Page 2 of Following Their Heart

Before his sermon, Rev used his Gift to find all this out. Some of it came to him through dreams and visions. Some came from Bernard. I guess Rev spent time with the pelican and got some sense of what this obviously southern bird was doing flying around a mountain in Montana and what Raptor is planning. Knowing how important Bernard is, I’m on full alert as my dream shows Doc and Shep in the underground cavern where the pelican is caged.

What could my two blondies possibly want with Bernard? Doc’s Gift is healing. He’s the doctor of the group and can seal up a wound or clear up a smoker’s cough just by laying hands on somebody. Shep’s Gift is growing things in the garden, feeding this scurvy lot, and taking care of the animals. His contribution to the settlement is the most time consuming, but he never complains. Doc gives him a lot of help, since there’s not generally a huge demand for his healing Gift. Hm. Maybe that’s why my dream put the two of them together.

Or maybe none of this means anything. I don’t have a Gift of visions and prophecy like Rev. In fact, I don’t have any Gift at all. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s only men who get the Gifts, though if that’s the case, that’s pretty crappy and sexist of the Working or whoever’s in charge of this whole hot mess.

Not having any kind of Gift to defend myself sentenced me to two years of abuse by Leon, the man who captured me after the Virus and treated me like some messed up combination of a despised pet and future forced mother to his children. Fortunately, he never did manage to get me pregnant, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Leon’s Gift was being able to call down lightning whenever he wanted. He could also do small tricks with electricity, like shocking his brother, Matthew, or creating static charges to temporarily power the lights in a room. He’d tried to use his Gift to power the homes we would squat in, but he never could manage it. He’d also never managed to use his Gift on me. Not directly, anyway.

For all my lack of having my own Gift, the Working did grant me one small mercy. I’m immune to the Gifts of others. Not that it stopped Leon from hurting me. He came up with plenty of ways. Creative ones. Sick ones. What I wouldn’t have given to have some kind of Gift so I could fight back! But I didn’t. So, I suffered. And I waited. And when the opportunity presented itself, I ran.

I ran for miles through thick forest and ended up here.

Jud saved me from that awful existence. And slowly, the guys here are helping me heal from what Leon put me through. They’re healing me with their patience and gentleness, and, interestingly, by trusting me with their own wounds. Not the kind of wounds that Doc can heal, but personal wounds.

Each of my guys has scars like I do. Some on the outside, some on the inside. But they all have Gifts to help them through this harsh post-Virus world. I can’t help being jealous of the fact.

I try not to let it bother me, but it does. Maybe, that’s why I’m reading so much into this dream. Because I feel the lack of a Gift so strongly and because I want to help protect us so badly. But the dream doesn’t give me time to think about it. Doc and Shep are at Bernard’s cage. And they’re reaching through the bars.

The cave is dark, but my two guys don’t need flashlights. They have this shimmery glow swirling around them, like they’ve been dusted by angel wings. Doc strokes one wing of the bird, and some of the shimmering transfers to the white and grey feathers. I expect Shep to touch the bird next, but he holds his hand a few inches away. It’s like he’s waiting for something. The shimmering around him makes a glowing, swirling path to Bernard’s Q-Tip-shaped head.

Bernard opens his huge, long beak. I expect him to talk (In the dream, this doesn’t seem outlandish), but he doesn’t. Hekeepsopening his beak, wider and wider. It’s comically wide. Then it’s horrifically wide. Then, starting at his disfigured, split-open beak, he turns himself inside out.

It’s…gross.

Like a peeled banana, his beak and feathers get covered over by flaps of bubble-gum-colored flesh. Bones like shards of popsicle stick are visible, embedded in the pink mess. By the time he’s done, even his webbed feet have their delicate bones on the outside. He stands there on his makeshift perch and he stares at Doc and Shep with inside-out eyes that are frightened but not pained. (Don’t ask me how I know he’s not in pain. I just do.)

