by Joey W. Hill
“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi,” she chanted. She sprang back, releasing him. “That’s one. Do you wish to capitulate now and salvage your pride?”
“Even if you beat me, you’re going to have to earn that dress and chocolate,” he said ominously. His balls were aching, but he could hear the smugness in her voice. He hid his satisfaction about that, able to quite sincerely cover it as he maneuvered carefully back to his feet, fighting pain. While that might have been a dirty shot, the rest of it had been pretty damn effective hand-to-hand. He was learning her skills and tactics, though, and that patience would pay off. He hoped.
“You sound pretty cocky,” he said, circling her. “But you have two more to go before you get to do a victory dance.”
She was hopping along the ground like a bird would. Hop, then up in the air, then down again, looking for an advantage.
“This is usually the trash talk part of a fight,” he mentioned. “Insulting one another’s manhood, mothers, favorite sports teams, that kind of thing.”
She interpreted his casual conversation as a good opening. He ducked her frontal attack, caught her leg and hip and flipped her, taking her to the ground on her back and using sheer strength and weight to put his body perpendicular over hers to hold her down for the three count. “One Mississ—”
He grunted as she hit a radial nerve in his upper arm with two combined fists. When his hold loosened, she propelled herself back up with wings and legs. He brought her down again, and this time put her on her stomach with an arm behind her back, and his knee pressed against her delectable ass. He counted it out and let her go.
“That’s one and one, my lady. Breathing down your neck.”
“Not for long.”
In their next round of grappling, he managed to drop his arms around her from behind and band them over her chest and waist. He lifted her off her feet, holding her wings trapped between their bodies while she kicked. But as she squirmed and he tried to figure out how to put her on the ground, another appealing idea came to mind.
For one brief, blissful second, she stilled, the only movement the quick rise and fall of her breath against his hold. He realized his mouth was close to her neck, and he turned his face into the thick mass of her dark hair. He grazed her crashing pulse with his lips as one of the snakes—Ratqueen by the size and feel of her—slid along the side of his face and tunneled under the neck of his T-shirt.
She grew even more still. One clawed hand had latched over his forearm, probably with the intent of trying to wrest loose, but the grip tightened and held. Feeling her body so motionless against him, but with so much energy pulsing beneath the skin, he let his mouth stay on her throat, and gave her the slight edge of his teeth.
“All mine,” he murmured. “My lady.”
He could feel the desire for surrender, so close to the surface, the eagerness of her soul, needing that capitulation. It all happened in a blink, and then it was gone. She twisted against his hold and broke free, and he let her go, knowing it was best to let the moment pass, though the impression of her body against his felt like a brand.
“I was not on the ground and you did not say the Mississippi three times,” she said. “It did not count.”
He grinned at her, a dangerous baring of teeth. “It counted as something far better, my lady. But yeah, I’ll concede that, so I guess I better get down to the business of winning.”
She scoffed and made a comment which didn’t translate, but he suspected was the Greek version of insulting his manhood. They circled one another again. While he knew he’d take that moment out later and look at it from a lot of pleasurable angles, he set it aside for now. He wanted this win.
They each scored one more point. After that, they abandoned the boundaries of the court, wrestling and sparring back and forth over the sand, down into the water, getting drenched in the process. No more chatter now. They were pushing one another hard. He knew he had her on experience, because though she obviously trained extensively, she didn’t have the close quarter fighting skills he did, except for dive and attack maneuvers, quick, vicious strikes intended to be decisive and immediate. But he expected she was 100% lethal with that effective strategy, so he couldn’t fault her for focusing her training more on it than toe-to-toe fighting she likely hadn’t had to employ as much.
She almost had him down for the third, but, risking a break to his wrist, he threw the pin and reversed it. She struggled magnificently so he adjusted his hold and straddled her, pinning her hips with his and her wrists down on either side of her body.
“One Mississ—”
“Off. Off. Please, get off—”
Her abrupt shift to mindless panic and the plea were as effective as being propelled off her by a cannon blast. That, and the sudden aggressive punching of the snakes against his torso, the warning graze of a fang. He immediately released her and jumped back, cursing himself. He’d been so involved in the sparring and impressed by her skills, he’d forgotten. Past traumas had fucking nothing to do with present abilities. Triggers could make someone helpless as a baby in a blink.
“It’s okay, Medusa. It’s all right. I didn’t—”
“Goddess, I’m sorry.” Her voice told him she was upset with herself, not him. He’d rather her be mad at him. “I didn’t mean… No, don’t come near. Please, don’t. Not right now.”
She was breathing too rapidly, because they’d exerted themselves hard and the panic attack had rushed in on top of that, stealing her oxygen. “Okay,” he said, dropping to his heels in a squat, a non-threatening pose that kept him close. “Just breathe. Try to slow it down. Just breathe.”
He thought she’d rolled from her back to her knees and might be trying to rise. “Don’t get up yet,” he advised. “When you’re having trouble breathing, you could pass out.”
“Y-yes. Of course. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. You just about kicked my ass, my lady. You’re a hell of a fighter.”
