The sounds of Sirin, Berne decided, were the most alluring noises he’d ever heard, and he longed to make a collection of them. He smiled to himself, thinking of how he might draw out an array of gasps, moans, and whines to begin, then build up to amass curses and screams, before ideally ending with wails and pants. Best and most tortuous of all, was the soft press of her body against his. The cushion of her thighs straddled his hips, making him excruciatingly conscious of the heat of her cunt on his stomach. Logically, it was the same temperature as the rest of her, but he swore he could feel it pulsing heat into him. Nothing had ever felt so indecent or right, except perhaps the feeling of her breasts pressing into his chest. Yes, he would love to make a collection of sounds and sensations. The issue remained, of course, walking for hours with her unconscious was not the ideal time to begin collecting.
Even worse, he was struggling not to make hisownnoises and alert Arndis and Gunna to the strain he was experiencing. At one point, Sirin rubbed her nose repeatedly over his nipple and he’d needed to cover his choked sound of surprise with a cough. He kept looking over at the other women to ensure they hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Berne tried to position himself at the front of their traveling group as much as possible, at least from behind they might not notice the flush he could feel rising up his neck and face or see how heavily he was breathing.3
His only consolation was the physical exertion made it damn near impossible for his cock to stay hard; though it was putting in a concerted effort to do so. Between purposefully clenching his leg muscles to steal blood, counting backward as often as possible, and mental self-flagellation, he thought he’d avoided notice. The cycle of arousal and admonishment, blood rushing to his cock and then away to his legs, was exhausting. It was a horrible battle against his mind and body the entire way, but he managed. He’d never walked for hours with a stiff cock and after enduring this torture, he never meant to again.
His guilt played a significant role in erection management as well because it was the worst type of guilt. Sirin was injured, and in a great deal of trouble, whether she understood or not. He’d assured her this would be exactly like carrying his nieces and instead, he was fantasizing about her in bed and actively managing his body’s attempts at popping a raging cock stand. He hadn’t the faintest idea if Sirin would be even a bit attracted to him, and in truth, she might hate him for his betrayal. Here she was asleep and trusting as a babe, and he was imagining stretching her out on his bed like a monster.4
Just like carrying my nieces, says I. Ha! Just like carrying the girls my arse!
No, carrying Sirin was not the same, and it was likely a big mistake.
Over the week he’d tracked her, Berne had grown to care for her, and the thought of something bad happening to her made him shudder. Heneededto think of a plan. He needed a way to keep her safe, regardless of whatever the council may decide. Over the past week, she’d wormed her way into his heart and he felt responsible for protecting her, regardless of what that meant.
He thought and walked and walked and thought. He’d gained habits from his bear and his bear’s way of problem-solving was a favorite. When Berne had an issue, he would walk and mentally worry at the problem, slowly and methodically, turning it over in his mind, allowing the cadence of his gait to both spur him on and calm his nerves. He could examine thoughts and ideas, and look at them from different angles without judging himself for how long it took, or for how many ideas he needed to ponder. It might be time-consuming, but he’d found this method of wearing down a problem to be fairly successful.
Eventually, his pattern of slow, determined thinking allowed him to have a workable idea; one that made his cock twitch to life again, sure, but an idea that might actually solve her problem. Berne wished he could talk to Sirin about it, but he wasn’t sure if they’d have time before she needed to go before the council. And anyhow, they would only need it if things wentreallywrong, and he didn’t want her thinking that was a possibility. No, he would fill her in if he got the chance, but until then, he would do what he needed to keep her safe. He squeezed her gently and unwrapped her arm, content in the knowledge he could keep her safe, even if it might complicate matters between them considerably.
