by Lux Miller
Kira slips out of the room, and I strip down out of what’s left of my Nomad gear and the borrowed green fabric that I’m guessing must belong to Kira. From what I can tell, it matches the garments she was wearing, at least in color. The moment I untangle my body from the luxurious fabric, I’m instantly missing the feel of it against my skin. The shiver that slides down my spine has nothing to do with the surrounding air temperature.
Glancing across the small room, I notice what appears to be a small looking glass that’s projecting my reflection back at me. Though it isn’t the first time I’ve seen one of these, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen myself as others do. My messily cropped hair is hanging limply to my shoulders and standing in stark contrast to the bright cornflower blue of my eyes. The almost sickly pallor of my pale body screams that I don’t get out much. I’ve spent most of my life under the cover of darkness or among the shadows, so my skin hasn’t seen much sunlight to tan it.
I frown as I stare at myself in the mirror, poking at the ribs that protrude through my skin just underneath my meager breasts. Despite my small stature, the bones’ outlines are the only indicators of my life spent on the fringes, and I’m otherwise well-proportioned, especially in clothing. I rifle through the stack of material left behind by Kira and chew my bottom lip thoughtfully as I try to sort out what everything is for and how to wear it. While beautifully crafted, whoever these garments belonged to was obviously from a different time and from a social station far above my own. There are dozens of pieces, all in varying hues of the beautiful blue-green color that reminds me of a lagoon just before sunset.
The one thing that’s easy to figure out is a pair of skin tight pants that’re thin and breathable. With no other easily discernible underwear to be found, these will do, so I tug them on, sighing with relief as the fabric clings to me like a second skin. They leave very little of my form to the imagination, but at least they’ll protect my legs from the elements.
Digging through the pile, I find what appears to be some scraps of a similar fabric. Though it’s long enough to wrap around my body several times, it’s just barely big enough to stretch over my breasts and cover my nipples. It doesn’t feel very secure until I dig through the pile and locate several belt-like pieces of fabric that I twist and fasten through the layers. When I no longer feel like my boobs are going to pop out on display, I tie the ends around my neck. I leave my back bare except where the fabric and straps criss-cross there out of necessity.
Blowing a breath between my lips that makes my errant bangs flutter out of my face, I survey the rest of the stack of clothes that Kira left. I discover that there isn’t much here that’s of use to me. I don’t even know how to properly wear the frilly, poofy layers of delicate fabric that form the pair of dresses. I’ve never owned a dress in my life, despite being the most feminine girl I know. The nomadic lifestyle just hasn’t been one that makes having layers upon layers of beautiful fabric practical. I am quick to snatch up the gorgeous cloak that’s so similar to Kira’s. I don’t hesitate to wrap it around my shoulders and secure it at my throat with the brooch that accompanied it.
The one thing that’s definitely missing is shoes. While I typically prefer to go barefoot, if we’re going to be living, however briefly, in a place made of stones, I’m going to have to figure something out for boots. My feet won’t tolerate the stiff kind of leather typically used for shoes because I just don’t wear them often. My feet are smaller than any of the standard sizes that are still found in the Nomadic world. Maybe I can find something that I can repurpose from the stack of unused clothing? I gather up the rest of the offerings in a pile in my arms and poke my head out into the hallway, calling out quietly to anyone within hearing distance, “Hello? Is anyone out here?”
A familiar, gruff voice startles me, but I realize quickly that it’s coming from the room next to mine and not from somewhere down the hallway. I’m instantly drawn to the voice as I recognize it, but I can’t make out any of the words that it’s saying. Honestly, it sounds like a lot of mumbo jumbo, but I swing my head back and forth to see that nobody else is coming to check on the owner. I chew my bottom lip thoughtfully and decide that it’s probably against my best interest to go and investigate… which means that’s exactly what I do…
I press my body against the unfamiliar stone walls and slide my ass along a groove in the masonry work. I use it as a guide to ground my nerves as I scoot along its surface. When I reach the door to the next room, I give the hallway a cursory glance. Then I reach over and twist the delicately engraved metal doorknob, pushing on the door as the latch clicks. It swings open with a soft groan, and I’m immediately inundated with the growling moan that’s coming from within. The voice is no longer uttering words in any language, but I know instantly that it’s Drake. Something draws me into the darkness of the room.
I push the door closed behind myself and practically tiptoe across the room that’s almost identical to the one I awoke in. There’s an elaborately carved wooden bed against one wall that’s flanked on either side by delicate tables that appear to match. Each is adorned with a glass lantern that houses a flickering flame that lights the figure fidgeting restlessly in a mass of covers.
I creep across the room and stand at the edge of the bed, watching the face of the man who saved my life more than once. He’s fitful and sweating, but in the firelight, there’s no denying the innate beauty about the man. His dark hair is wild as is the style of the Nomads, though his is shorter than most of the men I’ve met. His locks are coiled, but he has none of the warrior’s braids that are common among the people who live outside the domes.