“Oh.” The praise distracted her, as he’d intended. “I meant…”
“I know what you meant,” he said quietly. “And I meant what I said. That’s nothing to be sorry about. Pinning you was a bad plan.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Her voice became cynical, unpleasant, though he expected the negative reaction was still self-directed. “How else could you gauge my fighting skills if you are truly here to overpower me?”
He bit back an impatient retort. She’d switched into full defensive mode. He wouldn’t fuel it. “If you truly thought that,” he said, “why’d you consent to the match?”
“So I could do the same. But I showed you a weakness you could exploit.” Her voice was dull.
Maybe anger had its place. “Damn it, that wasn’t the point of this. Yeah, I was interested in your skills, but you have to stay in fighting shape here, and so do I. I figured it’s more entertaining and useful to do that with a partner than by yourself, and it improves your skills to be exposed to other combat styles. Right?”
The twisted, difficult tangle of emotions that emanated from her drained his anger. She only had herself and her snakes, he reminded himself. How would anyone handle years of isolation where every visitor was a risk to assess and handle?
“You don’t have to do it, especially if you think I have ulterior motives for asking,” he said in a kinder tone, “but I’d like to see how you got behind me that fast without using your wings. That could come in pretty handy against an enemy in the future.”
“Yes, it would.” The wet sound told him she’d lowered herself to the sand.
“I’m going to come and sit beside you, my lady.”
She didn’t say yes or no, so he eased closer to her. A brief touch of her head and shoulder found that she was sitting with her forehead pressed into her bent knees, arms linked over them. She’d taken refuge, both physically and mentally.
“It’s all right.” Sitting down next to her, he ran a light hand down her back, then did it agai
n. She didn’t draw away. “Once, on an amphibious mission, my tank, what I used to breathe underwater, caught on some wreckage. I got disoriented and couldn’t figure out how to get it loose. For the longest minute of my life, I faced the very real possibility I was going to die down there under thousands of pounds of water, where no one could find me. I had a few other amphibious missions after that, so I figured I’d taken care of it, gotten back up on the horse, over and done.
“Then I took a ride on a coaster with a friend’s daughter.” Sierra, another of his subs, or harem, as Lot liked to teasingly call them, got sick on pretty much every kind of ride, so JP had gone with her and her eight-year-old son to the local amusement park. “Wasn’t even a huge coaster, but it took us below ground through this narrow-assed tunnel. A mechanical malfunction happened and the coaster stopped on the rails in the dark down there. Nothing to be uptight about, but I was clammy and pale as an oyster when they got it started back up a few minutes later.”
He knew she had no context for half of what he’d just said, so he boiled it down. “Memories can come back and grab you at unexpected times. There’s no shame in it. All I had was a bad scare. I didn’t actually have something awful happen to me, like you did.”
She lifted her head under his hand. “What is…a roller coaster?”
When he explained it to her, she had questions, and he ended up not only detailing roller coasters, but the concept of amusement parks and the existence of Disneyland.
“Some of the things you describe are so outlandish I know you are making them up,” she said. He was glad to hear she sounded more like herself again.
“Some things have to be seen to be believed. Not only has the world become far bigger centuries in the future, but the things in it as well.”
She sighed. “You’re kind, John Pierce. I don’t trust you. But you do and say things that make me want to do so.”
“Glad to hear it, because I can’t think of a better gift from you than your trust. It’s the gateway to a whole lot of other great things.”
“Yes. But also very bad things when it’s misplaced.”
“True.” He’d shifted close enough they were hip to hip. When she dipped her head so it almost brushed his chest, he cupped his hand over it, briefly holding her. The snakes were at ease again, and one coiled on his shoulder. “Which one is that? The little one, right?”
“Yes. Earthson. He has a particular liking for you. He finds you fascinating.”
“How about you?”
“I suppose he finds me interesting enough, though he’s been exposed to me for far longer.”
He grimaced, but her tiny chuckle warmed him. “Wiseass. Serves me right, fishing for compliments when you’re getting your composure back.”
“I anticipated you thinking I might have a weak moment and admit to liking you.”
He snorted. “You have no weak moments, lady. I’m wet to the skin and coated with sand. You aren’t afraid to get dirty in a fight. I like that in a woman. Want to swim, get some of it off?”
“You go ahead. I might go inland. The snakes prefer the fresh water.”
“I could meet you there if you want company. I know you’re sad and unsettled right now. Don’t go off by yourself. That won’t make it better.”
Her fingertips slid against his chest, her breath touching the base of his neck. “Sometimes it does. I draw strength from the solitude.”
“Is this one of those times?”
She sighed again and straightened. “Perhaps not. But maybe…come join me in a little while. Give me some time.”
“Anything you need.”
JP gave her a half hour, taking a swim in the ocean while he waited and hunting up a snack of berries and nuts. He retrieved the rest of his chocolate stash from a sealed plastic bag he’d put in his makeshift cooler, a hole in the ground with cool earth walls. He’d give her the dress later. Maddock had found one credibly close to the one in the magazine, and it had showed up in his pack this morning, right on time.
