Intended Ch. 11

"Do not scream."

Veba's eyes flashed open. The Spiritwalker towered above her, his hand covering her mouth.

Her mind raced. I knew he would get out! I knew he would come! He is going to kill me!

She whimpered, too terrified to move.

"Be quiet!" he whispered. "I am not going to hurt you, though I might change my mind if you do anything foolish. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"H-how did you get here?" she quavered after he removed his hand. "I, I thought you were un-under guard."

"Veba darling, I possess the ancient wisdom, magic beyond your understanding. You should know by now little is beyond my grasp."

Except Sala got away when you tried to kill her, the young woman thought. She did not mean to do it, but her gaze drifted from his eyes to his grotesquely battered face. While the angry wounds made his appearance even more intimidating, they also reminded her that the Spiritwalker was not all-powerful.

"It is rude to stare," he snapped, interrupting her thoughts.

She lowered her eyes. "I, I am sorry. I did not realize I was staring. Is...is it painful?"

"Of course it is. But I am not here to discuss me. I am here for you."

"Y-you are?" she asked, her heart pounding. Under the furs, her hand crept toward the corner of the platform.

"Yes, my dear," he soothed. "I came to inform you I have selected you as my mate. I will perform the bonding ceremony while I am here."

Her eyes widened in alarm.

"You belong at my side," he went on, "and I will not be denied what is mine." He threw off the furs covering her bare skin and grabbed her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh between his fingers. He leered as her nipples hardened from his touch. "You see, even your body knows it belongs to me."

He pushed her breasts together, mauling them with his rough hands. "I must admit I have missed this body." Letting her heavy mounds drop, he grasped her nipples, pinching and stretching them until a moan escaped her lips. "It is so responsive, so yielding."

He ran his fingers down her abdomen until he reached her crinkly curls. Shoving three of them deep into her entrance, he smirked to find her wet. "I take it you have missed our pleasures as well?"

She tried to ignore the sensation of his thrusting fingers, to no avail. "Yes," she groaned.

"I am gratified to hear that." Pulling his hand away, he brought it to her lips. Knowing what he expected, she opened her mouth and cleaned his fingers of her juices. Untying the thong around his waist, he kicked off his leggings, unleashing his bulging organ.

"Come, my dear," he beckoned, drawing her off the sleeping platform and onto her knees before him. He grabbed her head between his hands. "Open. Ahhh, there you go. Yesss...good. Uhhh... That is right, Veba. Take it deeper...take it all."

The young woman relented as he gripped her head, pumping her face. Grunting with pleasure, he forced his manhood down her open throat. Even as the warmth of arousal spread out from her loins, her mind drifted to the night he beat and branded her, to what he did to Sala. If they were mates, what would he do the next time he became angry?

Distracted, she choked when all at once his manhood swelled, jerking as it sent its sticky stream down her throat.

"You lack your usual enthusiasm," the Spiritwalker commented, withdrawing from her mouth with a plop. "Has it been so long you have forgotten our lessons?"

Looking up with pleading eyes, she shook her head. "No, Spiritwalker; I, I have not forgotten."

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, studying her face. Then, to her surprise, he smiled. "Perhaps some pleasure of your own will remind you."

Yanking her up, he threw her onto her back on the sleeping platform. Her legs hanging off the side, he muttered, "I should have brought the thongs. Well, I guess we will have to make do." He picked up one of the furs and stuffed the corner of it into her mouth. Looking around the room as he pinned her arms above her head, he said to himself, "What could we use for your hands and feet?"

"Mmm, mmm."

The Spiritwalker looked down to see Veba shaking her head vigorously, trying to speak. He pulled the obstruction from her mouth. "What?" he barked, unable to hide his irritation.

"P-p-please do not tie me."

Once again he eyed her with suspicion. "Why Veba, you have always gotten immense pleasure from being bound. I will never forget the way you dripped all over my furs that first night when I pulled your legs up off the ground, spreading them wide as I tied them off.

"I remember how your second entrance resisted my manhood until I forced it to yield to me. The way you screamed in pain as your hole stretched open so reluctantly was delicious. But despite your protests as I plunged into you, before long you were pushing back and your screams became those of great pleasure."

