by Aja James
Cloud sat stiffly against the wooden back of the bed he was reclining on and looked past the dragonfly girl—Aella—to see three other women in the tent behind her. They looked at him with expressions ranging from concern to relief, but the common denominator was curiosity.
While he sat there naked save for the bandages and a scrap of hide over his lap.
Unbidden, a flush rose up his neck to heat his face.
He wasn’t embarrassed by his nakedness, per se, but he was upset by the breach in decorum. He was learning how to be a proper human, after all. If he didn’t succeed, Master might extend this trial to another human lifetime, an onerous chore Cloud would dearly like to avoid.
He had plodded through twenty-two years in the mortal realm, from birth to childhood to adult. It felt like eons compared to the time he spent in the heavens, even though, in reality, it was a mere blink of the eye for an immortal.
The only time he’d truly felt alive was when he fought in battle and…
When he dueled with her.
Aella noticed his frown and accurately guessed his wishes, for she dismissed the other women from their tent, leaving the two of them alone.
She brought him a small bowl of liquid and held it to his mouth.
He sniffed cautiously. The bitter smell made his nostrils fill with acid and his eyes water. Repelled, he turned his face away.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said, her tone firm. “You need to drink this medicine to get better. If I have to hold your nostrils together to make you do it I will. Don’t test me on this, beautiful stallion.”
Cloud frowned.
He was frustrated by his inability to understand her words, but he interpreted her look of determination well enough. The lopsided tilt of her lips told him that she was also teasing him somehow.
What did she say?
Without warning, she gripped his chin, swiftly turned his face to her and smacked a loud kiss on his mouth.
He immediately jerked back, offended.
She was taking liberties with his person!
It was bad enough that he was laid out uncouthly unclothed before her, but she also touched his naked skin whenever she chose without his permission, and now she added insult to injury with loud, smacking kisses.
What sort of unorthodox, misbehaving female was this?
A low rumble of laughter bubbled from her throat as obvious mirth and enjoyment at his chagrin lit up her eyes and squeezed them into crescent moons.
“Easy there, uluki,” she said between chuckles. “I was just teasing you.”
Uluki. He knew that word. It meant pony or horse in her language.
She was calling him a horse?!
“Drink that medicine or I’ll kiss you again,” she said with a determined glint in her eyes.
She pressed the bowl to his lips again.
He tightened his jaw and glared at her.
She smiled at him sweetly and started to turn away, setting the bowl down on a stool beside the bed.
Before he could react, she pounced on him again, grabbing his head between both hands and smashing her soft mouth against his.
He commanded his arms to push her away, but he could barely lift them off the furs. He tried to turn his head, but she held him fast, and he was too weak to fight her.
But almost immediately, he didn’t want to fight her at all. For her lips felt cool and sweet against his own.
The pleasure from her touch relaxed his body without his say so, filling him with a different kind of ache. In his chest. In his belly. And farther down below his waist.
She nibbled at his lips with moist, gentle sucks, licked at his seam with her silky tongue.
Was this what human husbands did with their wives? Or the paid women unmarried men rutted with in private establishments?
It was unbelievably intimate, what she did to him and made him feel. He’d never felt anything like it in the whole of his existence.
Slowly, she pulled a few inches away from him, the hands that gripped his face now stroking idly through his unbound hair.
Yet another intimacy he’d never shared with anyone—having another see his hair loose like this, having them thread their fingers through the strands and massage his scalp.
Heavens, but it felt so good. Why had no one done this to him before? He could get addicted to the feeling.
“Drink your medicine or I’ll have no mercy,” she murmured softly, her eyes darkened to a blue so deep it reminded him of star-filled skies on a summer night.
She was coaxing him, he knew. She was still trying to shove the bitter brew down his throat.
But she was going about it the wrong way. If this was what he got for refusing to drink it, then he might keep refusing until both their mouths were bruised and swollen from kisses and licks and sucks and nibbles.
His groin tightened further at the thought.
He recalled the way she’d taken him when they first met. She’d thrust her tongue inside his mouth and lured his into hers. Perhaps she’d do that again.
Perhaps he wanted her to.
Such strange feelings she made him feel.
He felt a connection to her that he’d never felt with anyone, not even his family and friends at the Celestial Palace. Not his siblings and his playmates. Not his human comrades nor the household of his birth.
She made him feel…
Attached.
Like there was an invisible tether between them. It grew stronger every time they touched, every time he looked into her eyes. He didn’t know if he could break it. He didn’t know if he wanted to.
It felt like the most natural thing to do to stay with her. For the rest of his life, if possible.
Forever.
With a frown, he pulled back.
She searched his eyes for answers when she noticed his mood change.
He didn’t have them. He only had questions himself.
With a sigh, she held the bowl to his lips again.
This time, he dutifully drank the bitter medicine.
He trusted her not to poison him, but he didn’t trust himself not to beg for more of her kisses.
