasy about any explanation he might give her.  He did not seem to appreciate the general territorial attitude of most beasts, man included, and she was not all together certain that he was above simply taking it if he thought he needed it and pounding anyone who objected into the dirt.

Or if he thought it would please her to get it for her.

She recalled that she had complained that he had had to trade the boar he had killed for the bread and other supplies.

But she wondered if there had ever actually been a boar. 

Gaelen was an enormous man, and seemed as strong as an ox.  She thought if doing such a thing as killing a wild boar barehanded was humanly possible then Gaelen probably had the strength for it.  And the story about the mire was plausible.  

And she still wasn’t convinced that it was true. 

She was afraid to go to the village and find out, however. 

She was only surprised angry citizens had not already descended upon her … again. 

She supposed she should have been appalled at the possibility that Gaelen was a thief.  She was certainly not pleased about it, or unconcerned.  But oddly enough, her fear that he might have done something wrong and that there might be a reckoning only made her feel protective of him. 

She could not quite figure him out.  He was intelligent.  She could tell that from being around him and talking to him, but he seemed so out of his depth in everything he tried to do around the farm that he was almost child-like in other ways.

Miner or not, and she was no longer convinced that he had been, how could he have reached manhood with no notion of even how to cut wood?  Or chop down a tree for that matter?  He could cook, very well, and build a fire on the hearth with no trouble, and he had done wonders setting the cottage to rights, but when he had first come to stay he had had difficulty getting his clothes on correctly.  As often as not, he had the shirt and breeches on backwards.  She might have thought that that was intentional to save wear on the front, except that she could tell he was uncomfortable and not entirely certain why the clothing felt strange. 

He seemed to figure it out fairly quickly.  Where upon, he would simply strip down, turn the things around and put them on again with a complete disregard for her sensibilities, or the fact that he was standing in the yard in broad daylight at the time.

Peculiar as he was, it almost seemed his strangeness made him more endearing.  She could not deny that it aroused her nurturing and protective instincts as much as his physical appeal aroused her desire.

If he had brought the sow and piglets to appease her, though, she could not tell it.  He was as grouchy as a bear with an injured paw and scarcely spoke two words to her for the first few days after he had returned. 

She would have apologized except that she couldn’t figure out how she could manage it without admitting that she knew she had teased him and she couldn’t quite bring herself to admit that.  An admission, as far as she could see, would require a discussion that could easily lead to more problems in that area.

Besides, she was no longer certain of what her motives had been.  She had believed at the time that she was only offering solace for his bruises and an apology for laughing at his predicament.  Now she wasn’t certain but what she had lied to herself, used that as an excuse to touch him and explore him, because she didn’t think she would have stopped at that if she had not thought about the Hawkin at just that moment. 

She had finally been forced to admit to herself, though, that she wanted the Hawkin more even than Gaelen.  She had no idea why.  In his own way, he was as handsome a creature as Gaelen, perhaps even more, because there was also the appeal of the mysterious and exotic, but she did not think it was merely physical appeal. 

She could not help but wonder, though, if it was nothing more than the sheer contrariness of human nature to want what one could not or should not have.  She did not like to think that that was the case.  She did not believe it was.  It seemed to her that it was more an empathy for his hurt, a need to soothe, admiration for his nobility in freeing his love even when it caused him pain to do so, and the yearning to have for herself what he had offered another—love without boundaries.  It did not seem to her that there were many who had so much to give, in her own world or his. 

Her mother had certainly not found it, for she had discovered that the man she loved belonged to another in truth, that the man who had gotten her with child was already wed and had a family.

She knew that that was not something she need be concerned about with the Hawkin.  She thought that that was probably true of Gaelen, as well, though, and he would not be torn between living in her world and his. 

It would be best, she finally decided, not to mettle in the Hawkin’s affairs, assuming, of course, that he had not already returned to the nether world.  It was not her place to ease his wounds.  In time, he would either convince his lady to love him, or he would recover without her interference and she would not risk being caught in the middle.

Unfortunately, she realized only a few weeks later that she had no business encouraging Gaelen either.  When she passed her second woman’s time with no cycle, she knew she had to be breeding and she did not think, even as kind and good natured as Gaelen was that he would accept her when he discovered she was carrying another man’s child.  It was unfair, of course.  She knew, even though she could not remember how or when it had happened, that she had not sought this, and it hardly seemed just that she and the baby would both be considered wicked for something they could not help, but life was not fair.

No doubt, the villagers would either claim that she had lain with demons, or that she had placed a spell on some man and stolen his seed for evil purposes.

