by Joey W. Hill
As he adjusted, his back slid along the mat, making him think of her touch there, and her comment. The tattoo between his shoulder blades was a tangle of stylized snakes, artfully arranged around the words Medusa’s Heart. He’d first had it done when he was a teenager, a simpler, less expensive design. He’d had it re-inked by a top rated tattoo artist within the past couple years, but even when the original design was faded, its message had never dimmed. The heart that beat in his chest was all hers.
While she couldn’t read the words, she’d said she liked it. That could mean so many things, none of which were conducive to sleep. Eventually, he managed it, because he knew he had to be awake for whatever the coming day would bring, but his slumber was fitful enough he heard her return one more time.
It was during the gray light that came before dawn. Fruit and other appetizing smells said she’d brought him breakfast. Since it was close enough to sunrise, he was about to speak and suggest she stay to eat with him, but he sensed her behind him again and fell silent.
When she knelt on the mat again, his heartbeat felt as if it were thudding against his throat. Because this time she stretched out behind him on her side. Christ, don’t let me screw this up.
With so little space between them, she’d start like a flock of pigeons if he moved at all. So he didn’t, absorbing the coveted reality that she was lying next to him, staring at his back.
When something slid along his ankle, he realized she had her wing folded over her shoulder and hip so that the barbed tip was grazing his calf. She hooked her clawed fingers in the waistband of his shorts, a clever way to anticipate any sudden movements from him. Her breath evened out. She wasn’t sleeping, he was sure, but she was in repose, like a roosting bird watching out for predators that might invade her nest.
In time, he shifted as he might when sleeping. She tensed, but then settled again. He did it a couple times over the next fifteen minutes, until she became more accustomed to it. Each movement brought him a little closer to her. At length, he felt her breath between his shoulder blades. If she was in hypervigilant mode, she would have moved, but he was banking on the interest he felt from her, innocently sensual. The temptation was too great for him to resist, so he hoped he was following instinct instead of his burning desire to touch her. It would be nice if the two were in accord for once.
When her fingers hooked in his waistband twitched, giving him a tentative stroke, he made his decision. Reaching back, slowly, so slowly, and bracing himself not to react to a full retreat on her part, he closed his hand around her wrist. He stayed that way another minute, caressing her pulse, the soft skin and delicate bones.
“What are the words inside your drawing?” Her voice was like the song of the ocean breeze, curling around his heart and cock.
“Medusa’s Heart.”
A long silence. Her other hand brushed over it. “It is permanent.”
“Yes. It’s tattooed. I had it first done when I was in my teens, then added to it a few years back.”
Whether she believed him or not, he wanted her to know it hadn’t been done recently, another ploy to gain her confidence.
He drew her hand forward from his waistband so she could rest it on his side. Her talons curved over the muscles and flesh and pressed against his abdomen. If he was gauging the sharpness of those claws correctly, she could excise his internal organs in one swipe. But she didn’t. And though she’d tensed again, she didn’t draw back.
A few more moments of silence. A thick blanket of energy vibrated around her.
“You will not move, John Pierce.”
It was phrased as a command, but it wasn’t. What he heard behind the words made his heart hurt. Don’t lie to me. Don’t make me hurt you. Don’t be like everyone else.
“I promise, snake-girl.”
He heard that same odd note to her voice when he spoke the nickname, but this time she gave him a clue about her reaction.
“I have dreamed of a man calling me this. For many years.”
He froze. In two sentences, she’d taken his breath, and made him want to tighten his grip on her to permanent lock. Yeah, he’d dreamed of her for years, but there was still a part of him that thought he was half bat-shit crazy. To hear that maybe she might have dreamed of him, that made it even more real. Things started hurting he didn’t want to hurt right now, but the pain somehow mixed with the importance of this moment, increasing the significance.
When she inched closer, he realized she was spooning around him, drawing her knees up under his ass, her breasts coming in contact with his back. She wore a top that was laced in the front, perhaps some kind of modified halter style that would work for her wings. The fabric was thin enough that he could feel the give of her curves.
She slid her arm farther around him, fingers spreading out on his chest and upper abdomen, the claws still pressed into his flesh. It could be a reminder that the position was a vulnerable one for him and he should be on his best behavior. Or she was like a cat and, when experiencing something pleasing, she liked to dig in a bit. He hoped for the latter reason.
That smooth worn rope feeling heralded a snake sliding against his upper arm and down to his hip, then it retreated. The other snakes seemed to be keeping their distance and staying still, for he didn’t hear or feel any others.
Medusa sighed, a puff of breath on his neck that told him her face had to be within an inch of it. Her other arm was bent to pillow her head, since he felt the point of her elbow against his shoulder.
Wondering if she would allow it, he lowered his hand and rested it on hers again, stroking her knuckles, the veins leading to her hand and wrist. He didn’t grip, didn’t impede her movement in any way, though he would have liked to intertwine fingers. He wanted to hold her hand firmly against him, keep her tethered to him throughout the night, though he’d also prefer their position to be reversed, where he could be curled around her. Everything in time.
“Do not make too much of this,” she said abruptly. “I have not had human company in some time, as you said. If you take advantage, I will be quick to retaliate.”
