Capture of a Heart

by Mya Lairis

  Chapter Four

  Watching Shoraya drift back to sleep for the fourth time, Gavenas could sense the change in her mood. The beaming, proud warrioress had become sullen and brooding. There was gratitude in her eyes when she was awake, but it was darkened by a sadness that Gavenas could only guess was self-pity. He had spoon-fed her broth with leeks and carrots, a simple but fragrant mix that her belly held down successfully. When she attempted to take both bowl and utensil into her shaky grasp, however, her grip was not so sure.

  Both fell from her fingers and would have spilled upon her lap had Gavenas not used a sudden spell of levitation.

  The bowl hovered in the air until he could take hold of it.

  “Do not rush your progress. Your strength will return,” he promised, but the tears gathering in a glossy film over her beautiful amber eyes were filled with frustration.

  Initially she had been eager for conversation. While he prepared their meals, she had inquired about his kind, how long he had lived within the forest, and what he knew of the outside world. The act of being fed didn’t improve her mood any, but eventually her spells of lamenting independence passed. She would slurp away at the spoon he proffered her, never meeting his eyes, but her cheeks shinned with gratitude all the same.

  Gavenas had begun to look forward to her wakeful moments, few and diluted as they were, but that had changed the next night when she realized just how far his care had extended.

  He kept her clean, caring for her as a mother might a babe. The bedding and the pallet’s leafy stuffing were changed as needed and accidents were taken care of. That she had awakened during one such instant seeded her decline.

  His actions had chipped away at her fierce independence and pride, necessary as they were. She had struggled to help as he ran a cleansing cloth between her thighs, but Gavenas had told her that there was no cause for shame. He did not lament the intimate tasks. His thoughts ran only to her comfort and care…at least while he was in her presence.

  That night she insisted on feeding herself. Much to Gavenas’s surprise, she managed to prop herself up and accept the bowl of mushroom broth. Her movements were slow and careful as she ladled each spoonful to her lips.

  He watched her carefully for any sign of weakness, but Shoraya’s grip was firm upon the handle of her utensil and even surer around the base of the bowl. He was aware of the warrior’s spirit, the determination for control growing within her. Still, even as he left her side pretending as if other matters needed to be tended to, cleaning, organizing around the den, he kept his attention keen upon her.

  In a matter of days, she would regain her strength, and while it was certainly something to look forward to, Gavenas did not. Five days she had been with him under his care, and Gavenas had enjoyed every second. He looked forward to preparing her meals, washing her long, muscular limbs, and clothing her… He looked forward to having someone to pamper. Of course he had his forest and all its inhabitants to care for, but it simply was not the same.

  He heard the sound of the spoon rattling in the empty bowl as she set it down upon the earthen floor. Eagerly he returned to the pallet and was surprised to find the bowl empty. He thought to ask her if she wanted more, but with a whisper of thanks, Shoraya had already slid back down on the pallet, looking ready for slumber.

  He leaned over and took the bowl with him back to the table. Behind him, he could detect the evenness of her breathing as she sank into dreams.

  With darkness showing itself through the small openings of the den’s ceiling and walls, Gavenas dreaded another night out in the open. Sleeping on the earth and beneath the stars was no struggle, but dreaming had become an issue. Shoraya may have been asleep within the den, but her presence followed him, haunting him with needs he could not suppress. Of course there were tasks that he could have busied himself with and had. Since the night of her arrival and that initial slip, he had gathered several cords of firewood, picked enough vines, vegetables, and fruits to stuff his larder. He had arranged his potions and cleaned the den several times. He had even made busy with the few animals that needed healing, but there was no task that would erase his longing to check on her, to be near her and feel her warmth.

  Gavenas ate his broth and then cleaned up his cook kettle before retiring to his table with weary bones, curious for a solution to his own affliction. His dreams were solely of her, haunting, titillating phantoms that he could fight but never defeat.

  He stole a glance at her where she slept, propped up on the cushions of the bed. She had moved back against the far side of the bed, blankets barely covering the swell of her chest. His heart jerked inside his chest as he lifted his gaze and found slanted eyes glaring back at him. He had felt sure she had been asleep, but as the flicker of firelight across her dark-brown skin displayed, she was quite awake.

  “Are you sleeping, Gavenas?”

  Not since she had arrived, but rather than admit to it, he muttered as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Eh?”

  “Are you sleeping?” she repeated, softly but direct. “I’m in your bed, and you seem to like that table, although it doesn’t seem to allow you true rest.”

  “I assure you I sleep fine, and not solely at the table.”

  “Where, then?”

  Gavenas wondered if he were drowning in the details of his lie. That Shoraya had so easily placed him on the defensive made him even more uncomfortable. He hadn’t been sleeping well since she had arrived, and the lack of the bed really had little to do with it. “Outside.”

  “You don’t have to. This bed is big enough, and, well, you’ve kept it clean and nice-smelling.”

  Gavenas caught himself before he could raise a hand to his spinning brow. The idea of sharing the bed with her had occurred to him too many times to count, and yet her offer made the numerous excuses he had come up with seem paltry. He stretched as if he weren’t ready for a long nap beside her. “I would not impose on a guest.”