They already despised her, though, and she thought it doubtful they could have any lower opinion of her, but the baby—she hated to think that it would have to suffer their cruelties.

She was glad, at least, that she had no memory of the coupling.  If it had been one of the villagers as she thought, then she was certain she preferred not to know the identity of the father.  And she was just as certain that it would make it far easier to accept and love her child thinking of it only as her own.

She was miserable to think that she could not be with either man now, though.  If she had not met them, she would probably be overjoyed to discover that she was with child, that she would finally have someone to love who would love her.  She was still happy.  She knew she was, but she enjoyed Gaelen’s company and it would be hard to lose him now when she had grown accustomed to having him with her.

He had withdrawn from her already, though, after the incident with the geese, and she decided she must have chased away the Hawkin, as well, for she had not seen him in weeks.

She supposed, she thought one day as she worked in her garden, that she was already growing accustomed to being alone again.  Gaelen spent more time watching her in brooding silence than speaking to her.  If not for the fact that she had realized she was breeding, she would have tried to mend their fences, but that had changed everything. 

Pausing when she reached the end of a row, she straightened, placing a hand to her back to ease the pain and arching against it. 

A flash of white caught her gaze as she bent to her task again, and she stopped, lifting her head to look.

One of the village men was standing at the edge of her yard, watching her intently.  She did not know his name, but she recognized him, for she rarely managed to make a trip to the village and back again without running afoul of him.  Twice, he had accosted her.  The first time, his wife had opportunely called to him and diverted him long enough for her to make her escape.  The second time, he had lain in wait for her beyond the edge of the village.  She had only escaped him then because pig had routed him.

She glared at him, her belly tightening with nausea as it occurred to her for the first time to wonder if he had fathered her child.  Errant bits and pieces of memory descended upon her abruptly as she stared at him, of the villagers, angry and threatening, closing in around her.

He’d been at the forefront, calling her a witch, accusing her of bespelling them all.

The memories rocked her, but she could not seem to turn her mind away from them.  She continued to struggle to piece the tidbits together, to try to understand what had happened afterward, after they had threatened, after they had stolen her flock and her pig.  There was darkness there, though, that she could not breach.

“You look none the worse for wear,” he murmured.

Lilith blinked, coming out of her reverie abruptly and discovering that he had closed the distance between them while she was frozen with fear and caught up in the maelstrom of memories whirling through her mind.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked tightly, knowing that it was an insult, however thinly veiled, suspecting that he referred to the incident she had only just remembered.

“Did yon monolith help you to escape?” he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the village.   “Is that how you managed to get out of the cave of the beasts?”

Lilith stared at him in horror as two facts emerged from his questions—Gaelen must be in the village, or he would not have dared to come—and he believed she had been in the Labyrinth.

Had she?  Why would he think she had been there if he had not had something to do with taking her there?  No one went willingly, and she had heard that many of the villages had taken their unwanted there for the beasts, the demons.  None had ever returned, though.

Except her mother.

“Or maybe you really are a witch?”

“You have doubts now?” Lilith retorted, standing her ground with an effort, casting about in her mind a little frantically to think what to do to protect herself from him.  He was too close, though.  She had been distracted and he had gotten too close either for her to try to swing the hoe at him or to run.  He would catch her before she managed to do either one. 

He chuckled, showing broken, blackened teeth that made her feel even more ill.  “I never thought you were.”

Anger surged through her.  “But you accused me in front of everyone in the village!  You incited them to attack me!”

He grew angry, as well.  “Everyone accused you.  If I had not, then they would have believed that I was bespelled by you, or worse, in league!”

“Coward!” Lilith spat at him.  “Spineless cur!  Get out of my yard!  Leave!” she screamed at him.

“Not until I get what I came for,” he snarled, surging toward her before the words were even out of his mouth and grabbing her.  “You have flaunted yourself in front of me for years.  If you have taken a man to your bed already, you can have no objections to taking another.”

Rage went through Lilith. She swung at him with the hoe, but it was too late to have any effect at all upon him, for he’d grabbed her arms and she could not draw her arm back far enough to put any force into the blows.  She flailed at him anyway as they struggled back and forth, stomping down the garden she had worked so hard on.  Finally, he released her long enough to snatch her bludgeon out of her grip, tearing the flesh of her palms in the process.

She hardly noticed the pain.  The moment he let go of her, she whirled and ran.  He caught up to her within a couple of strides, slamming into her from behind and sending them both to the ground.  She threw dirt in his face as he leaned away from her to roll her over.  He spluttered and blinked, trying to dislodge the dirt from his eyes and finally let go of her arms to rub his eyes.  She struggled backwards, using her elbows to try to tug free of his weight.  Before she’d managed to make much progress, however, he’d wiped the dirt from his eyes and launched himself down on her, using his superior weight to pin her to the ground.

