Page 117 of Tiger's Quest
These people were probably more tree nymphs than water nymphs. They retained beauty until they died. They could ride through the air. Slip through small holes.Hmm, that’s a new one.Extremely long life . . . sometimes invisible . . . special times are noon and midnight.Midnight should be soon.They could be dangerous, cause madness, a stroke, dumbness, and besotted infatuation.
A soft knock startled me from my study. “Yes?”
“Are you ready to come out, Miss?”
“Almost.”
I quickly glanced through the rest of my notes and slipped the papers into my backpack. The two men were standing directly outside the door, staring at me like a pair of snakes watching a bird’s nest.
“Umm, excuse me.”
I slipped between them, walked to the other side of the room, and sat on what looked like a giant bean bag sofa covered in soft fur. The men sat on either side of me.
One of them nudged my shoulder. “You’re too stiff. Lie back and relax. The seat molds itself to your body.”
They wouldn’t take no for an answer. The dark haired man pushed me back gently, but insistently.
“Yes, it is comfortable. Thank you. Umm, where’s Kishan?”
“Who’s Kishan?”
“The man I came here with.”
“I didn’t notice a man.”
“It was impossible to notice anything afteryoustepped into the room,” the other man said.
“Yes. I agree. You’re quite lovely,” said his brother.
One of the men began stroking my arm while the other started massaging my shoulders.
They indicated a table in front of us laden with treats.
“Would you like to try some candied fruit? It’s delicious.”
“No. Thank you. I’m not hungry quite yet.”
The man massaging my shoulders began kissing the back of my neck. “You have the most delicate skin.”
I tried to sit up, but he pressed me back in the chair. “Relax. We’re here to please you.”
The other one handed me a fluted glass with bubbling red liquid. “Sparkling elderberry juice?”
He picked up my other hand and began kissing my fingers. A foggy dimness clouded my vision. I closed my eyes for a moment, and my senses focused on lips kissing my throat and warm hands massaging my shoulders. Pleasure wound through my body, and I greedily wanted more. One of the men kissed my lips. It didn’t feel right. Something was wrong.
I murmured, “No,” weakly and tried to shake the men off, but they wouldn’t leave me alone. Something tickled the back of my mind. Something I was trying to grab onto. Something that would help me focus. The massage on my shoulders felt so good. He moved to my neck and moved his thumb in little circles. That’s when the something I was trying to remember snapped into my conscious mind.
Ren.He’d massaged my neck like that. I pictured his face. It was out of focus at first, but I started to list the things I loved about him in my mind and the picture became clearer. I thought about his hair, his eyes, how he held my hand all the time. I thought about him laying his head on my lap while I read to him, how he got jealous, his love for peanut-butter pancakes, and about how he chose the peaches-and-cream ice cream because it reminded him of me. In my mind, I heard him say, “Mein tumse mohabbat karta hoon, iadala.”
I whispered, “Mujhe tumse pyarhai, Ren.”
Something popped, and I abruptly sat up. The men pouted as they tried to pull me back. They began singing softly. My vision started to shift out of focus again, so I hummed the song Ren wrote for me and recited one of his poems. I stood up. The men were now insisting that I eat something again or sip some juice. I refused. They tugged me over to a soft bed. I stood my ground while they pulled and begged and cajoled. They complimented my hair, my eyes, and my beautiful dress and cried that I’d been their only visitor in millennia and that they just wanted to spend some time in my company.
Refusing again, I insisted that we needed to be on our way. They persisted, took my hand, and pulled me toward the bed. I twisted away and grabbed my bow. Quickly, I strung it and nocked an arrow, then aimed at whichever male chest was closest, threatening them. The two men backed away and one raised his hand in a gesture of defeat. They silently communicated, and then shook their heads sadly.
“We would have made you happy. You would have forgotten all of your troubles. We would have loved you.”
I shook my head. “I love another.”
