by Mya Lairis
Her gaze drifted over him, lingering at his slick, jutting sex. She opened her arms to him. “Then hurry,” was her command.
Obediently, he leaned forward. As he helped her out of her gown, he attempted to buy himself time to calm the panicked beating of his heart, to slow the staggering flow of his pulse by some measure, and yet as he lay partially atop her, the heat of her skin, brief glimpses of their contrasting skin tones—ivory against red-hued brown—taunted him further. Just feeling his naked cock against her thigh caused his balls to ache with the need for release.
Gavenas leaned his head against her chest, distracted and praying for a moment more of gluttony. He sought out her breast, attempted to get his lips upon the hardened peak of a nipple, but her fingers tugging upon his locks prevented him from his intent.
She slid her other hand over his back and grabbed his ass, squeezing firmly. “Gavenas. If you continue to toy with me, you— No, you will be punished. Faeyanin or no. The second you spend yourself within me, and you will, I will suck you until the very idea of walking causes you to faint.”
Gavenas understood her words, and despite the threat of embarrassment that he felt sure would come, he moved to cover her lips with his own and to do her bidding. As his tongue slid against hers, he wedged a hand between them and gripped his cock, guiding it between her silken folds where it so longed to be.
His kiss was a wild, desperate thing made all the more crazed as he was engulfed by her soft yet steel walls. He was no virgin, but within Shoraya’s body, he might as well have been. Unable to recall when he had ever experienced an embrace so hot, so wet, and so tight, Gavenas was sure that every nerve in his body had lit up. So this is what it must feel like to stand against a dragon’s flame, was his only thought as he lost all control of his body.
Somewhere in the back of his mind and surely in the countless daydreams he had nurtured imagining his first time with her, Gavenas had considered slow, masterful lovemaking.
His body, however, would allow nothing leisurely as he began to thrust hard, deep and greedily. That she rose to meet every downward press with her own upward push only brought him closer to unraveling.
He lasted longer than he’d thought he might but nowhere near as long as he wished, and yet there was no shame to be had in that glorious moment when he finally broke, exploding with jet after jet of his essence as she too cried his name in completion.
Long moments after both of them had managed to achieve some normalcy of pulse, Gavenas was shocked to discover that she had meant every word of her former threat, despite his insistence that they actually needed to address their forgotten dinner.
Meat and vegetables would suffice for breakfast or a late lunch, he resolved, as all thoughts of leaving the bed, of standing, dissolved with the press of her kiss upon his belly.
Chapter Nine
Shoraya had never been the type to enjoy lingering in bed, but then she had never had such a good reason to. Gavenas woke first but left the comfort of her side only long enough to reheat the meal from the night before and to bring it to the bedside. She ate her breakfast from his fingers and he from hers along with a few sips of wine before the ease between them gave way to yet another round of lovemaking.
Leaving the comfort of the bed didn’t seem to occur to either of them as noon came and went. Even then, it was not a decision made by her. It was the howling calls of canines that stirred Gavenas from her hold and caused him to groan.
She freed him to his summons, watching him take to the indoor spring for a swift cloth bath before donning his robes. He explained before leaving that he would not be long and that they only sought a mediator for a pack dispute. He even bade her rest and await his return, but no sooner had he passed through the curtain of the tent than Shoraya was gently easing out of bed.
Although her limbs felt like heavy logs, she pushed through her exhaustion to clean herself and tidy the den. All the while, she mused on her situation. Being with Gavenas was so easy, felt so right, despite his effortless shifts from careful submissive to hungry dominant. Shoraya tried to remind herself that she was a guest—an indebted one at that—but touching his things, organizing the stones that still remained near the hearth where she had left them, was a comfort, not unlike blade dancing. Clearing the table and washing the plates and utensils, even folding blankets, eased almost every worry about propriety that emerged within her.
Almost.
