Fic: Rarely Resisted (Cara/Kahlan) NC17 (9/?)
Title: Rarely Resisted
Author: Dylan
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only the situations, and I make zero money from this foolish endeavor.
Summary: Set around the time between 'Fury' and 'Resurrection', early in season 2 of Legend of The Seeker. Sometimes resistance is err...futile.
(Link to my website for when LJ is down -- http://www.femslashfanfiction.com )
Part Nine
“Kahlan?” I hear, somewhere in the distance, far from the dark around me. “Kahlan, are you ok?”
“Kahlan,” another voice presses, closer, softer. “You’re worrying Richard.”
I scrunch up my brow, unable to comprehend why I’m worrying anybody, but then I hear it, the deep sobs rolling from my own chest. I sound heartbroken.
“Just answer him,” Cara tells me. “Before he hurts himself trying to break the door down.”
Nodding, taking in difficult breaths in order to calm myself I pull my hands away from my face, calling out.
“I’m ok, Richard,” I shout, wincing as my throat protests.
“You don’t sound ok,” he quite correctly points out. “What happened?”
I look up then, into Cara’s alarmed face. She’s on her haunches in front of me, appearing quite unsure of what she should do. A gentle hand on my shoulder squeezes and I can’t stop the fresh flow of tears at the sight of Cara’s obvious concern. If it were anybody else I would say there was something more than just concern in her eyes, but I have to stop hoping for more than she’s probably able to give. Even if it’s there inside her, I can’t allow myself to be so conceited to think I can force her to acknowledge it.
“Nothing happened, I’m just feeling . . .” I falter, unsure how to explain myself.
“It’s the loss of her magic,” Cara informs him as she looks into my already swollen eyes. “It’s making her upset.”
I’m so grateful for her quick thinking that I lift my hand to the one on my shoulder and squeeze it in gratitude. She quickly pulls hers away, though she stays in front of me on the floor.
The silence that follows clearly indicates that Richard has no idea what to say, how to comfort me. He still doesn’t understand just how Confessor magic works. How much it’s a part of me, making me whole.
I suppose that Cara’s lie to Richard probably isn’t completely a lie at all; the loss of my magic is indeed playing havoc with my emotions, and though I can’t blame this state I’m in entirely on its absence, it certainly isn’t helping.
“We’ll be out of here soon,” Richard offers in a feeble attempt to make me feel better.
It’s not his fault that his words can’t help and that he’s unable to understand why I’m crying. I certainly can’t tell him the truth from behind two locked downs and an undetermined length of corridor. The truth will have to wait.
“I know,” I shout to him. “I feel better now.”
Rubbing my hands across my face to wipe the tears away and steady my breathing, I smile softly at Cara, hoping to ease the frown still creasing her brow.
“I’m still worried,” Richard grumbles. “Please take care of her, Cara.”
Cara winces, as if he’d just asked her to do the most impossible thing in the world. I know her reaction is more a case of wanting to take care of me than not, however. The problem is, she wants it more every day and I can see clearly now that it’s difficult for her to understand such a need. She isn’t meant to care about a Confessor. She isn’t meant to care at all.
“Honestly, I’ll be ok, Richard,” I assure, getting up from my knees, feeling a little silly about all the tears.
As I rise up and brush dust from my skirt Cara hovers close by, seeming caught between wanting to help and needing to keep her hands off me. To be truthful, I’m not sure which one I want right now either. Though I know if it weren’t for Richard the choice would be much easier to make and I’d encourage her to explore what it is she feels, open up to me and what we could possibly have together. Even knowing that Richard is only one of the problems standing in our way.
“Ok, but . . . if you need anything . . .” Richard shouts, his gentle voice sounding lost through the bricks between us.
“We’ll be fine,” Cara snaps, growing tired of this blatant show of emotion, of the weakness as she calls it.
Her gaze is boring in to me, willing me to pull myself together and stop this nonsense.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, hardly able to look Cara in the eye. “Everything just got on top of me.”
She nods, her jaw clenching.
“You should rest,” she states, doing her best not to let a single emotion push past the barrier now around her. “We will need to be alert in the morning.”
It’s my turn to nod as I glance towards the small window, noticing the clouds nudging up against the moon. It looks like it might rain for the first time in over a week. The air is still thick and humid, however, clinging to my skin.
Without saying another word I make my way into the small privy, pushing the door closed as far as it will go. Splashing water over my face, I do my best to remember that I’m the Mother Confessor, not just some girl who’s foolishly in love for the first time. I should know better than to allow my heart to lead me, to make me fall apart. Though what I feel for Cara is already consuming me, I have to put things in perspective. There is more at stake in all this than just my heart.
I have to take charge of this. Regain some semblance of control.
