Eye of the Ocean Book 3 Ji'jin Station

Eye of the Ocean – Book 3: Ji’Jin Station
strong fingers around his wrists. “Will you make love to me?” he said, almost
frantic in his desire. She had a scent of roses, sasi-sweet. Her body sang of
Zimmer and none of it was dying as the world-pattern was.
Her lips pressed against braiding on one palm. “A small inconvenience,” she
whispered against his fingers, then moved his hand to feel their child. “Is all of
Zimmer becoming brittle or only pattern? Only Zimmer-pattern, I think. We'll
invent our future, not be dependent only on what we already are.”
Red dripped from his braid ends, spilling over her robe and the swelling under
her hearts. “Only Zimmer-pattern? Is that all that's becoming brittle in me?”
“I feel flesh, not stone.”
The same fierceness was in her as on the journey here, as strong as his desire
had been. “No,” he said, moving his hand on his own now, using what strength
was left or had grown since the breaking of his wrists. He was weaving with the
effort and wondered that his sister couldn't feel the cold in his touch. “Do you
feel...” he started again, wanting the reassurance.
“Do you feel?” she interrupted him, insistence as strong as the pressure of her
fingers holding his hand.
Don't you feel the net falling around me, his eyes asked hers, but all he could
see was a courage that made a mockery of his fears. “Two children,” he finally
said, forcing himself to feel the heart beats under his hand. “Were there always
two?”
“No,” she said, then laughed as she released his hand. “Or, it might be that
there were always two, except I don't remember it that way.” Her eyes searched
his, and late, he saw the start of worry. Something in him was alive enough to
hope wildly that her laugh would call him back as Ulanda's had.
Laugh again, his eyes pleaded, but thought she would only see the coward that
he was.
“Would you have it any other way now?” she said, the worry reaching her
voice and almost as quickly, her hands. Strong fingers stroked his face, running
into his crest at the back. And stilled. A puzzled look grew on her face, a
searching inwards that exploded outwards as suddenly. She never moved, only
he would ever know the struggle she mounted. And too late. He felt her mind
slowing as her hands were.
“No other way,” he answered as though releasing into what held him and
moved into what had started as a caress from her. The binding was meant to
strip his will from him. There is none left, he would have whispered, his lips to
Oimit's throat. No will and now, no body. Zimmer-pattern burst through the last
of his consciousness, following the line of his tongue on her flesh.
Laurel Hickey www.2morrow.bc.ca