She had never really cared for domestic chores, and that she so readily wanted to make the den nice for Gavenas’s return worried her. Her life was that of the traveler, the journey of the student. Learning from nature and perfecting the art of the blades was her passion, or so she had been so certain. It was with that question that she sought underneath the pallet and withdrew her sheathed blades.
She sat down and placed them across her lap. Aurra and Belon. She admired her swords’ lengths and their weight, the designs of dragons and the caricatures of mountain ranges coiling around the sheaths and the leather wrapped around the handles. She pulled one blade, Aurra, the lighter of the blades, partly out of its protective covering to view the glint of its steel. She sighed at the shimmering sight of the metal: sure, sharp, and as dependable as the mountain vein that it was mined from. With steel there were no doubts and certainly no worries. There could not be. The very basics of the sword required a clear head and surety, two things that Shoraya found herself deeply in need of.
She replaced the blade in its holster and brought them both with her out of the den. Although the high sun had issue piercing the thick overhead canopy of the forest, there was still plenty of illumination for her to see the path of the spring flowing outside of Gavenas’s home. She followed it, led by the sound of flowing water, to the shores of a serene, broad lake with blue-green waters. There was a small family of water voles on the far edge and several birds taking drinks and swimming upon the surface but none of the bigger predators that she knew a forest could contain, at least none that she could see. She considered the noises made by insects and amphibians around the lake, loud yet harmonious enough for her to draw inspiration from. She committed to her decision then.
The lakeside would be the perfect place for her to return to her studies.
Shoraya drew her blades free of their sheaths and stretched her arms out long and wide to remind her muscles of the metals’ weights. She held them out for a count of ten breaths, then back and behind her with her shoulder blades pressed together. Running through a series of stamina poses, she felt the trembling of her frame from the lack of exercise but did not allow it to discourage her. Strength would eventually return, but only with practice. Calm, however, returned more quickly.
After her stretches came her forms. The whirlwind was first, a forward twirling of the blades that required precision movements of the wrists and steady arms. She slipped up several times, ruining the fluid swirling arcs, but remained resolved to complete a count of twenty at least.
By the time that she attained her goal, she was pouring with sweat and aching, but she felt good. Exhilarated with her final success, she immediately went into the “basilisk’s strike” form, one of the styles that required quick leg movements and targeted thrusts with the added intimidation of being able to toss her swords between opposing hands in between movements.
She managed several minutes of the practice, taking out imaginary opponents by sheer will and adrenaline alone, but one advantageous step forward caused her to falter, sending one of her blades from her grasp to clatter upon the rocks before her.
Panting heavily, she paused to gaze at the sword some ten feet away. She needed to catch her breath, grab a drink of water…collapse.
“You should take care not to tire yourself out.”
Shoraya spun back to gaze over her shoulder and discovered Gavenas leaning on the trunk of a tree with his arms crossed. How long had he been watching her? She didn’t know, but his presence was like receiving her own personal ray of sunshine, warm and nourishing.
She shook her head, trying to pretend as if she wasn’t ready to fall to her knees from exhaustion. Starting off to retrieve her fallen blade, she muttered, “Why? Planning on ravishing me again tonight, huh?”
“I think you gave as good as you received if I did good.”
She walked over to her sword and crouched down on wobbly legs. Shoraya grasped hold of the blade’s handle. She fully intended on rising but wasn’t surprised when her ass met with the pebbly ground. “You did. Very.”
Gravel shifting under boot-covered feet announced Gavenas’s approach before her. He withdrew a leather drinking skin from one of the many folds of his robe and offered it to her. “Taking a break?”
“Yeah. I think I should.” Grateful for the offering, she took the pouch and pulled the cork from it. By scent alone she could tell that it was no ordinary lake water but the enchanted, filtered stuff that he kept around the den. The liquid was both refreshing to the tongue and to the body as she drank heartily, easily finishing off half the contents of the skin.