Severaltorturoushourslatersaw them arriving at the outskirts of Sanctuary. The entrance to their valley was near impossible to find, requiring knowledge of the location of a secret tunnel into an ice cave and then making one’s way through the labyrinth it held. Once navigated, any entrant would be faced with the Boundary dome. It could keep those who meant harm out, he was told, and it all had to do with intention. He’d never meant the village or his Lady any ill will, so he had no means to personally test it. The dome also kept the village decidedly warmer than the outside. They had seasons, sure, but they were much milder inside than they were in their immediate surroundings. Under its protection now, it felt to Berne like the dog days of summer, the hazy heat making him want to strip off his shirt. He could see sweat begin to glisten on Sirin’s brow and he increased his pace.
As they walked down the side of the bowl into the valley, he could see the village proper in the distance. The dome simulated a day/night cycle closer to the equator, and he loved coming home at different times of day to see the whole valley at once, but the early morning was a particularly magical time.5The sky was a wash of pink as it brightened from a dusky purple, and in the distance, lights flared to life inside the many homes. On the far side of Sanctuary, the river flowed from underneath the mountains, splitting into many winding canals creating the town’s waterways. In areas not reached by the canals, footpaths and bridges crossed over the water connecting the small islands. At any moment, the lunula would cease glowing as it sensed the illumination of the sun, transforming the river and the canals from gleaming streams of light to ordinary-seeming water.
In the center of it all, the largest island held a green space surrounded by shops and governmental buildings. Trails of smoke from breakfast fires hung in the air the rounded thatched roofs atop houses dotting the many islands. The council strictly regulated building styles when any new construction took place, ensuring the town remained true to the Lady’s vision.6
Berne wished Sirin were awake to see it; it would have been impossible for her to resist the magic of it. Surely there could not be anywhere else in the world as beautiful. His best friend, Torsten, had traveled extensively, and he claimed he’d seen nowhere as stunning. For a moment, Berne debated waking Sirin so she might enjoy this as her first view of his home, but she really needed the rest. Her body wasn’t used to the strain of having to heal on its own and doing so must be extremely taxing. He’d be sure to bring her out at sunset, he decided.
As soon as they approached the town, Gunna dismissed Arndis with a wave and gave Berne a stern look. “Take ‘er to your house and do not let ‘er out of your sight. We’ll send for ‘er once the council is convened.”
Berne nodded and turned down the pathway toward his small house. He skirted the edge of the village, spying curious eyes peeking at him from behind curtains. He frowned, folks should know to mind their own business. It was normal for anyone to be curious about outsiders, it didn’t seem fair to have people peeping at her when she wasn’t even conscious. When he finally passed the last house and into the forest, Berne felt a heaviness lift from his chest. He often felt crowded while in town, but this time it seemed more intense. Inside the boundary, the forest held both deciduous and coniferous trees, though this close to town it was mostly broad leaves. He left the path to take a shortcut home, cutting through the woods. He wanted to smell the forest floor as he disturbed it with his boots. The scent of decomposing leaves and sun-warmed earth were comforting, and as he neared his cabin, sweet pine joined from the trees around his house.
As he approached his home a few minutes later, Berne wondered how it would look to Sirin’s eyes. He’d built the place himself a few years ago, modeling it after the houses of the rest of the village, with a few modifications. While he’d built it with a second floor, he’d never installed the flooring for the upstairs. For the time being, it allowed the sun to reach the main floor and he hadn’t had the heart to complete it if it might never be occupied.
At the front of his home, a wide porch held his rocking chair and whittling supplies. Someday, he hoped he could have a pet to sit by his side. For now, it wouldn’t be fair, being gone for weeks at a time as often as he was. The thatching needed attention, he could see a few bits of moss he needed to rake down, but otherwise, it was a handsome house. The whitewashing looked fresh, if a bit patchy, a side effect of having three-year-old laborers, which only made him love it more.
Berne climbed his steps and cracked open the door. He gently unwrapped Sirin and placed her on his bed. When he turned back to the room, he frowned. He hadn’t anticipated being gone so long and he certainly hadn’t planned on having company. He had no guest quarters, his plants were dying, and the place was a wreck. Dishes were piled high in the basin and he had several projects lying about in various states of completion. By the Lady’s grace, he’d at least taken the trash out before he’d gone on patrol, though he was fairly certain most of his fruits and vegetables would be rotten at this point.
