by Gina Manis
“Just the ends are fine. Get it off my neck.” We are hardly ever close like this, and I never touch her unless necessary. Like the other day, when she was helping me with the roof and needed a hand down.
She clips away, and I feel her fingers run along the back of my neck. I am not used to her touch, and it brings memories of the morning in the hotel when she had caressed and moved her body against mine. I knew Jenna would be a passionate person, and she had given me a taste of it. The only thing that I reacted critically to is when she called me Bran. Realizing that she was dreaming with him, I rejected her, which wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
I need not think of that again and try to find something else to focus on, “My family will get together with the moon cycle coming up. My mother has a thing about the full moon. She says it is an excellent time for a change.”
“That sounds nice. I have been looking forward to meeting your family,” she tells me as she cuts away.
“I will take one sled with us so we can get some more chickens and a few rabbits from them. My father might have some extra piglets to sell us. He sells them to some other mountaineers. Most people don’t like to raise so many at a time because they eat so much. But my father has made it his trade. It helps that his property is central to a lot of mountain folk.”
“How does he feed them, then?” she asks as she fluffs at my hair. Her fingers feel absolutely magnificent with their warm touch.
“He and my youngest brother Bret grow a special crop of corn just for them. They grow other things too, but the corn helps fatten them up. He gets a fair trade for them because of it.”
“I’m interested in some of those crops. I will admit, meat isn’t something I like a lot of, but bacon is delicious.” Jenna’s aversion to meat didn’t stop her from eating it to keep her strength up. On our journey she had to eat it more. My mother should be able to feed her baskets of food Jenna will love.
“Mother loves her herbs. Behind her house, she has this beautiful garden of them among her fruit trees.”
Jenna moves around to my sides, and the conversation becomes quiet as she clips around my ears. I close my eyes as she brushes ever so lightly across the sensitive area around them. My skin is tingling, and her warm breath is going to drive me insane.
As she steps in front of me, leaning over to cut the front, hher breasts become even with my gaze. Instantly I grow hard, looking at their soft swells in her shirt. It opens right at the top of the valley in the middle, and I have to force myself to close my eyes.
Her scent consumes me once more. My wind stirs in a circle around us as she heightens its sway. I force the seduction from it away, not wanting it to influence her. When she comes to me, it will not be because of my powers.
Her energy is sparking with my wind, and I feel it twofold forming a blend of hunger between us. There is a change coming, and I can feel it. I rub the sweat from my palms against my pants. My hands are itching to touch her.
“Okay, I think that is it,” she says, stepping back, and I exhale in relief. Her movements disturb the wind as I inhale, and her scent permeates it. I open my eyes, trying to shake the trance I have found myself in.
Jenna walks around me, much calmer than I am. I sense her warm heat in the wind and know that I somewhat arouse her. “Let me make sure I got all the hair off your neck. I don’t want you to be itchy.”
She brushes the towel over the back of my neck, and then I feel her blow on it. That little flare of breath on me is so provocative; it has me jumping out of the chair. “I think I am good.”
I look into the compact mirror needing something to do and see that she has done an excellent job, but I am paying more attention to her out of the corner of my eye. She is just standing there watching me. What the hell can she be thinking?
“It looks nice, thank you.”
“No problem,” she says as she moves to clean up. If she is feeling anything, it seems to confuse her. I know this is something she has to figure out on her own and come to grips with. I am here when she needs me or when she is ready to talk and move on.
Until she is, I will continue to push her in learning defense. I believe it soothes some of her fears of being powerless. She is brave, and I want her to feel it. Use it.
Maybe I shouldn’t push her into practicing right now, but I feel this powerful urge to be close to her. I should walk away and calm my raging body but instead, I reach inside the door and pull my bow off the hook with my bag of arrows. “Now, let’s have some practice.”
She looks up from sweeping the hair off the porch and groans, “But I need to clean this up.”
“You can finish first,” I tell her, knowing it will only take her a minute.
“How about the ratten stick or knife throwing?”
“You need to learn new skills.” I shake my head. She has gotten adequate with the stick and knives, but the bow is still a weapon and tool she needs to learn.
“My shoulder hurts,” She says, and I almost bust out laughing.
“You will use just about any excuse to get out of this, won’t you?” I know she might be a little sore after all the work we have been doing, but she needs to practice. What if a bear or wolf came up one day, and I am not here? She needed to know how to kill it if it came after her. A grizzly around here could easily tear down a door if it wanted to.
“Fine,” she says, setting the broom to the side. She follows me to the target area I have already set up for her. I give her the bow and an arrow along with a clip I made so she wouldn’t rub her fingers raw from practice on the string.
“All you have to do is hit the target three times, and I will leave you alone for the day,” I tell her as she gets into position. “Take your time and sight the target, as I told you. And don’t forget to breathe.”
She does all this, and I correct her form by tilting her elbow. She shoots but misses. I give her another arrow, and again she misses. A few more times and I walk around her, not sure what she is doing wrong. I think it is in her sight as she keeps going too far right, but it looks acceptable to me.
