Fire Ch. 12

He held her like that for a long time, the pad of his thumb lightly caressing the underside of her chin, before a tiny smile crept across his lips and he leaned in, breaking his hold on her eyes and pressing his mouth to the ridge of her ear.

In the faintest voice he finally answered her question in a whisper. "Of this, I am well aware. I cannot make you follow me, or do anything for that matter...but I should like to see you try and stop me from following you." She heard the smile that lingered on his lips, and she let out a faint chuckle of her own...though it sounded more like a breathy gasp to her ears. He pulled away to regard her again, and slid his hand higher, curving his long fingers around her jaw. His smile was gone. "Why do you still fear me?" She couldn't resist her own wry smile.

"Your hand is wrapped around my throat...why shouldn't I fear you."

He arched a brow, but did not release her. "As it has often been before...and I recall it having a much different effect in those instances. You do know, " he added, " that I wouldn't hurt you." It wasn't a question.

The truth was, as dangerous as she knew him to be, she did, actually, know this to be true. He was many things, but what he had never been was her enemy. She'd known that when he'd pulled her from that stake, and now more than ever she knew. She had been certain before, but now that knowledge was written in her very flesh...her blood...down to her bones. His essence was written there. Scrawled in heavy red ink. And because of that, she was more lost than ever. There was no going back, and no forgetting. The only way to escape him was to escape herself, and that made him more dangerous than any one had ever, or could ever be.

"I know." She whispered back. But she couldn't live without him now. It was that simple...and what could be more terrifying. She blinked back the hot tears which burned at the backs of her eyes and tried desperately to keep her captured jaw from trembling. He frowned and caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"Do you?"

"It's not you who frightens me..." His frown twisted back upward into an almost smile.

"But what I do?" he offered with a glint in his eye and a sardonic lilt in his voice. "I think we've already had this conversation..."

"No...." Her voice came out in a horse whisper as she continued to fight the burn in her eyes and she watched him sober. "No, what...what would happen if you didn't...if you left." His brow furrowed and he twisted his head in consternation.

"You make no sense to me sometimes, woman...you tell me to leave...then say you fear it..." He sighed and reached up to wind his hand in her hair and tilted her head back to force her to look him square in the eye. "Tell me...please, what is it you want. Name it. Tell me you don't want me...and I will go, tell me to stay, and I will...gladly. What is it you want Thea?" His hand released her, cupping her cheek, as his eyes searched hers.

She felt the heat rise to her throat and face, and for a moment her vision hazed. I love him, she thought...I love you...and I want you to love me. That was it. No little thing to ask...not something that could be demanded. Stay or go...such simple things, so easy to say. She begged him with her eyes not to make her say it...but those black flames continued to delve and plummet her, sear her, devour her. It was inescapable...and yet she could not drag the words across her lips.

Instead she blurted something else, coward that she was.

"Why did you turn me?"

Jairus gazed back into her tortured eyes and felt his gut twist. She hadn't answered the question...and they were back to this. Couldn't she understand? "Thea," he sighed and turned his face from hers, "you would have died...there was no other way. I would have..." he paused, not sure how much he should tell her, before submitting to the inevitable, "I was going to ask you, to give you the choice. I wanted you, but it was not my intention to force the change upon you...but I had to decide then and there."

He felt his eyes widen in surprise as her hands captured his face and turned it back toward hers. Her eyes were still gleaming with uncertainty, but they were also searching. She was looking for something in the gaze he returned, and he wondered if she found it. Her next question answered his, though in the negative.

"I...I know that...I just mean...why? Why not let me die...after everything that's happened? I've caused nothing but pain and--"

He stopped her there, using the only method he'd come to find effective. Her words caught in her throat as his lips slid over hers as he attempted to steal her words away, along with every last one of her absurd thoughts.

He knew then what she was looking for. So stubborn... and brave, yet so sweet...so vulnerable. She couldn't bring herself to ask. It broke and warmed his heart at the same time. It was a strange sensation. He held her a little tighter to him.