Suddenly he was self-conscious of the lack of walls in the space as he’d never seen a need, living on his own as he did. The fireplace dominated the back wall of the cabin, with his easy chair and rug in front of it. On the left side sat his large tub, positioned so he could enjoy the fire’s warmth while he soaked. On the right, a back door led outside to the privy. Otherwise, it was sparsely furnished, his bed to the left wall, the kitchen and door to the cellar along the right, and his round table in the center.
Berne wasn’t sure her lunula worked the same way as his, but if she healed up when she woke, she would likely be ravenous afterward. He shrugged off some layers, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and dug through his cabinets and root cellar to see what he had on hand. In the cellar, he found potatoes and carrots, an onion, and some salt beef; he could pull together a stew. He poked his head out his back door and was pleased to see the bright red of a few late-season tomatoes peeking between the leaves of his raised beds.
The fact things weren’t dead out there meant Cat and the twins had been by, at least often enough to water. He snatched them up and returned inside to prep and check on Sirin. She’d rolled onto her side, curled into herself, and tucked her hands under her cheek.Adorable.This was a side of her he hadn’t been able to observe during the time he tracked her, she’d always slept inside a tent. Seeing her like that, curled up and peaceful onhisbed, was beyond sexy. What he felt seeing her was some sort of magical combination of relaxed and aroused, which he never would have thought possible. He smiled and decided to chop everything at the table, so he could keep an eye on Sirin while she slept.
Berne had always enjoyed the slow, methodical nature of chopping food. As he finished with each vegetable, he dumped them into his large cast iron pot and followed it with the salt beef, and spices. He added some water from his pump and lit the stove. It would take a while to cook, but he could always chop up some hard cheese if she woke hungry.
Stew set to simmer, he turned, hands on his hips, and looked at Sirin. She was still covered in her own blood, and the last day’s worth of dirt crusted her skin. Surely she would want a bath. He filled his largest pot and set it on the stove to boil before carrying several buckets over to his large tub and filling it. He lit his fire, pulled the tub closer, and dusted off the privacy screen that usually sat in the corner ignored.
Almost the second he had it set, he heard a soft tap at the door followed by his sister’s voice. Catrin opened the door without waiting for his answer and gasped when she entered the room.
“Berne, what is going on? Everyone won’t shut up about yeh having captured a—“ She lowered her voice as she studied Sirin with her wide blue eyes. Catrin had white hair, like nearly everyone born in Sanctuary, that cascaded in curls down her back. Cat was nearly a foot shorter than Berne, soft where he was solid, and quick where he was galumphing. She suited her snow hare form as perfectly as he did his bear.
Catrin clasped her hands over her mouth as she turned to the bed next to her. “Yeh really did it? And yeh brought ‘er here? Isn’t she dangerous?” she hissed quietly, moving away from the bed.
Berne chuckled at her concern. “Ach, thanks for keeping your voice down. Myguestis injured and needs ‘er rest. As far as being a spy, I imagine she’d have had toknowabout us for her intent to be spying. She’s a scholar, a ballsy one, I’ll say. Problem is, sheishere to find the Source, close as I can figure. Caught ‘er trail a bit over a week ago and hoped I could scare ‘er away from finding us. Instead, I frightened ‘er head-first into a tree well,“ he said as he grinned sheepishly.
“Sure and that’s one way to catch a trespasser—“ Catrin chuckled.
“She’s not dangerous, just curious,” he interrupted. “She has this silly way of narrating her day and she talks out loud to things in the forest when she gets bored. At night, she describes everything she saw aloud as she writes it in a wee journal.”
He smiled, remembering how she would stick her tongue out while thinking or greet the trees by name when she woke. She’d been so happy at her “discovery” of that “new” species of rabbit, the one that they’d been breeding for meat for generations in Sanctuary.
