Transcendence

Transcendence Page 11

I sit on the rock next to her and watch as she squeezes and smooths the clay into a rough ball and then starts poking her thumbs into the center of it, making a hole. She continuously makes sounds as she pokes and prods at the stuff. For the most part, I ignore her—choosing to work on another flint knife instead. I sit close to her and occasionally glance at her out of the corner of my eye as I work. She seems to be very intent on whatever she is doing with the sticky clay.

At one point, she starts digging more of the clay out of the side of the inlet with her fingers and a small, round rock. I watch for a moment and then look around the shore for a better, flatter digging rock. I find one that is perfect and come back to her side.

I have no idea what she is doing or why, but I help her anyway. With the flat rock, I sweep over the bank of clay and bring a large slice of it closer to her. Beh claps her hands together and makes more noise. She’s smiling, so I think they must be good noises. She seems pleased, so I watch her go back to whatever she is doing with the clay while I finish my knife. By the end of the day, I have two good ones along with several chips that will be serviceable during the winter as well.

It is time to go back, and when I reach over to tap Beh, I see she has formed the clay into shapes. There are two round, hollowed out cups and two flat, round shapes. She is still smiling and seems proud of herself—much like she was with the basket she made that now holds the dried antelope meat.

After she goes to the water and washes all the clay off her arms and hands, Beh gives the cups to me and picks up the flatter pieces. Huffing out a breath, I carry the squishy cups. They’re too floppy to be useful for anything, but Beh seems so excited about them and obviously wants to take them with us. I have no idea what she plans to do with them—drinking out of clay would just make water taste like mud—but I like how happy she seems about them.

By the time we arrive back at the cave, the sun is beginning to set. I lay the fish over the drying spit, and Beh fiddles around with the clay objects she made. She puts them near the fire and sits back with another big smile. She looks at me, makes some more sounds, and then helps me place the fish over the cooking rocks.

When the fish is cooked, and we have eaten, the cave is dark, and it is time to sleep. Beh continues to make soft noises with her mouth as we lay down in the furs. The sounds are almost constant, and I wonder how I will ever fall asleep if she keeps it up. I watch her mouth move for a moment and then look up into her eyes. They shine in the firelight.

She lies on her side as she continues with her sounds. One of her hands waves back and forth in time with the noises she makes. After a while, I can’t take it anymore, and I reach over to cover her mouth with my hand. She quiets immediately, and I’m grateful. I pull her body close to mine and wrap the furs around us for warmth. Once we are settled, I look over to the fire to make sure it’s banked and also give the cave a quick once-over to be certain all is well.

It seems to be. The cave is secure and my mate is safe and happy, so it must have been a good day.

Beh opens her mouth and starts making more racket, but I quickly cover her mouth with my hand again. I look down at her and lean close. I draw the tip of my nose over her cheekbone and down her jaw. Beh sighs and sinks into the furs. I lift my hand to touch her hair, and I tangle my fingers in it to feel the softness.

Beh reaches up and brushes the side of my face. She smiles slightly as her fingers run over my cheek and down to my shoulder. Her fingers trace the line of the muscles of my arm. She whispers something, and her cheeks tinge with the blood running underneath the skin. Her finger keeps tracing my bicep.

I flex, showing her my strength.

My mate’s eyes dance over to mine and then back to my arm. More whispered sounds escape her as she smiles more broadly. I tighten my muscles again—flexing my arm, shoulder, and chest as well—and she seems pleased. She must realize I am strong enough to be able to protect her if she needs it as well as able to hunt for her and her children.

I want to give her those children.

I feel the tightening in my groin again, that same feeling I often have when I look at her. Her fingers glide over my arm and down to my wrist, leaving my skin with a tickling, tingling sensation. I move my hand from its usual place on her hip around to her stomach and then up to her shoulder. My fingers brush over her breast as they travel upward, and Beh stiffens.

I watch her lower lip disappear into her mouth, and I wonder if she might be hungry again. I stroke the side of her neck with my fingers, and Beh shivers in the firelight. I lean close to her again, running my nose along hers. I stop at the space between her eyes and inhale her scent.