Reaching between her legs, he pinched her erect node between his fingers. "I must admit, there was something really special about taking you that first time. I think this night I will have you clench up so I can have the pleasure of forcing you open again. That will be highly pleasurable, do you not agree?" he asked with a tug.

"Uhhh!"

"You are leaking for me, as always. So do not tell me you do not want to be tied. Your body knows better, and so do I." The Spiritwalker smiled smugly as she thrashed, her womanhood pulsing under his fingers.

After she licked off her juices again he dried his wet digits with her hair. "Ah, I know what to use. Our bonding pendants." He reached into the pouch hanging at his waist and fished one out. Holding it up he asked, "What do you think?"

"It, it is very nice."

"I thought so as well. Now, let me see. I am afraid they are not as long as what we usually use, so you must not pull against them too hard, my dear; we do not want the symbols of our sacred bond to break now, would we?"

Pushing her leg back until it met an arm, he began tying the ankle to her wrist. "I will perform the ceremony while I take your body. It seems fitting since you will be tied with the symbol of what binds us in this world and the next."

"B-but, Spiritwalker, I do not wish to risk breaking our beautiful pendants. Wh-when you give me pleasure the feelings are so powerful I lose control of my body."

Gritting his teeth, the shaman stifled the urge to strike her. How dare she be so presumptuous. She seemed...different than before, and he did not like it. After all of this nonsense was over he fully intended to break her of these irritating new habits.

"Then you will have to try harder to maintain control of yourself," he replied, his voice tight. Finishing the knot, his hand reached into the pouch and found nothing there.

The Spiritwalker knelt, searching the floor for his missing treasure. Veba watched as her free hand searched blindly for her own under the furs. Her bound limbs tested the strength of the leather tie; she was confident she could break it.

Although he appeared more restrained than usual, she knew without a doubt he was the same man who abused her, the same man who tried to kill Sala. Perhaps without realizing it, he had given himself away. When the Clan Leader questioned him, Belak had been there, and the shaman's claim that he could not remember the last two moon cycles was common knowledge. If he lost his memory then why could he recount in such detail their first encounter? He claimed not to remember having a relationship with her at all.

Her fingertips touched something cold and hard under the furs. Stretching her arm, Veba worked the object toward her until she could grasp it in her fist. When the Spiritwalker stood up and bent over, reaching for her free arm, her hand burst out from beneath the pelts, and with a guttural cry she swung the knife.

The blade sliced his neck, and for a moment he stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock. In a panic she pulled her tied arm and leg in opposite directions, trying to break free before the rage she knew was coming set in.

With a snap the pendant broke, beads scattering in every direction. His eyes ablaze, the Spiritwalker tried to wrench the knife from her with one hand as he clutched his neck with the other, his blood seeping out between his fingers. He tried to speak but gurgled instead, spitting blood on her face.

"HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE, HELP!" Veba screamed again and again, kicking at him, clawing at his face with her free hand.

One of her kicks knocked the shaman off balance and he fell back, landing on the floor with a thump. Scrambling up, she stumbled off the platform, but tripped and fell on her face. The Spiritwalker snagged her ankle, struggling to pull her back.

Several of Veba's neighbors burst into the dwelling, awakened by her calls for help. They rushed forward, pulling her by the arms away from the shaman's weakened grip.

"Someone, quick! Get Keta! Get the Spiritwalkers!"

Still in shock, Veba broke away and, staggering to her feet, ran outside screaming. People poured out of their dwellings, horrified to find her standing in the middle of the common area, her naked body splattered with blood.

"Get some furs!" Keta shouted as she pressed through the crowd to the young woman. "By the Spirits, Veba, what happened?"

"Sp-Spiritwalker...c-came...f-for me," she answered between choking sobs.

"Are you hurt?"

Nose running, tears squeezing out of her swollen eyes, she shook her head. Someone placed a soft pelt over her shoulders.

"Is he—"

Struggling to answer, her face twisted but Veba could only wail. She clutched her body, shuddering with revulsion.

The Clan Leader looked around and with great relief spotted the Fox Clan's spiritual leader hurrying toward them along with her Light-Eyed colleague.

Looking at the tiny shaman she asked, "Spiritwalker, will you please assist Veba?"