  “And I hate imposing upon a host. You look so tired.”

  He turned his back to her and the very invitation of the open space that she had made for him on the bed. He shifted his gaze to the numerous piles of flowers, plants, and roots that could have been dissected, the minerals that could have been ground. He even had unfinished spices to cure, and yet there was no task he wanted to complete or needed to. “I am well.”

  “I will not harm you.”

  He gripped the edge of the table, digging his nails into the wood, and closed his eyes to recite a silent prayer. His back ached, and he regretted his stubbornness. She had mentioned causing him harm, but he knew where the true threat lay. “Rest, Deipma,” he sighed before coming to a stand. He moved to a branch of a shelf and collected his mortar and pestle. He also gathered a handful of herbs, which might be a distraction if he ground them a good deal.

  The task proved to work in passing time, but upon hearing the soft sounds of Shoraya’s snoring, Gavenas once again fell victim to contemplation.

  If he but rested upon the edge of the mattress, near her warmth and upon the soothing cushions of his bed, surely there could be no harm in that. He could control the curiosity in his blood to know her skin, to cradle her in his arms. Better than avoidance, he would show her that he was no weakling.

  As the glow from the hearth’s coals weakened, Gavenas stood to stoke them. He added another log within the pit and tended the warmth idly. That too was a chore to buy him time against the inevitable.

  When he reached the pallet, he determinedly kept his focus on the edge. He turned his back to her and sat, letting his gaze rove over the expanse of his den and the crackling specter of the fire.

  As he eased down to lie on his side, he noted the dark wood resilient under the appetite of the flames, bearing it, illuminated by it. Even as the logs cracked and bent beneath the intense heat, they were defiant. Like the myth of legendary ancestors of the Deipma standing before a legion of dragons and refusing to give up their mountains.

  He imagined S
horaya standing at the forefront with those sleek blades of hers held aloft and her chin raised high…as he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Shoraya was not an innocent in the ways and desires of males. In her mountain home, she had claimed quite a few dark coves to spirit lovers away to. She had spent many an hour learning about taste, touch, and feel. Her mother, a wary one and more keen to Shoraya’s insistent nature than her father, had made sure that Shoraya had plenty of the maiden’s clay to prevent birth the moment she reached maturity.

  Also no stranger to a male’s musculature, their sensitive spots and hardened ones, Shoraya had studied them as if they were an unknown ore, to find out their properties, their weaknesses…and their benefits. Some were beautiful, some were strong, and others rigid, but all were soft when the right techniques were applied. Just like the skin and bones of the mountain, they required the right amount of heat and molding.

  No two males were alike, and though the number might have been many, none of Shoraya’s encounters were anything other than education. Mainly hers. There was no one who stood out, because there were few who understood her nature. While women of the Deipma were encouraged to be strong, they were also required to be malleable to some extent, to fold into their mate’s will and desires.

  Such an endeavor would have been fine, if it hadn’t threatened an end to her studies. Home, hearth, and mining would have taken too much time away from her true loves.

  Still, she understood why arms were wrapped around her, a man’s firm jaw pressed against her breast, and most certainly why the hardness of Gavenas’s sex was prodding her thigh. She welcomed the faeyanin’s proximity as a salve to her weakened frame and took solace in the bars of his grip. He was asleep, but his hold was no less sure for lack of consciousness. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had intended to take her in his arms or if he had been drawn to her by some phantom in his dreams. In the end, she decided it didn’t matter.

  He had taken care of her, and if it was comfort that he needed, Shoraya was more than willing to oblige. He had witnessed her at her most vulnerable and tended—no, cared for her like none other in her memory.

  Perhaps her mother had been attentive, washing her from head to toe, covering her body in oils with gentle massaging hands. Surely her mother had spoon-fed her or daubed her lips, but Shoraya couldn’t remember. Gavenas’s attention, however, found the true vulnerability within Shoraya’s shell.

  He may have been clinging to her, but Shoraya recalled many moments when it had been she who was in need, and every time had been in his care.

  Compelled and curious, she raised a hand to thick strands of gold, green, and brown, stroking her fingers through silken locks. With each second, her wonder over the taste of his lips, just discernable treats in the dim light of the den, grew. Her interest in what his bare skin might feel like beneath the layer of his robe increased. She dared even to imagine how his sex would feel, so big and eager as it penetrated her body, and she sighed at her own imagination.

  Gavenas stirred, his hand drifting down to cup her buttocks, to bring her flush against his erection. The intimate contact was followed by an exhale and a word expelled from his lips like a sigh of relief. “Shoraya.”

  The shock of hearing her name upon his lips was a short-lived thing as he raised his head beneath her palm.

  His eyes were still closed, the pupils shifting beneath his pale lids as if enraptured by dreams…of her?

  “Shoraya,” he murmured again.

  She considered leaving him to his fantasy, but with his lips now just before her, confirmation of his desire, Shoraya was emboldened. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Her intent had been only to steal a sample of the smooth, soft contours and taste, but the flavor of his skin was addictive, warm and as sweet as honey. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, where the heat of his breath seeped through, a silent plea for more, and found her wish swiftly granted.