She slapped at him, pulling at his long, stringy hair and clawing at his face as she felt his hands reaching into her bodice.  She screamed again, more from fury than fear, trying to bite him when her slapping and pulling at his hair seemed to have little effect.  Balling one hand into a fist, he swung at her, but missed as he was abruptly yanked back and upwards.

Panting, in too much shock to fully comprehend what had happened, Lilith scrambled to her feet and ran to get the hoe he’d flung away.  She turned just in time to see the villager whirl toward Gaelen, who’d pulled him off of her, and drive a knife into Gaelen’s belly.

A stunned look came over Gaelen’s face.  Bright red blood gushed from his side.  Lilith screamed in real terror then.  Certain the man had killed Gaelen, she rushed back to the struggling men and whacked the villager on the back of his head with the hoe handle.  Gaelen, either from surprise or weakness, released the man at almost the same moment.  Her attacker staggered back, turning in a drunken circle to stare at her in stupefied surprise as he lifted a hand to the knot she’d put on his skull with the handle of the hoe. 

Chapter Eleven

“Go!” Lilith screamed, swinging at the man again and following him as he jumped back to avoid the hoe.  The man stared at her.  Abruptly, his eyes widened until they looked like they would bulge from his head.

Lilith swung at him again, connecting so hard with his shoulder as he whirled to run that it sent jarring pain shooting from her hands to her elbows.  “Coward!” she screamed after him as he began to run down the track as fast as he could manage at his wobbling gait.  When she was certain he would not stop and turn back, she dropped the hoe and turned, rushing to Gaelen. 

She could tell nothing about his expression, but she burst into tears when she saw the blood on his shirt. “You’re hurt!  Oh, Gaelen!  It looks—let me see,” she babbled, tugging at his shirt and pulling it away from his skin.  The wound had closed, but she felt little comfort in it, for knife wounds often did.  She could not recall to save her life—or Gaelen’s—how big the knife had been, or calculate how deeply he might have been wounded.  Deep enough to puncture something vital so that he bled to death?  Or deep enough to give him a slow, agonizing death?

He looked bemused when she wrapped at arm around his waist to help him into the cottage.  “Let me help you inside so that I can have a better look,” she said shakily.

“It is not bad.”

She uttered a sob, but fought the urge to fall apart.  She would be useless to him if she did.  It was something of a relief that he seemed to manage well enough with her help, but she worried that he was using strength he could not afford to lose for fear of putting too much of his weight on her. 

She had to mop the tears from her face even to see him once she had gotten him to sit down on his pallet and then helped him to stretch out.  Lifting his shirt again, she carefully probed the wound.  To her surprise and relief she discovered that it was not deep at all, hardly more than a skin break.  Biting her lip, she studied the wound for several moments and finally got up to get water, fearing that the blood had merely caused the flesh to stick together.

She had no idea what she would do if she found that was the case, because if he was damaged inside no potion that she knew of would close and heal such a wound, but she had to know if he was dying.  Grabbing water from the pot beside the hearth and a clean cloth, she rinsed the drying blood from him and probed the wound again.  It had either closed, and very tightly, or he had only been scraped by the knife for she could not open it.  She sat back on her heels, wondering if it was safe to feel the relief that had begun to take hold of her.

“I told you that it was not bad.”

She looked at his face then.  Bursting into tears, she flung herself down on his broad chest.  “I thought he had killed you,” she said between wracking sobs.  “I don’t know what I would have done if he had … if he had …”

He lay motionless for several moments and finally tugged her upward so that her face was against his neck and she was lying against him more comfortably.  He began to stroke her back soothingly.  “Hush, little bird.  It makes me … ache to hear you cry.  I was not hurt.”

She sniffed, trying to regain control.  “That snake!  To pull a knife on an unarmed man!  I should have pulverized him with the hoe!”

“You are hurt?” he said after a moment, anger beginning to thread his voice.

Lilith sniffed.  “Bruises, I suppose.  I was so angry I hardly noticed, and then worried about you.”

He shifted after a moment, pushing her until she was lying beside him, and then examined her face and head, running his hands down her arms to check them.  He paused, frowning, when he looked at her palms.  After stroking the angry red marks lightly with his fingers for a moment, he lifted the hand he held and kissed her palm lightly.

Lilith felt her belly tighten at his touch.  She curled her fingers to touch his cheek.

