Chapter 194

It took me the rest of the day to work through James' journals, and by the end of it, only one conclusion felt certain - a journal was missing.

James dated everything. Every sketch. Every note. Every pressed flower. His life unfolded across the pages in meticulous detail until, suddenly, it didn't.

More than a year was simply gone.

I even checked the journal he'd given Brinja for her birthday. It fit perfectly into the timeline - exactly where it should have.

But the gap remained.

Grams didn't know anything about it. The missing period would have been when she was seven or eight, nearly a year before James disappeared.

She promised she'd keep an eye out for it, but neither of us seemed particularly hopeful. As far as she knew, everything he'd left behind had been packed into that trunk decades ago.

I stepped home just in time for dinner.

Though she didn't eat, Iolite joined us for the conversation and companionship. She'd been spending far more time in the ‘above stone’ lately, and I was glad for it.

She was an incredible woman - intelligent, creative, caring. Funny, too, though her humor tended to sneak up on you.

And I still owed her the time we'd promised each other.

Sometime after dinner, I found her helping clear dishes. “Would you like to take a walk with me?” I asked.

A faint blush touched her cheeks. “Yes.”

I smiled and leaned down to kiss her. Gentle. Affectionate. The kind of kiss I'd intended to end after a few seconds.

Iolite apparently had other plans. Her arms slipped around my neck and she pulled me closer, deepening the kiss until we finally broke apart, both of us breathing a little harder than before.

“Don't stay out all night, you lovebirds,” Mirri called as she emerged from the kitchen. Her grin widened. “And no more sleeping in the bailey.”

She punctuated the statement with a playful slap to my ass.

Iolite immediately buried her face in my shoulder and her blush deepened several shades.

“Whatever, Mom,” I said.

At that exact moment, Ashlara walked into the room. She frowned. “If Mirri is your mother, who is your father?”

I pointed dramatically at her. “You’re my Daddy!” Then I slapped her ass.

Ashlara froze. The towering orc's eyes went wide, and a blush spread across her face faster and deeper than I'd ever seen before.

Mirri's laughter exploded through the room.

Ashlara looked at Mirri, then me, then back at Mirri - as if desperately searching for an explanation that wasn't there.

I slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss.

She was so stunned she forgot to kiss me back.

I chuckled. “God, you're adorable.”

Then I looked at all three of them. At Mirri, still laughing. At Ashlara, still trying to recover. At Iolite, who had entirely given up hiding her smile.

“You all are. How did I get so lucky?”

* * *

I led Iolite out of the keep and into the forest beyond.

The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in fading golds and soft pinks. The air carried the crisp scent of pine needles and approaching winter.

I held her hand as we walked.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

“I’m sorry we haven’t spent more time together lately,” I said at last.

“You’re busy,” she replied. “You have many responsibilities.”

“True.” I glanced at her. “But that's no excuse to neglect you.”

Her expression softened.

“You matter to me, Iolite. I need to make more time. And I will never take you for granted.”

A blush spread across her cheeks. “I will never take you for granite either.”

I blinked.

She gave me a shy smile. “You are the wrong color.”

I laughed.

Her smile immediately became hopeful. “Did I do it correctly?”

“Perfectly.”

She beamed. “I have been attempting to better understand humor,” she admitted. “I have made several attempts. It is... difficult.”

“You can say that again.”

“It is complex and nuanced. I have discovered that one person may enjoy a joke while another becomes upset when presented with the exact same joke.”

“That's definitely a problem.” I squeezed her hand. “Humor's personal. Timing matters too. Not just how you tell a joke, but when. What's going on in somebody's life. What mood they're in.”

I smiled. “I've offended plenty of people with poorly timed jokes.”

“If there is risk of upsetting people, why attempt it?”

“Good question.” I thought about it for a moment. “Some people can't help themselves. Growing up, my brother was always saying stupid and funny things just to get a laugh. I honestly don't think he could've stopped if he'd tried.”

“Other people do it because making someone laugh brings them joy. And I think some people use humor to cover insecurities. If you can make people laugh, they're more likely to like you.”

I shrugged. “Sometimes people need that validation.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

We fell into a comfortable silence after that. Our path eventually curved behind the keep.

Here the mountains rose sharply. A sheer wall of slate and gneiss climbed nearly eighty feet toward the curtain wall above, forming a natural extension of the keep's defenses.

A small waterfall spilled down the cliff face - the runoff from the bathhouse.

It wasn't particularly large, but it never stopped.

Four years ago, it had simply poured from a hole in the rock. Now it had become something completely different.

The drain itself had vanished behind a curtain of greenery. Water emerged from a mass of moss, ferns, and flowering plants before splitting into silver ribbons that danced down the stone.

Green clung to nearly every crack. Life had taken root wherever the water touched.

I hadn't given much thought to runoff when I'd built the bath. I'd certainly never intended to create a pond. But the water had spent years carving and shaping the land.