*** *** *** ***
Three days later, Cloud was well enough to stand and move about.
Or so he thought.
“You stubborn bull calf!” Aella exclaimed when he staggered off balance just as she came into the yurt.
She rushed over to his side and put her weight under his shoulder, slinging his arm around her and prevented him just barely from falling on his face.
“I can’t leave you alone for a second,” she grouched on, “The last time you fell you reopened several wounds.”
She continued grumbling as she helped him to a nearby chair just as Cloud’s still weak knees chose that moment to give out.
He was starting to understand more words. Unbeknownst to Aella, he’d been learning some phrases in her language from the Amazon healer, a wizened old woman who came to see him several times a day at first. But now that he was on the mend, she visited more infrequently.
Each time, she stayed as long as he wanted, chatting with him in her broken Han Chinese and teaching him a few words in her own language. Her kind smiles and patient forbearance reminded him of his Celestial Master, and her ability to speak to him in his own language made him feel especially fond of her.
He knew, for example, that Aella had called him a “bull calf.” She often called him animal names, like bull, stag, buck. But the animal she called him the most was horse.
Stallion, pony, stud.
She used different terms depending on her mood. She called him “pony” interchangeably with “baby” for when she wanted to coax him into doing something he was resistant to. She called him “stallion” when she looked at him with a particular heat in her eyes, as if she thought his person a feast, and she was a staving beggar panting for just one morsel.
She called him “stud” when she took what she wanted, which she did quite often, with no objections fro
m him. She’d whisper the term in his ear as she smoothed her hand down his chest and stomach, or against his mouth just before she devoured him.
The healer assured Cloud that horse names were their people’s way of endearment, for nothing mattered more to an Amazon warrior than her steed. For those Amazons who never had daughters, their horse was the most important partner in their lives.
Cloud knew Aella used the terms as endearments even without the healer telling him so. He could hear it in her tone of voice, see it in her wicked smile, and the admiration and affection in her eyes.
She was checking his bandages now, as he sat before her in the chair. A basin of fresh water and a cloth rag occupied the short stool beside them. She was planning to clean him again.
Cloud put his hand over hers to still her movements.
“What is it, gorgeous? It’s time to change your dressing.”
Yet another term she used often with him.
Gorgeous.
Along with beautiful, handsome, and delicious.
He knew what they meant now. She liked the way he looked and tasted. She often looked at him and tasted him.
Sometimes, when he awoke from a light nap, he’d find her sitting beside his bed, her chin propped in her hand, just staring at him contentedly. There was always heat in her eyes when she looked at him, but there was also obvious affection.
She liked him.
And then, more often than not, after she’d looked her fill of him, she’d lean in to taste him and feel his body beneath her hands. She’d touched him everywhere except where he ached the most.
He’d let her look her fill there too, no longer uncomfortable with his nudity around her, despite the rules of decorum drilled into his human consciousness by Han society. It seemed natural somehow, much more natural than covering himself with requisite layers of clothing as his culture dictated in mixed company.
She wasn’t just any company.
She was Aella. His beautiful whirlwind.
She’d stare at his groin until he grew hard and thick and long, his cock curving beyond his navel, throbbing for her touch.
She’d lick her lips and he’d weep moisture from his slit, the clear fluid leaking down the hot column of his sex until he was slick with his own essence.
And then, she’d kiss him hard and touch him all over, but never there where he burned for her the most.
Heavens! He’d never felt this way before.
It hurt.
There, in the core of him. In the most private parts of him that declared him a male.
Though he’d never done it before, he knew what it meant. He wanted to rut with her. He wanted to fill her to the brim with that part of him, release his cream into her over and over again.
But she never touched him there.
Were kisses and touches all she wanted from him then? She wasn’t the sort of woman to deny herself anything if she wanted it, and she stared at his manhood always with unabashed lust.
Then why didn’t she take him?
He shook his head of his thoughts, as well as to her question. He tried to stand again, and she cursed beneath her breath.
He ignored her grumbles and pointed to the tent flap.
He wanted to go outside and wash in the nearby lake. It was so close, he could hear the water lapping sometimes when the wind was strong.
He loved water. Being near it, submerged inside it, always strengthened him, even in this human form.
After grumbling some more, she threw a large cloak over his naked body, gathered a few things in a cloth bag, and set her mouth in a firm line, determined to help him get to where he wanted to go.
With each step he took, his body felt both tired and energized, his muscles remembering their purpose, gaining more confidence and strength as he walked on.
It was nighttime already, and the evening was cool but not cold. Heat from a passing summer still lingered in the steppes. There were very few people about. Most were gathered around a camp fire, sharing roasted meat, vegetable roots and fresh berries. Laughter could be heard in small clusters beside individuals’ yurts.
