Shaella? To his great relief, she was there tending to Trent. He appeared to be horribly wounded. Cole held the man’s head up, while Shaella worked intently over his bloody midsection. She began chanting something strange, and an eerie, yellowish glow, filled the space between her palm and the gaping wound.
Flick was opposite her, across Trent’s body. He pushed the two sides of the gash together and held them in place, while Shaella’s magical glow moved slowly across the wound. Gerard watched breathlessly. He was awed by the spectacle. He couldn’t decide what impressed him more: the fact that he was a witnessing actual magic, real magic like the stuff in Berda’s stories, or the fact that it was Shaella using it. No wonder she knew he had used the ring on Dennly. He smiled at the thought, knowing now that she had kissed him that first time on her own.
As the light from her palm passed over Trent’s gut, the wound grafted itself together. It scabbed quickly under the light, and before the glow had left, a fat pink scar formed there. It was as if a whole season’s worth of healing was happening in a brief instant.
Cole must have heard Gerard’s breath catch. His long neck craned at an almost impossible angle, and his eyes locked on Gerard’s briefly. Gerard shuddered. The man’s eyes seemed cold and empty.
Cole spoke a few sharp words to Shaella. She continued what she was doing for a moment, and then the glow suddenly disappeared. She responded harshly to Cole. Gerard couldn’t hear the exchange, but he sensed that it was about him.
Her tone softened as she spoke a few words to Flick, then she rose, and came towards Gerard, with a forced smile on her face.
For a fleeting moment, her eyes seemed as dead and lifeless as Cole’s had. Gerard dismissed it as his imagination, or a trick of the wavering firelight. She looked fine now, save for the blood that stained her arms to the elbows. She smiled up at him, while biting her bottom lip. To Gerard, she was beauty incarnate. Her eyes became pinpoints of seduction, and even had he wanted to, there was no way he could’ve resisted her at that moment.
“Come,” she softly commanded. “We don’t have much time.”
She led him to the water, a place far enough away from the camp that the firelight didn’t quite reach them. The Moon was dim, but Gerard had no trouble seeing her milky white skin, as she unlashed her leather armor vest, and shrugged it away. She rinsed her arms in the water, and then unlaced her leather britches. Her breasts were apple sized, with puffy pink areola, the size of a coin. Gerard felt the hardness of her nipples through his shirt, when she pressed herself against him. Her arms went behind him, and pulled his shirt up. She giggled when it caught there. He had to fumble with the lacings to get it clear of his head. When he finally had it off, and could see again, she was moving away from him, back towards the water. She had taken off her pants. Her perfectly formed buttocks jiggled lightly as she went. The sight of it, made him so hard, that he could barely unlaced his britches.
He joined her in the river. She was at a place that was neck deep. It was cold, and he would’ve grown soft, had she not taken his manhood in her hand, and begun to squeeze and pull at it under the water. She kissed him, and with her free hand, she moved one of his hands to her breast. Her nipples were like tiny pebbles. He moved his other hand between her legs and felt her heat, even in the chilly water. He wanted more than anything to be inside her then. He was completely under her spell.
She found that she wanted him there too. So much so, that she had to force herself to distance the moment in her mind. He had a purpose to serve, she reminded herself. He was a toy. No, he was a tool. She would be done with him before long, and continuing this would only serve to make it harder to lose him later. He was different though. There was something about him. He wasn’t a boring noble-born prude or an ignorant farmer. Nor was he a gruff and hardened fighter, or an oily thief. She had never known this type of man. He, as boyish as he seemed at times, was a grown man. The proof was right there in her hand.
Gripping him, the ache to have him inside her filled her mind again. The way his fingers moved deftly inside her was driving her mad with desire. His kisses were hot, and his tongue insistent. She felt a wave of relief, mixed with regret, when he shuddered against her. He wrapped his arms around her, and clinched her buttocks tightly as he came. His intensity caused the tremors in her belly to quake through her as well. When she finally found herself again, she had to force the anger out of her expression. What was she doing? She didn’t have time to feel for this man. She didn’t have time to feel at all.
“We must go now,” she said, rather flatly, into Gerard’s dreamy daze.