Light and Dark Eternal Ch. 04

"And satisfies your yearnings," Jenn added, her hands swirling up and down Larken's arm.

"Drift," Myra said, her thumbs finding pressure points that made Larken's legs rubbery. "Let your mind, heart, and body rejuvenate and reconnect. Be well sister."

"Be whole," Jenn almost sang.

The older woman was crushing and mixing herbs behind the counter her gaze on her work. She lifted a bowl to her face and took a deep breath a small smile on her face, then cocked her head to the side scanning the counter. Putting the bowl down, she grabbed some dried flowers and began to hum. The soft, pleasant tune danced through the shop and swirled around the top of Larken's head before cascading down her skin. The humming got stronger and she realized Myra and Jenn had joined in. Between the smells, massage, and the song, she felt light and heavy, soft and hard, asleep but awake, her conscious and subconscious wavering and shifting until her conscious receded and her subconscious jumped to the fore. Her eyelids drooped hanging suspended halfway down her irises. She could still see Myra, Jenn and the shop, but in front of them a movie was playing, projected onto a transparent screen.

It was night, and thousands upon thousands of stars were painted across the heavens, even the glow from the bonfires over the hill couldn't mute a single star. Her breathing deepened and the sounds of the crackling, spitting fires suddenly filled the night. The branches above groaned as a strong breeze ruffled the fall leaves, sending a few spinning and gliding to the ground. Then the song began, first one voice, followed by another and then another, until a chorus echoed through the hills. Every man, woman and child among them knew the song. It was theirs. A song of light and dark, a song of hope and love. Larken listened for a moment, then started singing along under her breath, her heart and mind pulling the words from a memory she didn't know she carried. Myra and Jenn exchanged glances, their hands moving in sync, from fingers to elbows and back again.

Then Larken wasn't just watching the movie, she was in it. The smells permeated the very air, and she held her hands up to her face inhaling baked bread, sugar, and orange. The bonfires were imbued into her fingers and she smiled breathing deeply. Thick and dark, the woods at night could be treacherous, but not for her. Never for her. She knew every tree, shrub, and root, and could navigate them blindfolded. The air changed and she grabbed her long, heavy skirts and took off. The song got fainter and fainter until the only sounds were her breathing and footfalls, followed by his. When she caught the almost imperceptible crash of waves she grinned. She was too fast for him, and always had been. The salty air washed over her, the punishing force of the waves swallowing all sound. Her destination came into view and she almost whooped in victory.

Seven trees in a perfect circle, so close to the cliffs they vibrated with the energies of air, earth, and water. The convergence of the three wild and chaotic, resonating with life. She reached the first tree and out of the corner of her eye something large and dark flew at her. Then she was careening into the circle, her arms flailing as everything spun. A tree loomed large in front of her, and an arm shot out, stopping their imminent crash. She swallowed the scream she'd been about to unleash and braced herself against the tree, trying to catch her breath.

His chest heaved against her back, his hot breath blowing her hair away from her face. When she tried to shift away he tightened his grasp. "That's the last time you run from me."

His voice was low and heavy, the hunger racing down her body igniting the heat she tried to ignore, and the arousal she pretended didn't exist every time he was close. She didn't understand it, couldn't for the life of her explain it, and absolutely refused to accept it. She swore to never be a treasure in his collection, no matter how charming, educated, and accomplished he became. His arrogance, especially in regards to her, could not and would not be rewarded. And his arrogance had been the one constant for as long as she'd known him. The first time he declared she'd be his wife he was nine and she was seven. She reacted in typical seven year old fashion and told him he'd have to catch her first. He'd been chasing her ever since, and for fifteen years she stayed out of reach. Until now.

As if reading her mind he slid his hand around her waist and entangled the other in her hair. "I caught you," he said, dragging his lips down her neck. "You're mine."

She bit back the moan, the skin left in the wake of his lips smoldering, yearning for him to return. She couldn't think with him so close. She had to get away. She had to run. "I don't belong to you," she spat, fighting the pleasure her body was tired of being denied.

He whipped her around and pressed her against the tree, the moonlight outlining his square jaw, and long black hair. His cornflower blue eyes were darker, the irises enlarged with anger, lust and, to her shock, love. It poured forth pinning her to the trunk with more force than his body ever could. A growl rolled across his chest and he slammed a hand against the tree. "Stop. Fighting. Me!"