"Of course," she replied, taking the young woman into her arms.

Keta gestured to the other spiritual leader. "This way; hurry."

They found the Spiritwalker lying on the ground, the reed mats beneath his head stained red. The men who came to Veba's aid had turned him onto his back; Dosat knelt beside him, pressing a piece of leather, dark with blood, against the shaman's neck.

Taking the place of the man at his side, the Light-Eye crouched beside his associate, dazed as his lifeblood drained from his body. Lifting the leather scrap to assess the damage, he sucked in his breath and grimaced. Covering the wound, he looked up at Keta and shook his head.

Suddenly the Spiritwalker reached out and grabbed his colleague by the tunic. His eyes wide, he opened his mouth to speak, but only the bubbling rasp of his final breath escaped his lips as his hand released its grip.

Covering her mouth, the Clan Leader gasped in shock. After exchanging a sober glance with the shaman from Owl Clan, she shifted her gaze toward the others assembled. To her surprise she discovered Jakal among the witnesses. Their eyes met and he nodded, then turned and left in silence.

He found Sala where he left her, safe and surrounded by their friends.

"He is dead," Jakal told them, his eyes locked on his mate. "I watched him take his last breath."

A collective sigh of relief released into the cold night air. Kitad hugged Sala and kissed her.

"He cannot hurt you now," he whispered.

Tears began flowing down her cheeks and the Light-Eye came to her, taking the woman he loved into his arms. "It is over. It is over," he soothed, rocking her as his chest grew wet with her tears.

Although the sun's arrival remained half a night away, few in the Wolf Clan returned to their furs. They chose instead to gather with family and friends, seeking comfort in the company of others.

"You were right, you know. I am sorry I doubted you."

The spiritual leader of Fox Clan glanced up at her Light-Eyed colleague. "I appreciate that. I am just sorry so much suffering had to occur before... Well, I am simply relieved it is over." She resumed swabbing the body, preparing it for burial.

The man dipped an absorbent skin in the herbal infusion. "I know you said you did not believe he was overcome by a malevolent spirit, but how do you explain his behavior?"

"I believe his spirit was sick, twisted, so much so it could not be cured. Even back when he was an acolyte there was something about him which made me uneasy, but I could never quite put my finger on it. I suppose in some way you could call his a dark spirit. But the notion he was not in control of his actions because of some outside entity I found preposterous and offensive."

"Do you suppose he ever truly lost his memory?"

She shook her head. "The young woman -- Veba -- said he told her things he could not have known if he actually lost his memory, but I never really believed him."

"When I spoke to him about the Clan meeting, I found his anger...disturbing," the green-eyed Spiritwalker admitted as he wiped the blood from the deceased shaman's face. "But what disturbed me more was his lack of concern for Sala. It seems so obvious now and it deeply troubles me; a young woman could have died because I failed to act on those instincts."

"He spent a great deal of time perfecting his lies and could be very persuasive," she acknowledged, "and thankfully the Spirits protected Veba. You are not the only one who wishes they had made different choices; I, too, have regrets." Looking up, her eyes filled with determination, the old shaman said, "But what really matters, though, is what we do now."

"What do you mean?"

"As spiritual leaders our role is serving the physical and spiritual needs of our people. Too often our decisions and policies have more to do with maintaining the power and influence of our caste and its members. This situation is a good example of why the privilege of selection should be abolished, for one thing. We claim the practice came from the Great Spirits themselves, but is it not just as reasonable to consider it was put into place for other reasons?

"We choose a life of service; no one forces us to walk with the Spirits. The joining of body and spirit is a sacred act. Taking that choice away from another to serve our own needs goes against everything we are supposed to represent."

The Owl Clan's spiritual leader wrinkled his brow as he considered her argument. "I would have no objection to discontinuing the privilege of selection," he finally responded, "though as a Light-Eye, it is unlikely an offer from me would be turned down."

The old Spiritwalker shook her head. "Perhaps you should spend some more time with this Clan's Light-Eye. I think that young man could teach you a bit about humility."

He grinned. "Point taken. But what I meant was that the others may not find my support of your proposal persuasive because as a Light-Eyed One I would be less affected by such a change."

"You can be very persuasive when you choose to be."