Now a broad pond rested at the base of the cliff, nearly thirty-five feet across and deep enough that the center disappeared into dark water beneath the falls.

Trout swam beneath lily pads. Frogs lurked among the reeds. Ducks drifted lazily across the surface. Dragonflies still lingered despite the season, though most of the wildlife was preparing for winter.

Sedges and cattails lined the shoreline. Wildflowers brightened the banks. Blueberries and wild mint grew thick along the stream that wound away through the forest, carving a vibrant green path through the otherwise rocky terrain.

Iolite stood quietly and took it all in.

We'd both seen it before, yet somehow it never lost its charm.

Especially now. The sky had deepened into shades of dusky blue and pale rose, and the fading light transformed the entire scene into something almost dreamlike.

I slipped my arms around her waist.

The waterfall whispered against stone. Ducks quacked softly. The stream babbled its endless song. Though the evening was cold, neither of us minded.

My Faith protected me. And she was made of stone and clay.

“It is beautiful,” she breathed.

“Yes, you are.”

She looked up at me, cheeks flushing once more.

“I want to show you something.” Reluctantly, I let her go.

I helped her across the stream despite the fact that she didn't need help.

She accepted my hand anyway.

Together we circled the pond until we reached the waterfall.

Hidden beside it was a narrow crack in the cliff face - just wide enough for a person to squeeze through.

Iolite tilted her head. “That is new.”

“It is.” I smiled. “Come on.”

Still holding her hand, I led her through the opening.

Once inside, I conjured three spheres of light and sent them drifting upward.

The cave illuminated.

Iolite stopped breathing.

The chamber wasn't large - perhaps eight feet across and seven feet high. But every wall had been lined with crystals. They rose from floor to ceiling like a forest of frozen stone.

Some were no thicker than fingers. Others were broader than a man's chest. They weren't polished gems. They were rough. Fractured. Imperfect. And the thousands upon thousands of tiny flaws caught the light and trapped it.

The crystals shimmered with scattered points of violet, blue, and silver, as though fragments of the night sky had become embedded in stone.

Other imperfections swallowed the light entirely, creating pockets of shadow that made the chamber feel larger than it was.

And the colors never remained the same. As the lights drifted overhead, the crystals shifted constantly. Deep violet. Indigo blue. Gray-blue. Nearly colorless. Every angle revealed something different.

Despite the stone walls, there was almost no echo. The countless angles scattered sound and softened it. Whispers carried, but they didn't linger.

The cave felt intimate. Sheltered. Safe.

“It’s...” Iolite whispered.

“Iolite,” I finished softly.

She turned toward me.

“And it's almost as beautiful as you.”

* * *

Iolite turned, caught the front of my shirt in both hands, and kissed me hard enough to drive me back into the crystal-lined wall.

Her lips crashed against mine with surprising force. Our tongues tangled as we explored each other once more, neither willing to surrender ground. She moaned into my mouth and bit my lower lip, but instead of easing the intensity, it only seemed to inflame it further.

Every woman I loved had her own preferences when it came to intimacy. I was still learning Iolite's, still discovering the countless little things that made her uniquely herself. But one thing had become abundantly clear - she loved to kiss.

Not casually. Not playfully. Passionately. Hungrily. As though every kiss was a discovery she never wanted to end.

She tugged at my shirt.

I broke away just long enough to pull it over my head.

The moment my face emerged, she was kissing me again, as though those few seconds apart had been an unbearable separation.

Her hands wandered over my chest and shoulders, tracing every line of muscle with fascinated fingertips. There was an earnestness to her touch that I found impossible not to love. She never pretended knowledge she didn't possess. Every experience was approached with curiosity and wonder.

Including me.

Meanwhile, my hands explored her in return, gliding over the powerful curves of her thighs beneath her dress.

Tonight she wore another creation of her own making. Simple. Charcoal gray. Beautiful. Not because it was extravagant, but because she'd made it herself.

Only weeks ago her sewing had been rough around the edges. Uneven hems. Crooked seams.

Now the stitching was cleaner. Straighter. More confident. Delicate embroidery decorated the cuffs and neckline. Evidence of patience. Practice. Pride.

My hands slid higher until they found the soft curve of her backside.

As usual, she wore nothing beneath the dress. I don't think she ever did. Which left nothing between my palms and the smooth warmth of her skin.

The crystal cave shimmered around us. Violet and indigo light danced across the walls, painting her in shifting colors.

Finally she broke the kiss long enough to pull the dress over her head.

My breath caught. I knew, rationally, that her body was formed from clay layered over stone. It didn't matter.

She looked human. She felt human. Beautifully, impossibly human. Only the slight coolness of her skin hinted otherwise.

Chestnut hair framed her face in soft waves. Strands caught the crystal light and gleamed like polished wood. Freckles scattered across her nose, cheeks, shoulders, and breasts like someone had dusted her with cinnamon.

Her honey-brown eyes were wide - earnest, hungry, and affectionate. The sort of eyes that made me feel like the most important person in the world.

