Love Never-Ending (8 page)

Deliriously, Bishop decided that Samara was winning their
private war. He slipped two fingers in her pussy and another in her ass. Then
avidly sucking her clit, he finger-fucked her with enthusiasm mostly driven by
the exciting things she was doing to him. But she won their battle when she
took his cock into her throat and hummed with pleasure. Stripped of his
celebrated control, he came, jetting his cum down her throat while she rapidly
swallowed to keep up.

She rested her head on his thigh, lazily licking him clean
like a cat while his pounding heart gradually slowed down. As the blood flowed
back to his brain, he was disturbed at the extent of his loss of control.
Taking a deep breath, he decided the first step was a quick visit to her
bathing room. Then, he would return the favor.

“Samara, do you object if we move inside now?”

With a quizzical expression on her face, she peeked at him
over her shoulder. “No, of course not.” With surprising agility, she rolled
onto the blanket and stood up.

He made it to his feet with less grace, reflecting that age
did eventually take a toll. After gathering their belongings and blanket, they
went into her dome through the kitchen door. Even as they quickly moved to her
bedroom, Bishop was impressed with her home. She pointed out the bathing room
before she went out to the kitchen to wash her hands.

She frowned as she dried them on a towel and had a quick
drink of water. Surely, Bishop seemed to enjoy himself. And for a while she
had, too. But wasn’t there supposed to be more to it? Why would the bonded
women have those sly smiles on their faces if there wasn’t more?

“Samara?”

With a light shrug, she went to join him. Perhaps there was
something wrong with her. She did enjoy the taste of his
kzusha
and the
way it filled her mouth. If that was all there was, then that was more than she
had before.

Bishop waited impatiently in the bedroom, annoyed because
he’d not satisfied Samara. When she joined him, he indicated that he wanted her
to lie on the bed crosswise. “Do you object if I use a little of this on your
pussy?” he asked, holding up the blue jar of hair remover.

“Why?” she asked in puzzlement. “I already remove the hair
down there.”

“I want to remove just a little more. I promise that you’ll
like it.” He waited for her to make a decision. Finally, she nodded, though he could
tell that she really wasn’t sure that she wanted him to mess around with her
pussy hair. “If you don’t like it, it will grow back in,” he reassured her.

“All right.”

He moved a chair from under her window to the side of her
bed so he could sit down. Then he spread her legs and carefully dabbed the blue
cream around her clit and down over her puffy labia, then on down to her anus.
When he was through, he replaced the stopper on the jar and carried it back
into the bathing room, returning in a moment with a warm washcloth.
Meticulously, he wiped away the cream. After running a questing finger over the
smooth skin, he decided that one more time with a clean cloth would ensure that
no residue of the cream would be left behind.

When he was completely finished, he tossed the cloth over
the side of the sink and returned to the bedroom. Samara was exploring her
newly denuded skin with curiosity and wonder.

“It feels so smooth.”

Moving the chair out of the way, he knelt next to the bed
and asked her to hook her legs over his shoulders. “Now put your hands under
your head,” he directed, “and keep them there.” With a little smile she obeyed.

With his thumbs he gently spread her open, noting the
lavender flush of arousal. Her clit was sitting up, begging for attention. Her
pussy was already slick. He covered her pussy with his mouth and feasted,
stopping often to suck on her clit and nibble on the swollen labia that
fascinated him for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

At first, Samara was perfectly content to lie back and enjoy
his attentions, but soon she found that she had to move. She cradled his head
in her hands, holding him where she wanted him, and he immediately stopped.
“Put your hands back under your head.”

Sulkily, she obeyed, perceiving that it was going to be harder
that she anticipated.

He went back to his quest, nudging her closer and closer to
climax, only to back away at the last moment. Only when she was imploring him
with threats of retribution did he finally push her over the crest, sucking on
her clit while he thrust two fingers in her pussy, gently rubbing the inner
wall.