I refuse to insist any longer that I can ignore how much I want to be more to Cara than I am, and I refuse to believe that Cara can just push aside what she feels; we’ve acknowledged what we want, and now we have to deal with that. Things will not be the same, and I can’t let this situation destroy everything around us. I have to stand by what’s in my heart and hope that Richard will understand, hope that Zedd will guide him past his anger, and hope that Cara will dare to allow me to love her despite all of our differences.
My mind is set; once I tell Richard that I can no longer be to him what he wants me to be I intend to make Cara see that I’m worth the effort she will have to make to understand her feelings. I can’t let this slip through my fingers.
I wash the day’s sweat from my body, feeling stronger, resolute. Love is not an evil thing to be feared. It may complicate matters - and it certainly has in this instance - but it’s pure, uncompromising.
Leaving the privy feeling much better, and much more refreshed, I make my way over to the bed, only offering Cara a small glance. I smile softly, thankful that she also seems a little more relaxed. The laces of her boots are already loose, her agiels on the chair next to her gloves. For a moment I’m entranced by Cara’s hands, recalling last night and the hand that held mine against her in such a gentle yet assertive way. The warmth and the softness of her skin will be forever burned into my mind. I want more of it, and more of her.
I say nothing as I sit on the bed, placing my boots down beside it. I saw no reason to put them back on after I washed. My skirt is still loose so I hastily begin to remove it, feeling Cara’s gaze on me. I don’t raise my eyes, allowing her the chance to look at me without me making her uncomfortable. I won’t push her; I’ll just be here, ready for when she can no longer fool herself into believing that we can’t have more. We seem to be destined for something other than just friendship, and I know that she can see it too; she just has to believe she deserves it.
“I need to wash,” Cara announces. “Will you be ok?”
My heart melts a little at the unusual question and the way her voice seemed entirely awkward for asking it. Little by little she’s breaking. For me.
“I’ll be fine, Cara,” I assure, hoping she can see that and so much more in my eyes. “I think I just need to sleep.”
Cara gives an understanding nod.
“You should take the bed tonight. I can rest on the floor,” she informs me.
It would obviously be much safer that way, but I’m not about to let her run so quickly. I’m also not about to rush into anything with her before I’ve had the chance to talk with Richard so she really has nothing to fear, despite the small slip last night.
“Don’t be absurd, Cara,” I say frankly. “We can share the bed again. You don’t have to worry, I won’t touch you.”
She narrows her eyes at this, cocking her head a little, a small frown completing the almost amusing look she’s giving me.
“It’s not you I’m worried about, Kahlan,” Cara says quietly, an almost seductive burr to her voice making me shiver regardless of the warm air. “If I have to lay next to you again I . . . I’m not sure I could stop myself.”
“Stop yourself from what?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t. Knowing the answer already as I grip the blanket at my fingertips.
My heart is beginning to pound in my chest as Cara’s gaze drops to the top of my corset, where my breasts are somewhat spilling from it due to the loosened ties.
“I want to fuck you, Kahlan,” she answers, softly so that Richard won’t hear, though the coarseness - the crassness - is a testament to how badly she wishes to hide behind the solid structures of her Mord-Sith walls.
Still, the words make my insides quiver with need and I cannot halt the way I grow wet at the thought of her taking me the way I know she probably would. Purposely, I regard her with curiosity rather than the shock she would have expected. Cara continues, obviously in the hope I will decide that she has no interest in me other than using my body for pleasure. She’s very wrong if she thinks she can fool me in such a way.
“You have no idea how difficult it is for me, to know that here, in this place . . . you can’t confess me,” Cara explains, her nostrils flaring as she allows desire to rule her tongue. “If I lay next to you tonight my body will want yours, my hands will want to touch, my lips to taste.”
The bed creaks as I shift upon it, attempting to ease the growing ache between my thighs.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked,” I confess, the heat prickling my skin, making me increasingly uncomfortable.
“You shouldn’t have,” Cara agrees, irritation evident in her tone. “No good will come of knowing how much I want you. It doesn’t change anything.”
She seems desperate to dismiss this. To fool the both of us, or scare the both of us.
“Everything has already changed, Cara,” I say, wishing to stand, but very aware that my skirt is resting over the top of my thighs and would drop to the floor if I did so. “We can’t take back the words we’ve said, or the things we know. I’ve been confused, frightened of the things I’ve been thinking, but I know now that it’s pointless trying to convince myself that what I feel is wrong.”
“It is wrong, Kahlan,” Cara says unconvincingly. “What I feel is wrong.”
A small admission, a glimpse into what must be churning inside Cara, I forget my modesty and stand before her in the now scant moonlight pooling at our feet. In my briefs and corset I must make quite the sight, but Cara’s gaze never leaves mine as I step closer.
