Touch of Fire

by J. E. Taylor

I recoiled. The thought of earthly magic sickened me, especially from this goon.

  Galahad knelt next to me and took my hand. “Merlin will not harm you.”

  I wanted to laugh, but the sincerity in his eyes kept me quiet. I nodded assent. Merlin slid to the side of the cot and placed his hand inches from the gashes. His heat pulsed over my skin, raking impurity over my body; it made my skin crawl.

  Merlin muttered a healing spell in Gaelic and waved his hand over the length of my torso. Heat prickled my skin and a maddening itch formed. I squirmed under the sensation; I wanted to rake my back against a pole like a scratching dog until it went away. I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped Galahad’s hand harder.

  The shuffle of feet brought my eyelids open and I gazed up at the witch. He offered a tilt of his lips in what I could only assume was a smile. With a nod, he retrieved his cloak and slipped out the door without a word.

  Galahad ran his hands over the now unbroken skin. He traced marks I couldn’t see and then brought his eyes to mine. “The bleeding has stopped.”

  I nodded.

  “Merlin is a powerful wizard.”

  I couldn’t argue with him. My pain had diminished but what replaced it was just as undesirable. An insane tingle gripped my back and it required the type of scratching that broke skin and left bloody welts. I didn’t want to burst his reverie, so I smiled, shifting a little under his hand.

  “Would you like to see?”

  I blinked several times, not understanding the question. “See what?”

  He stood and returned with a silver looking glass so I could see the reflection of my back. I gasped. Embedded in colorful glory was a tattoo of my former wings covering the top half of my back; the tips of the wings ended in shimmering gold lining the edge of my shoulders. The beautiful mark covered my scars and incorporated them into the ornate design.

  My hand fluttered to my mouth and I ripped my gaze from the looking glass to his eyes. He smiled, mesmerized by the design, and then lowered the mirror. “It’s as beautiful as you are.”

  I sat up on the cot, flexing my shoulder blades against the itch. How could I tell him it was a mark of disgrace meant as a warning to steer clear? The tattoo signaled my damnation. “Sir—”

  He stopped the words with a kiss. He lifted me to my feet and pulled me away from the sick bed. I broke free of his lips and stepped away from him, turning back to the place I woke. My eyes widened at the crimson sheets and the droplets of blood that stained the floor; even the water in the bucket was tinged red. I snapped my gaze to his, understanding the awe in his eyes.

  I pointed to the soiled cloth and he nodded.

  “If Merlin had not come...” He trailed off, offering a shrug instead. He led me to a separate room, one that contained several buckets of water and clean cloths. He stood me in the center over a fine grate and washed the blood from my body and hair until I glistened.

  I closed my eyes, sighing at his gentle touch, so different than the feral heat in the woods, but still it stirred my need. As if reading my mind, Galahad tossed the dirty rag away and stepped closer. His lips ran over my emblem and his hands cupped my wet breasts.

  “Sofie,” he whispered, shortening my name and nibbling my earlobe. His fingers traced slow rings down my belly until they reached my pubic nest. Parting the fine hairs, he circled my clit and my body responded.

  My nipples hardened and my breath quickened; he chuckled. His teeth raked the skin of my throat before he bit down and teased and sucked the tender skin.

  I closed my eyes, lost in the feel of him pressing against my back and his hands playing my body like a fine musician. I wrapped my arm around his neck and met his hungry lips with my own.

  The heat between us steamed the room and we dropped onto our knees. With my legs spread wide, his hand still plucked away and plunged into the depth of my wetness with bravado. His kisses lined my neck and shoulders and his hand squeezed my breast; he rolled the nub of my nipple with his thumb and forefinger. A concert of sensations bowed through me. I arched and moaned with pleasure; I came for my prince as his fingers tempted the wet rush further.

  He pushed me forward and I landed on my hands, panting and writhing with the rhythm of his fingers. Desire swept me away and when my body shuddered with another deep orgasm, his hard cock breached the circle of my anus. He plunged into the depth of my bowels and brought forth a cry of passion so loud it almost sounded like a howl.