The Amazons, similar to other Scythians Cloud encountered, liked to smoke cannabis, and used the hemp to make clothes too. The upper class in his culture did it also, smoked the substance through long, thin pipes. Apparently, the smoke provided great inspiration for poets, artists and musicians to produce their best work.
As a warrior, Cloud never took to it. He never imbibed either. He wanted always to be in control of his mind and body, just as his Master taught him.
There was only one thing in the world, across heaven and earth, that tempted him to loosen the tight reins of his control.
One person.
By the time they got to the edge of the lake, Cloud was covered from head to toe with sweat. His muscles shook from the exertion, and he was just one step away from collapse.
But it felt good to breathe the fresh outdoor air, made even fresher by a gentle breeze across the lake.
He shed the cloak on the grassy bank and waded slowly into the water.
“Easy there, big guy,” Aella huffed beside him. “If you fall before you get in, I don’t think I can move you another inch. You’re a lot heavier than you look.”
He didn’t know what she said, but she didn’t stop him from finally plunging beneath the water, submerging himself fully, bandages and all. When he came up for air, he arched his head back and smoothed his long hair from his face.
He breathed deeply and slowly, letting the water help carry his weight. He could move without assistance again. It felt so good to stand on his own.
The attack on his caravan had been a veritable massacre. He’d never faced such odds before—not as a frail human. At least the caretaker escaped with the Master’s son. He might have died trying to protect the boy, but he hadn’t failed.
The reminder of his mortality had been a rude awakening, however. For the first time, Cloud faced the truth about being human: life was short, and a full span into old age was not guaranteed.
This realization roused something foreign within him. Finally, he felt what it meant to be alive.
As opposed to very much dead.
But more than his brush with death, it was Aella who made him feel. Made him realize that life was worth living after all.
His golden Whirlwind sat on a rock at the edge of the lake and simply watched him with a soft smile.
He crooked his fingers at her, gesturing for her to join him.
She shook her head.
“I’ve already had my bath earlier. And that water is much cooler than it was during the day. I’m perfectly fine right here, thank you very much. But you go ahead. Enjoy yourself. I love watching you.”
He cocked his head at her and waited, but she simply waved her hand at him to get on with it. So he dove under the water again and swam a bit, taking easy strokes to loosen up his lethargic limbs.
When he’d had his fill, he swam back and stepped onto the shore.
She was there waiting for him with the cloak. She covered his wet body with the thick folds and rubbed his hair with the large attached hood.
He was exhausted but he stood still, locking his knees. It had been many days since he was vertically upright on his own steam. He took this time to enjoy the view from his superior height as Aella efficiently rubbed him dry.
Her long, wavy hair was pulled back in a thick braid that wove in an intricate pattern from smaller braids at her temple and on the top of her head. It looked so soft and silky, her golden locks. He reached out and wound a loosened curl around his finger, rubbing the texture of it into his skin.
She smiled at his actions but didn’t look up, continuing to pat him dry. When she was done, she led him to the rock she’d sat on when she watched him swim. She opened the cloth bag she brought and took out a large wad of bandages. Methodically, she began to wind the material over the healing cuts on his hands and forearms until it looked like he was wearing long-sleeved glove
s. Only his fingers and thumbs were bare.
“How did you get these wounds, warrior?” she asked softly as she worked. “It looks like someone had tried to cut your hands away from something you were gripping hard.”
She massaged his bandaged palms with her thumbs as she spoke.
“At least I know how you got these open blisters. Firing hundreds of arrows in the short time you had to defend yourself would do that. I have never met an archer as skilled as you.”
She looked up at him then, and gazed seriously into his eyes.
“I have never met anyone like you before. But isn’t it strange? I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
She brought the palm she was still holding to her mouth and pressed a kiss in the center.
“I feel like I’ve wanted you forever.”
Cloud searched her eyes closely.
He wished he knew what she said. Something had shifted in the air between them. He could feel her burgeoning desire for him, but there was a solemnity in her gaze and in her voice that hadn’t been there before.
She always touched him with unapologetic desire, but there had always been lightness and teasing in her caresses. Now, he saw the promise of something more in her eyes.
She wanted him.
Not just his body. Not just to play.
She wanted him.
He shifted his palm until it cupped her face, and raised his other hand until it rested lightly over her heart.
She didn’t even wink or smirk at him for essentially palming her breast, a liberty only a man took with his wife in his culture. It was as if she knew his touch wasn’t sexual, though it was that too.
He wanted to feel the connection they shared, through the heat of her soft skin beneath his palm, and the beat of her strong, steady heart.
This time, she stayed still while he leaned slowly down, lowering his head until their noses touched.
And then it was their mouths, as he lightly rested his lips over hers.
Her heart beat faster beneath his hand still on her chest; her pulse skittered erratically beneath his thumb.
She was holding her breath as she waited for him. This time, she wanted him to take the initiative.
So, with a low surrendering groan, he did.