Okay, so today’s Indie Carnival is all about kissing and telling. My characters kiss and then I tell you all about it. Well, I’ll let you see for yourself, really. Anyway, this little ditty comes courtesy of a little short story I’m in the middle of working on for an anthology I’m contributing to, put together by The Paranormal Plumes Society. Forgive how rough it is, it’s still a work in progress as I’m trying to juggle Thomas & January and my short story. Hope you guys enjoy!

She watched him disappear into the tree line toward Faroth and couldn’t stop herself from admiring him. Six-foot five, long, lean, muscular. His black hair a product of his human mother, his blue eyes a product of his father. Even as a perian, Pierce was a magnificent representative of the Maethor.
Bein looked down at her own figure. She was ‘fuller’ than most of the other girls and not quite as tall. She was a mere five-foot eleven, the shortest in her province’s training class, her boobs were bigger than her peers, making it hard to fight. She usually had to tape them down for a sparring match. Her hips and buttocks were rounder and curvier than the rest of the girls. Yes, she may have looked the most feminine and some called her the most beautiful of their province but she was not the best warrior because of her hourglass shape and she resented the other girls for that just as they resented her for ‘taking Pierce’, like she had a choice in the matter.
Bein may have constantly been approached by the basketball team at school, asked out on a daily basis, but that meant nothing to her. She was not truly a Maethor if she couldn’t fight like one and it seemed Pierce was constantly holding back. She could tell he found her weak, inferior and that infuriated her, making her hate him even more.
Bolstered by this resentment, Bein marched toward Pierce coming at a stop beside him as she came upon the group surrounding Faroth. He looked down at her blistering expression and rolled his eyes, incensing her further.
“…And I’ve set up a few blinds amongst the trees,” Faroth told the group surrounding him. “You’ll need to jump upwards of one hundred feet to find them though, so let that be a warning to most of you who will be stationed on the ground. You might not be able to smell your potential captors. Alright, any questions?”
When no one responded, Faroth sent them off to find their blinds.
“What were you doing back there?” Pierce asked, taking a sharp left into the Maethor training forest. “You missed Faroth’s instructions. Now I’m going to have to do all the work.”
“Oh, shut up, Pierce. I believe I can guess how this will all go. We sit in our tree blind, our ground peers will attempt to sneak past us, we attack. Simple.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re blind thirty-two.”
When they found their blind, Pierce took three steps back, ran and jumped the entire distance to their blind, landing softly on the ledge. Bein began to panic, she looked at where Pierce landed and didn’t think she could make it. She took five steps back, breathed deeply, and attempted it but undershot her mark.
“Oh shit!” Bein whispered, as she tried to grapple for the edge of the blind but felt herself free falling backwards instead. Suddenly, she felt large hands encircle her waist. Pierce lifted Bein over the lip of the blind before bringing himself onto the ledge.
“Thank you,” Bein said quietly, her eyes starting to burn from the embarrassment. She felt as inferior as she imagined he thought her.
Pierce didn’t say anything, just sat with his legs hanging over the edge, his hands planted firmly on his knees, panting from the effort and the fear that she almost fell.
“Next time, just tell me you can’t do it,” he said after a moment’s silence.
Bein felt her cheeks heat and the tears begin to fall over. She tried desperately to wipe them away and cease the childish practice but couldn’t stop herself. Before she knew it, she choked back an audible sob. Pierce’s head whipped around quickly at the sound.
“What? What’s wrong?” He said desperately, bringing his body closer to hers. “Are you hurt? Did I- Did I hurt you?” He asked, his hands fluttering over her shoulders and arms, her waist, checking for injuries.
“No, you dope,” she said, wrenching her body from his grasp. “I’m not hurt. Not physically anyway. I’m just embarrassed. Stop fussing, we’re making too much noise. They’ll hear us.”
She swiped her tears dry and wiped her nose with a soft leaf from a nearby branch. Pierce watched her try to compose herself but it wasn’t helping Bein in the slightest.
“Stop,” she said, “you’re making it difficult for me to stop.”
Pierce studied Bein. “Why are you really crying, Bein?”
“I’m embarrassed,” she admitted. She fought to control her shaking voice.
“You embarrass easily, Bein, but that’s not the only reason you’re crying. You forget that I know you…unfortunately.” Bein rolled her eyes. “There’s something else. What’s going on?”
Bein sucked in a breath to choke back a threatening sob. She knew they were being too loud. The others would avoid their blind like the plague and they’d miss any chance at glory and further prove to everyone that she was a worthless warrior but if he wanted the truth she was going to give it to him.
“I’m a terrible Maethor.”
“What?”