  “Oh. My. God.” Each word was accentuated with a thrust; his hand still alternated between playing with my clit and plunging into my pussy. He fondled my breast and clamped his mouth on the base of my neck.

  We moved in sync, grinding our hips and whispering promises of a lifetime of pleasure. I lost count how many times I came, but each wave brought a rush of wetness until his drenched hand clamped down and he rode his own orgasm. My name escaped from his lips and his semen flooded my bowels.

  He sat back on his heels and pulled me with him in a great bear hug until his rasping breath subsided. “I believe I’m in love with a fallen angel,” he whispered more to himself than to me.

  His words made my heart soar, for I knew the moment I saw him on his steed that I indeed was in love with him.

  I WALKED INTO THE MAIN room of the house in the dress he laid out for me. The silken fabric caressed my skin and flowed around me like a band of clouds. Galahad looked up from the scroll of parchment in his hands and inhaled.

  “Wow.” His gaze scanned me from head to toe and a smile formed on his lips. “Sofie, you put Lady Guinevere to shame.”

  I rolled my eyes at him and my stomach clenched. The most awful growling came from my belly and I pressed my hand to my abdomen. Panic laced my thoughts and a metallic tinge tainted my mouth.

  His smile faded. “What’s wrong?” He dropped the letter on the table. The beast within me growled again. He looked at my hand and then back to my eyes and laughed. “Sounds like you’re hungry.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Now that you’re human, you need to eat.” He led me to the table and pulled the chair out, signaling for me to sit. He returned a moment later with a plate full of breads, cheeses, and grapes.

  I looked at the delectable feast before me and licked my lips. I reached for the sweet smelling bread and smiled my appreciation.

  He took the seat opposite me and bit his lower lip as he picked up the parchment. His gaze traveled between the written words and my face. He drew a great breath, the force of it swelling his chest, and I knew it was bad news.

  “I must leave.”

  I dropped my busy hands to the table, the bread forgotten as I stared into his mesmerizing eyes. The force of his words sucked the air from my lungs.

  “I’ve been given a new territory to explore.” He waved the paper. “King Arthur thinks the grail is here.”

  I snatched the paper from him and scanned the letters, none of which made sense, but the map—the map was very familiar. Without tilting my chin, I raised my eyes to his. I knew where the grail resided. I also knew the dangers set for the unworthy and the map burned into the parchment was not accurate. It would lead to my love’s painful death.

  “The grail is not there.” I dropped the parchment and popped a grape into my mouth. “Your king leads you to your death.” I pointed my chin in disdain.

  “I must follow his orders.” Galahad stood. His jaw tensed and his eyes revealed the stubborn fire keeping him alive and thriving.

  I put down the string of grapes and stood. “Then I go with you.”

  Eyebrows arched and he stepped back and laughed.

  I could see the argument building behind his bright blue eyes and I circled around the table to stand before him. “I can lead you to the grail.”

  His laughter died in his throat and the incredulous expression altered. His eyebrows furrowed together and his supple lips parted but speech didn’t come. I stepped closer and he searched my eyes, until his brow smoothed.

  “You know where the cup of
life is?”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Yes. All the angels know.”

  His hand cupped my cheek. “Sweet Sofie, tell me where it is.”

  “I can’t tell you where it is. But I will show you.”

  “There are many dangers in the forest...”

  I smiled and put my fingers to his lips to shut the flow of words. “The only danger I see is for you. I may be trapped in human form, but that does not mean I am human. I can’t die.”

  His eyes traveled to the corner where the sick-bed had been and then back to mine, begging to differ.

  “I can suffer, but I can’t die.” My clarification brought a pained look to his eyes.

  “Sofie...” He ran his thumb across my lips.

  “If you must go on this quest, I will make sure you live through the perils. Many traps await he who covets the grail.”

  His smile softened. “I do not covet the grail, fair angel. I wish to protect it from those who would pirate its power.”

  “I know.” And that’s why you’ll be successful where others have failed. “Only the righteous can find the grail.”

  “Well then, this ought to be a wild goose chase.” The dimples I loved appeared in his cheeks.