Samara came with a shriek that silenced the birds in the
woods outside. Blind and deaf to everything around her, she twisted and heaved
her body on the bed as Bishop assiduously labored to prolong her climax.

When at last it was over, she was limp with exhaustion. It
had been an eye-opening revelation for her. And she no longer wondered why the
bonded women smiled.

“I was right,” Bishop declared with satisfaction. “You’re
very noisy.”

* * * * *

The door to Bishop’s room silently swung open. Two pre-teen
heads, one covered with narrow black braids, the other covered with red braids,
poked through the opening as they quickly swept the room with their curious
gazes. Seconds later, they were inside with the door securely shut. Llynx,
mischief personified with a temper to match his bright red hair, immediately
approached the jumble of boxes and bags piled against the wall.

“Psst!” Panther hissed. Though at twelve he was a year older
than Llynx, for some reason or other, Llynx always seemed to be the one that
led them into trouble. Panther had a very bad feeling about this invasion of
their uncle’s room.
A very bad feeling.
No good was going to come from
this. “What are you doing?”

“Looking. Surely Uncle Bishop must have some interesting
stuff here.” Llynx was poking through a small box, examining the things with
wild curiosity. He held up a rigid flat clear case that contained a shiny disk.
“I wonder what this is?”

“Put it back!”

“Okay.” Llynx dropped it back in the box and moved on to a
soft fabric bag. It took him a moment to figure out the fastening mechanism but
then he was tugging the little metal tab along a track, fascinated with the way
it opened and closed, meshing tiny little teeth into a smooth closure.

“Llynx! Stop that!” Panther’s belly was clenching at the
thought of being caught yet again doing something they weren’t supposed to be
doing. Why did he continue to let Llynx drag him into these messes? Abruptly,
he decided to leave. “I’m going. I will talk to you later.”

“What? Afraid?” Llynx jeered.

“No. But I’m tired of always getting into trouble. I think
I’ll go over to the warriors’ field and practice the exercises Arturo assigned
us.” With that, he was out the door and trotting down the hall to the kitchen
for a snack to take with him. It bothered him that Llynx thought he was a
coward. On the other hand, he truly was tired of spending so much time on
punishments for stuff that Llynx thought up.

In the kitchen he packed an apple, two oatmeal bars and a
small jug of apple tea. Maybe…maybe he would not go to the practice field.
There were things to think about and he had put them off long enough. He set
off toward Eppie’s cabin until he reached the path to bonding circle three.

Walking through the cool woods was always one of his
favorite things. As he shuffled along, kicking small stones and twigs out of
the way, he pondered about his problem with Llynx. As much as he loved his
brother, it was time for him to find his own way. Panther spied a small bug
crawling across the path and dropped down in the dust to watch it struggle to
drag a dead bug much larger than itself to the other side of the path.

After a while, he stood back up, shook the dust from his
sharda
and resumed his walk to the bonding circle. Gradually, he realized he could
hear the low murmur of people talking. He stopped and slowly turned around,
trying to pinpoint where the voices were coming from. Then he moved cautiously
through the woods toward the voices. He stopped and crouched behind a laurel
bush when he reached the edge of a small yard. Peeking through the bush’s
leaves, he saw Samara and Uncle Bishop and his eyes widened in amazement when
he saw what Samara was doing to his uncle. They were both naked. Bishop was stretched
out on a blanket on the ground and Samara was kneeling over him with his
kzusha
in her mouth.

Panther’s mouth dropped open as she sucked on Bishop’s
kzusha
with apparent enjoyment. Such an idea had never occurred to him. His mouth
snapped shut when he witnessed Bishop tilt his head up and lick Samara between
her legs. Ewwww, gross!

Backing away as quietly as possible, he ran back through the
woods until he reached the bonding circle where he raced around the huge stone
sentinels that lined the circle. He threw himself down on the grassy lawn by
the small pool, his heart pounding as he thought about what he’d seen. Was that
what bonded people did? He squeezed his eyes shut. How could that be sanitary?

