59
The Bond
Rumi
“Come and sit,”
Rumi said, motioning to the bed.
Her nerves were still raw from their encounter with Sullivan but were calming now that she knew he could not get to her.
“This might be intense.”
When he was seated, she slowly peeled back the blood-soaked shirt to touch his bare chest.
Cal grunted in acknowledgment.
She cursed inwardly.
He was dangerously pale, and despite his assurances, his hands were shaking.
Her palm warmed against his skin as she reached forward with her Ti’la and opened herself to him.
“Let me in, Cal,”
she whispered, leaning close to kiss his cheek, the salt of his sweat stinging a cut on her lip.
Fiery pain lashed against her mind the moment he opened to her.
Echoes of past injuries created a cacophony of torment as she sifted through memories, each one, to find the injuries presently ravaging his body.
It was strange, at times, to listen to someone’s bodily pain.
It did not know the difference between the now and the past, and thus she had to search.
She had gotten quite skilled at healing during her time at the Sicktree.
She had not been lying when she told him it was not often done—the Arryvians exhausted nearly all other measures first before daring to touch the Ti’la.
Rumi’s mother had taught her how to do this, and now she imagined Ama’s wise hands guiding her spirit to help Callum.
His heartbeat, strong and sure, thrummed in her mind.
In her soul.
There.
She saw his Ti’la laid out like a battle scene filled with the stench of death and pain, golden vines twisting through his body.
One by one, she located the injuries.
Just like she would with a plant, she sent her Ti’la into the war zone, and silvery light flooded the area in her mind’s eye.
She commanded the blood to purify and expel any toxin, offering her own strength to aid the transition.
She felt more than saw the round still lodged in his shoulder blade.
With urgent bidding, Rumi bade his body to push the little ball toward her waiting fingers.
She ignored his wincing and hisses of pain; she could barely register them beyond her deep focus.
When the bullet, slick and bloody, fell to her palm, she stitched up the wound with invisible fingertips. Just like weaving, her ama had said. The pattern of life and death and the human body—all of it can be woven together and mended.
Time halted as she worked to heal him, her brow drawn down in focus, beads of sweat trailing down.
Then, when it was all done, she snapped back into herself and collapsed on his chest, her ragged breathing scraping from her throat.
Only a small circular scar remained just above his chest beneath his collarbone.
His eyes fluttered open as he straightened.
When his eyes found hers, the warmth of a strawberry dawn swept through her limbs, a sweetly golden euphoria thrumming in her blood, tingling in her fingertips, leaving a sun-kissed blush rushing beneath her skin.
“Rumi?”
“A souvenir,”
she rasped, holding the little round between her thumb and first finger.
His finger brushed her cheek, a stroke of flame against her skin.
“You did it.”
She smiled as he took the round and shoved it into his pocket.
“How do you feel?”
The feel of his mouth against hers seemed to startle him.
His lips tightened into a smile between the space of their faces.
He exhaled.
“Yeah.
Like that,”
he declared.
She blinked once, and then blinked again in surprise before a slow smile stretched her lips wide.
Then she closed the space again, brushing her mouth over his with a hesitance that quickly turned to insistence.
Warm hands cradled her face and slipped to her neck as her fingers slid into his hair, deepening the kiss.
“Wife,”
he whispered into her skin, sending shivers over her body.
“May I worship you as a husband does?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Callum laid her back on the bed, towering over her.
Like a man starved, he devoured her.
Tasting her skin and nipping at her neck until her breaths came in heady gasps.
He rolled her gently to her belly and unbuttoned her gown, placing a kiss on her spine as each undone button revealed more of her skin.
Her heart sputtered and when he flipped her over to look up at him, she was certain that nothing in her life, past or future, could match this moment.
He gazed down at her with such love radiating from his features it was difficult to breathe.
Eager fingers pushed his ruined suit coat from his shoulders and toyed with the buttons on his shirt until she pulled it back to reveal his skin.
Her lips journeyed from his mouth to his jaw and down his neck, reveling in the shiver that traveled across his shoulders.
“I love you,”
she murmured into his neck as she pulled him closer.
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, “Those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard you say.”
He grinned, “My other favorite was ‘I hate you.’”
“You liked that? Gods, that was so long ago…I was a different woman then.
Shall I wax poetic about all the ways I hate you?”