“It isn’t wrong,” I insist, wanting to reach out and touch Cara’s face, to know the delicate sensation of her skin on my fingertips. But any such reassuring touch would do quite the opposite of reassure Cara. “We’re obviously drawn to each other, and despite the difficulty in that, despite the things that stand in the way, the things we’ve said and done in the past . . . fighting it will only bring more pain, to everyone involved.”
“I can handle pain,” Cara says defiantly.
I know she’s aware that her claim makes no sense in this instance. She can indeed handle pain of a physical nature, and most likely all the possible mental torture that Mord-Sith can impart on one another, but this is quite different and I can already see that it’s beginning to take its toll. I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable.
“I know you can,” I accept with a tender smile, “but I don’t mean physical pain.”
Cara glances away, biting her tongue. I can see that she wants to deny once again that she has emotions, especially for me, but the fact she says nothing makes my stomach flutter and roll. Her walls are slipping.
“Cara, look at me,” I ask, thankful when she does so without putting up a fight.
Her gaze flits from my eyes to my lips, causing me to wet them slowly. I know she wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her, but unless I make the first move she’ll refuse to give in. I can see the determination in her eyes and though I have to commend her for her strength and her loyalty, I also wish she’d just surrender, take what she wants. If she did that then I wouldn’t have to hold back either, be the sensible one, wait until we’ve told Richard.
“I’m always looking at you,” Cara confesses quietly. “It’s difficult not to.”
I feel my cheeks flush a little and suddenly feel very awkward standing in front of Cara in nothing but my corset and underwear. But that’s not because I don’t want her to look at me, I’m just not used to hearing people speak that way to me. People rarely approach Confessors and tell them that they’re attracted to them. Confessors are to be feared. We’re regarded as untouchable.
“I know the feeling,” I respond, allowing my gaze to drift to Cara’s cleavage without concern of the repercussions. She must know by now that I just can’t help myself.
I warm at the knowing grin that graces Cara’s lips and blush just a little more. She tilts her head, studying me now with her intense green eyes.
“I told you before . . . when you look at me like that I can barely keep my hands off you,” Cara says, desire evident in her voice. “You need to stop.”
“I won’t,” I challenge.
Cara’s breathing increases, her jaw tightening. It almost appears like she might hit me any moment, but I don’t fear her. I do see fear in her eyes, however. She’s afraid of this and it’s completely confounding her.
“You have to,” she finally counters, all the fight leaving her as she looks to the floor between us, dejected.
I give her some respite, backing away, done with pushing for now.
“Go get washed up, Cara,” I tell her soothingly. “We both need to rest.”
With one last glance at me she turns and heads for the privy, her usual swagger somewhat tempered.
Breathing a sigh, my body uncurling from the strain of holding back, I walk over to the bed, crawling under the thin blanket. Instantly I feel too hot, uncomfortable, and as I listen to water splashing in the small room a few paces away, I quickly wriggle out of my corset.
I place it with my other things at the side of the bed and shuffle up to the wall, waiting for Cara’s return. Wondering if I should turn away before she comes back, or feign confidence and remain on my back, I do my best not to imagine Cara washing herself. The thought of watching beads of water roll down her firm body makes me squirm, my nipples hardening against the coarse material of the blanket. Tonight is going to be fraught with tension, temptation, and discomfort, even more so than any other night.
Cara is still dressed when she returns, but I can see that she put on her leathers again after washing herself as the ties are loose and her skin still appears damp across her chest. She has also wiped at the wound on her head, its angry redness a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. I wince, knowing that it must hurt, though for a Mord-Sith it’s probably nothing but a scratch.
“We need to get that seen to as soon as we can tomorrow,” I point out, forgetting about everything else for the moment, the covers slipping from my upper body as I turn towards Cara, indicating her forehead with a wave of my hand.
She automatically raises her own hand to the cut, brushing some hair away from it as her lips part and I notice her eyes grow wide.
“Kahlan, your . . .” She points to my chest, sounding quite distressed.
With an apologetic smile I pull the blanket back up, covering myself as I watch a multitude of emotions play across Cara’s face.
“Sorry,” I mumble unconvincingly.
“That isn’t fair,” Cara complains.
I’m not sure if she’s angry or on the verge of tears. It would almost be comical if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation we’ve found ourselves in.
“I’m no more unclothed than you were last night,” I reason. “That was just as unfair, especially when you . . .”
I bite back the words, unable to utter them, unable to say that she’d pleasured herself right beside me even though I had been the one telling her to do it. Even after willing her to come as I closed the distance between us.
“Especially when I came when you told me to?” Cara deduces easily. “That was a mistake. I should never have done that.” Unconvincing.
“I apologise for pushing you to do it, but I was just trying to help,” I offer truthfully.
I look down at the blanket, running my fingers over a fold at my waist, enjoying the subtlest of breezes tickling over my bare shoulders.
“You really are beautiful,” Cara says softly.