Every word was emphasized with a smack of flesh on bark. She didn't take orders well, at all, but it was more a plea than a command. The ache in his voice and longing in his eyes laid bare for her to see. "You are my heart," he said, his voice softer. "It's always been you." He brushed her hair back and slid a thumb along her jaw. "You feel the pull just as much as I do. It's why you're still unwed, running and looking over your shoulder for me. Otherwise, you'd have picked one of your many suitors and been done with our dance."

She didn't have a response, she was completely saturated in him, the warmth and feel of his body pressed to hers, the rings of fire around his irises, and the way his brow furrowed creating a thin little line above the bridge of his nose. A line her fingers itched to smooth away, to sooth. Her hand traveled of its own accord, sliding up his chest to his cheek. He covered her hand with his own and closed his eyes, the tension within him draining away. She bit her lip, the tension within her building with every breath of him.

Suddenly he grasped her face with both hands and looked into her eyes. "Say it."

Her chest started heaving and her gaze darted between his eyes. He was right, that was the last time she'd ever run from him. "I'm yours," she breathed.

Victory and a touch of relief flashed through his eyes, and then his lips were pressed to hers. Something opened within her, unlocked and set free it blossomed across her chest. His lips parted and the tip of his tongue slipped between hers asking for entry. She eagerly accepted and he tightened his grasp kissing her deeply. The blossoming spread with the slow richness of honey, leaving her skin tingling as her heart opened to him completely. Her fear of losing herself in him disappeared and the fire he roused raged, setting the honey alight.

They clawed at each other's clothing, their lust for one another boiling over. Her dress suddenly loosened and he yanked it off her shoulder, kissing his way down her neck, his tongue tasting and lips devouring. A desperate moan escaped her lips as the honey turned to lava roiling and sparking between her legs. Her knees buckled, her underclothes suddenly soaking wet. She couldn't take much more, her need for him bordering on painful. A low guttural sound rattled deep in his throat and he lowered them to the ground, stripping her of every article of clothing until she was naked and laying on the grass. So soft, it was like resting on a bed of feathers, the energy vibrating through the circle warming the earth beneath and chasing away the cold. Not that she would've felt it. The fire raged within and without.

He whipped his clothes off, his breathing getting deeper, an undercurrent of danger in the air. When he was finished a strange calm seemed to roll through him and he turned the full force of his gaze on her. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat, a shiver of arousal tinged with nervousness moving through her. He smirked, that arrogant smirk which had infuriated her more times than she could count. Another fire ignited in her chest, but before she could react he reached for her legs. The gossamer hairs on her fingers rose, the air thickening and crackling like it did before a storm. He grasped her calves and her body almost bucked from the jolts that struck directly between her legs. She gasped and he spread her legs as he his hands slid upward, the soft languid stroke of his fingers lightning strikes spidering across her skin and intensifying the higher he got. She curled her fingers into the grass trying to keep herself from writhing and mewling like a cat. His eyes darkened further, the blue almost disappearing. A star streaked across the heavens, then another, and another. The rings of fire around his irises caught their light and held it, every falling star another eruption of yellow and green.

The victory and satisfaction in his gaze shone forth as his hands reached their destination. He slid his thumbs up and down those soft, pulsing mounds and she cried out, her back arching and hips thrusting upwards. Suddenly he swung his legs over hers, hooking them underneath, and then spread his knees as far as possible, locking her in place. Her eyes widened in shock and she tried to squirm away, the exposure to him and the world a vulnerability she'd never felt before. But other than her head and arms, she couldn't move. He watched her, increasing the pressure as he caressed her delicate flesh. She tried to buck him off but it was useless, she was under his complete control.

"Are you done yet?" She didn't respond, and he flicked her swollen bud. She gasped and he did it again and again, his other hand caressing her throbbing mounds. He didn't let up, and she threw her head back, the pain and pleasure twisting together and coiling tightly through her core about to explode. He flicked her bud harder, and then gave it a rub and a pinch.

