Heart Fortune

Finally, reluctantly, the Healer rose from her chair with a sigh and a grimace, saying she was sharing a tent with Funa Twinevine—not that Funa would be there most nights. The woman liked her lovers.

The stream of people coming to visit with Glyssa dwindled. She saw the other Healer, Trago, start down her aisle, then he spotted Lepid and turned back. No loss there.

But the serenity of the night, the lovely weight of her Fam on her lap, and the gentle camaraderie had worked on her, soothing her from the slight rebuff Jace had given her in the morning, and his lack of company this evening.

So she let the quietude of the extraordinary place, the different atmosphere showcasing the soft velvet of the sky and diamond brightness of the twinmoonslight and starshine, encompass her. She leaned back and felt the link between her and her lover, her HeartMate, hum with anticipation.

Soon they would love.

Eight

Glyssa waited until no one walked the hard earth of the camp pathways before she went to the cleansing tent. The waterfall in her pavilion took more water than she was comfortable hogging.

She didn’t like the camp showers—they were antique and stingy showers, not the lush waterfalls that most city residents were accustomed to. The recycled water here had a distinct odor. The only good thing she could say about them was that they were better than any cleansing spell and they relieved the heat of the late summer days.

After her shower, she felt less sticky and just plain better, as if her body was finally adjusting to the local day/night cycle. Lepid, who’d kept her cheerful company both coming and going on her walk, hadn’t seemed to have had any trouble whatsoever with the change in time . . . perhaps hadn’t even noticed it.

As she returned, she saw a few spellglobes in tents, but quiet enveloped the camp. Lepid pushed his basket to the sitting room, before a low window she’d made just for him to look out, and curled up without complaint. She decided that the day of exploration and activity had tired him—and that his behavior was suspiciously docile. He might be hoping to slip out of the tent as he had done that morning.

She toyed with the notion of invoking a spellshield to keep him in, but that showed little trust for her Fam, and all relationships were built on trust. Her FamFox now had a collar that would teleport him to the Healing clinic, and most of the staff had seen him and knew him . . . and gossip certainly traveled fast in the camp. She’d know almost immediately if he got into trouble again.

Glyssa smiled as she heard too-loud-fake-snoring from her Fam, but said nothing. Tonight she intended to have another dream sexual encounter with her HeartMate and it was just as well that Lepid was at the far front corner of the tent from her bed. That would be good when, hopefully, she and Jace made love in reality. She’d already slipped a silence spell on the bedroom walls—they’d be able to hear sounds, but no one, not even Lepid, would hear her or her lover.

She dressed in a thin, white linen nightgown that was barely opaque, deliberately purchased for Jace. She’d discovered during that wild weekend that he became more aroused when she was in a few clothes rather than totally naked. She thought the nightgown would tantalize him, too.

“Good night, Lepid. I love you,” she called from the opening of her bedroom.

Good night, FamWoman. I love you, he replied.

Then she waved her hand and the flap between the sitting room and bedroom rolled down. She held her breath, but her Fam didn’t object . . . in fact, he went back to his fake snoring.

Settling onto the cushy and comfortable bedsponge, large enough for two, she set the intention in her mind to visit her HeartMate in her dreams. Dream sex, then true rest for the remainder of the night sounded excellent.

Sleep and lucid dreaming came quickly. She stood over the man who lay on a mattress supported by a cot. Close by, his FamBird sat on a perch, head bowed, beak tucked into his front feathers, sleeping. She smiled, then glanced at Jace again, seeing the glitter of his gaze as he stared at her face—no doubt pale, though blood flooded her cheeks as his scrutiny went to her breasts until her nipples tightened, then he scanned down to the shadow between her thighs.

Her blood pounded and she knew she flushed more, including her breasts. Her knees weakened and breath came quick and her insides quivered with desire as her body readied for him—his touch, his sex inside her.

Even as her mind spun, and she swallowed, she understood that this night needed to be more than physical intimacy. She needed to move their fling into the past, ensure that sex moved more into loving. How, she wasn’t sure, but could only follow her instinct . . . and her heart.

So she smiled with all the tenderness, all the joy she felt at seeing him again, finally being with him. Everything she could show him, and that he would accept here in dreams, that he might shun in the public light of day in the camp.

“Jace,” she whispered, and thought beloved. Again she swallowed, held out a hand. “I want you.” Her hand trembled. “Do you want me? Here? Now?”

He flung off a thin blanket and stood, naked, ready for sex. In the dream there was twinmoonslight that limned the fine bones of his face, touched the glitter of his eyes with silver. And tonight she saw him better, their bond not so stretched over a long distance.

She touched his chest, muscles more defined than they’d been, wider, and with a few scars. Smiling, she trailed fingers to his hips, then back up, rubbing his tiny nipples. He shuddered and a pulse of pleasure surged through her that she could please him, that they would rise to ecstasy together, explode into release together.

She wet her lips and he groaned, bent his head, kissed her, then his hands settled on her hips, brought her close so that she felt his passion. Her lust spiked, she wanted to be naked, too, reached down and yanked up handfuls of cloth.

His mouth brushing against hers, tantalizing, lifted and curved in a wicked smile. “Shhh,” he said. “Let me.” His eyes were half-closed and she knew she’d judged him right. He liked her partially clothed best.

He let loose of her hips, then took the gown, pulled it back with a fist on the curve of her bottom until the little excess material was tight against her, binding around her breasts and hips. He stepped back, looked at her, and even in the dim light she could see that his cheeks and lips darkened with his own sexual flush.

“Jace,” she panted. Her nipples felt too tight, and the cloth chafed them slightly, pinging sizzles of desire through her. She took a step forward, pressed against him again, rubbed against him, his sex thick and hard against her abdomen, her breasts against his chest.

“Lord and Lady, woman!” He picked her up and tossed her onto the cot and bedsponge. Surprisingly comfortable . . . he lifted her hips, pulled her gown up to her waist, then lowered himself on her. His left hand turned her head; she must have looked startled because he chuckled. His right hand was busy sliding down the front opening tab on the yoke of her nightgown, slipping inside and palming her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple, making her twist, needing more, needing him.

“Jace.”

In a low voice, he said, “I like how you say my name, especially breathless like that.” His smile turned wicked. “I like you breathless and writhing.” His lips were hard on hers now and she groaned and opened her mouth and let his tongue plunge into her, sucked on his—that simply tasted of Jace, a flavor she’d never forgotten. She yearned to taste him for real, not this shadow taste of memory. Soon. Soon. She hoped. She prayed.

His hand skimmed from her breast lower, stopped as he reached the end of the yoke opening.

Any other man would have ripped the gown from her. Not Jace. He took his hand from inside her gown, shifted.

And in that few seconds of reprieve from his tormenting touch, she understood what she needed to do . . . simple and instinctive. Give. Give herself to him, give him all the tenderness, all the loving, all the respect she felt for him. Hold nothing back.

So when he touched her damp folds between her thighs, stroked and drove her mad with need for him, she