This time the terrain was completely different. The leopard even appeared different. It had a longer coat and larger spots. Corinne examined it carefully. ‘It looks like a snow leopard, but not exactly.’
“This species is called the Amur leopard, named for the river border between Russia and China. We found them in a narrow mountain chain along the borders of Russia, North Korea and China. They are very beautiful, but game is scarce and they are hard pressed by the threat of extinction, much like our species.”
At once he felt a rush of sadness, that seemed linked to his own. They were merged so deeply, he couldn’t tell where she left off and he started. It was an intimacy he was unfamiliar with, yet it felt right. He had a home now, and her name was Corinne. She was his world, the very air he breathed into his lungs. He couldn’t bear for her to be sad, even over such an important issue as a dying species.
Dayan called on his memories, conveying the stalk of the leopard as it moved relentlessly, with single-minded purpose toward its prey. The eyes were focused, intent, merciless. She could feel the wildness sweep over her, through Dayan.
Dayan felt Corinne draw a deep, excited breath. The baby jumped beneath his palm. At once Corinne reached out to the infant soothingly. Immediately Dayan added his own comfort. Her mother’s happiness coupled with Dayan’s reassurance allowed the baby to accept the new impressions more easily.
He changed the memory again, drawing on something less frightening, the simple mechanics of a cat’s everyday life. The leopard stretched out on the limb of a tree and stood for a long moment, testing the wind for the wealth of information it would impart. It stretched lazily and leapt to the ground. Padding on silent paws, it moved through the jungle back toward the small stream where it could drink. All around were traces of smaller creatures, scurrying out of harm’s way as the cat traveled quickly through the dense cover. It began to run, a sprint of speed and power, moving quickly for the sheer pleasure of it. It was Dayan’s memory, his boyhood enjoyment of occupying the body of the leopard, and Corinne was grateful for the sharing.
He took her from that long-ago jungle to a modern-day concert, a large room crowded with people talking and laughing. The lights went low and there was a sudden hush of anticipation. The moment stretched out. Corinne waited with every bit as much excitement as the crowd for the appearance of the band. The Dark Troubadours, renowned for their music, for the beauty of their lyrics and phenomenal talent with instruments. Suddenly the band came running onto the stage and the crowd roared, rising, stomping and clapping wildly.
‘You’re incredibly handsome.’ There was pride in her thoughts, a pleased, rather possessive pleasure that made him incredibly happy.
Dayan’s fingertip traced the curve of her mouth. “My little groupie,” he teased and bent his head to claim her lips. He couldn’t help himself. He craved the taste and feel of her silken mouth. He was exquisitely tender, yet fiercely possessive, raw with aching need. Corinne responded with the same heated tenderness, her only way to express her growing love for this wild, lonely man. She slipped her arms around his neck to cradle his head to her, a tremendous effort when her body was so tired and worn.
At once Dayan felt her weariness and slowly, reluctantly broke the contact to kiss the corner of her mouth, her chin, the line of her soft, vulnerable throat. He ached with love for her, felt that same ache in her. It humbled him like nothing else ever could have. He could read her every thought, easily see into her memories. He had been alone for centuries, surrounded by people he only had memories of loving. She had changed his world, brought so much to him.
Corinne accepted him for what he was. She was gaining access to his memories and his thoughts through their continual mind merge, and now the binding ritual and his blood tie, but her acceptance ran deeper than all of that. He felt it, saw acceptance not because they were lifemates, but based on a deep love and commitment to him. Corinne had faith in herself and her judgment. She sensed good in him and embraced it. She loved the poet in him, the way he expressed himself in his music and lyrics. She accepted the darker side of him, knew it was his nature, part of who he was. She believed in him and who he was. What he was.