Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [34]
It was not a gentle coupling, at least not at first.
The need was too great; the need of our long-separated diadh-anams yearning to be fully joined, driving the need of our willing bodies. What Master Lo Feng had done to us had erased the division between flesh and spirit.
And when Bao entered me…
I have no words to describe it. If our diadh-anams had shone like beacons before, now, reunited, they erupted like wildfire, blazing toward heaven. I felt as though my heart might burst the confines of my breast.
“Bao,” I whispered, tears in my eyes.
“I know,” he whispered in reply, wonder in his. “Moirin, I know.”
For a long moment, we lay locked together without moving, marveling at the intensity of our joining.
Slowly, slowly, it faded.
In its place, Naamah’s gift reasserted its presence. Desire—this time simple and carnal—nothing more. I surrendered to it gratefully, kissing Bao’s throat, wrapping my ankles around his buttocks. He propped himself on his elbows above me, his eyes dark and distant with desire, thrusting slowly in and out of me.
Stone and sea, it felt good! Again and again, I came beneath him, each shivering climax a physical echo of what I had felt when our spirits merged. Intangible brightness blossomed behind my eyes like a thousand flowers blooming at once, like stars falling from the night sky, tracing incandescent arcs across the glittering darkness. The bright lady smiled, placing a shining kiss filled with love upon my brow. It had been too long, far too long, since I had felt Naamah’s approval.
Bao’s pace quickened.
I urged him onward, my hips rising to meet him, willing him to spend himself inside me. At last he did, his entire body shuddering.
I sighed, content.
Bao rolled off me. “I ran away from this?”
I laughed.
“Moirin.” He raised one hand to his lips, kissing my fingertips. “Let us be serious, now. Truly, do you know what of this is real, and what is the result of Master Lo’s art?”
“No,” I admitted, stroking his chest. I felt at peace for the first time since he had left me. “But, Bao… we’ll never sort it out apart. Can we not figure it out together? At least the endless clamor of my soul has gone silent. Is it not the same for you?”
“Uh-huh,” Bao agreed. “That part’s nice.”
I laughed again. “Well, mayhap in the silence, we’ll be able to listen to our hearts again.”
The wooden door of the ger banged open. I squinted against the sudden stream of ordinary sunlight. A small, sturdy figure stormed into the ger, haranguing Bao at the top of her lungs. He rose to his feet, clutching a blanket around him, and replied in an aggrieved tone, both of them speaking too quickly for me to follow. Having said her piece, the young woman stormed out in a huff, slamming the door behind her.
“Bao?” I asked. “Who was that, and why is she furious at you?”
“Ahh…” He ran one hand over his rumpled hair and gave me a sheepish look. “That was my wife.”
TWELVE
I stared at Bao. “Your wife?”
“It was a long, cold winter!” he said in a defensive tone, yanking on his felted trousers. “Will you tell me you of all people slept in an empty bed, Moirin?”
“I… yes!” Even as the words left my mouth, I remembered that I would have been happy to spend the winter in Shuntian with Snow Tiger if she had permitted it, and my denial emerged with rather less conviction than I intended. Bao raised one eyebrow at me. “In fact, I did,” I said indignantly. “Ask Batu, or any of his people.”
Bao tugged on his boots. “Well, I’m sorry. But it’s complicated.”
I sighed. “Oh, gods bedamned! Fine. I’m the last person to deny you the right to take pleasure and comfort where you find it. But, Bao… a wife?” A pang squeezed my heart. “Do you love her? Is that it?”
“It’s complicated,” he repeated, shrugging into his woolen vest. “You see, she’s the Great