“Good night, Wesley. Good job, and I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”
“What?”
He smiled, though the emotions still swirling around in his chest made it a tight gesture. Her hands were a working woman’s, the knuckles rough and the palms callused, but the fingers were slim and elegant to go with the clean nails. He already knew he could circle her wrist with his thumb and forefinger with room to spare, but he liked doing it, seeing the contrast of their skin. She was golden where he was tan.
“It’s a movie…a story.” He’d heard somewhere the film came from a book, but he gave her the salient points of the movie The Princess Bride to explain the relationship between Wesley and the Dread Pirate Roberts.
“Do you know the whole story?” she asked.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Almost word for word. He’d stayed with Olivia after she’d had to have surgery while pregnant with her second child. The baby daddy was in the wind, and she was coming off an addiction to prescription pain meds. The movie had been a remarkably effective sedative for her. “I’ve probably seen it fourteen times.” All in the same three-day crisis recovery period.
“Will you tell it to me?”
“It’d take a while in one sitting. How about we do it in serial?” It would also be a great way to keep her seeking out his company, at least once a day. If he did a good job with it, that is, but his subs said he did great and very realistic role playing. Monica had said she couldn’t decide which was her favorite—or which one she found scariest, in the best kind of way. Cop, teacher, vampire, slave owner…
He launched into the tale, starting with the “As you wish,” part between Wesley and Buttercup.
As he took her through that chapter, her talons started to do a press, release thing that did remind him of a cat kneading. Her fingertips were also moving over the muscles of his abdomen, a distracting tease, all th
e more potent because of its shy execution. He managed to do a credible job with the first chapter, stopping when Buttercup received the news that Wesley had been lost to her by an attack at sea by the Dread Pirate Roberts.
“But she didn’t,” she pointed out. “You said he and Wesley spoke nightly.”
She’d been fully focused on the story even while touching him. Women and their ability to multi-task. He’d like to take her beyond that, to a state of mind where she could think of only one thing. Begging him for a release.
“Yeah. But that’s getting ahead of the story. I want to leave it on a cliffhanger. You’ll have to come back tomorrow night for more.”
“You could tell me tomorrow, during the day.”
“So you’re going to spend some time with me tomorrow? Not ignore me or stay far away?”
“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was watching at a safe distance so you didn’t have to wear the blindfold while you were doing things where you might get hurt if you couldn’t see. If you get hurt, I have to tend to you.”
“I’m glad you added that. Else I’d think you were concerned about me. Though I guess you are, aren’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t bother tending to my wounds.”
“Be quiet. I am sleeping.”
He highly doubted she would sleep so close to him, but he was heartened by her spirited responses.
“So you will tell me more of the story tomorrow?” she prodded.
“I’ll tell you a chapter at daylight and a chapter at bedtime. That way you have to see me both times to get more of it.”
“I will likely tire of it soon. I cannot be so easily manipulated.”
“It’s one of the best stories ever. You won’t get tired of it. I’ve been told I do great voices.”
“You did sound very much like a princess named Buttercup.”
Her teasing, with a biting edge, delighted him. Reaching back, he swatted her backside, a light, glancing blow, easily accomplished since she had her legs drawn up under his. He’d done it on playful instinct, no thought to it, and smoothly returned his hand to overlapping hers on his chest.
For her part, she’d stiffened instantly. He thought she might be about to bolt, but he spoke casually, as if nothing alarming had happened. “Rude, snake-girl. Just rude.”
Her stillness was hard to interpret. Shock, yes. But after that passed, he wondered if she was thinking about how it felt. He knew he sure as hell was. His palm was tingling, he was fully aroused, and he wanted to do far more than what he’d just done. He’d gotten as much hip as bottom.
What he really wanted was to make full contact in that sweet spot between thighs and buttocks, see those lovely cheeks wobble upon impact. He wanted to hold her fast on his lap so he could enjoy the kicking of feet, the rub of her naked breasts against his thigh, her struggles against his strength as he made the swats sting.
“Just can’t turn it off, JP, can you?”
Maddock’s amused voice emerged loud and clear in his memory. Catching JP studying the swaying, full backside of one of his handful of lab techs, the scientist-wizard had read him like a book. “And yeah, that one loves a hell of a spanking. She’s also an exhibitionist. Occasionally screws up something minor just so I’ll take my belt to her in front of the other techs.”
“I’m so relieved you aren’t allowing yourself distractions while working out detailed equations that will scramble our atoms through the time-space continuum.”
“Certain distractions keep us loose. Make some bolts too tight, there’s no room for the machinery to work the way it should,” Maddock had responded. “And what are you worried about? If we can’t put your atoms back together, you’ll never feel a thing anyway.”
JP expected that advice on staying loose was why he’d done what he’d just done. If he calculated every move he made, she would sense that calculation. Acting naturally, on impulse, in limited ways, hopefully would encourage her to do the same. Which might be why she was here on the beach with him tonight.
“Not rude,” she sniffed at last, easing his tension. “I was admiring your drama skills.”
“Sarcasm gets the same treatment as rudeness.” He lifted his hand in mock threat. “There’s more where that came from.”