The coil exploded, and shockwave after shockwave slammed her body. Her hips bucked beneath him wildly, but he held fast. Pressing his thumb into her clit he rolled it in tight circles increasing the intensity of her orgasm until she was wailing. Her back arched high and she yelled, "Becket!"

He eased up and she deflated, beads of sweat on her brow. Everything was muffled and her ears were ringing. Becket stroked her folds with the gentlest touch and she trembled completely stunned. "That was a beautiful sight my lovely," he crooned softly.

"How did that happen?" she asked her voice faint.

He released her legs and tenderly kissed the curve of her breast. His hand started drifting towards her face and everything wavered. "You're mine," he whispered, kissing her tenderly.

"And you're mine," she said more fiercely than she intended.

His eyes softened and he cupped her face in his hand. "I always have been, and I always will be. Forever and a day."

Suddenly Larken was floating above, seeing her naked body intertwined with his. But it wasn't her, it was a woman she didn't recognize. A hypnotic humming tugged at her, and even though she wanted to stay in the dream with Becket, her mind refused to let her. Once she knew she was dreaming, the dream was over. It had been that way since she was a child. She felt the soft touch of Jenn's and Myra's hands and sighed, slowly waking up. She'd never had a sex dream like that. They always ended just as the good stuff began, or were frustrating and unfulfilling. But Becket was a man of skill. She wondered where that name came from, it wasn't one she could recall ever coming across in her day to day life. She told herself to stop overanalyzing and just enjoy it. So she did. Smiling almost drunkenly she opened her eyes. "I just had the most incredible dream."

"Feel better?" Myra asked, setting her hand on the arm of the chair. Jenn did the same and removed the towel.

"Mmhmm," Larken replied. "You should offer hand massages, you'd have a line out the door."

"That doesn't sound like any fun," Myra said. "Then our hands would hurt."

"I see your point." Larken rose to her feet, stretching her arms up high. "But I'm completely relaxed and refreshed. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jenn said, smiling.

Slipping her shirt on she said, "How long was I out? It feels like a slept hours."

"Only a couple minutes," Jenn replied.

Myra handed her a small bag with bottles of scrub, lotion, and oil in it. "Your hands will feel soft through the next few days, no matter how many washings."

"How much?" Larken asked, pulling out her debit.

"I was going to bring a couple sets home for you and your mother as gifts. So, welcome home." Larken stared at her speechless and she smiled. "I'm your cousin, Myra Blake."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Larken demanded, throwing her arms around her.

Myra laughed and hugged her back. "I just did."

Tears welled up in Larken's eyes and she blinked them back before letting Myra go. Family. She'd only really ever had her mother and grandmother. She and her father had never lived in the same state, and while he called on her birthday and Christmas, their relationship was fairly superficial. But Myra was an actual cousin, another living breathing part of her. She was so overwhelmed she gave her another hug.

Myra laughed under her breath and hugged her just as fiercely. "The family is so excited to meet you."

Larken let her go and wiped her eyes. "Our luggage is still at Mona Bell's, and my mom is in a shop down the road."

"Aunt Vi and my father have your luggage and they're headed this way. They'll meet us at the well." She turned to the older woman and said, "Evelyn, would you mind if I went with Larken? I won't be long."

Evelyn waved a hand towards the door. "Of course dear. Family comes first. Welcome home Larken."

"Thank you," Larken said, beaming.

Myra hooked an arm around hers and started talking about the family as they walked out of the shop. Larken couldn't wait to introduce her to her mother.

Darby looked over the shelves taken with the exquisite workmanship. The details were intricate, some figurines so life like it was almost eerie. Various animals frozen in woodland play populated a good portion of the shelves, wolves being the most common. On one shelf every carving was of a woman, either her from behind, just beginning to look over her shoulder, or the barest hint of a profile. Not one included a full view of her face, and she wasn't painted in vibrant colors like the animals, she was in different shades of twilight or the color of moonlight.