She felt his fingers in her hair, twirling an unruly, loose curl, and turned to find him wincing. Imagining the tangled, wooly mess of tresses that were usually kept twisted as plaits and neatly bound, Shoraya shrugged. The very idea of working with her hair was an impossibility with how she felt. “What? Oh, you want to help me with this mess you made?” She didn’t think he would be up to the task.
Gavenas, however, reached out a hand with fingers splayed wide. A boulder rose up into the air from some thirty feet away and drifted toward her to settle in just behind her back. Ruffling his robe as if he hadn’t just performed a wondrous act, Gavenas sat down, straddling Shoraya’s back with his knees.
“Would you mind? It is the least I can do.”
That Gavenas used magic as casually as she could draw her blades brought a grin to her face. “No. Please help.”
He hummed an acceptance, even as he set to work releasing what few stays and metal clasps there were remaining in her tresses.
Shoraya placed her swords down to the side and relaxed against his thighs. Although at first she couldn’t help wondering if her unkempt tresses were unattractive to Gavenas, she soon realized that his offer was just as much for his pleasure as it was for her grooming.
She leaned her head back as he carefully began to unravel the coils and twists of her thick hair. His fingers were nimble and the pressure behind them was gentle, despite the curls and knots she knew he was encountering. “You have done so much for me, Gavenas. I am in your debt.”
“No, Shoraya. You are free. You are no more in my debt than a bird with a broken wing. You owe me nothing but the pleasure of watching you fly.”
While she understood the beauty of his metaphor, she couldn’t help the urge to wish that he admitted to more, to a hint of something possessive. The notion was certainly stirring in her, despite attempts to tamp it down. “I roam.”
“Okay. Roam. If I may ask to where you intend to roam, when you are well?”
Looking out at the lake, she recalled her original plan. “South. I have always wanted to see the Pusharak desert; I hear that there are great scorpions that dance, large worms that ride through the sands like water, and plants that walk. They say it is a wondrous place full of beauty and magic.” Not unlike Gavenas’s forest, she thought with a bittersweet sigh.
He finished unfurling one side of her hair and began on the other before he replied. “It is all true. There are dunes as tall as mountains and a variety of uniquely adapted creatures. There are also many dangers. However, I shall outfit you well for your journey. Enchantments, spells, antitoxins…”
“You’ve been?” She attempted to turn around, but he gently corrected her with his knees.
“I have seen the desert,” he said.
She noted he didn’t exactly answer her question. “Is that some mystical faeyanin term? Like you’ve seen it but never been?”
“You could say that.”
She wondered why, resisting the urge to turn again. She detected something in his tone but couldn’t tell if it was sadness or nonchalance. “Are you bound to this forest, Gavenas?”
He worked free the last of her strands and began to comb through her tresses with his fingertips. “I am in a way. It is my home, and I am its guardian.”
Shoraya mulled over his admission, and while she had never felt as loyal to the place that she considered her home, she understood the responsibility that Gavenas mentioned, even if just in the several visitors she had witnessed him receive. It was so easy to think of a life spent full of marvelous, wild friends, not just studying but becoming one, an expert in an environ, for surely Gavenas was. She had never considered mastery, only tutelage, but just being around the faeyanin stirred her interest.
She felt a drizzle of a silken, creamy substance with a hint of grit penetrating to her scalp. The elixir smelled of mint and tingled. Sure that he had retrieved the vial from one of the many pouches in his robes, Shoraya closed her eyes and praised Gavenas for his potion. The cleansing salve felt heavenly, ridding her roots of all the oil and sweat that had accumulated. Using the tips of his fingers, Gavenas began a massage that had her quivering. “What’s that?”
“A cleansing potion. It’s very light. Do you like it?”
She did, but she liked his fingers on her scalp, on her body, even more. She had never been one to believe in luck. Her encounters with not one but several contingents of warriors and her poisoning had been proof enough, but meeting someone as remarkable as Gavenas was too good to be true. Surely there was something fate had not revealed to her, some flaw that she was missing about him. Perhaps she hadn’t been the first female he had encountered. Maybe he had had many.
