Cynara had heard some rumor of shaauri mating rituals—that they allowed their adolescents to experiment with sexual relationships and even bear young without regard to political boundaries or what most human societies would regard as moral restraint. Such freedom would be considered obscene on Dharma.
Her mouth went suddenly dry. “Have you been on this Walkabout?”
“I was a prisoner, and not permitted.” He stared down at the bunk. “I remain unselected.”
Selected—chosen for or by a Path, which would determine a shaaurin’s future. Ronan meant that he had never crossed the threshold of shaauri adulthood. Was it possible that intelligent beings could look at such a man and consider him still a child? Was that why they had beaten him over and over again?
“You were alone among aliens. Were you…” Maidenly modesty now, Cyn? “Did you ever have the opportunity to take a mate?”
Ronan dared to look up again, for the pity he had expected to hear in her voice—the pity he had seen when he had revealed his scars—was entirely gone. Instead, what he sensed in her was the brightness, the boldness, the intensity she had shown at their meeting, when he had felt the first incongruous stirrings of desire.
He had not been permitted to satisfy the sexual needs of a be’laik’in like a normal shaaurin. Now they sprang upon him full-blown, years of restraint and deprivation shed like a winter coat at New Sun. Desire made him long to touch Cynara now as he had on the bridge.
But that contact had yielded unexpected consequences. He had collapsed, much to his shame, aware in the burning moment just before darkness that Cynara D’Accorso was no ordinary human female. Something of her very self had bled into him like candlelight through a paper screen, shadows just beyond his grasp.
She was like the Kinsmen—a telepath, a reader of minds. He did not know how he understood her nature so clearly when he was not of her breed. She did not make a show of her ability, yet if she chose, she could drain his thoughts from him as a myl’vekk sucked the lifeblood of its prey.
She had not, though she undoubtedly wished to learn all he could tell her of shaauri ways so that humans would have an advantage in the long battle. Perhaps she, like Kinsmen, held to unwritten laws against stealing thoughts.
Why should she steal? She believed she commanded him as any First might do one of lesser Path. Was he not ne’lin, and OutLine? Was ‘us life not at her mercy?
Then why did that brief sharing of her being, her scent, and the silent signals of her body—even her question—tell him that she was ready and very willing to take him as her mate?
Kalevi-kai assist him—all she need do was command, and he would throw aside all propriety and join with her here and now. It was a deviant compulsion he had no will to resist.
“Is it not true,” he asked, his voice rough and strange to his own ears, “that humans mate freely all their lives, regardless of Path?”
Her breath caught, and she smiled though her eyes held nothing of amusement. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I have mated,” he said, “but only when humans—Kinsmen—came to Ain’Kalevi.”
“Kinsmen?”
After a moment he recognized the source of her confusion. “Females of the Kinsmen.”
“There were no… children?”
“I was not permitted.” His ears pulled back. “One without path has few privileges.”
“And those of other Paths?”
“It is different for each. Va’laik’i may choose their own mates for offspring or pleasure, among other va’laik’i, ve’laik’i, or rarely those of other Paths.”
“Indeed.” Her gaze withdrew into some place he could not follow. “It’s not always so, among humans.”
Sorrow spoke in the small muscles about her eyes and the corners of her mouth. He wished to smooth those creases with his fingertips, as close kin might do, or mates. She was neither to him. He clenched his fist at his side and averted his gaze, permitting her the dignity of her rank.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You must be eager to understand human ways, and I haven’t been very helpful.”