Black Moon Draw(35)

She was nearly covered in the bugs. They crawled up her hair and neck. Her gaze was glossing over in a sign he was close to losing her.

“Now,” he barked in his command tone.

Jarred, she reached out to him and stepped at the same time.

The Shadow Knight snatched her and whirled, flinging some critters off, and then deftly cut free the remains of her clothes to free her from the majority of them.

She was trying to fling off the rest, panicking and dancing like a madwoman.

“Stop!” he snapped and replaced the knife. He snatched her by the back of her neck and lifted until she was on her tiptoes, her focus shifted from bugs to breathing. She went rigid, gasping for air, while he swept a large hand down her curves to pick, flick and swipe bugs away. She wore clothing beneath the dress he did not recognize and which left most of her exposed. One garment appeared to be to support her breasts while the other was around her hips and feminine parts. “Be still. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Releasing her neck, he lifted her arms by the wrist and started at her hands, running his palms firmly down her smooth skin, ensuring he missed no part of her body. When he was finished, he twirled her and did it again.

Her eyes were squeezed closed. He slowed his movements, enjoying the sensation of her too-soft skin. She was neither too small nor too plump, her body the perfect combination of curves and plushness. From the large breasts to the flair of her hips, she was the kind of woman whose body he would worship in bed until she was too exhausted to move.

His hands reached her stomach and the sensitive skin there quivered. She pushed at him.

“Stop,” he growled. “Obedience, witch.” Lifting her arms back into the sky, he touched her stomach and hips again.

She flinched and licked her lips, a faint flush on her cheeks. She shook from the cold, fear, and his touch, and he kept his hands on her hips a moment longer than necessary.

Kneeling in front of her, he traced his palms over one smooth leg, from hip to toes, and then the other. She had the softest, smoothest skin he had ever experienced, with no birthmarks or scars marring her. He had never touched any witch this way, but there was aught about her that snagged his senses and compelled his attention towards her.

The Shadow Knight stood and moved behind her. He took her wrists and placed her arms at her side before stepping into her body. With her plump ass at his groin, he had a hard time concentrating on working the bugs free of her hair, his other hand on her lower belly to keep her against him, in case she followed through with her promise to pass out.

“’Tis a shame you are destined to be a witch,” he said. “A man would take great pleasure out of your body.”

She said nothing. She was tense.

“Trust, lady.” He softened his voice, not quite understanding her fear. He only killed those he needed to and never bedded a woman who was not willing. She was like one of the foals, new to the world, fearing the touch of the man that cared for her. What worked best with young animals was calmness and warmth.

His duty was to protect his armies and wards, not coddle them. Had she been any other battle-witch or warrior, he would have rescued her then left her to deal with the bugs.

With her, it was not simple duty. It was overwhelming desire as well.

Her supple skin was a reminder he had not bedded a woman in over two fortnights, her silky curls another indication she was from a world where she was pampered and not forced to work the land or with her hands at all. She had time to care for her skin and body, and it showed. He marveled at the subtle differences, fascinated by her body.

She was forbidden. The thought had the opposite effect it should; fire lit in his blood and he breathed in her fresh, womanly musk.

He plucked bugs free from her hair and dropped them at his feet, crushing them. Running his hands through her hair and then neck, he leaned back to ensure none of the bugs had returned to their battle-witch feast.

The Shadow Knight turned her to face him, keeping her body against his. She was upset but quiet, her arms clutched to her chest as if she tried to hide her breasts. She was also much more expressive than he was accustomed to, making no attempt to conceal the emotions flying through her gaze.

He absently wiped tears from her cheeks but managed to subdue the primal need to wrap both arms around her and kiss her, until her fear was gone and she begged him to touch her again.

“I don’t like it here,” she whispered, gazing up at him in distress. Her warm frame trembled.

“’Tis your home.” The words were firmer this time, and he felt the shift inside him, the acknowledgement he had no intention of returning her to her world. What belonged to him was his forever, even if he was never able to touch the sacred skin of a battle-witch in the way of a lover.

They gazed at each other, the quiet night and moonlight providing a backdrop that reminded him too much of peace, a word he banished in Black Moon Draw, a word too dangerous to utter when his life and the lives of everyone in his realm depended on him waging war. He had always despised quiet moments like this, for a peaceful period meant he was not fighting or moving his armies into position.

For the first time since he was able to remember, he found himself enjoying the heat of her body, the opportunity to study her pale features and gaze into eyes the color of sea-shallows.

“M’lord!” The squire’s cry broke the spell.

The Shadow Knight released his battle prize with some reluctance and stepped away, facing the approaching boy.