  Shoraya had no opportunity to withdraw or feign innocence as Gavenas canted his head and reminded her exactly what a real kiss should be!

  His lips took upon hers like a whirlwind, his tongue laying claim to the tender flesh of her mouth with firm intensity. She gasped at his possessiveness as he pressed between her lips to demand that her tongue dance and yield to him.

  While her strength was compromised, her will was bold enough to not only bear his hunger but to duel with it. Just as he moved against her, seeking to own the hot, wet depths of her mouth, she demanded his in turn. The need for breathing was cast aside just as surely as inhibitions as she felt his hand gather a fistful of her shift and yank it upward.

  Shoraya moaned into the cavern of Gavenas’s mouth at the contact of his hand upon her bare flesh and immediately desired to have the same. She took the fabric of his robe and pulled it upward, filling her palm with the smooth, taut muscle of his ass cheek.

  She lost the contact of his lips as he jolted against her, drew back from her suddenly. His eyes were wide open and pupils shimmering back at her as flashing silvery discs. Even in darkness, she could see the surprise on his face, feel his touch lighten against her.

  “You were calling my name,” she explained to him.

  He exhaled low and shaky. He was trembling all over but made no move to release her. “I, um…I did not mean… I apologize.”

  Shoraya resumed stroking his ass, memorizing dimples, clefts, and curves. “You don’t have to.”

  Gavenas dropped his chin, eyes cast downwards. He didn’t need to say a word, but the war he waged was loud. A twitch of his hips, still flush against hers, was all Shoraya really needed to hear.

  She brought her hand around to wedge between their bodies to seek out his cock. Taking his searing width into her palm, she eased her hand along the shaft, pulling the moisture from the top to the silken-haired base. “You need this,” she said, stating the obvious as he pressed forward in her grip. “You want it?”

  Gavenas leaned into her, hiding his face in the curve of her neck as he panted hotly. “I…I am not well.”

  He was feverish, yet moving harder, surer. Shoraya felt his fingers as they snaked around her hip to discover the mound of her sex. One of his incredibly soft, long fingers pressed below, beneath the hood that protected her clitoris. As he began to massage her center, Shoraya shuddered. “Neither am I.”

  His touch was a simmering burn that both soothed and aroused her. Far better than any salve or elixir, his caress repaired the parts of her that were weak not from any poison but from neglect. What Gavenas gave to her was no simple fuck in a rush to sate an itch but a precise, circling sort of bliss.

  The pad of his finger moved in time with the steady pumping of Shoraya’s fist. Her reward to him and her answer to the quickening thrust of his hips and the steady leaking from his shaft, easing the glide of her palm.

  Mutual stimulation, slow and yet firm, seemed to benefit them both as seconds turned into minutes.

  Having his body against hers, their thighs and chests touching as he echoed the same riveting jolts as her own form, was the pinnacle of magic, and although she possessed none, Shoraya was certain it was her stirring him to wild moans, hitched breaths, and smoldering heat, just as sure as she was of the tension in her inner thighs.

  She felt as if she were going to explode. She wanted to, but only when his seed erupted, hot and silken over the top of her hand and upon her belly, did Shoraya break. It was as if they were tied together.

  Shoraya had never experienced anything like the ease of being with Gavenas, nor the deep, restful sleep that she welcomed seconds after his breathing evened back into slumber.

  Chapter Six

  Gavenas hadn’t expected to feel so light and rejuvenated. The last thing he wanted was to unfurl himself from Shoraya’s arms and had spent long moments contemplating reasons why leaving the bed was even necessary. Reveling in her scent, in the warmth of her skin, feeling her breath against him were experiences he could have enjoyed until
the end of eternity.

  It was that realization that spurred him to movement, however. Inasmuch as he wanted to hold on to her, Gavenas knew he could not. He had already overstepped the boundaries of propriety. What had happened between them was no greater than therapy and no less than respite. He did not entertain fancies of wooing her to stay, and the urge for possession was a force that held no good future. But she had given him something special, and for that he was grateful.

  So he slipped out of the covers. He bathed and began breakfast with an easy conscience.

  By the time he heard her stirring, Gavenas had taken the pot from its suspension about the hearth and was bringing it to the table. He fetched two bowls and spoons from the branch hooks along the wall of the den before casting a glance her way.

  Shoraya had propped herself up on an elbow and was leveraging her frame upward, shakily but sure. Her strength was returning, not that she had required much the night before.

  By the time he placed the items upon the table, Shoraya was vertical and braced against the wall. She had even managed to cast away the blankets and swing her feet over the edge of the bed.

  Gavenas turned and froze at the sight of the long, dark legs that had been woven with his for half the night. Even in a shift, her hair coming undone in locks from the ties she had had it in, Shoraya looked stunning. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better this morning. I can even sit up. Thank you.”

  Her gratitude passed right over his head as he struggled not to give his own thanks for a night he replayed in his mind over and over again. “I…I made porridge with berries and honey,” he said. He gestured back to the table before it dawned on him that she might want help for such a nourishing meal. “Let me fix you a bowl. I’ll bring it over.”