I watch closely as she lines up again, her form perfect. She releases, and that is when I think I see it—the slight tremor in her as she shoots.
“Arrow, I just suck at this.”
“I think it might be in your movement.”
“Something doesn’t feel right in my hand,” she tells me, and I am a little disappointed the bow isn’t more natural for her.
“What does it feel like?” I ask, trying to understand.
“It is missing something,” she says, looking at me sadly. “I am uncertain with it in my hands, and…”
She doesn’t finish, and that hesitation scares me. I have to know what she is unsure of. It isn’t the weapon but something she is doing. “What?”
“I feel lost with it,” she whispers.
“Jenna, I know something isn’t right for you and my weapon.” I breathe. “To me, it comes naturally, and when I watch you, I see a perfect form, an excellent shot, a sure stand. But as soon as you let it go, the arrow changes paths.” I don’t know how she is going to respond to this, but here goes nothing. “You have a tic somewhere in that last moment, and I need to feel it. I need to be close to you, Jenna. I can find it, and this will all become easier, but you have to trust me. Can you trust me?”
The question has such a double meaning, and I wonder if she doesn’t pick up on it. I wait for her response, hoping to be thrown a lifeline. If she says yes, we have made progress, but if she says no… I don’t know what.
“Then touch me.”
The sound of those words coming from her gives me all the hope I need. I need her to understand what I am asking. “I’m not talking about a brush of my hand. I need to get close and in your face. Are you sure you can handle that?”
“I think so,” she says, looking down. “I was close to you earlier when I cut your hair.”
“But we weren’t touching,”
I remind her. I am very much aware of how close we were, and apparently, she felt it too.
“We will never know unless I try,” she tells me. “If I can’t handle it, I will step away.”
“Turn around then,” I tell her, and she does. I step up behind her, not touching, and take the hand that she holds my bow in, lifting it. “Position your arrow and pull it back.”
She does, and her position is solid as it always is. It is in that last second that the arrow flies in a different direction. I step closer and lean down to her face as I touch her hand. Suddenly she releases the arrow, and it goes flying.
“Sorry, it slipped,” she mumbles. I don’t move as I slip another arrow out of my case and offer it to her.
“Line it back up.” She does, and this time when I lean closer and take her hand, she doesn’t flinch. I adjust her aim, bring it back, and tilting it up slightly. “Breathe, Jenna, and relax.”
I feel her intake of breath and do so myself, smelling her fresh hair and stifle the moan of pleasure being this close to her. Looking down at the arrow, I see it is lined up perfectly. “Look at the sight. See how it is lined up?”
“Y-Yes,” she stutters.
“This is your sight you must line up with,” I tell her, taking my hand and showing her at the tip. I bring my hand back and square her shoulders, and it brings us closer together. “Like your arrow, your stance has to be just as straight.”
I can’t help but breathe her in one more time before I whisper to her, “Release.”
She does and almost hits the target dead center. “I hit it!” She turns to me and smiles brightly. “I hit the target!”
I step back. The spark in Jenna tempts me to pull her near again. “Good. Now, do it again.”
Her smile fades as she looks at the target again and back to me. I see a blush come into her face as she asks. “Would you mind showing me again? So I know I have it right.”
I get a sense that she enjoyed being close to me, but I am not sure. I nod, and this time she turns and steps back into my arms, much more willing this time. I hand her another arrow, and she lines it up. As I look at her sight, I swear she is leaning into me. She isn’t afraid of me, and I can tell because of the scent in the surrounding air. It excites me she feels an attraction to me, as well.
“You’re not breathing again,” I whisper close to her ear; the pull to be more with her teasing me to do so. “Release.”
The arrow goes flying, and I am sure it hits the target but am paying it no mind. Jenna doesn’t move from me this time as she lowers the bow, her breathing a little more labored now, “I hit it again.”
I pull another arrow and hold it in front of her. “Do it again.”
This time as she lines it up, I remove my hands from her arms and touch her at her waist. I don’t help her at all this time; if anything, I am a distraction. She leans heavily into me, and I can’t get over how good she feels. Every one of my senses is heightened, and I can’t help the call inside me as seduction takes me over, and I blow on her neck.
She groans as she lets the arrow fly; her head falls back on me. I realize what I have done too late and remove her from me. She stumbles slightly but catches herself as I fight to keep myself in control. “Try it on your own now.”
She is stunned by my sudden removal, but I can’t help it. I used my seduction on her for a second time. I am using my power on her, not meaning to, but it just keeps coming out.
I don’t think she realizes what I have done, but the heat in her eyes is there. I must look away before I do something; she is not ready for more, and I hold out another arrow to her, and she takes it as she shakes her head and pulls it back.
I want her to explore her attraction and feel the urge and desire, but not under my influence. It is important to me that her healing comes naturally for her and in its own time.
I watch as she focuses and breathes in and releases the arrow. Her aim is true as she hits the target, but not dead center. “I think you got it.”
