Ellora's Cavemen: Tales from the Temple II (22 page)

She pressed her thighs tightly together, hoping to rid herself of the need that grew in her belly. And lower, as if the heat from her wound had moved into her innermost core, making her fully aware of the man who lay before her and the needs that seemed 131

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to grow by the second. Quivering at the thought of having him on top of her, inside her, she bit her bottom lip until the salty taste of blood brought her back to the task at hand.

Her hands worked to cover him with Liesel’s sheet as she carefully avoided contact with his skin. Then she began mixing the herbal tea for him to help lower his fever. As she worked, she thought about the wound at his neck, which was not as bad as it had appeared at first. In fact, it looked much better here in the candlelight than it had under the moonlight, making her wonder if it had been life threatening at all. Maybe it was her panic making her think the wound was severe.

She glanced back at her patient, who still had not moved though he continued to mumble incoherently. Leaving the tea to steep for a few minutes, she made her way to the adjoining wash room and began peeling her clothes off her sweat-soaked body while she tried to keep her mind off the man in the next room.

He’s unconscious
, she said to herself, ashamed.
What if he has a wife? Children?
She had never seen him before tonight, but that did not mean that he was alone. Somebody probably loved him, was looking for him. It was her duty to heal him and return him to those who needed him.

And then she would leave the village. She was as good as dead if she stayed. Liesel spoke wonders about the land that lay beyond the mountains. Children’s tales, she knew. But it was a land of riches beyond her wildest imaginings. Filled with princes and finery. Artificial lights graced large dining halls. Food that was not just a necessity but was a delight for the senses.

Yes, there she would have a future. She had skills as a seamstress, a wonderful cook, and, if she saved this man, maybe even a decent healer.

She decided a quick bath would help ease her nerves. Besides, her clothing had been ruined and her body soiled by the night’s events. Turning on the water, she tried to quell her daydreams about the man in the next room, the man who had so selflessly saved her. The water ran warm beneath her hand, bringing her back to reality. Liesel enchanted the hot spring and forced it to flow into her well. Eleanora had only bathed here once before and the sensation had been too much for her then. Combined with the man in the next room, she was sure to give in to the excesses completely. No, she mustn’t. She had to save the man. It was the only way for her to repay his kindness, leave her village, and have a life.

She cringed at the tears in the seams and the gash in the shoulder as she tossed her gown to the side. It would still be useful, but she planned to replace it with one of Liesel’s gray gowns as soon as she was clean. Taking the sponge into her hand, she dabbed the blood from her shoulder, noting that her wound, which on second glance was little more than a scratch, was already beginning to heal. The throbbing in her shoulder had not ceased though, and had truly awakened every nerve in her body, making her fear the results of being poisoned by a dragon. If she died tonight, no one would save the man who so desperately needed her attentions.

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Eleanora reached for her undergarment and began sliding it down her thighs. Only then was she aware of the dampness.
There
. The scent wafted up to her, a combination of sweat and something else. She remembered being told how women became ready to mate with their men. They open for them, cover them with a liquid that invites the men inside. She never imagined she would experience such a sensation.

Fever burned through her in a way she had never known before. It was as if she couldn’t control her hand as it roamed down her body and she dared to touch herself.

No one ever need know. The mass of curls was damp as her finger slid deeper down, seeking something. Trying to find the place that ached the most. When her fingers made contact with her tiny bud, she inhaled sharply. This was the place. This hardened
thing
.

This was where the heat radiated from. But not the liquid.

She wanted to explore. Her instincts told her there was unimaginable pleasure waiting inside her own body. Slipping a finger down lower, she uncovered the source of the wetness. There. Oh, yes, there. Her lips parted and the juices coated her fingers.

The opening. She knew about this place that Liesel called the sheath for the love sword.

She’d giggled like a girl when she first heard talk of mating, but now her womanly curiosity got the better of her. This was where her lover would be. He would take her, lowering himself on top of her, sliding himself into her.

Shaking herself, trying to remove the fever from her head from her body, she forced her thoughts back to the sleeping man, the only man she wished to have touching her.

The one she knew would be so unlike anyone she’d ever met.

“What are you doing?” Eleanora chastised herself. She moved her hand quickly. He was ill, likely dying, and she was in here doing something she shouldn’t.

Plunging herself into the water, her nerve endings awoke when the warmth hit her woman-head, visions of a lover flooding her mind. Suddenly things she had never experienced before poured into her brain, almost as if they had come from an outside source. Almost as if the dragon’s poison had created the thoughts, the sensations. Her breathing quickened, and her body began to quake wondering how a lover’s tongue would feel running along her body.

You know nothing of lovers. Now bathe and get to the task at hand.

She ran the cloth over her body as quickly as possible. There was no need to dally, especially since the tea would be ready now. She dunked her head into the water, quickly lathered her tangled hair and then dunked it once more to rinse. The tangles she would work out later.

She quickly sprang from the tub and roughly dried her body, ignoring the throbbing between her thighs. She pressed them together. Later. She promised herself later she would explore her own depths. She didn’t need a man for that, did she?

Liesel’s dress clung to her body, Liesel being much smaller than Eleanora. Her ample hips threatened to burst from the seams and her breasts almost spilled from the bodice. Still, it fit. She bit her lip again, realizing she had no clean undergarments. The wicked thought occurred to her to go without them and allow the night air to caress her 133

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the way the water had earlier. Pulling her damp curls from the back of the dress, she allowed her hair to hang loose around her waist.

The man still hadn’t stirred, which was ironic considering all the new things stirring inside her. She whispered one of Liesel’s chants as she poured the tea into a cup. “Give him strength,” she demanded.