At his nod, she straightened and lifted her chin.
“I hate your stupid smile.
It makes my knees wobble.”
She kissed his lips tenderly.
“I hate how kind and gentle you are, even when I am being obstinate.”
Rumi nibbled his ear, feeling his inaudible groan rumble through his chest.
“I hate that your laugh always makes me join in.
I hate that I feel safer in your arms than anywhere else.
I hate how strong you are because I rarely win.”
His coat hit the floor, followed quickly by his shirt.
His fingers slid up her skirts and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head when he cupped her bottom.
He cursed beneath his breath before meeting her eyes again.
“I hate that I have loved you for a while, but spoke not because I was sure you did not feel the same.
I hate how much I love you.
I hate you.
And I love you.”
“I hate you and I love you back,”
he said, burying his face between her breasts, his heated breaths sending her reeling.
“You drive me mad.
Utterly fucking bonkers.”
Her back arched from the bed as his lips closed around her nipple, his tongue teasing and swirling the bud until her body broke out in goosebumps.
Then he turned his attention to the other.
When his hand slipped beneath her undergarments her eyes closed and a soft moan fluttered from her lips.
He played her like a well-practiced instrument, his fingers strumming and plucking until her body was wound tight as a strung bow, her back lifting from the bed.
“I always wondered how far down this tattoo went,”
he said, drawing a line with his tongue down her middle until he reached her belly button.
Then there was a rush of cold air as he flipped the skirts up and onto her belly.
His eyes were hungry, ravaging her with sight alone.
With disciplined control, he lowered to his belly and his mouth closed over her most sensitive part.
Her heart stopped.
Her breath stalled. There was only searing heat that emanated from her center and out to her limbs, making even her tongue tingle.
Her body came alive, awash in light and music that filled her blood with effervescent bubbles, vivid and all-consuming.
She was at his beck and call, a boat adrift on a sea of pleasure that ebbed and flowed with his command.
He shifted beneath her and she wrapped her legs around his middle, urging him closer, inviting him in.
Then he was there, filling her, completing her.
Her body bowed as he kissed her navel, the rocking of the ship echoing the way he moved in her.
He moaned her name, his breath hot on her skin, but she was soaring, the wave of pleasure roaring in her blood and cresting with each thrust as he made love to her.
It was a natural thing, to place her hand on his chest and bring his hand to hers.
He shuddered beneath her touch as their innermost walls intertwined in a wash of gold and warmth.
This was familiar.
It felt like the moment she had thrust herself into his Ti’la to heal him.
Like a billion fireflies lighting the darkness of their vast existence, she could sense his light guiding her deeper into him even as she could feel him exploring her soul.
A surge of pleasure accompanied the bridge that connected them.
Intoxicating and all-encompassing, Rumi sighed. She was taking a breath for the first time. Stresses of the world faded to the balm of his presence, a salve that healed the wounds deep in her soul.
She lifted her eyes to watch his face as she opened herself to him fully.
She had nothing to hide and every fiber of her being awoke to his touch, as if he lit her senses from within.
His eyes stayed closed, but the planes of his face relaxed in wonder and when she looked down at their hands, palm to palm, she smiled.
The Bond.
It was just as wonderful as her mother had said it would be.
In her mind’s eye, she saw a strange swell of energy and she found herself drawn to it.
It reached for her.
Rumi stretched herself out to explore this hidden part of his soul.
It spoke to her, speaking names that seemed as familiar as her own, but she did not recognize them.
Faces and reflections passed through her vision revealing many people, all with the same vibrant green eyes.
Curiously, she peered deeper into the misty beyond, feeling Cal pushing at the walls of her consciousness as well.
He gasped at what he found and it was as if the air was sucked from the room.
Suddenly, a ripple of heat accompanied by a hot white spire of light, bright as the sun, slashed through their small cabin and shot down right between them.
It tore them apart, searing anywhere their skin had met and throwing them against the walls of the room.
Shockwaves made Rumi’s body hum, an uncomfortable vibration that hurt all the way down to her bones.
Her head smacked with a loud bang that made her teeth rattle and her lungs stall from shock.
She collapsed to the ground and sucked in a breath as the ship listed to the side and she clung to the wall to stay upright.
The lamp fell from the dresser and shattered on the floor, broken glass settling like snow.