She studied the woman and realized that every carving was of her over at least a twenty year period. There were subtle differences as she progressed from late teens to late thirties, the lines of her jaw, the curve of her nose and lips, and the arch of her neck telling the story of her life through his eyes. His eyes. For some reason she knew without a doubt the artist was a man. One particular carving caught her attention and she picked it up. Surrounded by flowers, her curls cascading down her back, the woman was looking to the side, her chin just about to reach her bare shoulder. Her dress was hanging around her elbows, about to slip off. Something felt familiar, like she almost recognized the moment, and then the woodsy scent was all around, pervading her senses with home. But no home she'd ever known. Love flooded her, and her heart swelled to the point she thought it would burst from her chest. Behind her, she could feel him. He was finally there. She whipped around, all her hopes and dreams rising from the depths she'd banished them to. But she was alone. She could still feel...something, and reached out a tentative hand almost expecting to touch someone. Her hand dropped, the ludicrousness of her actions turning her cheeks red with embarrassment. She tried to shake off the presence, but it was an itch between her shoulders blades that refused to go away.

"Everything okay dear?"

Darby almost jumped. Eliza. That's the presence she felt. She sighed and gave her a small smile. "Too little sleep, body out of whack, and nervousness have my mind playing tricks on me. These are gorgeous by the way." She studied the carving in her hand, trying to get a better look at the woman's face. "Why is she only painted in moonlight?"

"She's a dream, a wish, the calling of one heart to another." There was a catch in her voice and Darby looked up. Eliza smiled, the shadow in her eyes retreating. "She's the artist's muse. How he sees her is in his heart, and he isn't telling."

Darby laughed at the whimsical sparkle in her eyes, and said, "Oh, I don't know. I think how he sees her is perfectly clear. The love shines from every line and curve."

"So true. I want you to have it. Consider it a welcome home gift."

"That is very generous of you, but I couldn't possibly-"

"I insist," Eliza said, taking the carving behind the counter and wrapping it in paper. "It isn't every day new family members come to the island."

Darby smiled and held out a hand. "Darby Simone."

"Eliza Waldren. Your Aunt Victoria has been talking about your visit for weeks. I haven't seen her this excited in ages. It's been catching. I couldn't wait to meet you myself."

"Everyone definitely seems to know who we are," Darby said.

Eliza put the carving in a bag and said, "We're a close knit community, especially our two families. When our husbands died, Victoria and I leaned on each other like sisters, so seeing the joy in her eyes does my heart good. It does us all good."

"Thank you so much," Darby said. "I don't know what to say."

Eliza grasped her hand and said, "You're very welcome. And just say you'll come by for a visit when you have time. You can meet the artist. My son is a bit of hermit, but he'll take one look at your hair and start carving."

"I'd be honored," Darby said with a smile.

She walked outside, scanning the hanging gardens for Larken, and sighed in defeat when she didn't see her. She headed towards the road, pulling her phone out of her bag. As she passed the well something caught her attention and she stopped. The root system coming out of the ground was a mosaic of time, a true work of art. It's why she'd taken a couple pictures, fully intending to enlarge and frame them. Scrolling through her phone she found the photos and looked back and forth. She was right, the roots had shifted, a couple appeared to have grown by almost a foot, and were even higher off the ground. That wasn't possible.

Once again she felt a presence at her shoulder and looked around. There were plenty of tourists in the area, but no one close to her or even looking in her direction. A gust of wind blew through the branches overhead, the music of the rustlings leaves reminiscent of the whispering winds from her dreams. She listened closely, almost hoping to hear them. The last dream they'd scolded her. Her eyes took on a faraway look as memories flooded her mind. They didn't exactly scold her, it was more of a gentle chastisement, and not the first time either. But she couldn't fathom why. The breeze picked up force, the whispers just on the edge of her conscious mind. She'd forgotten something, something they'd been telling her for years. Her gaze snapped into focus and she realized she was crouched down next to the roots. They were holding something between them, and she looked around again but no one was paying attention to her. Slipping her hand between the roots she grasped the object.

The entire square wavered like a mirage, and the ground fell away beneath her, the only thing solid the treasure in her hands. She brushed the loose dirt away revealing a simple carving of two people. The wood was dark and smooth, and while there were no faces, it was obvious from the flowing hair and shape of the bodies that one was a woman and the other a man. They were sitting knees to the side, their foreheads together, and each had a hand resting over the other's heart. The presence suddenly overwhelmed her and moved through her soul. It was the only way she could think to describe it. A part of her woke as if from deep slumber and reached out. Love, hope, anguish, and loss sent her reeling, the whirlpool of emotions too much for one person to shoulder.