The bed creaked and groaned when she sat next to him, proof of both its age and the heavy burden it already bore. She lifted his head into her lap, allowing his red mane to spill out over the gray dress making it look drab and ordinary. She raised the cup to his lips, coaxing him by running her fingers along his cheek.

Please, drink.

The first few drops of liquid spilled out the side of his mouth and trickled onto her dress. The second attempt was successful, his sensual lips opening enough to allow the liquid to move inside. She watched it go down his throat as he swallowed. It would heal him, she was certain.

She moved, placing his head back onto the pillow, her lap feeling emptier than before. She ran a hand along his forehead. Her fingers stayed in place even though the skin there seared them. The tea would break the fever, but how long would it take? She nervously bit her lip and tried to look somewhere other than at his beautiful face.

She examined the wound, which was all but healed. The cut must not have been as deep as she’d imagined. But there was still a chance of the dragon’s poison, a chemical she knew nothing about. Would it render him blind? Deaf? Her heart raced at the prospect. The woman who loved him would mourn for him.

She leaned over him, her hair accidentally brushing his face. Her voice caught in her throat, her heart ceased beating, and her breath stopped completely as his eyes opened and his hand encircled her wrist.

The last thing she saw before he pulled her down into him was the golden glow of his eyes. Then his lips were on hers, his body rigid against her, his hand a vise around her wrist, bruising it. His lips fiercely moved against hers, rendering them swollen, hot.

He was delusional. He must think she was his wife.

She pushed her hand onto his chest to no avail. Her lips parted in a gasp at her exertion. It was then that he probed his tongue into her mouth, causing the heat she’d held at bay to come pouring out of her opening. His teeth grazed her lips. His free hand sought her beneath the folds of her dress.

When it made contact with her wet, throbbing flesh, she closed her eyes. His rough fingers forced the fabric away from her body. The fur separating them had already tangled and fallen to the side. His rod was now stone still and pressing against her.

It only took one motion for him to enter her body. She couldn’t control her own actions. He impaled her and she allowed it, ruining herself for another man as her juices combined with blood to allow him entrance. Her scream pierced her ears while the shivers that overtook her body rendered her helpless.

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She looked down at the man who had savagely entered her body. His eyes were closed. He was asleep.

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Eleanora sat as still as she could manage with the fire raging inside her. She wanted to move off him. With all her strength and will, she wanted it. Terrified, she held tight to his chest. She watched his breathing, the beautiful muscles rise and fall with his slumber. The low, guttural sound of his snore. This was a change from earlier. He hadn’t made a sound then. He would live. But right now, her most desperate concern was how to move off of him. And the fact that it was the last thing in the world she wanted.

She lifted herself, feeling his powerful body slide almost all the way out. The juices shot from her, oozing out around him. Every instinct she had told her to remove herself from him now. Every instinct except the one forcing her to remain mounted and allow him access to her inner core.

He gave no indication of feeling her. She lifted herself once more only to slide back down until his belly and her belly met, his red curls mixing with her black ones. She quivered around him as a sob escaped her throat.

No one would ever know she had mounted him, had mated with him, had given him her maidenhead. No one would need to know. She could tell her husband about being savagely raped while crossing the mountains. Or she could refuse to take a husband, living on her own means.

She looked down at his beautiful face. She would not wish for a husband after this night. He may not touch her, may not even be aware of her, but she was aware of him.

She shook again, tightening around him. Ten thousand sensations assaulted her at once. The most important was the need to move now. Quickly.

She rose above him once more then counted to three as he slid back into her. Again.

Again. Again. This time, she increased the intensity. She rocked her hips back and forth, taking all of him into her body. She quivered, she pressed against him, she stroked his chest.

Tension built inside her and threatened to drive her mad. She continued to spill juices out onto his body. She wanted to stop now. Needed to stop. She knew what she was doing was wrong. He was not hers. He belonged to another. A man as beautiful as this one must have a wife. Children.

She bent over to kiss his lips one last time, the thought of children more than she could bear. It was then that the sensation took over, threatening to destroy her.

It started somewhere deep inside, the place where he rested against her. And it worked its way up to her chest and down to her toes. She was inches away from his face when it hit. She let out a long, low moan as the spasms wrecked her body.

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His eyes opened again. This time, there was no golden glimmer. This time, they were green. And angry.

He captured her wrist roughly and hauled her against his chest. The words he muttered through his roughened throat were in another language but held the acid o f a curse. Her breath hung in her throat, afraid to escape. Afraid of her sin. Would he kill her now for using him so?

The dragon frightened her, but this man looked fiercer than a dragon ever had.

What made her think he was beautiful? His face twisted into a sneer, his lips snarled, revealing perfectly whiteteeth. The growl erupting from his belly made her shiver, forgetting the fact that she was still quite literally impaled onto him.

His breath ran across her face, heating it while the fever inside him seared her skin.

And his eyes. He could slay dragons with those eyes. They were soulless, empty, dangerous.

Her ragged breathing and pounding heart kept her tears at bay while she waited for him to kill her. One flick of his wrist could snap her arm as if it were a twig. If his hands moved to her throat, he could either suffocate her or break her neck. Either option seemed extremely painful. She didn’t dare move when his lips parted again. What once would have seemed sensual had her on the verge of tears. This man couldn’t be the one who saved her last night. If he were, why did he look at her as if she were the enemy?

“What are you doing?” Anger colored the growl erupting from his chest.

“I, I—” She shifted, trying to break free of his hold on her wrist, struggling against his shaft.

“You, what? You wished to tame me?”

“No, I…” Her voice trailed off, tears threatened to spill out.

“You wished to mate with me, then?”

She whimpered, hating herself for her obvious weakness. She stood down a dragon, took it upon herself to mate with a stranger. Her strength would see her through whatever he intended to do to her.