"Very well. I will do my best," he promised. "I owe you that much."

"Do not do it for me. Do it for our people, so no one is put in Sala's position again."

Sitting side by side on a hill some distance from the Spiritwalker's burial ceremony, Sala and Jakal watched the spiritual leaders from several Clans as they appealed to the Great Spirits to call their fallen Brother to the Other World.

He put his arm around her as she leaned against him for support.

"I cannot believe it is actually over," she said softly. "It almost does not feel real."

"I know," he agreed, turning to her and kissing her cheek. "Knowing the things he did, it is strange to see so many of our people grieving."

"He served our people for many years. I suppose to some he was a good man who lost his way." Sala paused. "What surprises me is how hard Veba is taking his death. Look at her, Jakal; she can barely stand up."

What the couple did not know was that Veba was wracked with guilt. She killed the Spiritwalker because she was certain he would kill her sooner or later, but images of the shock on his face, the blood on her hands, the knowledge he had not actually threatened her when she attacked him tormented her in the waking world and in her dreams.

Even worse were the conflicting feelings she felt for him. All she wanted was to be free of his cruelty, his terrifying control over her. She could not live her life in constant fear of him. And yet, there were brief moments when they experienced an almost incomprehensible communion. She felt, somehow, they touched something in each other that neither of them expected nor understood.

Her knees buckled as she sobbed, but before she collapsed strong arms caught her. Vision blurry with tears, Veba looked up to find Letan gazing down at her.

"It is all right, Veba. I will hold you up."

Gratefully, she clung to the Toolmaker and shuddered, weeping until no more tears came.

"Jakal!"

The Light-Eye stopped walking and, turning his head, saw the Owl Clan's Spiritwalker striding toward him.

"It is good to see you this day," the green-eyed man greeted with a broad smile.

"And you as well," he replied, with less enthusiasm. Despite his assertion of wishing to spend time in the company of a fellow Light-Eyed One, Jakal noticed that since his arrival nearly a moon cycle ago, the spiritual leader paid far more attention to his mate than to him.

"I will be returning to my Camp the day after this next one. I regret my duties have prevented us from spending more time together. That is why, before I left, I wanted to make a proposal."

"Yes?"

"In the short time I have known her, I have come to greatly admire Sala. She has a strength of body and spirit I find...unique. I believe we have an opportunity to provide her a uniquely pleasurable experience."

Jakal's muscles grew tight. "Oh?"

"I have never pleasured a woman with another Light-Eye before. Your mate is...quite alluring. I believe it would be highly pleasurable for all three of us if we shared furs."

"Sala and I only share furs with each other," he blurted.

The Spiritwalker peered at him. "Yes. That is what I have been told. It was...your idea, correct?"

Jakal averted his eyes. "I did not pressure her to agree, if that is what you are implying."

"I am not implying anything. However, I would urge you to consider your mate's feelings about this...arrangement."

"What do you mean?"

"My friend, Sala has undergone a life-changing experience. She nearly lost her life. Is it fair to...impose limits on someone who has been through so much?"

He looked down, his stomach twisting.

The Spiritwalker clasped his shoulder. "All I ask is that you speak to your mate, find out what she wants. Beyond that is between you and her."

Her thick locks freshly combed, Sala sat behind Jakal on the sleeping platform, working the tangles out of his wet hair. Their bodies tingled from bathing in the stream.

"Is everything all right, my mate?" the young woman asked. "You have not said much all morning."

"I am sorry, my woman. I have been...thinking about something."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He turned around and faced her. "Sala, does our...arrangement make you happy?"

She looked at him quizzically.

"To share pleasures only with each other?" he elaborated.

Sala reached out and smoothed the tight muscles of his brow. "Of course. Why do you ask? Do you...do you wish to share your body with another?"

Jakal shook his head. "No. It is just...after everything you have gone through, I want you to be happy, always."

She gazed into his brilliant blue eyes. "I am happy, more than I have ever been." She kissed him. "Have I given you some reason to believe I am not?"

"The Owl Clan's spiritual leader spoke to me this morning. He is returning to his Camp in a couple of days and...wanted me to convey his interest in sharing our furs. He thought sharing bodies with two Light-Eyed Ones might be...uniquely pleasurable for you."