A small gasp catches in my throat and I look back up at Cara, feeling what she’s feeling as everything she wants to hide shimmers in the green of her eyes, unobstructed. Beauty for the Mord-Sith is blood, pain, torture, so calling me beautiful is utterly surprising and certainly not an admission I would ever have expected from Cara. But it’s the way she spoke the words that has my heart fluttering.
I’m not sure what to say; whether I should thank her, or pretend that her tender declaration didn’t just make me fall in love with her that much more.
“Don’t say anything,” Cara states before I decide. “I know I’m not making any sense, telling you one thing, doing another.”
I nod, allowing her to hopefully explain what might be going through her head.
“This is hard for me, Kahlan,” she acknowledges. “You’re the Mother Confessor, and I was one of Darken Rahl’s favourite Mord-Sith. The things I’ve done . . .” She sighs. “We’re complete opposites and this goes against everything I am. I’m trying to understand myself, but you have to give me time.”
It’s a plea and I feel instantly protective of Cara’s feelings, even though I’m the one who wants her to explore them.
“Of course,” I agree. “We both need time.”
Cara seems instantly relieved and she relaxes, shrugging out of her leathers as I make a point of looking away. As much as I want to watch her undress, I won’t punish myself in such a way - seeing, but unable to have. Unable yet, at least.
Crawling into the bed beside me, Cara does her best not to touch me or brush against me in any way. I’m not really sure if I’m happy or sad about it, but for now I guess I have to accept that we certainly won’t be taking advantage of the anti-magic spell this building is under. It’s such a shame that even though I would be unable to confess Cara right now, neither of us think it’s the right time for us to consummate this obvious, undeniable attraction we have for one another.
“I think I can sleep tonight without pleasuring myself,” Cara states without a hint of embarrassment.
I fight back my own embarrassment, and my disappointment.
“Ok,” I murmur, fiddling with the sheet so that it covers me, though I already feel far too warm.
Lying on my back, I close my eyes, ignoring as best I can Cara’s naked skin so close to mine as she lies facing me. I want to turn and wrap my arms around her, pull her even closer and feel how soft she is, feel every curve, every twitching muscle. Once again thoughts of last night flood my mind and I squeeze my eyes closed even tighter, willing myself to think of something else.
“Don’t think about it, Kahlan,” Cara advises, guessing my thoughts.
“I’m trying,” I respond, doing my best instead to think about what we will do tomorrow once we’re free of this place - if all goes to plan.
“I can still lie on the floor if you’d prefer,” she offers, her voice quiet, close to my ear.
I know I should probably accept her offer; being this close is maddening. I can feel the heat of her, I can smell her skin, each breath she takes tickling over my shoulder. As much as it’s all driving me crazy with want I’d still rather have her here beside me than not. We won’t have this luxury when we’re back with Richard and Zedd.
“No,” I reply. “I like you being next to me.”
I turn my head and catch the faint smile on Cara’s lips. It quickly fades, replaced by a sadness that makes my heart hurt and my head ache. Turning to face Cara, I lift my hand without thinking - an instinct - and trail my fingers over her brow, down across her temple.
Her skin is so soft, her gaze never leaving mine as I fall deep into the green of her eyes. I can’t find words to describe her beauty, her magnificence. She is perfect.
Cara’s gaze drifts to my mouth and I shudder, amazed by the way it almost feels like she’s touching me there, her lips on mine. There is very little distance between us, and if I were to lean just a small amount towards Cara I would know what it felt like to be pressed against that delicious mouth. I want to kiss her so much it hurts. Every inch of me feels alive, desperate for her, taut and eager to allow her to take me into her arms and show me what it is to be hers.
We linger on the verge, on the edge of what we desire, but Cara finds some strength from deep within and moves back slightly, enough for us both to breathe.
She places her hand over mine at her cheek, no reproach in her eyes as she lifts it away and puts it between us on the mattress. I almost apologise for touching her, but it feels unnecessary as she keeps her hand on top of mine, resting it there on the bed.
“We should sleep,” she whispers, yearning making her voice breathy, which causes me to take my own shuddering breath. “Believe me when I say I wish to do much more than sleep, Kahlan, but . . .”
“We can’t,” I continue for her sullenly.
For a moment, nothing more than enough time for me to blink, it seems as if she might forget herself and just kiss me, but then her eyes close and we both remain loyal to Richard.
Once I inform him that I can no longer be what he wants me to be there will be no need for this forced reserve between Cara and I. No need to fight the physical attraction or deny ourselves the closeness we obviously both crave.
All that will be standing in our way will be my guilt, and Cara’s insistence that she can’t feel.
I try not to allow my thoughts to darken with such worries and close my eyes to sleep, smiling as Cara gives my hand a gentle squeeze before turning from me to find her own respite in slumber.
Silently I ask the Spirits that tomorrow will be full of promise and possibility, not only pain and confusion.
