Beyond the Night by Squires Susan

Author:Squires, Susan [Squires, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-05-06T19:57:02+00:00

4

She snuggled against him. They had been drowsing together for a while, but he knew she was awake. He had been wondering where to start with his questions. His preoccupation with his mission to find Emily, the incredible sexual attraction they'd felt—all had distracted him and made his denial of those questions easy. But he could no longer ignore them. He would come round to red eyes and disappearing and the wounds at his neck. He was not frightened of her, not after tonight. But he could not dismiss them as mere tricks. He would start his questions with what had happened to him. What he really wanted was to know if she had experienced it, too. "I've never felt anything like that."

She stretched and pressed her breasts against him. He thought she'd stripped every drop of semen from his body, yet still he felt a stirring in his loins.

"Good," she said, her mouth softening into a smile.

"What. . . what was that?"

"The closeness we felt?"

We. He nodded, brushing his lips across her hair. She had felt it, too.

"It is the teaching of the Tantra. It comes from the Hindu, though Buddhists and Jains practice also."

"They teach sex?" You could study sex? Apparently. She must have.

"Well, more it is the meditation that they teach. They believe the physical is an expression of the divine. And physical acts can bring you closer to God. Like sex, if you do it correctly."

"You do it correctly," he murmured, holding her close. Had she done this thing with others? To distract himself from that thought, he asked, "Will you tell me your name now?"

She looked conscious, as though she didn't realize she had never revealed even this much of herself to him. "Freya. My name is Freya."

After the Norse goddess of fertility and plenty. That was appropriate. "Freya." He savored it. "Well, Freya, why do you live here alone, without even removing the Holland covers from the furniture and make the villagers think you are a ghost?"

She stiffened and he thought she would push away from him. Then he felt her soften.

Maybe it was resignation. Her voice was small, and she did not look at him. "I am a bad person, Drew. I have done bad things. My father required them of me and of my sisters but we did not protest. One sister went mad from doing them. And I never even thought to refuse. I had never been away from my father's . . . house until he sent my remaining sister and me to England. We were doing this thing, and it was dangerous, and it had perhaps eaten at her mind, as well. I told her she must quit. But she wouldn't. And . . . and then I couldn't do it any more. So I stopped. And that meant I didn't support her. She . . . died." She took a shuddering breath.

Her sister had died. Perhaps she had as many scars as he did. He waited for her to go on, just holding her.

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