It's then I notice lots of black spots all over Bernard’s insides. At first, I thought the dark, wet-looking patches were bits of guts and organs, but they can’t be part of the actual bird because the spots aremoving.Not like organs move, like a beating heart or breathing lungs, but like worms tunnelling in and out of Bernard’s very being.

I’m reminded of Rev’s story about thinking he was dying from the Virus in prison, but how it wasn’t death happening to him. It was some kind of strange, painful exorcism. Black gunk like icy tar poured out of him and morphed into this snake-like thing. That’s what the worms inside Bernard are. They’re an entity of some kind. Something alive and sentient and not completely of this world.

While I watch, Doc runs his hand gently over inside-out Bernard. The shimmering light from his hands sizzles when it touches the worms, and the worms shrivel and disappear. Shep’s shimmering light grows brighter as he murmurs assurances to the bird.

“Corr-ah.”A deep voice like chocolate syrup whispers my name, and now I’m outside the cave. Doc and Shep are still inside with Bernard, but I’m being sucked away.“Dru-zhyn-aaa.”The voice has a thick Ukrainian accent, and it’s accompanied by a strong hand sliding my hair off my neck and firm lips placing a kiss there.

Grim.Druzhynais the word he uses to call me his wife.

The dream is forgotten. It cannot compete with reality.

“Ivan.” I smile as I let sleep fall away. I roll to face the man I consider my husband. The first man I’ve fully welcomed inside my body, and oh. My. Gosh. Was it everything I ever dreamed of andsomuch more!

He cups my face and looks deep into my eyes. His are blue-green and filled with so much love my heart feels bruised in the best possible way. It’s like the ache between my legs, a delicious physical reminder of something precious and irrevocable.

His body is all around me, muscular and warm, and his hands begin roaming my shape. “Good morning,Druzhyna.If you need more sleep, I will hold you while you rest. There is plenty of time before breakfast. But if you are up for it, I would very much like to fuck you again. Slower this time.” His eyes burn as he wills me to be on board with his naughty pre-breakfast plan.

I stretch my arms over my head. The air is cool in the camper, and I’m instantly chilled anywhere I’m not touching Grim, which isn’t very many places. Feeling playful, I snuggle into him and yawn. “I think I’ll go back to sleep.”

“As you wish, my angel.” He must be able to tell I’m joking, because he chuckles as he says it, and his roaming hand settles over my breast. His thumb rubs roughly over my nipple, making me gasp. “Will you allow me to send you off to sleep with a kiss?”

I nod.

He kisses me. But not on the lips. His lips find my breast, and he nuzzles his open mouth over the small mound while holding eye contact with me in the gray light of near-dawn. The tiniest bit of moisture causes his lower lip to catch on my nipple. Combined with how sexy he looks with his jaw relaxed and his eyes dark with lust, the sensation makes my head spin.

“How are you?” He asks seriously. The concern lined into his brow tells me he’s referring to last night. He moves his nuzzling to the fleshy part of my breast, allowing me to concentrate on something other than my building arousal. “Are you okay?” His hand rests heavy on my abdomen. The touch is protective. Inquisitive. He wants to know if he hurt me, physically or otherwise.

I run my hand over the dark hair he keeps buzzed close to his scalp. My smile is so much more than skin deep. It penetrates all the way to my soul. “It was perfect, Ivan. Thank you.” I’m thanking him for more than the sex. I’m thanking him for his patience. His love. I’m thanking him for beinghim.The man I love.

Tonight, I’ll take someone else to my bed, and I might go as far with them as I’ve gone with Grim. I might not. Either way, what I choose to do with any of my other men doesn’t detract from what I feel for Grim. I’m a girl with seven boyfriends, and I’m learning to be okay with that. It helps that I actually enjoy all the men here. And the feeling seems mutual.

Grim ensures I don’t think about anyone but him when he moves over me and begins bathing me with kisses. His breath is fresh and minty, and I wonder if he popped a mint before waking me.

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