Suddenly he remembered something one of the older boys had
muttered at practice the week before and his eyes shot wide open as he
seriously pondered the possibilities. Who could he ask? He slowly considered
and rejected everyone in the family until he reached his mother. Of all the
people he knew, she was the one he trusted without fail.

When she and his father came back from the bonding cottage,
he would ask her about what he’d seen. Until then, he would keep his ears open.
In the meantime, he would think about what to do about Llynx while he ate his
lunch. He had much to decide.

At twelve years, he was eligible to compete in the warriors’
games at the Midsummer Gathering. He knew he wasn’t as good as Falcon but
perhaps Falcon would practice with him. Panther didn’t want to embarrass the
Llewellyn family by failing ignominiously. He only had three days until the
Midsummer Gathering to get ready. With a tiny shrug, he reached out to Falcon.
No time like the present.

Falcon?

What, Panther?

I—I want to participate in the warriors’ games this
summer.
Panther fired it all at Falcon in a rush.

And?

I need someone to practice with me. Please, do you have
time?

Falcon didn’t answer for a moment. Panther could almost feel
him weighing just how serious Panther was and how committed.
Sixth hour
before breakfast. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning at the practice field.

Panther swallowed. Just like his oldest brother, Tyger,
Panther
hated
getting up early. But he was determined not to fail this
first test.
I will be there.

Then we will see what we can do.

Thank you, Falcon.

Falcon snorted.
Don’t thank me until after you see what
I’m going to do to you!
He broke their connection without another word.

While he munched on his apple, Panther decided that he was a
complete—what was that word Dancer used?—wuss. Yes, that was it. Llynx could
only lead him around if he allowed him to. Why, Panther wondered, did he always
do what Llynx wanted to do? Why didn’t they ever do what
he
wanted to
do?

He looked into the pool of water, saw his face and was
abruptly disgusted with his lack of backbone. No wonder everyone doubted him.
He had been acting like a child, playing pranks, misbehaving because he was too
lazy to say no. He sat up and hurled his apple core into the woods as far as he
could throw it.

It was nearly time for him to choose an apprenticeship and
he had no idea what he wanted to be. Panic assailed him briefly as he wondered
if he was one of those boys who would have to have someone choose for him. No,
please no. What did he want to do?

He dug one of the oatmeal bars from his bag and nibbled at
it while he considered. At best he was a mediocre warrior, even in his own age
group. He hated hunting, wasn’t much of a cook, would never be a weaver or
healer and didn’t care for writing. So what did he like to do?

A faint idea niggled at the back of his brain as he studied
the enormous stone sentinels that guarded the bonding circle. How did they get
there? How did the builders haul them in place? Who chiseled the symbols into
the stones and planned their placement? His questions crystallized into a firm
goal. He would learn to build.

Suddenly he sat up with new purpose. It was not too early to
talk with Stefan Cowal, the builder. If Stefan was willing to accept him as an
apprentice, even if he had to wait another year, he would have something to
work for. He snagged his bag in trembling fingers.
Please, please let Stefan
be willing!

Panther and Llynx break the rules

Two days later, Bishop stood in the doorway of the new room
where Traveller slept and marveled at the way he had adjusted to certain of the
valley mores. He was shocked at how quickly he’d become comfortable wearing the
sissy skirt. With pursed lips, he considered the one he had on, a wild shade of
burnt orange. He couldn’t conceive what plant dye yielded the eye-watering
color. There was no telling what color his nephews would gift him with
tomorrow. He would miss them when he went home.

Oh, he still planned to find a way to leave before he turned
blue and was stuck in the valley forever. Samara was a beautiful, sexy woman.
He enjoyed their playtimes though he hadn’t actually stuck his cock in her
pussy. Somehow, she always ended up sucking his cock until he was empty.