When he lifted his head, he turned to meet her gaze and Lilith caught her breath.  The urge to rise up to meet him was so strong Lilith found it nigh irresistible.  She might have acted on it except for the fact that her conscience chose that inopportune moment to give voice to the doubts that had been troubling her for days. 

She looked away.  She didn’t want to tell him she was carrying some other man’s child, not now of all times. 

But wouldn’t it be worse not to say anything now and leave him to discover it on his own?  He might not forgive her if she lied to him by omission. 

He might not anyway.

The only thing that could possibly be worse would be to not tell him at all and allow him to believe the child was his.  And he was bound to if she was so lost to decency as to give herself to him now without telling him, for she could not be far along at all.

The wicked desire to deceive Gaelen swept through her so strongly that she sat up abruptly and moved away from him, struggling with her conscience, with the urge to confess, and the fear that to do so would ruin any chance that they might be together.

“What troubles you?”

Lilith glanced at him sharply, biting her lip.  She was such a coward!  She could not gather the nerve to tell him for fear he would look at her with loathing and disgust and she could not go to him for the same reason.  And he could not understand if she told him nothing at all.  He would only be hurt, thinking that she had rejected him again.

Of all the unpalatable choices open to her, which would be worse?

“I will find the man and kill him if you are afraid that he will return,” he said after a long moment.

Lilith gaped at him.  “No!”

He frowned.  “You care for the man?”

“Certainly not!  I felt like killing him myself, but you do not take a life unless a life has been taken!  He attacked and he was soundly beaten.  It is punishment enough—that and his life, for I have seen his wife and she is an ill tempered female.  Not but what she probably has reason to be for he is shiftless and lazy besides being a coward.”

He shrugged.  “If it is as you say, then he will be no great loss.”

“You would be a great loss, though!”  Lilith exclaimed worriedly.  “I would lose you and … and I do not think I could bear that.  They would not let his death go unpunished.  Leave it.  He is not worth it and I am not worried he will come back any time soon.”

Galen considered that in frowning silence for a moment.  He was fairly certain the knave would not be back either, for he had made certain the man knew exactly whom he would be dealing with, half shifting into his true form so that the man could be in no doubt that he was the Hawkin who had already proclaimed Lilith as his own.  “You care for me?”

Lilith bit her lip.  “Of course I do!  How could you think otherwise when I have been weeping all over you from fear that you were badly hurt?”

“I am confused,” Gaelen said irritably, wondering why, if she spoke the truth, she was standing on the other side of the room from him instead of making love with him. 

Lilith looked at him helplessly for a moment and finally spoke in a rush.  “I am with child!’ she said baldly.

He looked perfectly blank, as well he might, for he had no reason to believe that she had ever had any man around.

“I don’t know how it happened,” she added hurriedly, hopeful that if she could explain quickly enough that she could get it said before he exploded in anger.  “At least, I am sure I do, except that I do not remember.  I woke in the woods naked, and I did not remember anything.”

Gaelen stared at Lilith with a frozen look of dismay as he realized abruptly that he had fallen into a trap of his own making.  In truth, he had not thought beyond discovering if he would be more pleasing to her if he looked like a man, but she had accepted him, welcomed his help and his companionship and he had been lulled by a false sense of security into believing that, at last, he had found the way to win her love.

He could not think what to do or say, but he could see that she was waiting for him to say something. 

‘I know’ seemed like the worst possibility, for then she would wonder why, and she had been enraged with him, he remembered belatedly, when she had discovered before that he had deceived her about his knowledge of her mother.  He did not think that she would be relieved and happy now if he said that he knew she was breeding because the child was his.  It seemed far more likely that she would become enraged with him and demand that he go.

Frustration surged through him.  He enjoyed pain as much as the next demon, but he had not endured this kind of torture before and he was beginning to think he would go mad if she continued to tease him and then change her mind just when she seemed about to give herself to him.

He did not understand mortals at all, and he especially did not understand mortal women. 

He was tempted to simply tell her that he had deceived her and have an end to it.

Somehow, though, he could not seem to bring himself to do that. 

She had said she cared for him.  Perhaps, if he contained his impatience only a little longer something would come to him and he would think of a way either to explain to her why he had done it so that she would not be enraged with him.

Or he would become more adept and she would never find out.

He rather thought it might be best if she never found out, for he had a feeling that time would do nothing to mitigate her anger if she did.

“You are angry with me,” she said tentatively.

Brought abruptly from his unpleasant thoughts, Gaelen did his best to clear his expression.  “Nay,” he denied at once, knowing there was a trap lying in wait for him somewhere in that comment, but not entirely certain of what it was or how he was going to avoid falling into it.