Part Ten
.
Author: Dylan
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only the situations, and I make zero money from this foolish endeavor.
Summary: Set around the time between 'Fury' and 'Resurrection', early in season 2 of Legend of The Seeker. Sometimes resistance is err...futile.
(Link to my website for when LJ is down -- http://www.femslashfanfiction.com )
Part Nine
“Kahlan?” I hear, somewhere in the distance, far from the dark around me. “Kahlan, are you ok?”
“Kahlan,” another voice presses, closer, softer. “You’re worrying Richard.”
I scrunch up my brow, unable to comprehend why I’m worrying anybody, but then I hear it, the deep sobs rolling from my own chest. I sound heartbroken.
“Just answer him,” Cara tells me. “Before he hurts himself trying to break the door down.”
Nodding, taking in difficult breaths in order to calm myself I pull my hands away from my face, calling out.
“I’m ok, Richard,” I shout, wincing as my throat protests.
“You don’t sound ok,” he quite correctly points out. “What happened?”
I look up then, into Cara’s alarmed face. She’s on her haunches in front of me, appearing quite unsure of what she should do. A gentle hand on my shoulder squeezes and I can’t stop the fresh flow of tears at the sight of Cara’s obvious concern. If it were anybody else I would say there was something more than just concern in her eyes, but I have to stop hoping for more than she’s probably able to give. Even if it’s there inside her, I can’t allow myself to be so conceited to think I can force her to acknowledge it.
“Nothing happened, I’m just feeling . . .” I falter, unsure how to explain myself.
“It’s the loss of her magic,” Cara informs him as she looks into my already swollen eyes. “It’s making her upset.”
I’m so grateful for her quick thinking that I lift my hand to the one on my shoulder and squeeze it in gratitude. She quickly pulls hers away, though she stays in front of me on the floor.
The silence that follows clearly indicates that Richard has no idea what to say, how to comfort me. He still doesn’t understand just how Confessor magic works. How much it’s a part of me, making me whole.
I suppose that Cara’s lie to Richard probably isn’t completely a lie at all; the loss of my magic is indeed playing havoc with my emotions, and though I can’t blame this state I’m in entirely on its absence, it certainly isn’t helping.
“We’ll be out of here soon,” Richard offers in a feeble attempt to make me feel better.
It’s not his fault that his words can’t help and that he’s unable to understand why I’m crying. I certainly can’t tell him the truth from behind two locked downs and an undetermined length of corridor. The truth will have to wait.
“I know,” I shout to him. “I feel better now.”
Rubbing my hands across my face to wipe the tears away and steady my breathing, I smile softly at Cara, hoping to ease the frown still creasing her brow.
“I’m still worried,” Richard grumbles. “Please take care of her, Cara.”
Cara winces, as if he’d just asked her to do the most impossible thing in the world. I know her reaction is more a case of wanting to take care of me than not, however. The problem is, she wants it more every day and I can see clearly now that it’s difficult for her to understand such a need. She isn’t meant to care about a Confessor. She isn’t meant to care at all.
“Honestly, I’ll be ok, Richard,” I assure, getting up from my knees, feeling a little silly about all the tears.
As I rise up and brush dust from my skirt Cara hovers close by, seeming caught between wanting to help and needing to keep her hands off me. To be truthful, I’m not sure which one I want right now either. Though I know if it weren’t for Richard the choice would be much easier to make and I’d encourage her to explore what it is she feels, open up to me and what we could possibly have together. Even knowing that Richard is only one of the problems standing in our way.
“Ok, but . . . if you need anything . . .” Richard shouts, his gentle voice sounding lost through the bricks between us.
“We’ll be fine,” Cara snaps, growing tired of this blatant show of emotion, of the weakness as she calls it.
Her gaze is boring in to me, willing me to pull myself together and stop this nonsense.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, hardly able to look Cara in the eye. “Everything just got on top of me.”
She nods, her jaw clenching.
“You should rest,” she states, doing her best not to let a single emotion push past the barrier now around her. “We will need to be alert in the morning.”
It’s my turn to nod as I glance towards the small window, noticing the clouds nudging up against the moon. It looks like it might rain for the first time in over a week. The air is still thick and humid, however, clinging to my skin.
Without saying another word I make my way into the small privy, pushing the door closed as far as it will go. Splashing water over my face, I do my best to remember that I’m the Mother Confessor, not just some girl who’s foolishly in love for the first time. I should know better than to allow my heart to lead me, to make me fall apart. Though what I feel for Cara is already consuming me, I have to put things in perspective. There is more at stake in all this than just my heart.
I have to take charge of this. Regain some semblance of control.