Since the sparring hadn’t ended on the note he’d hoped, he’d have been willing to let it drop with no clear winner declared if that was in her best interest, to not push her too soon. But she’d told him otherwise when he’d held her off her feet, her body flush against him, her pulse rabbiting under his lips. She could have broken free. She’d proven she’d had the skills to throw a hold like that, but she hadn’t. Something in her had wanted to experience what it was like to have him holding and restraining her like that, the illusion of being helpless in a way that wasn’t frightening because it was her choice. It was like a drug to a Dom, feeling a sub try out those waters.
He suspected she wouldn’t go for him passing on the win, anyway. She had her pride. But he was still bringing her the chocolate. He wanted to give her things. It made him feel good, because gifts seemed to please her. Pretty simple logic, but there it was.
He headed into the forest and made his way toward the smaller waterfall, figuring that was where she’d headed. As he drew closer, he put on the eye mask again, finding his way to the water’s edge using his other senses. She didn’t speak, but he knew where she was. She was sitting on the rock ledge beside the waterfall, the same place he’d stretched out and let her touch him before.
He imagined her bare feet dangling over the edge, her hands bracing her, talons carving thin white lines in the rock as she gazed pensively into the water. Sitting down next to her, he dangled his own feet. Hers brushed his, confirming his guess on her relative position. He proffered the chocolate.
“Consolation prize,” he said. “For a fight well fought.”
“Oh.” He heard the surprised pleasure in her tone and was doubly glad he’d brought it. “That is…not necessary.”
“Oh. Well, okay. I’ll just eat it myself then.”
He grinned as she caught his arm with one set of claws and plucked the chocolate out of his grasp. The paper crinkled, and her shoulder rose against his biceps as she drew in the smell.
“This makes me believe some of the stories you tell.”
“If you only knew. Medical breakthroughs, architecture, technology…nothing comes close to all the things we’ve learned to do with food, now that hunting and gathering isn’t an all-consuming task for everyone.”
“I’m surprised you are not three times your size, if it’s all like this.”
“Well, moderation in all things, right? There are plenty of things I enjoy doing. If I was overstuffed with food, I couldn’t do those things.”
“Like what?”
“Rock climbing, training, working out. Travel, seeing new things, new places.” He told her about some of the out-of-the way places he’d hiked, a pursuit his counselor had advised to help him get back in touch with his own inner voices again. She listened so attentively, it reminded him of what she’d wanted most of all, if she’d won. He touched her thigh above the knee.
“Whether you won or lost, I planned to tell you a story every morning and evening anyway. You know that, right?”
“No, I did not know. But I would like that, very much.”
“All right. Let’s get in the water.”
“I’ll watch you.”
It was the second time she’d passed up on a swim around him, and he was pretty sure she liked swimming. Thinking through why she might be avoiding it, he plucked at the hem of her tunic. “Take your clothes off so they won’t get wet. I can’t see you, so no reason to be shy.”
He’d ignored her comment and made the direction to take off her clothes a calm command. Now he’d wait to see how she handled it. Stripping off his T-shirt and leaving it behind, he pushed off the rock and slid into the water. He’d left on his shorts, thinking that and his blindfold might help her feel more secure.
JP would commit to a hundred years of agonizing celibacy if he could take away her fears and worries. He wanted her willing and at ease about it, at least in the right ways. That was the difference between a Master and a monster.
; He heard her rise, and the waterfall covered the sound, but he was pretty certain she’d removed her clothes. She’d be standing on the ledge naked, her hair and snakes twisting and falling down around her shoulders and waist. Her long limbs, small breasts and the juncture between her slim thighs would be visible. Yeah, “wanting her badly” didn’t even pass the starting line of how he felt.
She went into the water with a ripple. As they both drifted and treaded water, he encouraged her to talk about her life in Greece, the day-to-day stuff, the other temple priestesses.
“Was one of them your best friend? Favorite friend?”
“Yes. Callidora. She and I tended the garden and handled kitchen duties on the same assigned schedule. When we had free time, we would read together, or sit along the top wall of the temple, watching the townspeople go about their business. She could imitate senators or Klotho in such a funny way. She always made me laugh.”
“Is she still there?”
A long pause, filled with a puzzling confusion and no small amount of sadness. “I don’t know. I assume so. I miss her. When you make me laugh, you bring back memories of her. It pleased her, making me laugh.”
“Did she think you were too serious?”
“No. She said my laughter was the kind people never tired of hearing, that my joy made others feel better. So she said making me laugh was a selfish act on her part, to make her and those around me happier.”
“I can see that. The few times you’ve laughed, it’s had that effect on me.”
“I do not laugh as I once did. It still feels good, but not as light.”
“Yeah, that happens. The shit we see can weigh it down. But that means when we do laugh at something, it’s an even bigger gift, if that makes sense. Like hey, though the world is hell sometimes, I can still laugh. Something in this world is still good enough to make me do that.”
“Yes.” She was closer now, a few feet away. He held out his hand.