“I saw it in your eyes,” she said accusingly.

“I was thinking.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “You were thinking that I am a loose woman.”

He was not thinking any such thing, he thought indignantly, because he had no idea what in Hades she was talking about.  He thought it would not be prudent to point out to her that he could read minds, though, and that it was not an ability that she could claim. 

“Nay, I was not!” he protested a little weakly, trying to figure out what a loose woman was and wondering what that had to do with him being angry and her being with child. 

He was in no mood to try to think what it might mean.  In the first place, his desire for her was frying his brain and he could not think much beyond that, and in the second place he was certain he did not care.

He also did not care for the way she was looking at him at the moment, however, and he struggled valiantly to prod his sluggish brain into functioning.

After a brief struggle, he vaguely recalled a discussion between them some time before when she had said something about mating and only one woman, or something to that effect.  But he could not really recall it with any clarity.  Because from the moment she had mentioned mating he had not been able to think of anything beyond the painful throbbing in his groin and the way her breasts rose above the thing she wore each time she took a deep breath.

It would be easier to say what she wanted him to say, he decided angrily, if she would only give him more of a clue of what she was upset about.

She sniffed.  “I knew that you would look at me like that if I told you!” she said angrily and stalked from the room, slamming the door to her bed chamber.

He scowled at the door for several moments, sorely tempted to rip it from its hinges and toss it into the yard.  Finally, regaining control of his temper somewhat, he got to his feet and stalked from the cottage to strip the annoying man things from his body and sit in the icy stream to cool his ballocks and curse mankind for the contrary, obstinate beasts that they were.

* * * *

Lilith plopped on the edge of her bed and stared at the mote of light that pierced the shutters over her window and formed a tiny circle on the rag rug that she and her mother had made together.  She felt strangely detached from herself, rather like someone who had been struck so hard out of the blue that their mind had not yet been able to register the pain.

She had tried to convince herself that Gaelen would not judge her, that he would accept her even if he knew that she was carrying a child that belonged to another man.  He had never been anything but kind and understanding and she could not believe that he was being so unforgiving and judgmental now.

She tried to decide whether she felt more hurt or angry, but finally realized that all she really felt was lost and empty.  Regret swept through her.  She knew that she had done the right thing in telling him, and she did not think she could have done anything else and lived with herself, but she wished now that she had waited. 

There had been so many clashes between them of late that the harmony they had shared at first had already been strained.  If she had waited a while before she told him then, perhaps, he would have had an easier time accepting.

Perhaps not, but she would still have had more time with him.

It dawned on her with that thought exactly how she felt.  Bereft, because she was afraid that he would leave now and she had no idea how she might convince him to stay.

She felt like crying when she heard him get up and stalk from the cottage.  It took all she could do to keep from leaping to her feet and chasing after him to beg him to stay.

Some of the tension left her when she had sat for a while, listening to see if he would come back, not because she was relieved when he didn’t, but simply because she was too worn out to maintain it any longer.

Restlessness followed on the heels of her relief from the extreme distress and finally she got up and left the cottage, unable to bear being cooped up inside any longer.  Taking one of the paths that led from the clearing around the cottage, she followed it without purposefulness, thinking of nothing in particular. 

She realized, though, when she came upon the place where she had awakened to find the Hawkin staring at her and no memory of her trek to the spot that her stroll had not been without purpose.  She stared at the place for some time, looking around as she struggled to open her mind to memories that would not come. 

Giving up after a time, she left the place and followed the meandering path until she found herself standing at the edge of the meadow where she often gathered her herbs.  Late flowers swayed in the faint breeze that brushed over their crowns. 

She had met the Hawkin again just here, she realized.  She had been searching for herbs and edible roots and she had felt his gaze upon her and looked up.  He had seemed so forlorn she had felt her fear dissipate, had felt compelled to go to him.

When it dawned on her that she had come in hopes that she would see him, she frowned and moved deeper into the meadow and finally sat among the wildflowers.  She had no idea how long she sat, thinking of nothing in particular when a shadow overhead caught her attention.  When she looked up, she saw the Hawkin.  Her heart skipped several beats in gladness, and awe.

He was a beautiful creature as he soared and dipped in the sky far above her, graceful as she had never seen him before.  She had not given much thought, she realized, to the fact that he was not earth bound as she was, that the sky was more his element than the earth.  In truth, he was far more graceful even when he walked as men walked than most of the men she had had the opportunity to observe.

