Eagle, Kathleen by What the Heart Knows

Author:What the Heart Knows
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-04-27T23:18:14+00:00

Eleven

The drum tenderly pummeled the night from below. The stars cheerfully jigged in their places on high. Helen felt small but abundantly significant, bundled in her lover's arms. Perched high on a hill where nothing could see her but the silent rock, where no one could touch her but the man she loved, she felt utterly secure, otherworldly safe. Red flags fluttered in the back of her mind the way they always did, yet she intended to ignore them right now. She knew the moment couldn't last, but she could surely live it as though it would.

She didn't want to think too much about what he had told her, only about what he had given her, what she had tried to give him. Pure bliss. Sensational oblivion. She had stroked him and nursed him, straddled him, taken him into her body and milked him until he had given over, given in, and given her his seed. If she said such a thing aloud, she would feel foolish about it, but there was no self-consciousness under the stars. The black sky was too vast, and the drum was too elemental, and self dissolved into the beauty of it all. In that ageless, timeless context, seed was a beautiful thing.

Reese's seed most particularly.

Particularly. Back to particulars, back to self, back to consciousness, back to Reese's particular seed, which felt powerful and tasted like the salt of the earth and made life. Her lofty thoughts turned to self, returned to a consciousness of her own petty fears as she pressed her ear to his chest, thinking, How are you, my love? Are you feeling all right now?

Su-per, su-per, su-per.

His heart beat strong and sound, and she couldn't imagine it faltering, no matter what he'd told about thickened muscle, about demands for more oxygen, about pain when the demands could not be met. He could not die from it. He was such a big man. His powerful arm cradled her against a long and lovely bed of muscle, and muscle was invincible. He was a tower. He was a wall. His hip and thigh buttressed her fully, keeping her off the ground, caring for her comfort. He felt solid, a sure winner.

But what about her son?

This was not a selfish question. It was not a petty fear. Sidney was still a boy. He had his father's eyes and nose and feet. He even had his father's smile, and yesterday she would have said what a good thing it would be if he had his father's big heart. Not his mother's, forever protecting itself, forever in hiding.

But that was yesterday. Tonight she loved his father more than ever, and tonight she prayed that her son was not like him in the heart. An awful wish, another of her narrowly focused prayers. Don't take my son away, don't make him weak, don't make him sick, don't let him know what I've done, don't let him hate me for it, don't don't don't...

Don't ever go away from me.

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