Jewelry toppled and anything that was not bolted to the floor rolled and slammed against the far wall.
Her eyes found Callum.
Her husband.
He had the strangest expression on his face and he stared down at his hands as if it had been him that shoved her away.
When he met her eyes, the vibrant green was teeming with gold.
The floorboards creaked as she dashed to him, and the sea outside her window roared and raged, tipping their side of the ship close enough to the water she might have reached her hand out and touched the spray.
He cupped her cheek in his hand, his gaze resolute.
“Something hit the ship,”
he said with confusion and a hint of disbelief.
His other hand reached for his shirt and he quickly tugged it on.
The ship shook again as she slipped her arms back into her gown, her heart pounding.
He pulled her closer to him as the screeching sounds of twisting metal sliced through Rumi’s temples.
“I love you, Rumi.
I always have and always will.”
He pressed his forehead to hers and she felt his resolve steeling her shaken nerves.
“Everything will be okay.”
His eyes were as soft as the mossy bed they had shared during their travel through the desert, his skin the gold of the vast swaths of sand as his lips met hers.
Jameson was shouting outside the door.
The roar of fear reverberated down the hall.
“Callum! Cal—”
Cal jerked the door open, pulling Rumi behind him.
“Topside,”
Callum’s soft voice swelled with confidence.
“Cover her.”
He gave her hand a final squeeze before weaving his way through the frightened disarray of fearful passengers.
Rumi followed, sandwiched between the two men.
“It is the leviathans, yes?”
She breathed, clinging to Callum’s hands, her fear swallowed by the collected calm she felt radiating from her husband.
Her bonded partner.
“I have heard stories of the great sea beasts from the Deep.”
Her lips trembled as she stumbled up the stairs, holding her dress up to her chest, the ship’s rocking throwing her off balance.
Her dress swished at her ankles, making it more difficult.
As they reached the deck, a blast of cold, salty air tugged the hair from her face and chilled her ears.
“Behiba’s grace,”
she whispered, her gaze surveying the churning ocean, the roar of the sea serpent nearly drowning out the screams.
Gulping, she closed her eyes and lifted her face skyward, cold sunlight kissing her tattoos.
“Amuna keep us safe beneath your starlit cloak.”
Madness reigned on the deck.
Passengers and crew alike aimed their piercers at the scaly creature’s coils.
The sea churned and frothed as the leviathan tangled its serpentine tail around the stern, crushing metal and splintering wood.
Rumi watched Callum’s shoulders rise and fall as he leaned over the railing, emptying his piercer into the viridian scales.
He holstered the empty piercer, his attention focused on the leviathan.
The monster screeched, twisting the length of its body and driving it into the ship’s hull.
The ship shuddered, and a sigh of dreadful silence followed.
The serpent’s head rose, and the beast roared at the deck’s inhabitants.
Frills of indigo and slate surrounded its head, its body reflecting the green light from the luminars, eerie green gleaming in the cyan and teal glitter of its scales.
A dark head swept its black-eyed gaze from prow to stern.
Cal reached his hand back, first squeezing Rumi’s arm, then claiming the piercer Jameson pressed into it.
He aimed carefully, his head mirroring the leviathan’s serpentine gaze.
“Here I am,”
Cal growled as he squeezed the trigger.
The shot split the silence, and havoc erupted.
Bright color, lavender, appeared just below the leviathan’s eye and it arched its ungainly head back, twisting to survey the deck with its remaining eye.
Rumi felt a stillness creep over the deck as the leviathan stared at her husband.
The same sort of frozen panic of a doe waiting to flee.
In the suspended moment, not even the sails flapped.
Then it roared, baring a mouth full of thin dark teeth, each as long as her leg.
Callum fired again.
And missed.
The leviathan’s one-eyed gaze was filled with bitter contempt as it swept its tail through the railing, throwing sailors and armed passengers like seeds scattering from a dandelion puff.
Jameson ducked the blow, crouching over Rumi, nearly crushing her under his weight.
Thick darkness wove over the ship, reeking of mossy decay.
Cal crouched near the ruined railing, his head slowly turning toward her.
He met her gaze and held it, communicating a myriad of emotions in a single heartfelt stare.
Sadness tugged at his face, tipping his mouth downward, and he pulled something from his pocket and kissed it, his eyes never wavering from her face.