The thought was sour in her head, but she couldn’t shake the notion of Gavenas’s fingers in some other female’s tresses. She tried to soothe her mind by watching the wind make ripples over the lake, eyeing tiny fish as they rose to the surface to snap up insects that dared fly too close, but jealousy wasn’t an emotion she had ever known how to deal with, had never wanted to before. “Do you have many visitors?”
“I have plenty neighbors.”
Again with the roundabout replies… It was as if he was loosely trying to evade her questions, begging her to be more direct. “I didn’t ask about neighbors, Gavenas. Villagers surely pass through, people?”
He had begun to section her hair down the middle. “Yes. But they stay on the paths. This wood is enchanted, and they know it. They fear it.”
It was an answer. It was not the one she wanted, but then she doubted that he would admit to allowing a throng of nubile young women through his forest anyway. Sulking, she gave up on her plot to discern his carnal habits. It wasn’t as if he belonged to her solely. She had to be mad to even consider it, and yet she did. “Well. I’m not afraid. What if I wanted to visit you?” she asked as his fingers established a tight grip on the roots of her hair.
“You are welcome anytime you wish to come, Shoraya. Just as you may stay as long as you wish. It is exceedingly rare that I have visitors.” Beginning the first of what would be several twists, Gavenas paused. He leaned down close enough to warm her cheek with his breath. “And I do so enjoy having your company.”
Shoraya smiled, giddy at his confession. She imagined returning to him in spring or summer, regaling him with tales of her trip and with gifts from her journeys…finding her way back into his bed after being on the road. “I will remember that.”
“Please do. Now be still so that I may finish my work.” He kissed her on the cheek and drew back, resuming the twisting of her hair.
She did as commanded, studying the lake even as the sun began its descent in a burning sky. There was much she could learn from in Gavenas’s forest, from the large carnivorous beasts that gave them a wide berth as they came to and from the water’s edge. Listening to the song of the night, filled with mating calls, Shoraya sat between Gavenas’s legs, moving only when he urged her and yet impatient
for him to be done. He seemed to take so much pleasure in tending to her that she longed for the opportunity to take care of him.
Her only curiosity was how…outside of worshiping every inch of his body with her tongue.
Chapter Ten
A routine had formed for Gavenas, and it wasn’t one that allowed for much sustenance. Not that the draught of sweat, the suckling of flesh, and the greedy intake of air was not sufficient to motivate him, but he was beginning to feel the exhaustion of limited meals. For many days as well as nights, he subsisted only upon desire. Sometimes it only took a glance; others it required but a brush of skin and his hunger for Shoraya surged.
He did not forgo his obligations. When one of his forest companions arrived in front of his den, he went out to help them. He still went out to forage, to place his blessings upon the great trees, the waters, and the springs, but he did not linger. He returned to the lake where Shoraya had taken to her sword practice or back to his den, where she rested with eagerness demanded by his blood and the beat of his heart.
Thoughts of her inevitable departure had ceased to plague him, as the pattern of finding her so receptive and eager for his touch burned away all of his fear to be replaced with the bliss of being able to take shelter between her thighs.
Whereas before she had gotten well, he had had plenty of time to ponder their nutrition and prepare rich meals; now that she was well, he barely had enough forethought to arrange meals complete with nutritious components.
He imagined that Shoraya must have come to the same conclusion as he while walking back to the den that night. He could smell the hearty fragrance of meat wafting from the vent openings in his home, root vegetables cooking in a steamy broth, and his stomach lurched excitedly.
He brushed aside the curtain and stepped inside to discover Shoraya seated beside the hearth. Her head was down with her chin resting upon her chest. She was leaning slightly forward. A stirring spoon lay across her thighs, upon her open palm, and she seemed to be asleep, but as Gavenas took a step toward her, she sat up to stare at him with wild, dilated pupils.