Page 62 of Humans Don't Have Horns
“Stay.” And then he adds, “Please,” and pulls me toward him.
“I wasn’t aware there is ‘please’ in Mongan,” I say as he wraps himself around me. They are so blunt. It’s so rare to hear pleas or apologies.
“Hahaha, you’re not funny.” He nips at my earlobe with his teeth.
“I make myself laugh, and that’s what matters.”
He chuckles and tightens his hug.
I don’t think I can sleep in the aftermath of all the pleasure he drew out of me. But as his big body covers my own, and his warmth cocoons me, I quickly fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Daton
I fight away my sleepiness. There isn’t enough time for me to slumber anyway. It’s already an hour before dawn. Lian’s sweet, soft body is entangled with mine, emanating the most alluring warmth. Soft white hair spreads on my pallet, glinting like fresh snowflakes. Her pink lips are swollen from last night’s kissing. I fight down the voraciousness to taste them one more time. I slowly pull my hand from under her arm, remove my leg from between her thighs.
She moans her protest in her sleep, and I need to remind myself to breathe. I’m that stunned by her. By all of her. One would think I would get used to it by now. But it’s only gotten worse. I want her more every day. The voraciousness only grows, and I already know I will never be sated.
Lian shifts on the pallet, and strands of her hair hide her face now. I gently brush them away to reveal her face again. Just a little more. Just another glance. I should get going, but I can’t just yet.
She doesn’t realize how beautiful she is. My fierce, brave woman. The Shavir who can see the stars. It’s unheard of. And I don’t think it has anything to do with Amada or any of the other gods.
She is so good. I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s fartoo good for me.
Bahar told me to stop being such a coward and to do anything it took to get her back. “The Goddess allows us so little. We must cling to what we have,” he said. He was right and wrong at the same time. I had to wait until Lian came to me. She has her own shit to deal with, and she needs to be the one who calls the shots.
So I waited. It was a fucking nightmare having her so close and not having her as mine, but it had to be this way. The stars know how much I want her. How much my heart is consumed by her. Even if I can’t keep her, I will always be hers. She brought me back to life and marked me as hers. There will be no other woman for me. And I will do right by her always. I’ll never walk out on her again. Never.
At least until I die, that is. Will it be today? Most likely. The odds are not good. And the fucking Aldonians stress me out more than the demichads. I was never afraid of dying. There is nothing scary about joining the stars. Not even before everything was taken from me. But I yearn for more time with Lian. I want more nights under the stars like the ones we had. And I want more nights like last night. She tasted so sweet and felt so soft and warm. But most of all, it felt so right. And it ignited hopes inside me for a future. Isn’t it just fitting for the Goddess to sever that hope with death?
The thin blanket reveals more of Lian’s body than it hides. Fuck, her body is so perfect. I want to trace every curve, every line with my hands and then with my mouth. I should get up now before my self-control falters.
I should get going, or I’ll never have the time to do right by Baghiva. Thinking of my debt to Baghiva is like pouring a bucket of ice water on a flame. It sure makes it easier to get up. I dress quietly so as not to wake Lian. She needs her sleep. I’ve noticed the dark circles under her eyes in the past weeks. If not for them, I would have kept her up all night. Making her squirm under me with her release again and again.
The air is chilly and crisp. It’s still the darkness of twilight, and the camp is quiet. I go toward the east until I get to the old oak tree I spotted last week. It’s at least five hundred years old, its trunk broad and its canopy vast.
I kneel, and my pants dampen from the morning dew coating the grass. I dig into my pocket for the wooden prayer beads Baghiva made for me as her dowry. I put it gently on the ground in front of the oak trunk. I’m so accustomed to it that it’s hard to let it go, just like letting her go is hard, but it is time. “I have wronged you. I was so consumed by the way you died, I forgot to mourn you for the woman you were. I hadn’t spoken of you for a hundred years, only for what was done to you—that is, until Lian asked me to tell her of you. I’ve been selfish all this time. I mourned for myself more than for you. I vow to you, Baghiva, by my honor, that I will tell of who you were every day until I die. I hope it’s not too late, since I might die today. But it’s what I’ve got.
“I swear I’ll tell them how you always took care of everyone, how you and Emek were the oldest of ten siblings. And it was you who mothered them all. I’ll tell them how you sang a sweeter tune than any songbird. Do you remember how you would make up stories of the land beyond the sea? But you never wanted to go there. Never wanted to drift too far from your family. And you’d keep finding stray, wounded animals and always took them in. That is how a mare ended up calving inside the house one stormy night. That was a nightmare to clean. I’ll never forget you or stop loving you. But I’m letting you go now. I’ll pray your soul finds comfort among the stars.”
My face is wet with my tears, and I wipe them with the back of my hand and take out my knife. I cut my hand and let the blood drip onto the prayer beads on the ground. “I vow to you to cherish your memory, to tell of it.” Now my oath is sealed with blood. It can’t be broken.
Then I go to prepare my warriors for battle.
***
When I arrive at camp, the day has dawned, and the camp is boisterous. The warriors are already preparing their equipment. The smells of leather, metal, dirt, and blood fill the air, and underneath it all, I smell what will never be named out loud among my people. Ismell fear. Today is not another raid. Too many of us remember the Oblivion. We know what the stakes are. We know the chances of survival, which is why the stench of fear fills my nostrils.
Niska, as my second-in-command, is conducting the preparations. Tomorrow she is going to be the new warlord. I’m done with the shit. Too old for it. Either I’m dead by nighttime and she takes my place, or I’m going wherever Lian wants to go and Niska takes my place.
I head toward Niska as she applies war paint on one of the warrior’s faces. It’s made of a mix of charcoal, clay, and blood, and it’s blessed by the oracle. The warrior notices me, bows his head in reverence, and leaves. I take the small jar from her without a word and start applying the war paint to her face. She looks up at me, and I can see the rift between us in her eyes. She’s never looked at me like that, with tension and bitterness. I hate it. This has gotten out of hand. I let her act like a brat for too long.
I finish painting her forehead first and move to her cheeks.
“I will gladly die for you, Da.” She used to call me Da when she was a toddler and couldn’t say my name. It was almost fifty years ago, but the nickname stuck. “But I can’t shake the feeling that you are under a spell.”
I clench my teeth and swallow a growl at her insult. Can she really expect me to reward her with an answer for such disrespectful words? But it’s not only her. I know what they’re saying behind my back. They can all mind their fucking business.