Her body suited her perfectly. Neither exaggerated nor delicate. Balanced. Strong.

Perfect breasts fit naturally against her frame, their dark nipples already firm as she pressed herself against me again.

Her hips were broad - thighs thick and powerful. Built less like a dancer and more like a woman who could carry burdens through a mountain storm and never complain once.

She was beautiful. Not despite those things. Because of them.

She ground herself against me and fumbled eagerly with the buttons of my pants until she finally freed me.

Her breathing hitched. For a moment she simply stared. She'd seen me naked before.

There had been more than one “accidental” interruption over the years, and looking back, some of them felt considerably less accidental than I'd originally believed.

Still, this was different. This was the first time she'd examined me up close. The first time she'd allowed herself to openly look.

Her eyes widened. Slowly she reached out and wrapped her hand around me. Her touch was tentative at first. Almost reverent. She stroked me gently and swallowed hard.

“Are you sure?” I asked softly.

Her gaze snapped upward and she nodded immediately. Without releasing her grip, she lowered herself toward the crystal floor.

I followed her down. Leaning forward, I kissed her again. Then her jaw. Her neck. Her collarbone. My lips traveled lower.

She gasped as I kissed the swell of one breast. Then the other.

My tongue traced circles around sensitive flesh while my hand caressed her opposite side.

Her breathing grew ragged. Her arms wrapped around me. Holding me closer. Pressing me harder against her. “S-Seth,” she whispered. “Please. I want to... experience intercourse.”

I smiled as I pulled back and lifted one of her feet and pressed a kiss to her ankle. Then another. And another. Slowly making my way upward. “We will definitely experience intercourse tonight.”

My lips continued their journey along the inside of her leg. “But there's something I want to do first.”

By the time I reached her center, desire glistened clearly. She was completely bare. Nothing hidden. Nothing concealed.

I let my breath wash over her.

She shuddered violently as a soft whimper escaped her.

Then I lowered my mouth to her.

The reaction was immediate. Her back arched. A cry tore free from her throat. Her hands found my hair. Her legs wrapped around my shoulders.

The taste of her reminded me of rainwater collected from stone after a spring storm. Clean. Fresh. Earthy. Uniquely her.

I took my time. Learning her. Listening to every gasp, every tremble, every involuntary movement.

Her body responded quickly. Far more quickly than she seemed prepared for. When pleasure finally overtook her, she went completely rigid. Breathless. Speechless. Overwhelmed.

Then suddenly she collapsed back against the stone, limbs heavy and uncooperative.

I barely gave her a moment to recover. I rose over her and captured her lips again.

Even in her post-coital daze she returned it with sloppy passion. Her body still twitched beneath me. Still trembling. Still chasing sensations she didn't fully understand.

I slid myself along her slick folds.

She cried out - her legs immediately wrapped around my waist. Another desperate sound escaped her.

I repeated the motion. Then again. Each pass drew another helpless noise from her lips.

Finally I settled at her entrance. I broke the kiss. “Ready?”

She nodded so fast it was almost comical. Then pulled me back into another kiss.

I pressed forward slowly. Carefully. Giving her time to adjust.

Her moan broke free despite her efforts to suppress it. She threw her head back. Her fingers dug into my shoulders.

I moved gradually, allowing her to acclimate to every new sensation.

She came three times before I was fully buried within her.

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes long before I was fully buried inside her. Not from pain - from sheer sensory overload. She tried to speak, but the words were unintelligible.

“You okay?”

She nodded as she fought to keep eye contact.

“Want me to keep going?”

Another frantic nod. Then she pulled me closer.

I withdrew slowly before pushing forward again.

Her entire body shuddered.

I kissed her as I established a gentle rhythm. Slow. Steady. Patient.

It didn't last.

Not because of me. Because of her. Every few moments she pushed upward into me, silently demanding more. Faster. Harder. Closer. Eventually I surrendered and gave her exactly what she wanted.

The rhythm accelerated.

Her cries dissolved into squeaks, moans, and breathless sobs. Her arms locked around my neck. Her legs tightened around my waist. Her entire body shook beneath me. Pleasure rolled through her in relentless waves.

One after another. Again. And again. And again.

By the time my own climax approached, she could barely form words.

I kissed her deeply. Poured every ounce of affection I felt into it. Then finally let go.

She tightened around me almost painfully. Her body arched. Her hips bucked upward. Every muscle in her body clenched as another powerful climax tore through her.

She broke the kiss and buried her face against my shoulder. A muffled cry escaped her lips as she bit me.

For several moments afterward, neither of us moved - we simply lay there breathing. Recovering. Enjoying the warmth and closeness.

Eventually I lifted my head and looked into her eyes. “So,” I asked with a smile, “what did you think of intercourse?”

Her answer was immediate. She rolled me onto my back, climbed on top of me, and kissed me hard enough that I started laughing before she ever let me speak.