by Ann Aguirre
She did it for us.
The conviction came fully formed. Even if he didn’t know the exact circumstances, he felt sure she’d risked herself to make sure the convoy could pass safely. It was exactly the sort of reckless, big-hearted idiocy that drove him wild. While he was starting to come around to her notion of ‘caring more’, he couldn’t accept how lightly she took her own well-being. Yes, the Animari could heal grievous wounds, but that didn’t mean they were immune to pain.
He sucked in a sharp breath, fighting the disquieting memory of finding her stumbling, naked, liberally smeared with blood. He’d never seen her dazed and helpless before, would rather not see it again. It felt as if the shock took twenty years off his lifespan. He tightened his arms on her. There was no harm in it since she was out cold. Her steady breathing reassured him that she was in no danger.
Little by little, the heart-stopping fear that had exploded in his head and raged like a wildfire died by increments, until there were only sparks and embers. As they rode, he held her full weight, and it occurred to him that since his brother died, nobody had trusted him this fully. To show someone your sleeping face, that was no small matter. He might dump her off Gray’s back or take advantage of her weakness. This unexpected confidence felt like a gift he’d neither earned nor deserved.
The storm worsened as they approached Kelnora, blinding wind and stinging ice mixed in with the snow. His eyes were nearly frozen, and he could hardly blink for the accumulation of frost. Gavriel couldn’t feel his fingers and Gray was stumbling with exhaustion. Fortunately, the stables were in sight and the beast made for them with single-minded intent. A young Eldritch could barely hold the doors open long enough for them to stagger inside.
Outside, the gale howled like a devil from the old stories. He gestured to the stable lad. “Hold him steady.”
Once the boy took the reins, Gavriel slid off Gray’s back and braced, because it didn’t look like Magda would rouse. He caught her, staggering with her weight. The fall woke her, thankfully, as he didn’t know how he would’ve transported her.
“We made it?”
The smile softening his mouth felt almost like a kiss. “It seems so. Can you stand?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Since she was shaky as a newborn vedda beast, that was clearly an overstatement. He chose not to question it. “Let me care for Gray, then we can see about finding accommodations.”
“I can do it,” the stable boy offered.
Gavriel shook his head. “He’s mine. I will look after him.”
“That’s sweet,” Magda said.
His mouth compressed on a wave of faint embarrassment. “You’re mocking me.”
“Definitely not. I approve of taking care of your own stuff. Not that you need my approval or that Gray’s a thing.”
Her earnest response hit him like a key turning in a lock. Somehow, with that witchery he’d noted before, she made him want to tell her things. “I don’t have much, so I…treasure what belongs to me.”
To his astonishment, she joined him in caring for the animal, using brush and comb according to his terse instructions. Gray preened beneath the attention, stamping his hooves and tossing his mane. When they got to the horn-polishing, the vedda beast radiated satisfaction and was ready to munch on the fodder Gavriel scattered, then take a long, well-earned rest.
“He’s rather a vain creature,” he said.
“As he should be. What a lovely boy,” Magda crooned, scratching the sweet spot between Gray’s horns. “Thank you for saving me.”
Against his will, Gavriel recalled how good her hands felt. I can’t believe I envy the damned vedda beast. He choked the urge to protest that she was giving the animal too much credit.
What is wrong with you? Do you truly wish she’d rub your head and sweetly thank you in the same fashion?
Fates help him, he did.
Stepping away from the stall, she glanced around, then asked, “Where are we staying?”
Gavriel shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I went looking for you before all the arrangements were made.”
“Master Haryk is waiting for you at the public house,” the boy volunteered from a nearby stall. “He said to send you as soon as you returned. Well, actually he said if, but he said not to—oh.”
Magda laughed. “It’s fine. Thanks for passing along the message. Where’s the public house?”
The stable lad gave precise directions, and once Gavriel gathered their worldly goods, they set off through the blizzard on foot. If not for the lights in the windows, it was bad enough that they might have gotten lost even in town.
She would’ve died out there tonight. I really did save her. Hell, he’d saved the refugees too because this storm would’ve done for them as well. Gavriel tried not to be an ass, even in his own mind, but there was more pleasure in playing the hero than he could have guessed.
I could get used to this.
He was practically frozen solid by the time they stumbled into the tavern. Half the town seemed to be assembled there, and there were pallets laid before the fire. Probably there wasn’t enough housing for the newcomers, so they were making do.
“You made it and you found your friend. This is good news,” Haryk called. “Come, you must be starving. Do you like barley vegetable soup?”
At this juncture, Gavriel would have gladly eaten raw caribou, even if it meant more damnation for his soul. He gave a grateful nod. “I do and thank you for it.”
Keriel leapt up to get food for them and soon she was back with hot soup, fresh bread, soft cheese, and warm mugs of spiced wine. These modest comforts were so delicious after the terrible weather that he could’ve melted in delight.
After accepting her meal, Magda plopped down on the rug next to the children, who made room for her with beaming smiles. Leena touched her injured cheek with a small hand. “Did you fight?”
“Indeed I did.”
“Did you win?” the little girl asked.
