Page 107 of Haunted

“Niawen, you can restore me. Join our light.”

Her hand brings her light closer. They stretch toward each other, drawn together, two opposites attracted to one another.

“They want to join,” I say.

She cries out in a defeated whimper. I feel the pull. Her purple light jumps together with my greenish-yellow one. The orb swirls between us, growing larger, spinning until the color becomes pure white. Flecks of gray drift into the sky like ash from a roaring campfire.

“What is it?” she asks.

“They’re healing. Together they’re pure. Your stain is gone. Are you ready?”

You are where you need to be. This is your home, I say to myself, hoping that she will never leave. I won’t beg her to stay, and yet, I can never let her leave. Not now. Not now that I know I can’t live without her.

She finally answers my spoken question. “Yes.”

More than relief fills me.

We embrace, and the light between us sinks into our hearts—half inside me and half inside Niawen. When the light breaks apart into our own bodies, Niawen gasps. The light settles into my heart-center, and a rush of exhilaration overtakes me.

I feel her. All of her. No prodding necessary. Her love is timid, new.

Mine is a torrent.

My breath grows heavy as I sink into her being. I am ready for our physical union. Every fiber of my being dances in anticipation. I’m lightheaded, but at the same time sure.

Niawen opens her mouth into an endearing part. She knows what will happen next, but she’s nervous. Her body tingles as I look at her soft curves and satin skin.

“This is indescribable,” I say. “I did not anticipate these feelings. By the Creator’s might, my lovely Niawen. I’m hyperaware of your body next to mine. Your breath as it whispers in and out. I feel the pulse in your neck. The electricity under your skin as you respond to my roving eyes. I haven’t even touched you yet. You feel me, do you not? You feel the pull?”

“Yes, oh, yes.” She’s breathless.

I lean toward her until she lies back on our bed. I search her face. I’m overjoyed. My heart pounds. How can I contain all the elation? “I’m saying this only once, and I won’t mention her again. With our bond, our intimacy will be nothing like what it was with her. Nothing. You are all new to me. You’re my wife, whom I feel as a part of me. I think we will understand how to please each other exactly.”

So shyly, she traces the contours of my chest, as if testing her daring. Her fingertips send ripples of ecstasy through me.

“Speaking will be unnecessary,” I say. “Don’t fret. The full gravity of what we’ve done will sink in by morning. And I for one will never regret it.” Never.

I slide my hand under her nightgown and up her thigh. Niawen squirms and grabs my arm. “I’m ticklish there.”

“All right.” I laugh. “We shall not start there.”

I silence her with a sure kiss, and Niawen’s hesitation melts away.

71

I cannot begin to describe the week after our union. We force ourselves to continue with duties, but our concentration is divided. Every moment of every day is drowned in contentment, in the sensations of feeling the other so overwhelmed with bliss. Every one of her sighs, her musings, even when she touches her own shoulder or cheek, sends ripples of want through me. She feels those ripples in return, and each night we come together, desperate to satisfy the other’s desires.

I am overwhelmed, to say the least.

I think of her often as she sees patients throughout the day. My busyness slows with the snowfall, but her demands never cease. I enjoy whispering her name at the most inopportune times and feeling the blush surface in her cheeks.

Feeling where she ends and I begin is indistinguishable. We’ll have to close up some barriers soon. We can’t continue at this level, but for now, we revel in it.

It is, after all, our honeymoon of sorts.

As each day progresses, she grows tense, until she finally is alone with me at night. We both relax then, as if being apart is too much of a burden.

Neither of us knew what we were getting into with these bonds.

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