There’s something magnetic about him that draws me around the frame of the enormous bed where he lays, the fur and silk bedding pushed down to his waist. His upper body is bare aside from the dressing that adorns his shoulder, and I stand there, staring in awe for several moments before I realize that I am. His muscled chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm, despite his jerky movements in his sleep. I realize only now that he has tattoos on the front of his body in addition to the protection rune and the berserker rune I saw etched on his back before.
And like a moth to a flame, I’m drawn to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. I reach my right hand out to his sculpted chest where an obscure rune is inked. It's a pair of wolves chasing one another in a circle, each appearing to consume the tail of the other. I swallow hard as my hand hovers just above it, thinking it odd that a man so afraid of his supposed Berseker legacy is tattooed so heavily in their lore. He’s even had Odin’s beasts permanently etched over his heart. I’ll have to remind myself to ask him about it when he’s awake…
I reach my fingertips out, tracing the outline of the black wolf as it chases the tail of the white wolf. I gasp as Drake’s hand flies up, his fingers encircling my wrist so fast that I never stand a chance of pulling it back in time. Panicking, I try to yank free, but he holds me there easily. His eyes crack open as he stares up at me wordlessly, and as my eyes meet his, the last thing I expect to hear on his lips tumbles forth, softly whispered, “Nova…?”
Chapter Ten
Drake
When I feel the curious touch of someone hesitantly tracing the tattoo on my chest, my gut twists uncomfortably tight. Nobody in my life has ever gotten close enough to me to be able to touch it without my knowledge. Without the remnants of the Navian poison still flowing through my system, I’d have sensed her sooner and stopped her from the intimate gesture. As it stands, I’m just able to get my hand around her wrist and crack my eyes open before she tries to pull away. It’s startling to see the nomad girl peering down at me in surprise, but what’s even more alarming is the way that she’s looking back at me.
She’s perched on the bed beside me and leaning over me far enough that our bodies are touching. My throat’s parched from the fitful sleep that I’ve been fighting for the last few hours, and I’m shocked to see her here, halfway draped over me. So when I utter her name, it co
mes out in a soft whisper as my voice cracks, “Nova?”
She blinks down at me and stops struggling against my grasp. She looks both relieved and irritated at the same time, which is an amusing fight to see play out over her delicate features. My muscles are stiff as I shift underneath her, but something is compelling me to try to soothe away her irritation, even though I’m probably the source of it. Despite the protest of my sore shoulder, I bring my other hand up to the side of her face and rest my palm against her cheek. She inhales sharply but doesn’t jerk away from my touch, and as an added bonus, she stops trying to yank her wrist out of my grasp.
Finding my voice, I ask gruffly, “What’re you doing?”
She opens and closes her mouth several times with no sound coming out before she frowns and twists her face out of my palm. She stares down at me with a confused look on her face. She licks her lips slowly, and her gaze drops down to the wrist I’ve captured as I shift my hand into hers. I clasp them together tightly and looking back up at her with a look that clearly says ‘your move.’
“I’ve never seen a man so abhorrently against the lore of Odin be so heavily tattooed in it. A protection rune, the mark of a Berserker, and Odin’s own hounds? Are you avoiding it… or inviting it?”
I flinch slightly at her words, because she’s far closer to the truth than she realizes, though I’ll never admit the whole truth unless under duress. “My entire life has been filled with prophecies and predictions that I’m destined to become one of Odin’s Berserker warriors. My own mother abandoned me to the zombie hordes when she couldn't get rid of the mark. She was hoping that they’d consume me instead of risking her son becoming one of the doomed souls of Valhalla.”
Clearly, she wasn’t expecting that level of honesty… or she thinks I’m full of shit. The look she’s giving me right now could really go either way. Her eyebrows knit together as she narrows her eyes down at me, letting her gaze roam across my bare chest. It’s slightly unnerving to have this woman examining me the way she is, but at least she’s only doing it with her eyes. One of her hands is still firmly entangled with my own. Right now, I’m not sure I could withhold my body’s natural reaction if she were to put her hands on me again in the intimate way she was touching me when I first woke up.
“What mark? All I see are tattoos…”
I nod solemnly, closing my eyes and resting my head against the pillows with a slight sigh of relief. “The Berserker rune… is covering a birthmark. But the design is so similar that it may as well be a redundant copy. At least this way, it looks like I chose to wear the design...”
To my surprise, she doesn’t react like I expected. Instead, she leans down over me, the warm softness of her scantily-clad body pressing against my naked torso as she brushes her lips against the outer shell of my ear. Her voice is low and breathy as she whispers, “So, you’re afraid of getting close to people because you think they’ll abandon you out of fear of what you’ll become?”
Groaning, I fight through the clumsiness of my injured arm working against me and bring it around her middle, resting my hand against her hip. I’m intending to pull her away from me, but her intentions are clearly different. She flings our joined hands above my head, against the wooden headboard as she drags her lips along the hair that stubbles my jaw.