Her silence, neither encouraging nor refusing, said enough to make his palm itch. The sensation had intrigued her; he’d bet money on it. But if so, she backed away from her response.
“Do not threaten me or I will pull your insides out.” She said it mildly, though.
“You could do it,” he said, stroking her knuckles, following the lengths of her fingers down to her talons. Her hand flattened as if she wasn’t sure she wanted him touching that part of her, but he made the stroke a continual, circular motion, not backing off but not lingering, either. “These are a pretty good weapon to have literally right at hand. How’d you figure out a fighting style with them?”
He hadn’t yet seen it, but due to her success with any interlopers to her island, he was pretty certain she had.
“We have some small wildcats on the island. Not many, and they are shy, but I have watched them play at the waterfalls or capture prey. It seemed more intelligent to study their methods for using claws that are already attached to their body, rather than treating the claws like a knife.”
“Yeah. Good thinking.” He wasn’t a sexist bastard, at least not in the wrong kind of way. He admired a woman who wanted to be able to take care of herself. Only a fool thought he could handle everything and always be exactly where he needed to be for his woman. And she’d had to fight a lot of foes without him.
But not anymore. He thought of what she’d said, about praying to Athena for strength. As he’d told her, no matter how tough the fighter, eventually everyone needed reinforcements. He would keep proving his usefulness in that regard whenever and however he could until she knew she could count upon it.
She’d fallen silent. Hoping he could encourage her to do the same, he let himself doze some more. While they weren’t on any set schedule here, so they could stay up all night and sleep the day away, it seemed a shame to pass up the tranquil chance to sleep under a vista of stars with a warm body pressed against him. He’d been in far worse circumstances.
“You do not fear me,” she whispered, as if she thought she might be talking to his sleeping self. “I do not know whether that is arrogance or something else.”
“What would the something else be?” he asked. His voice was genuinely groggy, which perhaps helped her be more forthcoming.
“You do not fear me because you intend me no harm. And you trust that I will not hurt you as long as I believe that is true.”
“I’ve been accused of arrogance. Goes with what I did as a job for so long, and the alpha male stuff. Sorry, no help for it. But yeah, you nailed it. I trust you won’t if I don’t.”
“Then you are a fool,” she said, even more quietly.
An attack without any kind of warning wasn’t easy to pull off around him, so he gave her major points for that. On his next indrawn breath, she slashed her claws down his front, opening him up from pecs to lower abdomen, a vicious swipe that took skin and fountained blood.
And then she was gone.
Chapter Six
“Son of a bitch.” No way he could have prepared for that, except by being far warier around her, and therefore keeping her equally wary around him. Sacrifices had to be made to gain trust, and apparently giving her a pound of flesh was one of those sacrifices. Damn it, two of the snakes had bit him as well. He had some medicine, and a very helpful incantation from Maddock to expel snake venom if he caught it fast enough, but when no evidence of it came from the recitation, he surmised he’d only need the antibiotic for the bites.
As he fumbled out his first aid kit, he mitigated the pain by indulging in a nice dark fantasy where he took a switch to her while she was spread-eagled on his bed. He’d fuck her into oblivion while she was still smarting from the pattern of pretty welts he’d left on her fair skin. He bet she�
�d have a sweet, feminine little squeal.
He supposed he should be glad she hadn’t poisoned the tips of those lethal claws. Well, as far as he knew. However, after about ten minutes had passed without any effects other than raw agony from the open wounds, he figured he was fine. If she had developed a poison, he expected it would be a quick killer. Or she would have just used the snakes who were packing venom already.
He pawed through the first aid kit, hissed through the burn of the alcohol. Four deep gouges, six to seven inches long. While they initially bled like he’d been gored by a boar, she hadn’t gone so deep as to hit any organs. But she’d gone through enough layers that staples or sutures would be advisable. He’d brought both, but he went with staples, grumbling curses as he clicked them in and bandaged his midsection to keep the wound clean.
This was going to knock him out of any hard labor for the next few days while the skin mended. He wouldn’t be able to climb up to her place unless he wanted to tear the staples. Was that part of her intent, to ensure that as she became friendlier with him, she wasn’t making herself more vulnerable?
Probably part of it, but he suspected the impulse had been deeper and less strategic.
When he was all done stapling the wound, his hands were shaking, but he paid no attention to that. It would pass. His mind was clear enough. Detaching from pain was part of the job, and he had more important things to think about. Time to analyze exactly the whys of what had just happened.
As he considered the question, he pulled out a flask. Lot had tucked it into his pack with a grin. “For medicinal purposes,” he’d said. “Or for when she’s about to drive you so bat shit you want to wring her neck. With a woman, that’ll take about a day.”
He didn’t want to wring her neck, but he did take a bolstering shot from the flask, choking on the contents as the liquid scalded a path to his gut. What the fuck was that? Some kind of moonshine, probably cooked up in Lot’s backyard. But as it settled, the warmth it spread through his lower abdomen did help. JP screwed the top back on and put it away. With a sigh, he lay back down on his mat, wincing at the stretch to his abdomen. He turned on his side, which brought back the memory of her body so close behind his. Why had she done it?