Read Rhapsody, Child of Blood for Free Online Page B

and over as she began to grow warm and sigh with pleasure. The sound reached down into his heart, pushing him past the gates of control, and as the thunder rolled up within him he felt her begin to cry out, gripping him as an anchor as she was swept away by the same wave he was riding.
    Time became suspended; how long he made love to her he couldn't realistically gauge, having nothing to compare it with, but it seemed to last an eternity. With each passing second he felt the love in his heart for her expand until he was sure it had outgrown his body. He had expected this event to come much later in his life, and to be far less meaningful, so the shuddering sobs that consumed him when it was over took him completely by surprise.
    'Sam?" Emily's voice was alarmed as she pulled him nearer.
    'Gods, did I hurt you, Emily? Are you all right?"
    She kissed him tenderly, and then pulled back to look into his eyes. "Are you kidding? Did it feel like I was hurt?" She laughed, and the feeling shot through him like a hot bolt of lightning, running up his spine and resonating in his forehead.
    He bent his head down over her shoulder, weak with relief. "Emily, I would never, never hurt you on purpose; I hope you know that."
    She look him straight on the eye. "Of course I do. Why would you ever hurt something that belongs to you? Because I do, Sam. I'm yours."
    He sighed. "Thank the gods."
    'No," she said seriously, "thank the stars. It was them that brought you to me."
    Gwydion lifted his head with great effort and stared into the moonlit sky above him, sprinkled with grains of light like sand from a diamond beach.
    'Thank you!" he shouted. Emily giggled, then sighed as he moved regretfully away and began to put himself back together. She adjusted her clothing as well, and as they finished dressing a look of disappointment came over her face. She turned toward the village, then back to him.
    'That's the Lorana waltz. We had best get back, the dance will be ending soon."
    Gwydion sighed. He would have been happy to stay in this field with her forever.
    'Oh, all right," he said.

    He took her hand and pulled her up, then drew her into his H arms and kissed her once more. When he looked at her face he saw no trace of regret, or second thought, just blissful contentment.
    He put his cloak back on and lifted Emily off the ground, carrying her across the stream again, knowing that they were crossing the threshold of the place she loved, the place she thought of as home. He felt a twinge of sadness at the knowledge that their hasty exit would mean this was the last time he would ever carry her over that threshold.
    Chey crossed the fields hand in hand, walking more slowly than they had coming here. When they crested the face of the hill, the grip of Emily's hand tightened suddenly.
    He turned to her anxiously. "Are you all right?"
    'Yes, but I need to sit down for a moment."
    Gwydion took hold of her other hand and helped her to the ground, then sank worriedly down beside her. "Emily, what's wrong?"
    She gave him a reassuring smile. "Nothing is wrong, Sam. I just need to rest a minute."
    'Are you sure?"
    'Yes. Can I ask you something?"
    'Of course, anything."
    'How old are you?"
    'Fourteen. How old are you?"
    She thought for a moment. "What time do you think it is?"
    'About eleven o'clock, I would say."
    'Then I'm thirteen."
    Gwydion looked at her, puzzled. "Why does the time matter?"
    'Because in an hour I'll be fourteen, too, like you."
    Now he understood. "It's your birthday?"
    'Well, tomorrow."
    He pulled her into his arms. "Happy birthday, Emily."
    'Thank you." She grew very excited. "Wait; I have an idea! Do you want to come to supper tomorrow?"
    Gwydion hugged her tighter. "That would be wonderful."
    She pushed out of his embrace, and he smiled at the eagerness on her face. "You can meet my parents and my brothers. Maybe if my father sees how happy I am with you he will give his consent."
    'What time?"
    'Why don't you come about five—we