“It looks like I do,” she says, looking back at me. I can see she is curious about me, and I don’t know what to do with it.
“One more, and we are done,” I tell her, giving her the last arrow. I watch her shoot, seeing nothing wrong with her stance now, and she hits the target again. She had been recoiling upon release just enough to make her aim off-center. She did it the first time, but when she was leaning against me, her release was smooth.
Maybe she will make an excellent shot yet. My bow is large, and I think I will make her a smaller one. I have been planning to, and now that things are in order around here, I can.
“You have been holding back in your release,” I tell her. “Don’t try to control the shot, just let it go.”
She nods and hands me back my bow. “I have a pot of stew ready at the house if you are hungry.”
“I am.” Starving. My thoughts think of feasting on her, laid back on the table. The wind swirls around us, and I tamper down the seduction I feel in it. I have held back these feelings for so long, and I am growing concerned about my ability to control my primary powers.
All I want to do is see how far she will let us take this attraction. I fear we may be moving too fast as these feelings from her are all new. I need to give her time to think about this.
“With some fresh bread, and I even made an apple pie.”
“It all sounds fantastic.” Not nearly as fantastic as you will be. Seriously, I need to stop thinking about tasting her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jenna
Supper is good, but my mind isn’t on the food like it is on the man sitting across the table. I am lost in thoughts at how good it felt having him press against my back. Or how he whispered in my ear and oh Gods, the feel of his breath on my neck. I had melted against him until he pulled back. Why did he pull away?
I lost the fear completely with Arrow today. I’m not prepared for these unfamiliar sensations running through me at having him so close. His touch no longer scares me; if anything, they feel addictive. I am curious to touch him and explore these new sensations coursing through me.
The problem is, I don’t know how to go about it. Arrow pulled away from me, and I am uncertain now how to move forward. He has said things before that make me think he wants more, but he often gives no hint directly. I don’t even know what I want, but the surrounding air is charged with something today.
I wonder if Arrow feels it, too. The surrounding wind is inviting on my skin, just as his heat was to my back. His hand touches me; the place on my sides still feel it spanning around my waist. The sound of his whisper in my ear had me closing my eyes until he told me to release. I did not even try to hit the target, but I did. I had to ask him again to show me, just because I didn’t know how I even did it. I had been more focused on him.
When I felt his breath on my neck, it felt more like his fingers gently teasing the soft area. I wanted him to touch me, I realized, but he had pulled back. I want to feel that way again in his arms, but how? I can’t just come out and ask him. What if he wants to take it further? I am not sure if I am ready for more, but I know I want his touch. And I want to know what it will feel like to kiss Arrow.
He doesn’t say much of anything as we eat, but I catch his gaze a few times. I look away hurriedly, not sure what to do. Once we finish, I wash the dishes as he sits on the front porch. I join him after sitting on the steps beside him.
We sit there watching the sunset, but all I can think about is the man beside me. Soon we will turn in for the night, as we both rise at daybreak. I will lie in bed and he will lie on the floor in the corner on a pallet I made for him. It isn’t much, but he has it on his list to make himself a bed soon. I think about what it would be like to lie beside him and be held. Would I even sleep in his arms ?
“That apple pie was superb, Jenna. If you don’t mind, I might have another slice before bed with a glass of milk,” he tells me.
“If y
ou like,” I say, blushing as I turn away and rub at my sore neck. The pain is getting less now, but I still feel the pang. “I have plenty of apples and pears. I was going to make some preserves tomorrow. I thought to take a few jars to your parents when we go.”
“Is your neck really bothering you?” he asks, seeing me rub it.
“It is fine. The pain isn’t as bad as it was,” I tell him.
“I can… um… rub it out for you if you like,” he says but doesn’t look at me. “I have some oil that might help.”
My pulse quickens at the thought. It would mean Arrow’s hands on me again. A chance to feel something again. “If you don’t mind, I would like that.”
He gets up and moves into the house without saying a word, and I take several deep breaths to know what I just asked for. I am excited but nervous at the same time. The blood speeds up in my veins at the thought of him touching me. I try to relax thinking he is just going to rub my shoulder. I should be able to handle that. Afterall, we had touched a while ago in practice with his bow. I hadn’t feared him then and his touch felt pleasing.
He sits back down on the edge of the porch with a small jar, “Come sit here in front of me.”
He pats the wood floor in front of him, where his legs spread wide and his legs hang off the side. I hop down off the porch and walk over to him, eyeing the small space in front of him. This will for sure mean more contact.
Slowly, I turn around and climb back up between his legs, my hands brushing them at the knees as I do so. I slide back and feel his body as we come in contact, but lean forward slightly. This reminds me of Beth and Thomas back home in the evening when we all sat together. Arrow was often with us as we watched the kids play.
“Pull your shirt down just a bit. This oil could stain it a little.”
I take a deep breath and reach for the buttons in front and undo the top two before lifting it back off my shoulders some. With my shoulders exposed, I pull my hair around in front of me and tilt my head slightly to him, “It is this side, mostly.”