Magda leaned in as if to impart a confidence, golden eyes twinkling. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Would you teach me to fight?” Leena gazed up at Magda with wide, shining eyes.
Belatedly, Gavriel realized he was watching the tiger woman with such rapt attention that his spoon was hovering in midair without him taking a single bite. A hot flush washed up his neck, onto his cheek, and ears, and he hunched his shoulders, lowering his gaze to his bowl.
What the hell is wrong with me?
12.
“Is there anything else you need?” Keriel asked.
Mags glanced around the small space and shook her head. They’d sent her and Gavriel to the eaves, a cozy nest above the public house with a sloped ceiling that seemed to be used for storage, as there were boxes piled all around. She’d shoved them back to offer enough room for them to lay their blankets, and the walls were sound. Heat from the hearth rose up, leaving the attic toasty and comfortable.
“This is fine, we’re out of the weather. You don’t work for us. Please just look after yourself and Leena.”
“It’s because of you that we’re alive at all, Mistress. So if there’s anything at all you’d like…” The woman trailed off, but clearly, she’d be happier if Magda just asked for something. Anything.
Since she hated being indebted to others, she got that. “Then… if it’s not too much trouble, a couple of buckets of warm water? I should wash the blood off before I mess up my bedroll.”
“Of course. Right away!” The Eldritch woman hurried off with such alacrity that Mags felt bad for not asking sooner.
Maybe she was too much of a hard-ass about requesting help. Damn did she miss the bathhouse in Ash Valley, though. The facilities at Daruvar were ancient and basic, so for a few seconds, she fantasized about soaking for an hour in steaming hot water.
That fantasy puffed into nothing when Gavriel came up the stairs a bit later, lugging the pails he’d likely snagged from Keriel. Haryk, who ran the public house, had given t
hem some candles earlier, and the attic was strangely…romantic, all shadows and flickering golden light.
“Your bath, my lady.” His tone was caustic, but she didn’t even mind that anymore.
She couldn’t hate him when she knew how many wounds he was hiding. His history of loss made her see why he did everything in his power to keep people from getting close. And hell, didn’t she do the same damn thing? She just didn’t think she was quite so abrasive about it, though maybe her pride mates would disagree.
“Thanks. One of the containers is for you, though.”
That startled him so much that he stumbled on the last step and nearly spilled the water. Mags had recovered enough to put on a burst of preternatural speed, and she steadied his hands on the bucket.
“You think we’re bathing together?”
Time to go for it.
“It’s on offer. We talked about certain shared interests, but there hasn’t been an opportunity. And now, I owe you, Gavriel. That means I want to level the scales.”
“I don’t want sex that springs from obligation,” he snapped.
She smiled slightly. “It wouldn’t, I promise. I value myself too highly to offer this deal without desire.”
“And what is ‘this deal’?”
“First, we tend to each other. That sort of care-taking builds trust. We talked about that before. Maybe by the end, you’ll feel safe enough with me to want to take things to the next level, but we won’t do anything unless you want it too.”
“You’re saying…you want me.” The doubt in his voice echoed the shadows of his face, and even in this faint light, she could see that he was biting his lip, tempted but hesitant.
“Yes. Even more after today. I want to give you what you crave, whatever that might be. Say the word and I’ll make your fantasy come true.”
“Anything?” His voice rumbled so deep and low that it gave her the shivers.
“As long as we can manage it up here. I’m lacking certain specialty equipment.” She smiled as his breath caught, but she went on as if he hadn’t reacted. “No shame, Gavriel. No judgment. Just what we enjoy. And if you want to stop at any point, you make the call. Pick a word so I’ll know you mean it and aren’t feigning reluctance.”
He stared for a few seconds in silence, then he asked softly, “Is that…customary?”
“It’s the best way to avoid misunderstandings. You like the idea of being overpowered but this way, you still have control. You’re safe, because I stop as soon as you ask me to.”
“I feel so strange.”
“What’s wrong?” A touch of concern flickered through her. If he couldn’t handle even this much, maybe it was too fast.
“Just talking about this is…exciting me a little.”
Mags laughed. “Ah, well, I’ve never been in your shoes, but I think it’s understandable. Why wouldn’t it feel good, knowing you’re about to get what you want?”
“When you put it that way, I feel almost normal.”
“That word is overrated. You’ll break your own heart, trying to be like everyone else. You’re good as you are, Gavriel.”
“Ah.” He made a quiet sound, like she was already touching him, and a silent thrill worked through her, escalating her excitement.
She’d raised the subject because she wanted to give something back to him, but really, the talk of paying off what she owed was an excuse to get her hands on him again. The poison must be mostly gone because other than a faint weakness, Mags felt recovered after food and rest.
“The stopping word is ‘caribou’,” Gavriel said then.
“Should be safe enough. That’s one thing you’d never say to me accidentally during sex. Unless you’ve got some very interesting tastes.” That was a joke, but it surprised her nonetheless when he laughed, a shy sound that made her feel like she was starting to get to know the real Gavriel, behind the hostility and bitterness.
“My thoughts exactly,” he agreed.
“Before we begin, do you want to draw any definite lines now?”
“Like what?”
