Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [45]
He smiled ruefully. “If the Great Khan’s threat is sincere, I think there is only one way we can evade his pursuit. We can’t outrace a Tatar hunting party. Have you seen them ride?”
“Aye.” I nodded. “You mean for me to call the twilight.”
“Yes.” Bao’s smile faded. “And I know you are concerned about your ability to shield both of us within it long enough. I am, too. I remember how difficult it was for you with the princess when we climbed toward White Jade Mountain. Believe me, I do not like to ask. It is a piece of irony, Moirin. Before… before I died, when I had decided I would offer to leave Master Lo’s service, it was because I meant to protect you.”
“Only that?” I asked.
“No, of course not.” His eyes softened. “Also because of your noble instincts and generous heart, and yes, your beauty, and the way you revel in pleasure, and many other things large and small. But you’re impulsive, too, and all these things combined make you a danger to yourself.”
“I’m not impulsive,” I muttered. “I have an inconvenient destiny, that’s all.”
“And you are impulsive,” Bao repeated, ignoring my disclaimer. “Anyway… it is a piece of irony that I can do nothing to protect you here, but must rely on your skills and gifts to save us both from a dangerous situation I created.” He looked unhappy. “I am not making a very good start as a heroic protector like the ones in your tales.”
“Close your eyes,” I said to him.
“Why?”
I blew out my breath. “Just do it!”
He obeyed, and I summoned the twilight, folding it around us both. Bao opened his eyes to a world gone silvery, dim, and lovely.
I touched his face. “I do not recall asking for a protector, my stubborn magpie. And before you take the entire blame for our troubles, I will remind you that I created the problem by coming after you.”
Bao smiled. “Impulsively, yes.”
“Oh, fine.” I slid my hand around to the back of his neck, tugging his head down so I could kiss him.
Naamah’s gift sang within me as he kissed me back, one arm around my waist. His other hand pressed against my back, claiming me firmly.
We made love on the twilit steppe, and it was gentle and magical.
Never before had I been able to surrender to pleasure without losing my grasp on the twilight. It was different with Bao. He carried the missing half of my divided soul within him, and I could hold us both in the twilight as easily as I could myself—as easily and naturally as breathing.
“Moirin.” He whispered my name against my throat, his hand parting my thighs. “It is so beautiful here.”
“Yes,” I whispered in reply, my back arching as his fingers teased my slick cleft.
Bao lifted his head, his gaze intent on mine. “Is it like this beyond the stone doorway?”
Ripples of pleasure ran through me. “Even more so.” I gazed back at him, seeing the flickering penumbra of his aura. “It is everything bright and dark all at once, everything in the world.”
“Everything?” He moved over me.
I spread my thighs wider to welcome him, feeling the bonfire of the spirit as our diadh-anams joined in full. “Everything.”
All through our lovemaking and beyond, I held on to the twilight, not losing it even in the throes of climax—not mine nor his. In the aftermath of love, I lay with my head on Bao’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and watching the silvery grasses move slowly in the breeze. Everything seemed to move more slowly in the twilight.
Time passed differently in the spirit world, I remembered. When I had gone through the stone doorway, days had passed without my knowledge.
Bao’s warm breath stirred my hair, and his arms were warm around me, strong with corded muscle.
It felt good.
I didn’t want it to end.
“Moirin,” he said at last, his voice reluctant. “We should go.”
“I know.” I forced myself to sit upright. After we donned our clothing, I took one last, deep breath of the twilight, and then let it out, releasing the magic.
The world returned in a rush. It was late—later than I had reckoned. The setting sun hovered over the horizon like a great orange orb, staining