  “You doubt you’re worthy?”

  He kissed me. “I yanked you from the heavens, so yes, I doubt I am worthy.” He exhaled. “But if I am riding to my death, I sure as hell don’t want to waste a moment without you.”

  I STOOD AT THE DOORWAY to the bedroom and watched Galahad slip the chain mail over his head. The metal settled on his chest and he smoothed it before he slipped on his breast and back plate. His family crest almost glowed on the front of his finely polished iron. With Excalibur secured at his waist, he turned toward me.

  He was a vision in full garb. He strolled toward me; my heart fluttered and my cheeks flushed with heat.

  He paused in front of me. “Why, Sofie, you’re blushing.”

  Mischief laced his gaze; I smiled and dropped my eyes to the ground. His finger guided my chin back up until my eyes met his. “Are you getting shy on me?”

  Whether I wanted to admit it or not, Galahad in his armor was an intimidating force and I indeed shied away. My insides quivered from the fear-lined lust and I shrugged. If he had been decked out in his armor, I might have stayed my course; instead, he wore casual clothing, riding with only Excalibur to protect him. The loose fitting shirt showed off the line of his neck and the breadth of his chest and seduced me.

  He chuckled and slapped my ass with his gloves. “Come on, Lady Sofiel, let’s ride.”

  I followed him to the stable and his beautiful steed. The horse whinnied and threw his head at the sight of me.

  “Calm now, Shadow,” Galahad cooed. He stroked the stallion’s mane. “Sofie will be riding with us.”

  Shadow’s gaze held mine and he stepped forward. He rubbed his muzzle against my cheek and almost knocked me to the ground. The musty odor of the animal intrigued me, and I rubbed the patch between his eyes with my fingernails. I swear he smiled at me and then Galahad fit the bit into the horse’s mouth.

  Once the saddle was fitted and tightened, Galahad turned and offered me his hand. “My lady.”

  I stepped closer and he hoisted me up on the saddle. Uncomfortable in the precarious position I was in, I hiked my dress up and swung a leg over to straddle the horse and feel much more secure. He raised a single eyebrow in my direction.

  “What?”

  He shook his head and attached his helmet to the roll on the back of the saddle.

  “What?” I repeated.

  “That’s not exactly the way a lady rides.” He slid his foot in the stirrup and swung behind me and reached under my arms for the reins. With a click of his tongue the horse set off at a slow trot.

  “How exactly should a lady ride?” I twisted to see his beautiful eyes. They dropped to my exposed thighs and rose to the path winding into the woods.

  “To the side, the way I set you on the saddle.”

  I gawked at him. “But that was so uncomfortable.”

  A wisp of a smile appeared, and his eyes dropped again. “It may be uncomfortable for you, but having your legs showing like that is a bit distracting.”

  One of his hands dropped from the reins and lay on my skin; warmth radiated from the origin and spread into the space between my legs.

  “Especially since I know you lack undergarments.” His hand slid under the folds of my skirt; he found the silken skin of my vulva, parted it and slid his finger inside my moist pussy.

  “You are insatiable.”

  He chuckled. “I saved it all for you, dear angel. My sexual appetite didn’t awaken until you appeared, so perhaps I’m just making up for lost time.” He kissed my cheek. “And what of you? Your hunger matches mine.”

  I lay my head back against his chest as his hand turned my insides to molten lava; my thoughts jumbled in the wake of his sweet strokes.

  “What of you, angel?” His breath tickled my ear and he grasped it with his teeth, nibbling and making me squirm and giggle in the saddle. His hand continued the slow, sweet fondling.

  “What of me?”

  “How many men have you bedded in your travels?” He kissed my temple.

  “Just you.”

  His hand paused at my answer and he leaned a little to the side to see my face. I turned to his wide, shocked eyes.

  “I fell from grace, for you.”

  He blinked and straightened in the seat behind me, his hand still between my legs but motionless. After a few moments, he resumed his gentle massage in silence.

