Chapter Fourteen
Deimahkos kept his chamber dark and closed; he believed darkness bolstered his terrible powers. Incense filled the still air, and Enerate worried that she would swoon from being overheated. Deimahkos crushed the dried herbs in his hand, and let the fragments sprinkle down into the brazier. The flame leapt up; the vision took shape. It was a man, with the face of a lion. He was at the beach, in the surf, fishing; his woman was gathering fruit. He was naked, and even in a vision his powerful muscles were impressive; he was magnificent. They both saw it.
"I must tell Ampheres," said Enerate, her voice raw and cracking. She rose, and ran from the chamber.
They had taken off their wet clothing when they'd made landfall in the wee hours of the morning. They'd found a small cavern in a rock face, just big enough for them to stretch out and build a fire. They laid their sodden clothing over rocks to dry, and lay down in each other's arms, exhausted. They'd paddled three miles through rough seas to reach shore. They slept for twenty-four hours.
When Vincent awoke, he opened his eyes to a spectacular sunrise, and the love of his life in his arms. She makes a heaven of hell, he mused. He caressed her silky skin, and planted tiny kisses on her shoulders and arms.
She slowly raised her eyelids, and smiled softly. She pulled him to her, and gave him a soft, fuzzy, first-kiss-of-the-morning kiss. "Marry me," she whispered. "I will," he answered. They nuzzled and cuddled until the growling of their stomachs was too loud to ignore.
They rose and dressed. They combed the beach for driftwood for the fire, and food. The tide had brought in a lot of the wreckage of their clipper. Vincent cried out for joy when he found a fishing net. They also found knives, rope, cups, canteens, and—here Catherine cried out—the sails. Yards and yards of beautiful, beautiful canvas, they could use for a tent, or hammocks.
They carried and dragged their finds back to their cavern. Vincent stripped down to go fishing with the net while Catherine re-kindled the fire and continued searching for any dates or coconuts she could find on the beach.
She had just picked up some mangos, and was inspecting them. As she straightened, she caught sight of Vincent in the water, casting the net. There was no fur on his shoulders and upper arms, and his powerful muscles were cleanly cut. The fur on his chest was thin enough to allow her to see layer atop layer of rippling musculature, from his pectoral muscles down to his abdominal six-pack. His narrow waist gave him a classic 'V' build, and he stood in water just lower than his waist. Catherine stared. Vincent looked up, and met her gaze. He pulled in the net with several fish flapping in it, and came out of the water.
They sat cross-legged on the ground, eating fruit while the fish, gutted, scaled and impaled on sticks sunk into the ground, roasted beside the fire. Vincent had put on his pants despite Catherine's, "Must you?"
Vincent pulled up one of the staked fish, and tested the flesh for doneness. It flaked under his fingers. He passed it to Catherine, and took another for himself. He glanced surreptitiously at her, from under his hair, and smiled a little. She was enjoying her meal, and felt very content, he could feel it through their bond, and it made him happy. He cleared his throat.
"Catherine, are you sure you're well?" She looked up in surprise. "During the storm we were thrown around terribly. Are you stiff or sore?"
"No, I feel fine." She smiled at him. "How about you?"
"I'm well. But I worry about you. You've lost weight."
"Isn't it great?" she grinned. "Must've been all the walking. And my skin cleared up, thank God—or gods—whatever."
"If you're well, then I'm happy." He sighed, content.
"It's going to be a nice day," she said. "It's sunny, not a cloud in the sky, nice breeze…"
He looked at her for a moment. "I love you."
She looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes; she put a hand over her heart. "I love you, Vincent," she said softly. He leaned toward her, and they kissed.
He pulled away, but she wanted more. "Can I try a bite of your fish?" she asked. He pulled a chunk off the bones, and handed it to her. But instead taking it in her hand, she took hold of his wrist, and lowered her mouth to his fingers. She ran her tongue up his middle finger, and took the fish in her mouth. She pocketed it between her gum and cheek, and ran her tongue up and down between his fingers and the skin in between. His breathing became ragged; she held his hand in her two hands, palm up and open. She swallowed the fish, then began to kiss and lick his palm. He hissed and moaned her name, and reached for her.
But fate is cruel, for just then, the sound of hoof beats coming close roused them. Ten men on horseback were riding toward them. They rose, and went forward to meet them.