Thea's fingers slid up to twine in his hair and pull him more firmly against her. Her mouth was hot and insistent, and her lips met his with a surprising eagerness. It spoke to him more eloquently than any word could. Even That word.

Her desire, her need, cried out to him and he felt it just as he felt her....under him, around him...inside of him. He felt the pulse of it from their dueling, hungry tongues, to his stiffening cock which moved restlessly against the slick heat between her thighs. He shivered as she whimpered against his mouth.

Nothing but pain indeed. He'd have laugh at her if he wasn't too busy drowning in her.

He broke the kiss quickly enough to cause her to groan.

"Isn't it obvious?"

She looked at him warily, still dazed from the unexpected kiss. He smiled despite himself as her brow furrowed in consternation and as she attempted to recapture and arrange her mazed thoughts. She didn't answer except to part her lips and gaze into his eyes. There was quite a bit to read in those eyes...but he was certain now that he could pick out the question she had meant to ask—the words she couldn't give voice to. His smile turned into a smirk and he was pleased to see her fear and confusion disperse and rework itself into mild irritation.

"Do you want the long answer or the short one?"

She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Short."

He smiled toothily at her, fangs and all. "That's my girl." He watched, satisfied, as she fought a grin of her own. She was only partially successful. He rolled over onto his back and brought her with him so that she lay partially over him, her long silky limbs splayed pleasantly over his. She chuckled despite her best efforts to hold it in and let her head rest on his shoulder.

"Well? The short?" She prompted, still begrudgingly amused.

He smiled mildly at the ceiling before looking back down at her upturned and expectant face.

"Because, you impossible creature...I love you."

His smile widened at the open look of surprise she gave him, and he ran a finger over the red swell of her bottom lip.

Jairus erased his smile as quickly as it had come and gazed down at her with a raised brow. "Obviously." He added dryly.

She stared at him a moment longer before her pale face flushed suddenly red and she was forced to hide it once more against his shoulder.

"Oh." She whispered.

He looked back at the ceiling and clenched his jaw to keep another chuckle from spilling out. "Indeed."

"I...I love you too." She offered softly.

"Obviously."

Her body went rigid against his, forcing him to bite the inside of his lip. She launched herself up into a sitting position and turned an incredulous glare on him. "Oh, for the love of god! You have to be the most arrogant bastard tha-"

He was unable to contain the laugh any longer and the sound made her pause in mid insult. She glared at first, but the hard stare broke quickly as the corner of her mouth slowly twitched up.

She lay back down next to him with a sigh, wriggling in close to him and folding her hands over her stomach as they both stared up at nothing in particular.

"You Are an impossible woman." He reasserted.

"And you Are a right bastard when you want to be."

"Figuratively speaking, of course." He corrected wryly. "At least I knew who my father was."

"How nice for you."

There was a long pause before she looked back over at him, her voice and expression softening. "I want to see Tim before we go. And it has to be somewhere warm. I'm sick to death of the snow. And I know I can't really feel it anymore, but I don't care."

He reached over and captured one of her hands. She turned it, twining her fingers between his as he met her gaze.

"Have you ever seen the dessert in the spring?"

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Epilogue:

Antonius Ryder—former councilman, now account-keeper and struggling trader—wiped the sweat from his brow and decided he was, unequivocally, in dire need of strong drink.

He turned with a sigh to watch the wiry, caramel skinned man as he hunched over a nearby desk, his long, narrow nose so close to the papyrus it was a miracle it wasn't smudged black from being smeared in the ink on the page. He was so involved in his work he didn't realize he was being watched until the nib of his quill bent causing his audience to chuckle at the low curse he let out.

He glanced up from under his brow and his partner grinned back at him from across their desks. Ryder watched as Tamir straightened and set his pen down with a sigh.

"How are they coming?" Ryder asked, pointing to the accounts the man had been devotedly working on.

Tamir placed his palms on the table before him and gave the papers a forlorn look. "I think I'm making progress...but there is so much, it's hard to tell. We need to start considering dealing in larger shipments...this business of selling in small lots has been profitable, but it's giving my wrist a cramp. Too many names to list."