I refuse to insist any longer that I can ignore how much I want to be more to Cara than I am, and I refuse to believe that Cara can just push aside what she feels; we’ve acknowledged what we want, and now we have to deal with that. Things will not be the same, and I can’t let this situation destroy everything around us. I have to stand by what’s in my heart and hope that Richard will understand, hope that Zedd will guide him past his anger, and hope that Cara will dare to allow me to love her despite all of our differences.
My mind is set; once I tell Richard that I can no longer be to him what he wants me to be I intend to make Cara see that I’m worth the effort she will have to make to understand her feelings. I can’t let this slip through my fingers.
I wash the day’s sweat from my body, feeling stronger, resolute. Love is not an evil thing to be feared. It may complicate matters - and it certainly has in this instance - but it’s pure, uncompromising.
Leaving the privy feeling much better, and much more refreshed, I make my way over to the bed, only offering Cara a small glance. I smile softly, thankful that she also seems a little more relaxed. The laces of her boots are already loose, her agiels on the chair next to her gloves. For a moment I’m entranced by Cara’s hands, recalling last night and the hand that held mine against her in such a gentle yet assertive way. The warmth and the softness of her skin will be forever burned into my mind. I want more of it, and more of her.
I say nothing as I sit on the bed, placing my boots down beside it. I saw no reason to put them back on after I washed. My skirt is still loose so I hastily begin to remove it, feeling Cara’s gaze on me. I don’t raise my eyes, allowing her the chance to look at me without me making her uncomfortable. I won’t push her; I’ll just be here, ready for when she can no longer fool herself into believing that we can’t have more. We seem to be destined for something other than just friendship, and I know that she can see it too; she just has to believe she deserves it.
“I need to wash,” Cara announces. “Will you be ok?”
My heart melts a little at the unusual question and the way her voice seemed entirely awkward for asking it. Little by little she’s breaking. For me.
“I’ll be fine, Cara,” I assure, hoping she can see that and so much more in my eyes. “I think I just need to sleep.”
Cara gives an understanding nod.
“You should take the bed tonight. I can rest on the floor,” she informs me.
It would obviously be much safer that way, but I’m not about to let her run so quickly. I’m also not about to rush into anything with her before I’ve had the chance to talk with Richard so she really has nothing to fear, despite the small slip last night.
“Don’t be absurd, Cara,” I say frankly. “We can share the bed again. You don’t have to worry, I won’t touch you.”
She narrows her eyes at this, cocking her head a little, a small frown completing the almost amusing look she’s giving me.
“It’s not you I’m worried about, Kahlan,” Cara says quietly, an almost seductive burr to her voice making me shiver regardless of the warm air. “If I have to lay next to you again I . . . I’m not sure I could stop myself.”
“Stop yourself from what?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t. Knowing the answer already as I grip the blanket at my fingertips.
My heart is beginning to pound in my chest as Cara’s gaze drops to the top of my corset, where my breasts are somewhat spilling from it due to the loosened ties.
“I want to fuck you, Kahlan,” she answers, softly so that Richard won’t hear, though the coarseness - the crassness - is a testament to how badly she wishes to hide behind the solid structures of her Mord-Sith walls.
Still, the words make my insides quiver with need and I cannot halt the way I grow wet at the thought of her taking me the way I know she probably would. Purposely, I regard her with curiosity rather than the shock she would have expected. Cara continues, obviously in the hope I will decide that she has no interest in me other than using my body for pleasure. She’s very wrong if she thinks she can fool me in such a way.
“You have no idea how difficult it is for me, to know that here, in this place . . . you can’t confess me,” Cara explains, her nostrils flaring as she allows desire to rule her tongue. “If I lay next to you tonight my body will want yours, my hands will want to touch, my lips to taste.”
The bed creaks as I shift upon it, attempting to ease the growing ache between my thighs.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked,” I confess, the heat prickling my skin, making me increasingly uncomfortable.
“You shouldn’t have,” Cara agrees, irritation evident in her tone. “No good will come of knowing how much I want you. It doesn’t change anything.”
She seems desperate to dismiss this. To fool the both of us, or scare the both of us.
“Everything has already changed, Cara,” I say, wishing to stand, but very aware that my skirt is resting over the top of my thighs and would drop to the floor if I did so. “We can’t take back the words we’ve said, or the things we know. I’ve been confused, frightened of the things I’ve been thinking, but I know now that it’s pointless trying to convince myself that what I feel is wrong.”
“It is wrong, Kahlan,” Cara says unconvincingly. “What I feel is wrong.”
A small admission, a glimpse into what must be churning inside Cara, I forget my modesty and stand before her in the now scant moonlight pooling at our feet. In my briefs and corset I must make quite the sight, but Cara’s gaze never leaves mine as I step closer.
“It isn’t wrong,” I insist, wanting to reach out and touch Cara’s face, to know the delicate sensation of her skin on my fingertips. But any such reassuring touch would do quite the opposite of reassure Cara. “We’re obviously drawn to each other, and despite the difficulty in that, despite the things that stand in the way, the things we’ve said and done in the past . . . fighting it will only bring more pain, to everyone involved.”
