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desire in Elic’s loins—a futile response, but his body still stubbornly refused to acknowledge what his mind had accepted long ere this, that he and Lili were doomed to a love that would never be consummated.
    Bringing Elic’s fingers to her lips, Lili said, “I can’t help my needs, Elic, any more than you can help yours. You know this. After all these years, why should it trouble you to know that I want this man? He is just another human to take and use, one of many who’ve gone before and many more to come.”
    “Yes, but he’s not just one of many, is he, Lili? He’s special. You desire him more than you’ve desired the others.”
Most
of the others. From time to time—it didn’t happen often, every few years—Lili became enamored of a
gabru
to an extent that made Elic want to throttle the bastard to within an inch of his life. “It isn’t just about slaking the hungers of your body,” he said. “You are utterly enamored.”
    “Nonsense. It is simple lust, nothing more.”
    “I can feel it, Lili.” He scooped up a handful of the water on which they floated, letting it slide through his fingers in glimmery, moonlit ribbons. The stream that fed this pool, which gurgled from deep within the adjoining cave, took on a faint, almost electrical resonance as it percolated through fissures in primordial bedrock and solidified lava. On cool autumn nights like this, it ran right around body temperature; on sweltering summer days, a good deal below. In the winter, entering this pool was like slipping into a steaming hot bath. It was also remarkably conductive, transmitting feelings and sensations between bathers, especially lust, in a way that was sometimes subtle and sometimes a potent galvanic charge, depending on the depth of the infused emotion.
    That was how Elic knew for sure that Lili’s protestation of “simple lust” toward David Beckett was so much dissembling. He felt it in the water that buoyed him, even in the steam rising off its balmy surface to drift away in the cool night air—a frisson of passion flavored with fascination; the thrill of the new, the unknown, the mysterious; a breathless anticipation that had less to do with lust than with discovery, connection, possession. It wasn’t just David Beckett’s body that Lili longed for, it was something more, and that something made Elic’s heart squeeze into a tight little knot in his chest.
    “You can’t hide your feelings from me, Lili,” he said, “not here. You’re besotted with him.”
    “For pity’s sake, Elic.” She released his hand and looked away, rather petulantly, he thought. “It isn’t love, or anything like it. It’s . . .”
    “I know you’re not in love with him. But you
are
infatuated.”
    She looked for a moment as if she wanted to deny it, but then she just sighed and said, “It is different for me than for you, Elic. For my sex, human or non, desire can be a complicated business. Lust is rarely about simple physical gratification. One can find oneself harboring feelings—even for perfect strangers—that defy all reason. You’ve experienced this yourself, when you go through The Change and become Elle. More than once, you’ve found yourself captivated by the
gabrus
you’ve taken. You’ve told me as much.”
    “Only while I’m taking them,” he said. “When it’s over, I feel nothing.”
    “Because when it’s over, you are once again a male. Yet when you take a human woman, regardless of how desirable she is, how much you’ve wanted her, how exciting it is to be inside her, your passion always has its limits. It is your body that longs for her, and your body alone.”
    “If only it were the same for you. I feel sick when I think of you fucking that goddamned gardener. He fancies you, too, you know. He doesn’t think it shows, the English never do, but he’s mad for you. That’s why he can’t bring himself to look you in the eye.”
    Lili stroked Elic’s face tenderly, soothingly. “Do not