The images from my nightly dreams rush through my head, and I feel my body react to my thoughts and the closeness of my mate’s body. I watch her eyes as they stare into mine, her expression soft but uncertain. I don’t want her to worry about anything. I want to take care of her in each and every way I can.

And I want her to care for me, too.

I don’t care if she ever makes a basket that can hold grain, but I want her to be here with me. I want her to be close to me as I work or fish, and I want her to lie next to me in the furs at night. In my mind, she is with me always and forever.

Finally, it’s clear to me that I want her for more than children.

CHAPTER SIX

The next day, Beh takes my hand as soon as we have eaten and leads me out of the cave. She points across the field to the pine forest and lake. I’m not sure why she wants to go back there again already, but I am willing to do whatever I can to please her.

Beh collects more mint leaves along the way, making me stop long enough to use one of the leaves to clean my teeth. Beh seems to think it is something we should both do in the morning and sometimes even at night, before we sleep.

Once we arrive at the lake, Beh goes immediately to the clay near the stream and starts poking around in it again. I watch the edge of the lake long enough to catch a fish to eat and then return to the flint near where she sits. She makes a few more objects with the mushy clay and sets them on the rocks before she approaches the lake to wash off her hands.

“Ehd!”

I look up from my flint and see Beh standing near the water. She makes more noise, and I stand to go to her. I smile as she takes my hand in hers but then frown as she pulls me toward the water.

I’ve already fished, and it’s far too cold to get in the lake, so I stop and pull my hand from her grasp. Beh looks at me with her head cocked to one side, makes more noises, and points at the water.

I take a step back.

Beh’s sounds become louder as she places her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrow to look at me. I narrow my eyes and look back at her, unsure exactly what she wants, but quite sure I don’t like it. With a sharp noise and an equally sharply exhaled breath, Beh leans down and fills her cupped hands with water. Drops fly from her skin as she walks back to me and dumps the water on my arm.

My head fills with memories of my mother taking me to a stream in the summertime and making me stand in the water as she washed me off. I growl and step back, pushing the water off my skin. It’s far too cold for washing, and my furs might get wet if she dumps water on me again.

It becomes apparent washing is exactly what Beh wants me to do as she tries to pull me closer to the edge of the lake. My mate might like to wash herself and clean off her teeth all the time, but I don’t like the cold, and I’m not about to get in the frigid water.

I pull my arm away from her with a grunt and turn my back to her. I don’t know why she seems to think getting in the water is a good idea, but I remember losing my balance while fishing early one spring, and I was chilled the rest of the day.

When Beh tries to take my arm again, I yank it away from her, pick up the fish I caught, and start toward the edge of the forest. I turn to look at Beh, and she is watching me. I stand still until she picks up the clay objects she’s made and silently follows me home. I don’t want my mate to be angry with me, but there is no way I am going to get in that cold water.

I cook the fish on the fire back at the cave, and before we are done eating it, Beh is making continuous noises again. I try to ignore the sounds, but it’s not easy when she rarely stops. I hush her with my hand over her mouth, and it works for a while. Instead of making more noise, she brings mint leaves to me.

Since I refused to get in the cold water, I think I should probably rub my teeth with mint. Beh likes it when I do that, and I hope it will appease her. She does the same with her own mint sprig, and we soon crawl to the back of the cave and the warmth of the furs.

I get into the furs first, and Beh climbs in after. She lies on her back and looks up at me as I prop myself up on my elbow and watch her closely.

I can smell the mint on her breath, and I lick my teeth to feel how smooth they are. I wonder if her teeth are smooth as well, and I think they probably are. As I ponder, Beh’s tongue darts out over her lips and captures my attention.

The curve of her mouth as she smiles up at me is enticing, and I can feel my desire to give her a baby growing as I stare at her. Beh’s cheeks darken, and I tilt my head down to run my nose along her cheekbone as my arm wraps around her.

“Beh,” I whisper her name-sound against her ear. My body is tightening inside of me, and in return, I tighten around my mate. We are close enough that I am sure she feels my want of her against her leg. I try not to press against her, but it’s difficult.