He had to admit that he found his nieces and nephews a
charming, if overwhelming bunch. Some of them puzzled him more than others, but
they were actually well behaved kids and that was somewhat of a novelty for
him. His nieces and nephews out-valley were rude and obnoxious. But none of
those considerations would prevent him from leaving when he found the way.

With narrowed eyes he studied Llyon as he smoothly brushed
his fingers down Trav’s right arm. The grimace of pain on Trav’s face melted
away under Llyon’s incredibly gentle touch. Bishop had no idea what Llyon was
doing or how he was healing Trav but clearly, he was doing
something
.
Even Bishop had to acknowledge that Trav seemed to be improving a little more
every day.

Restlessly, Bishop turned and walked down the dimly lit hall
that led to the family patio. From there, a well-trodden path wound down to
Wrenna’s pottery shop. He had questions to ask about the strange relationship
that Wrenna supposedly had with Trav. If anyone had the answers, surely she
would be the one.

As he started down the path to the spacious pottery dome
that faced the river, he met Wolfe striding up the hill. Clearly, he had a
specific destination in mind so Bishop didn’t try to detain him. “Is Wrenna
down at her shop?”

“She is. Just finishing up her day’s work so that she can be
with Trav.”

Bishop could feel the impatience with the small interruption
flowing from Wolfe in waves so he moved down the path, releasing Wolfe to be on
his way. “Thank you, Wolfe!”

When he reached the dome, Wrenna was cleaning the thick
yellow clay from her fingers. “Hello, Uncle. I was going up to the kitchen for
a cup of tea”

Bishop wandered over to the doorway and studied the mass
confusion across the river. He had deliberately kept away from the busy open
practice field, determined not to get involved in the strange activities. “What
exactly is going on?”

“Tomorrow begins the Midsummer Gathering. It combines the
annual public council meeting with a trader’s exchange. Disputes between
villages can be worked out. Warriors who have made their final vows this past
year are recognized in a public ceremony. The men compete in weapons
tournaments. The women bring their best sweet dishes for Mama to judge. The
younglings usually have races and a recitation contest.” She glanced at him
curiously. “Surely you have something similar out-valley?”

“I suppose the closest thing would be a county fair,” he
replied with a frown. “Though even the smallest county fair would be much
larger than this.”

“There are so many people where you come from?”

He smiled and shook his head. “If every person in the valley
was in one place, they wouldn’t make a small town out-valley. Lost Market could
be set down in the center of most towns and not even be noticed.”

Her brows wrinkled in thought. “Traveller will find it hard
to live here? Will he miss the people and places, do you think?”

“Nah,” Bishop denied firmly. “
I
miss those
things—especially the women—but Traveller was like Dancer—looking for a place
to get away. Speaking of Dancer, where is he? He came to see Trav the day we
came to the valley and I haven’t seen him since.”

She slid him a sideways glance. “Dancer and Eppie are in
seclusion. She’s in
schalzina
so they will stay at Stonehollow until
after their
burda
.”

“
Schalzina
is something to do with sex?” he
speculated.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll ask Dai for an explanation. He’s the only one who
seems to be around.”

“I’m sure that Llyon or Wolfe would be happy to explain
things. Even Tyger could answer some of your questions.”

“I notice that you didn’t mention your father,” Bishop
observed wryly. He felt stupid and irritable talking to youngsters half his age
about sex.

“Mama began
schalzina
, so Papa probably won’t be
available. They’ll go back to their bonding cottage, Elyria, right after the
Gathering,” Wrenna replied with casual unconcern. “In any case, Papa’s keeping
a close eye on her because of the babies.”

“Babies?”

“They’re pregnant again. With twins. Again.” She grinned at
Bishop’s expression of horror. “Mama was really surprised since she thought
that Cougar and Gazelle would be the last ones.”

“How can she be pregnant?” he demanded.