“No penetration, for example, or no kissing. It’s all personal preference. If you’re not sure, we can see how it goes.”
“Part of me can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you,” Gavriel said, shaking his head slightly.
“Better me than someone who might gossip about you,” she pointed out.
“Without a doubt. This first time, I’ll just…trust you.”
Warmth blossomed in her chest at that simple statement because she knew damn well it wasn’t simple or easy for him. This was the feral wolf finally taking food from her hands. She resisted the urge to hug him.
“We’ll start by getting naked. You wash me first, then I’ll do you.”
“Is that—”
“Yes, it’s necessary. Trust, as I mentioned before, and frankly, I don’t want to roll around with you smelling like this. I’m gross and covered in blood.” She cocked her head. “Wait, is that—”
“No,” he cut in sharply. “Blood isn’t my thing. Fine, we’ll bathe.”
She shivered once she stripped out of her clothes. Though she’d done this in front of Gavriel so often that she’d lost count, it was different. This time, he would touch her body while thinking about pleasure to come.
The water had cooled to lukewarm while they spoke and he was a little too efficient, washing off the blood with impersonal hands. Oddly, that briskness endeared him to her because she could tell so clearly that he’d never done this. More, he had no idea how to. Unlike most, he avoided touching her breasts and he only washed where she had been wounded, like he was a battlefield medic.
I’ll be teaching him everything.
She didn’t criticize his performance. That would only make him more nervous at this stage. Later, when he was more comfortable, she’d take him in hand, show him what to do and when to serve her well. Baby steps now, at the beginning.
“There,” he said finally. “I think I got all the blood. It’s hard to be sure in this light.”
“If you did your best, that’s enough.”
A lover would have lingered, but he wasn’t that, not yet. He would be, before the night was through.
Smiling wickedly, Mags wet her cloth in the other bucket and closed the distance between them. “Take your clothes off. It’s my turn to do you.”
Under Magda’s watchful gaze, Gavriel flushed painfully hot but he didn’t demur. He removed his clothing slowly, one piece at a time, trying to regulate his racing heart. He was already half-hard and that was so far from usual that he feared he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
In silence, she washed his whole body with humiliating thoroughness, lingering in places nobody had ever touched. His cock went rigid as she cleaned it, and he groaned when she slid the cloth up his backside and even massaged in between his cheeks. That was the last place she touched.
“Lay the blankets,” she said.
That was part of it, he thought. Doing as she bid without protest, so he got the bedrolls from their packs and spread them out, his for the bottom, hers for the top, and now they would smell of each other. Part of him understood the excitement the Animari must feel, knowing their scent would be all over their lover’s skin, announcing their relationship to anyone with the senses to discern it.
As he bent to pull back the blanket, she hit him from behind, a surprise attack that nearly made him come, because she was so hot and so strong and so naked. A spurt of fluid jetted from the end of his cock, and he snarled a challenge, fighting with all his strength. It wasn’t enough; she wrestled him down, so that his chest scraped against the blankets, his stiff cock too. Magda bit down on his neck, so hard that he cried out. The pain zipped down his spine and swelled in a delicious rush, cascading through his nerve-endings.
“Be quiet,” she whispered in his ear. “Unless you want them to know what’s happening. Or is that your thing? Do you want everyone to watch me have you?”
&nbs
p; He shook his head, silent as she’d demanded. The effort hurt his chest, because her teeth were back, on his shoulder this time, and she was digging in with her nails, making marks all down his sides. Gavriel couldn’t keep from pumping his hips, once, twice, and that earned him hard hands on his thighs in punishment.
“It’s too soon for that. Don’t get carried away.”
Having that growled with sharp teeth on his nape only made it harder to keep himself in check. This was everything he’d ever wanted, in his deepest, darkest dreams, and it felt like his whole body might explode. That euphoric pleasure was so alien that he fought it—and fought her—with all his strength. He managed to roll beneath her and shoved, eyes snapping resistance. It was just like that time in the sparring room; her raw physical power let her slam his hands against the floor and then she was on top of him. Shit, he’d fantasized about this, jerking himself to an agonizing orgasm, and currently, they were both naked.
Gavriel could feel the wet slide of her body against him, and it was both glorious and terrifying to know she liked this; she wanted it too. His head went fuzzy when she leaned down to kiss him, but it wasn’t the soft kissing he’d seen in others, more of a ravaging, with vicious press of mouth and invading tongue, and she used her teeth again, savaging his lower lip.
His cock jumped beneath her, pleading, demanding, and he whimpered into her lips. Hated the sound. This was terrible and glorious and—
“You can speak now,” she whispered.
“I hate this. And I hate you for making me like it. And I hate myself for wanting it.” The words came out in a furious rush, like the lancing of a wound, and his whole body eased, even as his cock got harder still.
She bit him again, almost hard enough to draw blood. “You hate this, Gavriel?”
His answer was a shuddering groan and to close his eyes, silent resistance since he couldn’t move his hands. He bucked upward, trying to unseat her or get inside her, or maybe both. Soon he was fighting in truth, not caring if he hurt her—she wouldn’t let him anyway—she was too fucking strong, and then she was straddling him, rubbing her slit back and forth across his aching cock.