Everything inside of me screams to roll her over, pull her hips up to meet mine, and take her.

She’s my mate.

I see her throat bob as she swallows, and her palm presses lightly against my chest. Her fingers trace the line of muscle above my pounding heart. She makes a few soft sounds as her eyes dart between mine, and her fingers stroke softly against my skin. It feels so good, and I want more.

I bring my nose to the side of her face and stroke her skin gently before I move down her jaw to her chin. I cup her face with my hand as I look into her eyes again, touch the tip of her nose with mine, and hope she understands I only want to give her a baby. I don’t want her to be afraid anymore. I want her to know I will care for her always. If I give her a baby, she’ll know I will hunt for them and protect them with my life.

I run the tips of my fingers along the top of the unusual tunic she wears. The material is so soft, but not as soft as her skin just above it. I bring my fingers up the side of her neck until they rest on her cheek. I touch the edge of her mouth with my thumb, and the corners twitch into a smile.

Her eyes meet mine, dark and burning with the reflection from the firelight. I feel my chest rise and fall with my breaths as her hand mimics the motions of mine. It tickles a little as she rakes the tips of her nails through the scruffy hair on my face. I feel her take a deep breath before she closes her eyes. Her hand drops back down to my chest, and then Beh tilts her chin up, and her lips touch mine.

Before I have a chance to wonder just what she is doing, the smooth, soft touch of her lips have pressed against mine and rapidly departed. I blink a few times, looking from her lips to her eyes and considering.

Considering what?

I’m not quite sure.

Beh’s eyes drop down from my face to her hand where it rests against my chest. Her lower lip is again attacked by her teeth. I place my thumb against her chin and tug at the skin until her lip is free and she looking at me. I wrap my finger up and over her chin and then run it slowly over her lips—back and forth. As I release her chin completely, her tongue moistens her lips.

Does she like that, having her lips touched?

Does she like having her mouth touch mine?

Do I?

Yes.

Yes, I do.

I grunt softly and tap her lips with my finger, my eyes imploring her to show me how to do that again. I was caught off guard the first time, but now I want her to do it more. I place my hand on the side of her face and tuck my fingers under her jaw. With gentle pressure, I move her face a little closer to mine.

Beh leans into my hand as she moves nearer, and our lips touch again. Her arm comes around and cradles the back of my head as her fingers weave in and around my hair. It feels good, like it does when she pulls out the tangles. Our lips stay pressed together as her other hand moves from my chest and up to my shoulder.

She pulls back, breaking her lips away from mine to catch her faltering breath. I can feel my throbbing need of her intently as her hand runs down my arm. I don’t want her to stop touching me. Actually, I want her to touch more of me.

“Beh,” I murmur softly against her cheek. Beh’s eyes stay on mine as I reach down and grasp at the tie holding my wrap around my waist. It slips out of its knot easily, and I push it away from my hips, exposing my hard organ to her, hoping she is impressed. As her hand runs down my arm again, I capture it with my fingers and bring it lower, pressing her palm to my length as I angle my hips toward her.

As soon as she touches my flesh, I hear her gasp, and she quickly pulls her hand away from me.

“Ehd…no.”

I immediately stop my movements and look up at her warily, but she doesn’t seem angry. She reaches down and wraps her hand around the edge of my fur wrap and covers me. She makes more sounds, and she runs her hand along the line of my jaw. She moves her head and touches her mouth to mine again.

With the touch of her lips on mine, I am once again captivated. Though my need for her remains apparent to me, even if she has covered it, this is a nice, distracting alternative. My fingertips ghost over her lips. Beh smiles and places her hand over mine. She makes more sounds, ending with a sound that reminds me of a snake.

She makes the same noise again.

“Kiss.” She leans close and makes our mouths come together, then repeats the sound. “Kiss.”

I tilt my head to one side and brush my hand across her mouth. I watch her lips and tongue as she makes the strange hissing noise again. I lick my own lips, and I can almost taste her on them.