“The usual way?” Wrenna said calmly. “The out-valley can’t
be that different, surely?”

His face turned ruddy with embarrassment and he cleared his
throat. “Never mind. I opened my mouth without thinking.” He shook his head.
“That wasn’t what I came to talk to you about anyway.”

“Certainly. Let us go up to the kitchen and have some tea.
Then you can tell me what is on your mind.” She dried her hands on a small
rough cloth.

“All right.” Bishop waited while she closed the door and
then they walked up the steep path silently, each engaged in their thoughts
until they reached the back door.

Wrenna smiled suddenly as though she had shaken off some
worry. “I haven’t seen you around very much. How have you been occupying your
time?”

“Walking around.” His dry tone led her to take a second,
closer look.

“Bored, Uncle?”

“Mystified. Confused. Bewildered. But not bored.”

He opened the door and held it while she passed him. As they
walked down the hall to the kitchen, he started to say something but closed his
mouth when she motioned for quiet.

“What?” he asked softly.

She tilted her chin in the direction of the kitchen and then
he heard Arturo talking.

In the kitchen, Arturo was refereeing a three-way
conversation between Llynx, Panther and their teacher, Samara McCrory. “The
boys brought this item to their calligraphy class with them,” she was
explaining to Arturo. “I don’t believe it belongs to them but whether it does
or not, it definitely doesn’t belong in my classroom.”

Wrenna and Bishop peeked around the corner as Arturo picked
up the object and studied it intently. “It’s a photograph. I recognize Dancer
and Traveller.” He shot a stern glance at the boys and inhaled sharply. “It
definitely doesn’t belong to either one of you. Where did you get it?”

Panther stared down at his tightly clenched fists resting on
the table and remained mute. Llynx scowled mutinously at Samara and muttered,
“We found it.”

Undeterred, Arturo questioned, “Where did you find it?”

“Around.”

Bishop decided to take part in their discussion. “Around—perhaps
that would be around Trav’s belongings in our room?” he suggested as he walked
into the kitchen.

Vigorously, Llynx shook his head, sending his shiny black
braids clinking. “No-oo.” He exchanged a guilty look with Panther and then
dropped his head so that the others couldn’t see his face.”

“Let us be clear about this,” Arturo said crisply. “Anytime
you lie to get out of trouble, that is worse that the thing you did to get into
trouble. Is that not what Mama and Papa have said before?”

Panther ducked his bright auburn head and nodded. “Yeah.”

“So. You were in Bishop’s room?”

“Yes.” Panther refused to lie, though he wished with all his
heart that he had stayed in the hall instead of following Llynx inside.

“Where did you get Traveller’s photograph?”

Panther knew exactly where Llynx had found the photograph.
That was what he was arguing with Llynx about when Samara confiscated it. “In
Traveller’s pack,” Panther muttered, close to tears.

Bishop pursed his lips in thought. “When you take something
that doesn’t belong to you that is theft. What is the penalty for theft here in
the valley?” he inquired idly.

The other adults stared at each other in dismay before
Samara said quietly, “The judgment seat.”

Now openly crying, both boys jumped from their seats and
rushed to Arturo, burrowing against him. “No! Don’t let them take us!” they
shouted in genuine terror.

Bishop was astonished. “What’s going on? What is this
judgment seat?”

Wrenna shook her head. “When an individual commits a crime,
they are bound and taken to the peak of Needle Rock and left there. It is the
Judgment
Seat
. The Valley judges their guilt or innocence. If innocent, their
bindings are dissolved and they go free and exonerated. If guilty, they are
consumed in a flash of fire. That is not an appropriate punishment for a
child.”

“No, of course not!” he declared, appalled at the very idea.

“There must be punishment, however,” Arturo said firmly.
Guiding the boys back to their seats with a little nudge on their shoulders, he
directed them to sit. “Now! Enough of the caterwauling. Certainly, you will not
be taken to the judgment seat but you must make restitution.”