“I can handle pain,” Cara says defiantly.
I know she’s aware that her claim makes no sense in this instance. She can indeed handle pain of a physical nature, and most likely all the possible mental torture that Mord-Sith can impart on one another, but this is quite different and I can already see that it’s beginning to take its toll. I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable.
“I know you can,” I accept with a tender smile, “but I don’t mean physical pain.”
Cara glances away, biting her tongue. I can see that she wants to deny once again that she has emotions, especially for me, but the fact she says nothing makes my stomach flutter and roll. Her walls are slipping.
“Cara, look at me,” I ask, thankful when she does so without putting up a fight.
Her gaze flits from my eyes to my lips, causing me to wet them slowly. I know she wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her, but unless I make the first move she’ll refuse to give in. I can see the determination in her eyes and though I have to commend her for her strength and her loyalty, I also wish she’d just surrender, take what she wants. If she did that then I wouldn’t have to hold back either, be the sensible one, wait until we’ve told Richard.
“I’m always looking at you,” Cara confesses quietly. “It’s difficult not to.”
I feel my cheeks flush a little and suddenly feel very awkward standing in front of Cara in nothing but my corset and underwear. But that’s not because I don’t want her to look at me, I’m just not used to hearing people speak that way to me. People rarely approach Confessors and tell them that they’re attracted to them. Confessors are to be feared. We’re regarded as untouchable.
“I know the feeling,” I respond, allowing my gaze to drift to Cara’s cleavage without concern of the repercussions. She must know by now that I just can’t help myself.
I warm at the knowing grin that graces Cara’s lips and blush just a little more. She tilts her head, studying me now with her intense green eyes.
“I told you before . . . when you look at me like that I can barely keep my hands off you,” Cara says, desire evident in her voice. “You need to stop.”
“I won’t,” I challenge.
Cara’s breathing increases, her jaw tightening. It almost appears like she might hit me any moment, but I don’t fear her. I do see fear in her eyes, however. She’s afraid of this and it’s completely confounding her.
“You have to,” she finally counters, all the fight leaving her as she looks to the floor between us, dejected.
I give her some respite, backing away, done with pushing for now.
“Go get washed up, Cara,” I tell her soothingly. “We both need to rest.”
With one last glance at me she turns and heads for the privy, her usual swagger somewhat tempered.
Breathing a sigh, my body uncurling from the strain of holding back, I walk over to the bed, crawling under the thin blanket. Instantly I feel too hot, uncomfortable, and as I listen to water splashing in the small room a few paces away, I quickly wriggle out of my corset.
I place it with my other things at the side of the bed and shuffle up to the wall, waiting for Cara’s return. Wondering if I should turn away before she comes back, or feign confidence and remain on my back, I do my best not to imagine Cara washing herself. The thought of watching beads of water roll down her firm body makes me squirm, my nipples hardening against the coarse material of the blanket. Tonight is going to be fraught with tension, temptation, and discomfort, even more so than any other night.
Cara is still dressed when she returns, but I can see that she put on her leathers again after washing herself as the ties are loose and her skin still appears damp across her chest. She has also wiped at the wound on her head, its angry redness a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. I wince, knowing that it must hurt, though for a Mord-Sith it’s probably nothing but a scratch.
“We need to get that seen to as soon as we can tomorrow,” I point out, forgetting about everything else for the moment, the covers slipping from my upper body as I turn towards Cara, indicating her forehead with a wave of my hand.
She automatically raises her own hand to the cut, brushing some hair away from it as her lips part and I notice her eyes grow wide.
“Kahlan, your . . .” She points to my chest, sounding quite distressed.
With an apologetic smile I pull the blanket back up, covering myself as I watch a multitude of emotions play across Cara’s face.
“Sorry,” I mumble unconvincingly.
“That isn’t fair,” Cara complains.
I’m not sure if she’s angry or on the verge of tears. It would almost be comical if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation we’ve found ourselves in.
“I’m no more unclothed than you were last night,” I reason. “That was just as unfair, especially when you . . .”
I bite back the words, unable to utter them, unable to say that she’d pleasured herself right beside me even though I had been the one telling her to do it. Even after willing her to come as I closed the distance between us.
“Especially when I came when you told me to?” Cara deduces easily. “That was a mistake. I should never have done that.” Unconvincing.
“I apologise for pushing you to do it, but I was just trying to help,” I offer truthfully.
I look down at the blanket, running my fingers over a fold at my waist, enjoying the subtlest of breezes tickling over my bare shoulders.
“You really are beautiful,” Cara says softly.
