Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [277]
"Oh." She sat stiffly on the bed.
I sat beside her, close, but not touching her. Strange though it might seem, I wished I could talk to my father. I was sure of Naamah's approval, but I wasn't sure how to proceed with this very brave, deeply wounded young woman. For all that I understood it, her anxiousness wasn't making this easy for me. From an awkward beginning of forced intimacy, we had navigated a difficult path to genuine friendship, and I was not certain how to go beyond it without doing harm. "We need not, do this if you don't wish, my lady."
"I do wish it." Snow Tiger gave me a fleeting glance. "Only… if I change my mind, will you forgive me?"
"Yes, my beautiful girl." It had been one of Jehanne's endearments for me, and it came unbidden to my lips. The princess ducked her head, flushing a bit with pleasure, and I knew it was the right thing to say. She was a motherless child raised as a warrior, and there had been no one in her life to speak sweet words to her save in praise of her skill with a blade. "I will understand, I promise. Are you changing it now?"
She shook her head, darting another shy glance at me. "No."
I lifted her chin gently, brushing a kiss on her unscarred cheek, then on her temple, then on the curve of her jaw. The kiss of drifting petals, the D'Angelines call it; they are all mad for flower imagery, especially in describing acts of love. I let her feel the warmth of my breath against her skin, and kissed the outer corner of her lips.
Something stirred in her gaze. She turned her face toward me, wondering where the next kiss would fall.
But it was not right, not quite.
There was desire in her, but there was tension, too. Fear, too much fear. For her, the memory of pleasure was coupled inextricably with the memory of helplessness and terror. I shifted, tucking my legs beneath me and kneeling. I had offered a prayer to Naamah, but I had not truly prayed.
Now I did.
I closed my eyes and thought about how Naamah had offered herself in love and desire. I thought about my father, and how generously he gave of himself. I thought about Naamah's effigy in the temple, and her tranquil, beautiful face.
My ancestress.
And I thought about the first time I had sensed Naamah's presence in my life when I was but a child, the first time Oengus had visited, and my mother had gone with him out into the night. The first time I had felt the sensation like doves fluttering in my belly. I had been frightened and called upon my diadh-anam, but it had been the bright lady who answered. I remembered her kind laughter, the sense of terrible beauty, and lips pressed to my brow in a bright, shining kiss.
"Lady, I am yours tonight," I whispered. "Help me."
She answered.
I felt her love and compassion showering down upon me, flowing through me, warming me. I opened my eyes, and took Snow Tiger's hands in mine. I opened my mouth and let the goddess speak through me.
"Tonight I belong to you and to Naamah, my lady." There was a ringing echo behind my words. "And in her name, I swear to you, you have naught to fear from your own desires. Not now, nor ever again."
The mantle of Naamah's grace settled upon us both, as gentle and mighty as a dragon descending from the skies, as warm and golden as sunlight, as tender as a kiss.
I felt the princess' fears melt away before it.
She laughed, a short, wondering sound. Fear was banished, the memory of helplessness was banished.
Her dark eyes sparkled to life, filled with determination.
Freeing her hands from my grasp, she cradled my head and kissed me—kissed me for the first time entirely of her own volition. And ah, gods! It felt wonderful. I wrapped my arms around her waist and tugged her down with me onto the bed, tangling our limbs together. She let out a startled squeak, and I laughed.
"Laughter is acceptable?" Snow Tiger's intent eyes gazed into mine.
I slid one hand along the curve of her spine. "Yes, my beautiful girl. Always. And tonight everything is acceptable."
She smiled.