Stifling an unexpected growl by biting down hard enough on my bottom lip that I taste blood, I tighten my fingers into her hip as the familiar rush of blood to my groin makes my stomach clench. No, no, no. I can’t do this. Not with an attractive woman that riles every one of my senses. It’s become hard enough to turn down the offerings at the brothel when my clients try to throw in one of their concubines for free as an added bonus.
Grinding my words through clenched teeth, I plead, “Nova, please don’t… I’m not afraid of being abandoned… I’m afraid of becoming my destiny.”
The muscles in my body tighten, pain ricocheting through me as I feel the warmth of Nova’s breath on my jaw. “If it’s your destiny, why’re you fighting it? Nobody can escape their destiny…”
I shake my head, my hair whipping back and forth wildly. “I’ll die trying… I’ve spent twenty four years avoiding intimacy to guarantee that Odin can’t claim me as one of his Berserker warriors. If I don’t make love to one of his maidens, then I can avoid it forever...”
Nova smiles sadly at me, tightening her hand in mine as she sits up next to me. “You mean you’ve… never…?”
I shake my head again, my eyes widening as she wriggles her hand free of mine. She brings both of them up onto my chest, flattening one of her palms against the tattoo. I already know what she’s about to do, but I’m pretty much powerless to stop her as my eyes widen in anticipation. She sits up on her knees beside me, trailing her other hand along my bare skin with a knowing smile on her face as she twists her finger through the patch of hair below my navel.
I squirm on the bed, wincing as my cock begins to engorge with blood, despite me willing it not to react to what she’s doing. I’ve been here before, many times, in my life, and I know that it’s just mind over matter to will my dick to cooperate with me. “Nova…”
She smiles as she shakes her hair back out of her face. Groaning, I can’t help but lick my lips as my gaze falls to her dainty white hand resting against my tanned skin. She jerks her hand away with a grin as a devilish smile spreads across her lips. “Relax,” she coos as she swings one leg over my waist and straddles me, “...if you want me to stop, just say so.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, because despite knowing that I have to shut this down before it goes too far, I don’t want her to stop. I want her to touch me and, by the gods, I want to touch her so badly that my cock is painfully straining against the tight breeches that Finn found for me to wear in the style of the ancient people who once called this place home. And the softness of the lining of the breeches rubbing against my sensitive erection is almost more than I can bear right now with a beautiful woman sitting on me.
“I don’t… want… you to stop… but you have to…”
Nova leans down over me, her breasts rubbing against my chest with only the thinnest scrap of material between us, and the feeling is erotic as our bodies rub together. Though I struggle to move my injured arm, I bring both of my hands to her waist, resting my palms against the softness of her skin just above the waistband of her pants.
“Everything you’re so terrified of is for naught, Drake…”
As I lay there, contemplating what the hell she means because she’s talking code, her lips brush over mine. My fingers dig into the fleshiness of her hips as I push my hands into the skin-tight fabric, groaning as she trails her tongue along my bottom lip. “Nova… you’re going to push me to a place I can’t come back from unscathed…”
She nods as she shifts her hips, and my hands sink further into the stretchy garment, pushing it down her body enough that I’m able to slide my hands around to her ass and grab hold as our mouths crash together. She thrusts her tongue past my lips, tangling it with my own. I’ve kissed women before, but never has it felt like my mouth was on fire the way it does when Nova claims dominance. She snatches my bottom lip between her teeth and tugs on it before biting down, then releasing it and soothing the sharp pain that follows by laving her tongue over the damage.
And every little thing she does is magic. Reluctance disregarded, I groan and lift my hips off the bed, pushing her down my body until the hardness of my erection grinds against her. She sits up, putting pressure on my groin as she arches her back with a grin of deviance. Her voice drops an octave as she murmurs, “I’m fairly sure we’ve already taken that plunge, Drake. Stop fighting what your body wants and give in to the forces of nature that so clearly want this to happen. It’s physical intimacy, Drake, nothing more.”
Nova grinds down on me again, this time without holding back. The immense amount of pressure that she puts on my hardened cock makes my eyes want to roll back in my head. The pleasure that careens through my bo
dy is radiating from where she obviously knows exactly what she’s doing. It's taking every ounce of focus left in me not to give in to her demands.
I grunt and growl and make all other manner of animalistic noises as I try to fight against the flames of carnal desire that she’s fanning inside me. Gritting my teeth together, I practically beg her, “I’m too weak to fight these urges that you’ve awoken. I’m afraid that I’ve avoided the temptation of succumbing to the wiles of one of Odin’s maidens for so long, that I’ve no idea what to do…”
She climbs off of me and scoots down the bed beside me. She pushes back the covers and grabs hold of the breeches that are doing nothing to disguise the outline of my rigid cock. “Drake, this is just pure, carnal desires manifesting themselves in a way that neither of us can deny... just do what feels good...”