Ryder nodded. "Not a bad thought that. But, for the time being, I think we could use a break. Besides," he added, pulling a kerchief from around his neck and dabbing his forehead with the poor, limp thing, "this damnable heat is killing me."

This earned a smile and amused glance from Tamir. It was everyone's favorite joke: how the pale-faced northerners were such delicate flowers when it came to the desert air. Tamir seemed to like his partner well enough, so he kept his mockery to a minimum. Ryder grunted and stood, returning the man's wry expression with one of his own.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, we're getting a drink. It's late and it won't hurt to leave the rest for the morning."

He blew out most of the lamps as Tamir collected himself, then grabbed a dust cloak from a hanger by the door, and folded it to lay jauntily over his shoulder, a fashion uniquely his. He didn't want to wear it unless he absolutely had to since it was such a warm evening...but he didn't want to chance it either.

Kenareh was an Oasis city, and partially shielded by a range of cliffs to the east...but it still had its fair share of sand storms. The city walls kept the worst of it at bay, but Ryder had made the mistake of taking them for granted when he first arrived in the city. One good blast of hot, sandy air was more than enough to disabuse him of the notion that he could still go around in his old, northern-style clothes and be just fine.

Besides, now that he'd taken to local customs he no longer looked so much like a wandering merchant...an impression that didn't sit well with the local guilds and merchants, all of whom put a great deal of stock in a man's fealty to his city. They were more than happy to do business with newcomers and travelers, but he found out fast that the best and first deals went to locals. So he was quick to put down roots and wasn't quiet about it either. It helped that not long after he arrived and set up shop, his family had followed to join him.

It also didn't hurt that his clever wife had liquidated most of his assets with surprisingly rapidity and brought with her a small fortune. It was money that made money after all. He was just grateful she'd agreed to do it, rather than declaring herself widowed and spending it as she saw fit. Of course she did leave a sizable chunk to her useless brother, but all things considered, it wasn't something he was going to whine about.

He'd balked at first at having to come to this place, and had viewed the whole of the southern kingdoms, and the very city he found himself in, with a petulant and unforgiving eye. He was irked at having been forced out of his previous home by grasping, power-mad councilmen. But once the first wave of self-pity had settled, and he'd spent a season soaking up the local color, he had decided it really wasn't so bad after all.

Like the imperial city from which he'd come, it had its problems. Every city had crime, corrupt officials, extremes of wealth and poverty... and the wind storms were no worse— and better smelling— than the seasonal flooding of the over taxed canals of his former home. Here one merely traded the wet for the dry and the cold for the hot.

In the city's favor the spring season was glorious here, and the people slightly less obnoxious. Also, the wine was fantastic, though once in a blue moon he found himself inexplicably pinning for the heavier brews of his former life...even if it had sometimes resemble horse piss in more ways than one. He figured that particularly masochistic inclination would pass soon enough. He'd only been here a year and a half, so there was still time to ween.

"I could go for a beer, Tamir."

"The drink you said tasted like watery camel piss?"

Ryder chuckled. "I was just thinking that. It is not always like that. Sometimes the beer is pretty decent...it just depends who sells it to you."

"I still do not understand how you now what that would taste like."

He shrugged. "Just something we say."

Tamir shrugged and tugged his own dust cloak up over his head, tossing one corner over a shoulder so that he might more quickly cover his face should a storm arise. That was the actual way to wear it, Ryder just couldn't stand the extra layer if he could help it.

"You know, Ryder, there is a place that opened not long ago, and it has a northern sounding name. There is a chance they might have your preferred drink."

Ryder chuckled. "Do not misunderstand me, I prefer the local spirits...I just get a little longing for the past every once and a while." He frowned and thought about it. "Do you mean 'The Queen's Head?' Odd name for a place in these parts, you're right. It sounds like a the taverns we keep back in the old city. I have actually been meaning to take a peek at the place, but haven't had an excuse yet. Heard anything about it?"