“I’m a terrible Maethor. I can’t jump or see as well as everybody else. I can’t hit a target unless it’s less than five miles away. I suck at sparring.” He shook his head back and forth. “I can tell, you know, that you hold back. If I have a talent, which I doubt I do, it hasn’t surfaced yet like everyone else’s. Maybe all the girls were right, I’m only good for breeding.”
“That’s utter bullshit, Bein. They only say that because they’re jealous of you. There’s something about you, Bein,” Pierce began softly but checked himself, clearing his throat. “And anyway, you’re only eighteen. We’re only Seedlings. You have to give yourself time for your aim and sight and leap to improve. And I haven’t gotten my gift yet either-I know I’m going to get one….I have to,” He whispered. “It’s just not our time yet,” he continued more boldly. “And-and I don’t hold back when I spar with you…”
“Yes, you do, Pierce, I…”
“Shhh,” Pierce said quickly, his head erect in alert.
They’re here, he mouthed to her. She nodded slowly, their conversation forgotten. Neither Bein nor Pierce moved an inch, their breathing was so soft and steady, it was nearly undetectable by one another. Suddenly, their targets came within sight. Pierce grabbed Bein’s forearm and steadied them to leap as soon as their prey were within reach. It looked as if two of the teams had joined together. Safety in numbers. It impressed Pierce but they chose incorrectly. He had the advantage of knowing their prey well enough to realize that both he and Bein could take them. He pointed to Gillian and Doron to indicate those were her targets. He wanted Raw and Ernel for himself.
Bein nodded curtly once to let him know she approved of the plan. They only needed the teams to sweep the small clearing and they could make their move. Bein tried not to think how warm and strong Pierce’s hand felt on her forearm. Pierce attempted to ignore how soft and delicate Bein felt under his touch. He experimented touching Bein, couldn’t help himself if he tried, running the pad of his thumb softly underneath her forearm, causing her to suck in a small breath. The two teams’ heads snapped towards their blind, then sped off quickly the other direction.
“I’m sorry,” Bein whispered to Pierce.
“No, I’m sorry,” Pierce whispered back.
They stared at one another just as a warm thread of electricity seemed to slice through them both. Their heartbeats sped so perceptibly to one another it distracted them from their surrounding world. It beat so loudly, so incredibly loudly in each other’s heads it was almost deafening. Both their hands flew to their ears.
“Make it stop!” Bein begged Pierce.
“I can’t!” he gritted. “This can’t be. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Stop talking. The noise!”
“Bein,” he said, grabbing her hands from her ears. “It’s the Binding.”
“No,” she said insisted, fighting the pull between them but she knew it was exactly as he’d said. She also knew the only thing that could heal the pain of a Binding call.
“Come,” Pierce ordered her. He wrapped himself around Bein, coddling her closely to his chest just as Bein gave in to the wretched tormenting call and cried out in agony.
The moment their skin touched, the torture alleviated almost instantly but Bein’s body was still slightly rigid with residual pain. Pierce set her on the deck of the blind and laid beside her, turning her body to face his. He studied her, unsure what to do. He’d talked to his father about what was necessary to alleviate the pain of a Binding call but didn’t know more than that they needed physical contact. Most Betrotheds had already committed the ceremony before the call ever came to them. He felt helpless and scared for Bein, wanted nothing more than to take it all away from her. He still felt the throbbing pain in the base of his neck but it was nothing in comparison to what he could sense Bein was feeling and he could literally sense everything. He began to feel desperate for her.
Searching her face and body, he did the only thing he could think of, he pressed his lips to her neck and throat, feverishly at first, kissing her over and over again, drawing back slightly to see if it was working then diving back in, always starting at the base of her throat and moving to her chin before starting the whole process over.
When Bein’s jaw finally became slack, he slowed his pace. Drawing back her jacket a bit, he lanquidly trailed his mouth from her shoulder to the base of her jaw and back down. Pierce could feel it was working, that the touch was relieving her misery and just as quickly, he was aware of the intimacy of their contact. He swallowed hard and looked at Bein’s closed eyes. They fluttered open.
“Better?” He asked lazily, drunk off their heated exchange.
“Yes, thank you,” she timidly replied. A heated blush painted her neck and face. “I’m so sorry you had to do that.”
Pierce swallowed hard, realizing it was not quite the chore she was implying. The pooled fire in his gut ignited to an uncomfortable level and he found himself desperate to distance himself from her body. He hated how attractive he found her.
He set Bein upright and scooted a few feet back, resting his forearms on his knees, avoiding eye contact. Bein felt abandoned by him but refused to let him see or feel it. She clamped her teeth hard.
“We’re Betrothed,” Pierce said quietly.
“Yes,” Bein said just as quietly, processing the information. “My mother’s premonition was correct.”