As she leaned back to watch him, bracing herself on her arms, he circled lower and lower and finally landed only a little way from where she sat.  Tramping through the high grasses he approached her purposefully and finally knelt down on his knees little more than two arms lengths from where she sat, studying her for a long time.

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him. 

“You do not make the sound in your throat that you usually do when you are here,” he said finally, his voice almost tentative.

Lilith felt a flicker of surprise.  She sat up, prodding her mind for what he meant.  “Humming?”

  He seemed almost to shrug.  “Singing without speaking words.”

“Today I am not happy.”

He frowned, but thoughtfully.  “Why?”

She shook her head.  She had no desire to talk about it.  “I have not seen you in a very long time.  Did I … was it something that I said that made you go away?  Or is it because you have been with your lady love?”

He seemed disconcerted by the questions.  “I have not been with her,” he responded finally, scrubbing his palms almost restlessly along his hard thighs.  “She will have none of me and I … ache with my need until I can scarcely think, until my body burns and my mind is afire.”

She should have been horrified, she supposed, perhaps even disgusted by his frank discussion of his needs.  Instead, every word seemed to summon heat from her own body.  She had need, too, desperate need.  Mayhap that was at least a part of why her own mind was so disordered?

She did not know and she found she did not care either.  She had long passed the need to rationalize the cravings inside of her, or excuse them.  He was right.  It was a need, just as the air was a need, and water, and food, and she was weary with aching with the relentless, nearly unbearable hunger.

Rising, she moved to him almost like a sleepwalker and knelt to face him.

Why should he suffer only because the woman he wanted was a fool who did not appreciate him?

Why should she deny what she wanted only because of some notion that it was morally wrong?  Why and how could it be wrong to behave as nature intended?

Holding his gaze, she lifted her hands and touched his arms lightly with her fingers.  His skin felt as silken as it looked, she discovered.  The long, bulging muscles felt as hard as she had thought they would, and yet yielding, warm to the touch. 

A tremor went through him.  His eyes glazed as she explored him, first his arms, and then the muscles of his chest.  After a moment, she sat back on her heels, studying him for any sign that he meant to reject her offer.  When she saw only a tense waiting, as if he was holding his breath, she loosened the lacings on the back of her gown and peeled it off.  Tossing it aside, she removed her chemise and corset. 

He caught her arms as she untied the draw string of her pantalets, bearing her backwards until she was lying in the grasses, pressing his body against hers until her breasts were flattened between them, throbbing with the blood pounding through her.  His mouth claimed hers almost with savagery, with an impatience to explore the tender cavern of her mouth with his tongue that sucked the breath from her lungs.  Dizziness swept through her as she tasted his essence on her tongue, inhaled his scent into her lungs so that it seemed to mingle with her blood, set fire to it.

She kissed him back, entwining her tongue with his as she skimmed her palms up the unyielding muscles of his upper arms that knotted with the weight he supported with them, over the rounded knob of his shoulders, and across the ropy connective tissue to his neck.  Looping her arms around his neck briefly, she tightened them, moving closer to him, sucking on his tongue hungrily as the fire inside her grew quickly to a blaze.

The tremors rippling through him grew more pronounced.  He broke the contact with her mouth and leaned away to cover one breast instead, tugging on it with his lips and mouth and tongue and sending an explosion of keen sensation through her.  The fire gathered in her belly.  The muscles of her sex flexed and contracted rhythmically with the need for his flesh.  Heated moisture gathered there to ease his possession, weeping for it.

Uttering a sound of impatience and eagerness, she shifted to assist his efforts as he tugged her pantalets off and thrust a knee between her bare thighs.  She arched, rubbing her sex along his thigh to ease the ache of her nether lips, swollen now and acutely, almost painfully, sensitive. 

He shuddered.  Releasing the nipple he had teased until she thought she would go mad, he paused, lifting his head to drag in several harsh breaths as if he was struggling for control.  He sought her other breast after a moment, teasing it as he had the first until she began to move ceaselessly beneath his touch, moaning with the ache that his every caress built inside her mercilessly.  The feel of his mouth and tongue pushed her relentlessly beyond awareness of anything beyond his lovemaking.  The knot of tension inside of her that coiled tightly at his first touch grew quickly tighter and tighter until she felt as if she would be crushed beneath the pressure it built in her.  And yet it seemed to expand for all that, until it encompassed her and she felt herself hovering maddeningly near the brink of release, unable to cross, unable to cool or find even the slightest ease from the tension as his palms moved over her, his lips, as she felt the faintly rough tease of his tongue against her skin.

