Everlasting

the shadowy darkness of the trees, he turned toward Paulo.

“A time to capture and a time to set free,” Paulo reminded him softly.

Zack clapped him on the shoulder. “I know, my friend, but in this particular instance my priorities are confused. My hunting instincts are being sublimated by the mating instinct. I'll be damned glad when all this is over.”

“It is important to Marna. She has planned this for a long time.” Paulo waved his hand. “It's only one more night. I have an excellent brandy at the saldana. Maybe we'll get drunk and you'll forget about little Kira for the night.”

“It's worth a try,” Zack said. He was willing to try anything to avoid another night like the last one he'd spent. He seemed to be in a permanent state of arousal these days, and he had only to look at Kira to have that arousal sharpen to an aching feverishness. “By all means, lead on to the saldana.”

The crisp fallen leaves crunched under Kira's suede boots and she could see her breath form misty clouds as she walked beside Marna through the grove. The stars looked different here in the woods than they had from the terrace. Had it been only a few hours since she'd stood on the terrace at the palace? she wondered. She felt shocked because that scene seemed to belong to a different century and certainly to a different world.

“What is a saldana?” she asked suddenly.

“It is a place apart,” Marna said. “When there is a need, one of the caravans is pulled a short distance from the rest of the camp to insure complete privacy.”

“A need?”

“Grief or a soul search or a mondava.” She paused. “You will be with Zack at the saldana tomorrow night.”

Kira swallowed. “I will? How nice of you to tell me.”

Marna's eyes were suddenly probing. “You have promised to belong to him. Is that not so?”

“Yes.”

“It is not against your will? You wish to be in his bed?”

“No, it's not against my will, and yes, I wish to be in his bed.” Heaven knew that was the truth. She was so acutely aware of him, just the light touch of his finger on her cheek had caused a ripple of desire to invade every secret part of her.

“Then that's all that is important. The understanding will come in time,” Marna said. “It is all part of the mondava.”

“Are you going to tell me what this mondava is?” Kira asked dryly. “Evidently I figure in it prominently and I appear to be the only one around here who is ignorant about it.”

“You don't know? I thought Zack would tell you.” Marna smiled wryly. “No, I thought he would show you.”

“He was just as closemouthed as you were,” Kira said.

Marna frowned. “You must not go into it without knowledge. I did not mean for that to happen.”

“Zack said it meant the ‘forever bonding’ or ‘everlasting bonding’ in your dialect.”

“Everlasting,” Marna said softly. “Yes, that is what it means. It is the coming together. The sealing of two souls who have been parted. There is a proper time for all things, and when the time is right there comes the mondava.” Her glance met Kira's. “Not only the souls are united but also the bodies. Sometimes the merging does not come at one and the same time, but then one always follows the other. You must not worry if Zack seems to forget the soul for the body. The other will come.”

“Will it?” Kira drew a deep, shaky breath. “Marna, for heaven's sake, how do you know? Zack may only be aware of the physical aspect of the mondava. I offered myself to him on a silver platter to get you out of Tamrovia. He may think the mondava is something like the gestures of hospitality some primitive people made in offering their women to visiting men. Remember, he only spent a short time with your tribe and may not fully understand the mondava.”

Marna shook her head. “He understands.”

“Marna…” It was no use. Kira could tell by the set of Marna's jaw that she had made up her mind and no amount of arguing was going to change it. She was obviously convinced Zack was the only mate for Kira and was proceeding to effect the union in her own unique, inexorable fashion. She wouldn't even consider the possibility that Zack might not be ready to commit himself to anything but a physical relationship.

But Kira's argument was valid, dammit, even if Marna wouldn't admit it. Zack had certainly been quick enough to reject the possibility of marriage to her, she remembered with a pang. Their relationship had deepened and grown enormously in the short time they had known each other, but it didn't mean Zack had changed his mind. Evidently this ritual Marna was arranging was equivalent to a tribal marriage ceremony. Legal or not, Zack had an innate respect for tribal rituals and would regard this one as binding. Oh, Lord, she hadn't meant to trap him. And there was no doubt that the desire tormenting them both was the bait for the trap. She couldn't let such a thing happen to Zack. “When is this ceremony?” she asked suddenly.

“Tomorrow at nightfall,” Marna said. “We will spend the day preparing you.” She paused. “Of course the mondava also signals the end of childhood for a woman and the beginning of maturity.”

Ah, Kira thought, now she understood why Marna had been so melancholy last night. She believed Kira would give herself totally to Zack and forsake all those she'd loved before.

“We're going to have to talk about your feelings, Marna,” Kira said gently. “Yes, we need to talk about a good many things other than memories.”

“The mondava,” Marna said flatly.

“In a manner of speaking. About maturity, anyway. It will wait, though. You've already given me too much to think about right now.”

“It will all come clear. Tomorrow night at the mondava.”

“Kira.”

It was Zack's whisper.

She woke instantly from the light sleep into which she'd fallen only a few hours before. She lifted her head from the pillow and saw Zack's dark silhouette framed against the pearly gray light of predawn coming through the opening at the front of the wagon. Kira cast a glance at the large form on the mattress next to her own. Marna hadn't stirred at Zack's low call.

Kira threw off the blanket and came swiftly to her knees on the pallet. She searched in the shadows of the caravan until she found her jacket and suede boots, and then crawled quickly to the front of the wagon.

Zack lifted her from the seat to the ground with careful and soundless strength. “I'm glad I finally found you. I think I peered into every wagon in camp. Put on your boots.” He waited while she pulled them on. It wasn't nearly as cold as it had been last night, even though she noticed that the huge campfire, which was the heart of the ring of caravans surrounding it, had burned down to gray ashes and flickering embers.

There was a touch of impatience in Zack's face as he took her hand. “Come on, let's get the hell out of here.” His voice was almost rough and it slightly startled her. She had never seen Zack impatient or rough. She gazed at him bemusedly as he pulled her away from the camp and through the woods. Then they were climbing a hill with a speed that made her legs ache a little by the time they reached the summit.

The sun had not yet risen and within the cluster of trees at the crest of the hill his face was still shadowed and unreadable as she faced him. “Zack? What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Dear heaven, yes, something is wrong,” he said in a husky tone of voice. His arms enfolded her with a crushing power that took her breath away. If there had been any left to take away. When she'd been brought with passionate violence against Zack's bold arousal, she'd lost both composure and breath in one swoop. “This is what's wrong.” His hands moved down to cup her buttocks and bring her closer still. His hips began to move against her in a slow, undulating movement that was mindlessly primitive. “I can't take it anymore. I thought I could last until Marna's damn ceremony tonight, but I can't do it. It's been too long already and I'm hurting.” His breath was coming in harsh gasps as his hands clenched on her soft, rounded flesh. “I tried everything last night. I counted a million damn sheep. I kept Paulo up half the night telling stories until he dozed off. I even tried to get drunk.” His laugh held an edge of desperation. “Indians are supposed to be susceptible to firewater, but it didn't faze me.” His eyes closed and his hands splayed out with a tactile yearning, rubbing and smoothing gently. “Maybe I was high already.”