"A few friends decided to go out of curiosity. They thought it surprisingly pleasant and have returned since, but they only ordered local food and drink, so I don't know if they would carry beer, or serve anything for northerners...though I've heard it is run by such as yourself. I am most curious to see it, most especially since they said a woman was running the place, and a giantess at that...so I am anxious to see this wonder. Who ever heard of a woman running an establishment such as that?"

"Not so uncommon, up north." He chuckled. "And Tamir, everyone is a giant to you. Hell, as short as you lot are, I probably seem to you as physically elevated as I am intellectually, yet where I come from, I'm average at best."

"Physically or intellectually?" Ryder smirked and sighed dramatically, tucking a hand into his waist cord of his knee-length wrap coat.

"Sadly...both."

They reached the place after a pleasant, round-about walk through one of the city gardens, where the air hung heaviest with the scent of herbs and the flowers of late spring. It was a preferred path for the locals since the streets of the Barid district, where the caravans, merchants, and traders kept their business, were usually choked with people and merchandise at all hours of the day and night.

The entrance was just off the main thoroughfare, and the building looked just like all the rest, a low, two story affair with smooth, almost-white clay walls and a round-topped door, upon which a fine script spelled out the name of the enterprise. If the name had not been slightly unusual for the area, one would not expect it to be anything other than your average Assaban tea house found everywhere else in the city. There was nothing else which set it apart from the other buildings along the street.

The interior was perfectly reminiscent of a tea house as well. Low benches and long, low tables lined the walls while a few larger, round tables surrounded with cushioned stools took up the center of the room. At the back was a small platform where a musician was working his magic on a small, four-string Kamanche while patrons chatted softly and looked on periodically in nodding appreciation. Beyond that were a few private rooms partitioned off with sliding papyrus doors, all in varying states of openness. Fairly standard.

What wasn't quite so standard was the long and very familiar looking bar which ran along the right hand side of the room, behind which stood what Ryder assumed was the 'giant' northern woman in question. The locals weren't necessarily a tall people, but Ryder had to admit, she did have an extra inch or two on her, so she could be considered tall even by his own standards, especially for a woman. Of course 'giant' wasn't the word for it, but popular gossip usually bred some level of exaggeration.

She was striking, however, giant or not. Her height, and something in her deportment seemed almost...regal. The name of the place suddenly seemed a little more appropriate. Her hair was a rich auburn brown, and her skin much, much paler than the more standard shades of dark tan and deep brown, but her mode of dress was local enough. She wore the same light, colorful wraps and shawls one normally saw—a more somber, dark green in this case, but with the usual bits of pattern peaking out in layers from beneath her sleeves— and her hair was swept up into the same sort of elaborate braid that his own wife had taken to wearing.

"That must be her. Pretty, actually...even for such a tall woman. Younger than I expected" Tamir commented from behind him. He nodded in agreement. He wasn't close enough to see details, but from here she looked attractive enough.

"Well, that's different." Tamir pointed to a young woman who was serving hot Pekha wine to a nearby table. Usually only men served in tea houses, but then men usually ran them as well. She was a local girl, small, and very pretty, and wearing a more cheerful pink and gold robe. Her small hands fluttered gracefully as she poured and passed out the glasses. The men she was serving seemed to appreciate the view as well.

"That's common enough up north. In fact it's the preference. Who doesn't want to look at a pretty girl while they drink?"

"You people are shameless."

They smirked at one another and made their way by silent consensus to the bar. No doubt because they both wanted to get a closer look at the supposed proprietress.

There was another northerner behind the bar who approached them first. He was a nondescript sort, moderately built and grey eyed, but who looked like he might have come from the same area that Ryder had. Something around the eyes perhaps.

"Evening. What can I get for you?" His accent was thick and his words a bit halting, telling Ryder that he hadn't been in the city long and was still learning the language.

Ryder smiled and offered a hand. He spoke in his old tongue, hoping to be understood. "Evening friend. Name's Ryder, and this here is my partner, Tamir. We run a little outfit, trade and loans, just a few streets down the way. I heard there were other northers here and I'm wondering if you don't happen to have a passable ale available for a poor, thirsty pale-face."