She was aware of everything about him and yet the pleasure seemed to pound through her from every direction, and her mind swirled with the intoxication of her senses, dulling her to the purposefulness of his exploration until she felt his mouth along her upper thigh.  She sucked in a sharp breath at the jolt that quaked through her.  “Gaelen!  Don’t!”

He hesitated, lifted his head to look up at her. 

She swallowed against the hard knot of need in her throat, wanting to feel him there and yet reluctant to yield the lure of having him inside of her.  “I want your flesh inside of me,” she said shakily.

“A taste, little bird,” he said, dragging his gaze from hers and staring hungrily at the delicate pink flesh he had exposed when he had pushed her thighs wide.  “Only a taste.”

She shuttered, feeling her belly clench eagerly at his request.  “I cannot hold back,” she said a little desperately.

“Then do not,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to her and sucking at the ring in her flesh, pulling the ring and her bud into his mouth.  She grunted almost in pain as the scorching heat of his mouth sent a hard shock jolting through her, arching her head back and tensing all over, fighting the warning tremors that quaked through her as he sucked and tugged at her, ravenous with his own need.

In moments, as she had feared/hoped, euphoria burst inside of her explosively.  Her belly clenched so hard with the release that it skated the edge of pain.  She gasped, sobbed as her body was wracked by hard waves of rapture.

It seemed to go on endlessly as he continued to lathe her with his tongue and suck on the bud—and yet ended far too soon.  A vague dissatisfaction swept through her even as she went limp in the aftermath.

Settling her feet to the ground when she ceased to thrash and groan with release, he moved up her body as he had moved down, exploring her with his hands, his lips, his tongue, nipping and teasing her flesh with the edge of his teeth.  She shuttered, jerked, feeling far more sensitive even than she had felt before, uncertain of whether the reawakening of her senses was welcome or not.

By the time he reached her breasts and began to tease them again, she was no longer in any doubt.  From the ashes of spent passion, embers glowed, caught fire, blazing hotter than before.  She stroked and explored his body feverishly, encouraging him, demanding to feel him inside her.

She felt almost ill with need by the time she felt his cock head pushing into her.  Eagerly, she lifted her hips to meet his thrust, groaning as she felt her body begin to engulf his flesh.  Hungry for more, she bucked as he withdrew and then advanced again, sinking deeper. 

He wasn’t giving her enough, fast enough.  She caught his buttocks, struggling against her own resisting flesh to sheathe him fully.  He shuttered, stilled for a moment, gasping hoarsely.

Abruptly, he yielded to her insistent demand, driving deeply.  She gasped sharply as his engorged flesh impaled her, her nails digging into him.  Groaning hoarsely, he withdrew slightly and drove into her again, his control slipping further and further from his grip until he set a frantic, pounding pace. 

She hung onto him tightly, her rising passion keeping pace with his, outstripping his.  Her body had already begun to convulse with release when she felt his begin to quake and spasm.

Weak when the waves stopped rocking her, she loosened her frantic hold on him and allowed her arms to drop limply to the ground at her sides. He settled closer, his arms still bearing the bulk of his weight, but his chest resting heavily against hers, pressing into her with each harsh breath he dragged into his lungs. 

When his breath had steadied somewhat, he nuzzled his face against the side of her neck, nipping at her skin with his lips.  Her flesh prickled, tightened.  She groaned, instantly at war with herself, wanting more, certain she was too exhausted to feel more.

She found that she wasn’t.  He stirred the heat inside of her again, took her to the heights of passion until waves of euphoria broke over her, and then took her there again as if he could not get enough of her and each coupling only fed his need for more.

Chapter Twelve

The gloom of evening was already crawling across the forest when Lilith became aware of her surroundings.  Lazily, she opened her eyes and stared up at the trees above her for several moments before it dawned on her that she didn’t remember being in the forest, let alone falling asleep there.

Pushing herself up on her elbows, she saw that her clothing was balled beside her.

Dimly at first, and then more strongly, she recalled the sensation of being carried.

Smiling faintly, relaxing, she lay back, stretching, frowning at the tender pull of muscles along her thighs.  She felt—wonderful, she realized, exhausted, sore, but oddly peaceful.  Her body tingled and pricked at the memory of the Hawkin’s touch—Gaelen’s. 

She frowned at that.  What were the odds, she wondered, that two men would come into her life named Gaelen?  Or rather, a man and a Hawkin?

She had puzzled over it before, but aside from the oddity of it, hadn’t really considered it.  If coincidence was not commonplace there would have been no word for it, after all.

Dismissing her thoughts after a moment, she sorted her clothes and pulled them on.  She thought she would have been happy to lie where she was, reliving the moments in the meadow, but it was growing dark and she found that she was starving.