A small gasp catches in my throat and I look back up at Cara, feeling what she’s feeling as everything she wants to hide shimmers in the green of her eyes, unobstructed. Beauty for the Mord-Sith is blood, pain, torture, so calling me beautiful is utterly surprising and certainly not an admission I would ever have expected from Cara. But it’s the way she spoke the words that has my heart fluttering.
I’m not sure what to say; whether I should thank her, or pretend that her tender declaration didn’t just make me fall in love with her that much more.
“Don’t say anything,” Cara states before I decide. “I know I’m not making any sense, telling you one thing, doing another.”
I nod, allowing her to hopefully explain what might be going through her head.
“This is hard for me, Kahlan,” she acknowledges. “You’re the Mother Confessor, and I was one of Darken Rahl’s favourite Mord-Sith. The things I’ve done . . .” She sighs. “We’re complete opposites and this goes against everything I am. I’m trying to understand myself, but you have to give me time.”
It’s a plea and I feel instantly protective of Cara’s feelings, even though I’m the one who wants her to explore them.
“Of course,” I agree. “We both need time.”
Cara seems instantly relieved and she relaxes, shrugging out of her leathers as I make a point of looking away. As much as I want to watch her undress, I won’t punish myself in such a way - seeing, but unable to have. Unable yet, at least.
Crawling into the bed beside me, Cara does her best not to touch me or brush against me in any way. I’m not really sure if I’m happy or sad about it, but for now I guess I have to accept that we certainly won’t be taking advantage of the anti-magic spell this building is under. It’s such a shame that even though I would be unable to confess Cara right now, neither of us think it’s the right time for us to consummate this obvious, undeniable attraction we have for one another.
“I think I can sleep tonight without pleasuring myself,” Cara states without a hint of embarrassment.
I fight back my own embarrassment, and my disappointment.
“Ok,” I murmur, fiddling with the sheet so that it covers me, though I already feel far too warm.
Lying on my back, I close my eyes, ignoring as best I can Cara’s naked skin so close to mine as she lies facing me. I want to turn and wrap my arms around her, pull her even closer and feel how soft she is, feel every curve, every twitching muscle. Once again thoughts of last night flood my mind and I squeeze my eyes closed even tighter, willing myself to think of something else.
“Don’t think about it, Kahlan,” Cara advises, guessing my thoughts.
“I’m trying,” I respond, doing my best instead to think about what we will do tomorrow once we’re free of this place - if all goes to plan.
“I can still lie on the floor if you’d prefer,” she offers, her voice quiet, close to my ear.
I know I should probably accept her offer; being this close is maddening. I can feel the heat of her, I can smell her skin, each breath she takes tickling over my shoulder. As much as it’s all driving me crazy with want I’d still rather have her here beside me than not. We won’t have this luxury when we’re back with Richard and Zedd.
“No,” I reply. “I like you being next to me.”
I turn my head and catch the faint smile on Cara’s lips. It quickly fades, replaced by a sadness that makes my heart hurt and my head ache. Turning to face Cara, I lift my hand without thinking - an instinct - and trail my fingers over her brow, down across her temple.
Her skin is so soft, her gaze never leaving mine as I fall deep into the green of her eyes. I can’t find words to describe her beauty, her magnificence. She is perfect.
Cara’s gaze drifts to my mouth and I shudder, amazed by the way it almost feels like she’s touching me there, her lips on mine. There is very little distance between us, and if I were to lean just a small amount towards Cara I would know what it felt like to be pressed against that delicious mouth. I want to kiss her so much it hurts. Every inch of me feels alive, desperate for her, taut and eager to allow her to take me into her arms and show me what it is to be hers.
We linger on the verge, on the edge of what we desire, but Cara finds some strength from deep within and moves back slightly, enough for us both to breathe.
She places her hand over mine at her cheek, no reproach in her eyes as she lifts it away and puts it between us on the mattress. I almost apologise for touching her, but it feels unnecessary as she keeps her hand on top of mine, resting it there on the bed.
“We should sleep,” she whispers, yearning making her voice breathy, which causes me to take my own shuddering breath. “Believe me when I say I wish to do much more than sleep, Kahlan, but . . .”
“We can’t,” I continue for her sullenly.
For a moment, nothing more than enough time for me to blink, it seems as if she might forget herself and just kiss me, but then her eyes close and we both remain loyal to Richard.
Once I inform him that I can no longer be what he wants me to be there will be no need for this forced reserve between Cara and I. No need to fight the physical attraction or deny ourselves the closeness we obviously both crave.
All that will be standing in our way will be my guilt, and Cara’s insistence that she can’t feel.
I try not to allow my thoughts to darken with such worries and close my eyes to sleep, smiling as Cara gives my hand a gentle squeeze before turning from me to find her own respite in slumber.
Silently I ask the Spirits that tomorrow will be full of promise and possibility, not only pain and confusion.
Part Ten
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