Panther and Llynx scrubbed the tears from their faces with
grubby hands and hiccupped. “Okay,” Panther whispered miserably while Llynx
nodded agreement.

“This is my judgment,” Arturo announced. “As your
morkert
I pronounce this judgment.” His formal tones were solemn and weighty. “You will
surrender your
chinkas
for a period of two eight-days and wear your hair
unbound that all may know of your punishment for lying. You will not attend the
Midsummer Gathering but will sit in the doorway of Wrenna’s pottery so that all
may see you and know of your punishment for theft. This is my judgment. Do you
stand as witness, Bishop?”

“I stand as witness,” Bishop agreed gravely.

Arturo held out his hand and the boys reluctantly pulled the
chinkas
from their braids, one by one. Wrenna brought a clear bowl from
the cupboard and Arturo deposited the carved white
chinkas
with a sound
that reminded Bishop of glass pebbles. Silently, Arturo waited as they loosened
the tight braids and completely unbound their hair. Then he quirked a dark
eyebrow and said, “I think I hear your room calling you.” Both boys scrambled
from their seats and rushed down the hallway to their room.

When they were gone, Bishop sighed and shakily found a seat.
“Okay. Now I have a few questions.”

Arturo chuckled softly. “Only a few? Let me fix the tea
first and then we can all relax.”

“I should be going,” Samara demurred. It was crystal clear
to Bishop that she did not want the others to know about their relationship.
Until he had time to talk to her alone, he was content to go along with her.

“Stay for tea. You did well to bring this to our attention,
Samara,” Arturo admitted.

“I’ll say. I shudder to think of what else they might find
in Traveller’s bag. It just didn’t occur to me that they would go through his
things.” Bishop’s hands shook. “He has weapons and who knows what else in
there.”

“Put his bags in Papa’s office. The boys aren’t permitted in
there under any circumstances. I will lock the door as an extra precaution.”
Arturo looked back over his shoulder at Bishop. “Do you want apple tea or
honeybush?”

“Honeybush.”

“Wrenna? Samara?”

Wrenna made a face. “Honeybush, of course.”

Samara smiled at her in agreement. “Honeybush for me.”

“Tchk. Apple is better for you, especially if you add a bit
of mint.” He tossed the little gauze bags into the mugs and poured hot water
over them.

Wrenna set the honey pot on the table and fetched the cookie
jar. “Ahhh. Silence at last.”

Bishop shook his head in amazement. “I can’t believe how
much trouble those two get into. Aren’t they already grounded because they
broke a window?”

“That punishment was finished last eight-day,” Arturo
answered. “They are not bad but they certainly need some responsibilities to
keep them busy. I believe that I have a solution but first I must talk to
Papa.” He took a cautious sip of his hot tea. “You have questions. Ask,
please.”

“What is a
morkert
? And while I admire your
punishment, why is it considered a punishment to give up your
chinkas
?
What is the significance of wearing their hair down?”

“Hmm. Those are good questions. A
morkert
is a
lawgiver or justice. A warrior may train to be a
morkert
as one of his
specialties.
Morkerts
wear special metal
chinkas
in place of the
normal dark gray ones denoting their rank.”

“It’s one of your specialties, I guess?”

Arturo nodded. “For a warrior,
chinkas
are their
identity. Boys receive their first
chinkas
at six years of age. Until
then, they wear their hair down, so the
chinkas
serve as a sign of
maturity. Taking their
chinkas
away is akin to saying that they are
little children too young to train as warriors.” He idly stirred his tea as he
considered. “It was a serious punishment for a serious offense. They violated
two points of the warrior code. No lying. No stealing. It was a just
punishment.”

“I agree completely,” Bishop assured him. He looked around
carefully before asking, “What kind of dog is that that follows Wrenna around?
And those cats on the front porch are the biggest damn cats I’ve ever seen.”