  The constant stride of Shadow against the hard-packed dirt became the only sound between us. Even my quickening breath remained lower than the clopping hoofs, but the moan that welled in my chest along with the sudden release shaking my form was anything but quiet.

  Sir Galahad chuckled in my ear and dipped his fingers inside my dripping pussy. “Sweet, sweet Sofie.” One more plunge and then he pulled his hand away, took the reins and clicked his tongue twice.

  Shadow shot like a flaming arrow and my protest caught in my throat as we galloped through the dense forest. Galahad pushed me forward so the low hanging branches couldn’t swipe us off the horses back. I held onto fists full of Shadow’s mane; the wind blasted my face, the speed both frightening and exhilarating.

  Up ahead lay a crossroads and Galahad pulled back on the reins. “Whoa boy.”

  The horse immediately skidded to a halt at the crossroads. Galahad pulled out the map and before he could unroll it, I looked to my right. The challis called to me from that direction, its sweet voice musical and pure. I pointed south without speaking.

  He still unrolled the parchment and studied the map until I turned. He raised his eyes to meet mine, his brow furrowed with deep worry lines. “This says we go north.”

  “The map directs you down the wrong path.”

  He rolled up the paper and slid it into the sack behind him.

  I offered a smile to quell his uneasiness and his face blossomed into the mischievous grin I so loved. He took my hands and wrapped them around the reins. “Lead the way.”

  “The cup is not in England.”

  “I gathered.”

  “It’s in the Caucasus Mountains.”

  His eyes widened. “In the kingdom of Georgia?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a four-month ride.”

  “Yes.”

  Silence encompassed us and only the gentle click of Shadow’s hoofs broke the quiet. After close to an hour, I turned my head to catch a glimpse of his face: his jaw line tense, his brows furrowed in thought, and his blue eyes carried the weight of our journey.

  “Do not fret. We will be fine.” I turned back toward the road.

  He didn’t answer, just pressed his lips to my shoulder, his soft locks brushing my cheek and setting my soul on fire.

  WEEKS WENT BY AND GALAHAD tended to my saddle sores night after night between our bouts of love making
. My once beautiful silken dress hung in rags, crusted with my sweat, stained with his semen, and marred by the dirt we lay in each evening. I begged for more suitable riding clothes and when we passed into the kingdom of Hungary, he finally gave in to my requests. He bartered for a pair of britches and a simple peasant shirt to slip over my head instead of the rags clinging to my slight form. He also bargained for a comfortable pair of riding boots in favor of the slippers I wore and a heavy coat to keep me warm through the Bulgarian mountain passes. These clothes weathered the ride much better, kept me warm and left me without sores.

  When we reached Constantinopolis on the western shore of the Black Sea, Sir Galahad bought me a sword and began to teach me the fine art of sword fighting.

  My arms burned from holding the heavy metal and parrying his attacks for the last hour. “Why do I need to learn this?” I whined.

  Galahad straightened, standing down. “Because the kingdom of Georgia is not as civilized as the land we have passed thus far and I want you to be able to defend yourself if something happens to me.”

  Tears blurred my vision. Heaven never prepared me for the onslaught of emotions being in human form produced and my chest tightened with the thought of Galahad harmed. He had proved his valor and strength time and time again on our journey, fending off bandits and rogue knights volleying for my favor. With Excalibur at his side, he was an unstoppable force.

  “Are you crying?”

  I blinked the tears back at the disdain in his voice and flipped my hair over my shoulder before I raised the sword again. With a sniffle, I shook my head. I did not want him to see this weakness, did not want him to know the thought of losing him struck fear in my heart.

  From that point on, our days consisted of riding from dawn till dusk, eating a light dinner before sparring for a couple of hours and then falling into our bed, exhausted, but never too tired not to partake in sexual activity. You see, Galahad was insatiable; he couldn’t get enough of me, and I—I matched his voracious hunger with zeal.

  THE MASSIVE SKYLINE of the Caucasus range loomed before us. I shivered at the white peaks and the cold mountain air that whipped my hair into tangles. Galahad nuzzled his frigid nose into the crook of my neck and turned the shiver into a rampant shudder of chills.