Her thighs quivered as she trudged back to her cottage, reminding her with every step of Gaelen’s hips between them, of his engorged flesh plowing into her. 

She was worn down with weariness, and yet the more she thought about it, the harder the craving became to go to him again.

A little uneasy with her thoughts, she set them aside again as she crossed the yard and pushed the door to the cottage open.  Gaelen, the man, was crouched at the hearth, stirring food in her cook pot.  He glanced at her as she came in, but returned his attention to the food almost at once.

Guilt swept over her.  She had angered him and hurt him and then she had fled into the arms of another man—being. 

She should have stopped by the brook to bathe, she realized belatedly.  She could still smell him on her flesh, but she hadn’t wanted to bathe his scent from her.  She had wanted to wrap herself in it to hug the memories to herself.

Moving to one of the chairs at the table after a moment, she plopped down in it weakly.  “I am sorry,” she said tentatively after watching his stiff back for several moments.

He didn’t look at her, but she could see that he was frowning. “Why?” he asked gruffly.

“I was unreasonable,” she confessed.  When he said nothing, she continued.  “I have not … seemed myself lately.  I do not know myself any more.  It is almost as if I am someone else, changed from the person I once was.”

He said nothing for several moments, as if he was feeling his way carefully around a hazard.  “You are breeding,” he responded, his voice rough.

Lilith swallowed against the knot that formed in her throat.  “Do you think it is that?”

He glanced at her and then looked away again.  Finally, he merely shrugged.

The knot grew until it was hard to swallow.  “Do you hate me for it?”

He whirled at that, his expression eloquent of dumbfounded surprise.  “Why would I hate you?”

She studied his face for several moments and then looked down at her hands, feeling a mixture of relief and more guilt.  She had betrayed her feelings for him.  She had struck him out of the blue with her announcement and then been angry with him because he was stunned and could not think of the way to respond that would please her and ease her mind. 

And then, she had rushed off to the Hawkin.

She could not confess that!  He would think she had only done it to punish him.

And the worse of it was she had not.  She had not even thought of him when the Hawkin had appeared to her.  She had thought of nothing beyond giving him the comfort he needed and taking for herself.

“Your skin is red,” he said abruptly.

She looked down self-consciously, realizing that she had cavorted in the meadow until the sun had burned her skin.  She blushed, cleared her throat.  “I was …uh … in the meadow.  The sun burned me.”

He took the food from the hearth and brought it to the table.  Lilith leapt up at once and began to gather plates and mugs of water and utensils to eat with.  “Eat, little bird,” he said gently when she merely stared at the food on her plate.

She glanced at him sharply at that, recalling abruptly that the Hawkin had called her little bird.  She thought he had anyway.  Had he?  Or was her mind playing tricks upon her again?   Frowning thoughtfully, she picked up her knife and cut a slice from the meat he had placed before her, finding as she ate that her appetite had returned with a vengeance. 

When they had finished, she gathered the dirty plates and mugs and headed down to the brook to clean them.  Setting them aside when she had finished, she glanced uncertainly toward the cottage and finally removed her clothes and stepped into the edge of the stream to bathe. 

“You will need these,” Gaelen said abruptly.

Jerking all over since she had been too preoccupied to notice his approach, Lilith turned and watched him tensely as he covered the distance that separated them and squatted down, handing her a wash cloth and soap.  Disconcerted, she took them wordlessly.

He settled on a fallen log close by as if he had only come to watch and could think of no reason why she should object. 

After a moment, realizing that she was not particularly unsettled by his familiarity, Lilith lathered the cloth. 

“Why were you angry before?  You do not want the child?”

Lilith glanced at him in surprise but returned her attention to lathering herself after that quick look.  She wished the water was no so cold it made her skin pucker and her teeth rattle. 

“Truthfully, I do not know.  I might be more certain if I knew the father,” she mumbled.

“It is your child.  You would not want it if you … did not care for the father?”

She looked down at her stomach.  The rounding was so faint that she doubted that she would even have noticed if she had not known her own body so well.  “I do not think I have accustomed myself to the thought that it is really there,” she said finally.  “I mean—I know it is, but it does not seem real.  I do not know.  Mayhap, in time, I will want it regardless, only for itself.  Now, I cannot think about the child without also thinking about the father.  I would be … ill if I discovered it was that lout who attacked us.”

“Happily, it is not,” he ground out, anger threading his voice suddenly.

Lilith sent him a surprised look.  “How would you know that?”

He studied her for a long moment, but said no more.

“You saw!” she exclaimed.  “You were in the forest when it … happened!”