Her totem.
He had carried it with him all this time.
His lips moved, the sound deafened by the leviathan’s roar as it struck, but she knew what he said all the same.
“I love you, Ru.”
The deck where he had knelt exploded, a finned tail crashing down and sending timber and steel into the air, across the deck, and onto Jameson’s back.
The tail slid away just as quickly as it had appeared.
The leviathan screeched in frustration as Jameson’s arms hooked under her armpits, lifting her as the deck beneath them collapsed.
She heard another piercer shot, answered by the leviathan bellowing in pain as they fell into chaos.
“No!”
She did not realize it was her shriek that echoed in her ears as Jameson pulled her thrashing away from the battlefield.
Her ankle caught on the shreds of broken boards, slashing bloody claws into her leg, the pain pulling her single-minded focus into finding Callum.
Jameson grunted as her elbow landed a solid blow to his ribs.
She could get to him.
She could save him from the monster.
They were forever.
He was her Forever.
Another scream tore from her throat, but Jameson wrapped an iron grip around her waist and pulled her away from where the leviathan struck once more, its horns silhouetted against the sky like a demon from hell.
Salty water slapped up her dress, and she struck him again.
A wild animal caged and cornered.
“Rumi we have to get to safety,”
Jameson’s voice was too loud in her ears.
“He’s baiting somethin’ bigger ‘n’ meaner than that is.
He’s…dear gods. Rumi…”
Rumi searched wide-eyed for Cal and spotted him climbing the mast.
Mid-climb, he stopped with his legs wrapped around it while he reloaded his piercer.
Before he could fire again, the beast lunged, its teeth closing around the mast where Callum clung, snapping it like a twig as it crashed onto the deck.
He was gone.
Her heart could not accept what her eyes had seen.
Blood pumped so fast and everything was too loud.
All she could see was the way his eyes had held hers, his love etched in his features, and the words he had shared just for her.
“Let me go!”
she shrieked.
“I need to get to him!”
She thrashed again, her feet barely brushing the sharp wood, Jameson keeping her tucked tightly against him.
He tossed her into one of the few lifeboats that had not been destroyed by the sea serpent.
He quickly climbed in after her, blocking her crazed escape.
Jameson and others dipped the oars, pulling the small craft away from the leviathan.
Piece by piece, the monster turned the massive ship into broken bits, the offering descending into Behiba’s cold world.
Then another beast screeched and reared up, latching onto the first leviathan with a mouthful of serrated teeth.
The monsters roared, churning the waters with white froth and lavender blood.
Rumi’s wide eyes stayed glued to the scene, her face flushed and cold as Amuna’s moon, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
He could not be gone.
He just could not.
She felt for the Bond, so fresh and new in her heart, and was greeted with only the empty space she had made for him.
Her lungs stopped working.
Her chest constricted and she could not get enough air.
He could not swim.
He needed her.
How would her husband come back to her if he could not swim?
Desperation made her reach out again for the Bond, feeling for the warmth of his smile in her heart.
Cold numbness spread through her blood as the ocean sprayed her face.
When silence echoed empty and black in her soul, a silent sob clawed up her throat, where her lungs still begged for air.
“Rumi.”
Jameson’s deep voice made her bones ache.
“Take an oar.
The gal behind you is injured.
Take her oar so she can bind her wound.”
It was like watching someone else’s body move.
Those were not her hands grabbing the oar and dipping it in the water.
They looked like her fingers, but they could not be.
Someone else was controlling her body.
Had to be.
Otherwise, she would be swimming through the wreckage to find her love.
A fresh wave of tears spilled from her cheeks.
Why were they not going back to find him and offer him the boat? He would need it.
“He cannot swim,”
her lips moved numbly over the words.
“Then he’ll walk on the ocean floor until he comes out of the water wearing that damn creature like a cape.”
Jameson shook his head.
“Not a cape,”
he grunted as he jerked on the oar, “boots.
He’ll make leviathan-skinned boots and they’ll be the most comfortable boots anyone’s ever seen.”
All she could do was muster a small nod, her eyes still scanning the ruins of their newlywed suite.
He would come back.
Just like Jameson said, he would come back.
Another fresh pang overtook her when she realized she did not see any other lifeboats paddling away.
Theirs was the only one.