by Seth Eden
She could feel the flesh of his loins pressed up against the curve of her rump, the power in his thighs against the backs of hers. If this were any other situation, if they weren’t currently at each other’s throats, she might have been turned on by all of this.
“Now if you’re done trying to slap the nose off my face every single second, I’d like to go out and get us some food. If you’re still hungry, that is.” This close, he could smell the bile on her breath even more, as well as the other emotions that were pouring through her. Desperation, fear, confusion... but mostly lamentation. He didn’t know what he could do to help her with those emotions, mostly because they weren’t his concern but because he knew of nothing else to do. He’d given her the truth she’d been asking for and that still wasn’t enough. With nothing else to give, she was going to have to come to terms with it all or remain in denial until Ethan showed up or... well, Zen hadn’t thought that far ahead. If Ethan had really given up on her and gone into hiding, he didn’t have a plan B. This had been his only and last-ditch effort to draw his brother out into the open and make him pay for his crimes.
Samantha nodded silently, eager for his weight off of her. What could she say after hearing all of that, to learn that everything she’d known about the man she cared for had all been a lie? To think that Ethan was even capable of such things...
Once Zen retreated to the other side of the couch to spare his cheek from another strike, she wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“If you really are telling the truth, then you’re a real idiot. Dominic and Jen, the two people you attacked in Cendarth? They would have been good allies to have to help you find Ethan. Instead, you’re up a creek without a paddle. You don’t even have a fucking boat.”
True, he couldn’t deny that. He’d made a mistake going after a man who wasn’t his enemy, and now he had two, likely three. He couldn’t handle a battle on both sides, not with enemies so powerful. Those two shifters back in the city had definitely given him a run for his money.
His pride wouldn’t let him admit it, however. He only nodded and stood, ready to head out the door to go on a hunt.
“Let me ask you something...” Samantha interrupted his exit. “Why now? Say you’re telling me the truth... why are you going after Ethan now? Why did you wait so long?”
Zen’s head lowered, his chin almost touching his chest. Why, indeed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen the face of his dead wife and children every single night in his dreams for the past thousand years. That he hadn’t suffered out here in his sheer loneliness. That someone wouldn’t hunt him down if he set foot inside Cendarth again. No, he had better reasons.
“To be honest? You. ... not you, specifically. I saw when the ship landed some months ago and I knew his chance to gain a wife was next. For him to have what I once had... That was the last push I needed to seek my revenge.” His answer was quiet, unsure how she would react. His reason sounded selfish, childish, even. As if seeking revenge would make everything alright. It wouldn’t, he knew, that many people would have to suffer for his choices. Again, selfish. But it just wasn’t fair, for his brother to attain the bliss that Zen had once captured so perfectly with his little family.”
“And like I said, I’m not going to kill you,” he said quickly, afraid that she was already jumping to conclusions. “I’m not like him.”
“... but you’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”
The air grew heavy between them. Zen had been hoping she wouldn’t have asked that question, because he never wanted to come to terms with that answer.
“I don’t know what I’ll do when I find him. Do I want to? Yes. And no. He’s still my brother.”
He wasn’t sure what kind of answer that was, whether he was trying to appease her or himself. He didn’t want to think about it too much and continued through the door. Getting a fresh kill under his belt would be a good distraction and a hot meal would definitely soothe over both their tempers. For a time, anyway.
6
Samantha found no relief with the man gone. His presence was no longer imposing but the silence had taken over that job. It was just too quiet and too empty, which left her to her thoughts and she desperately wanted to get away from those. Going outside for a walk definitely wasn’t going to do the trick, not after yesterday’s events and there was no chance of getting back to sleep. She needed something to busy herself with to keep her mind occupied.
A bath. That would definitely do the trick. She hadn’t had a bath in over a day and getting rid of the grime would make her feel at least a little bit better, even for a little while.
As she stood from the couch, she felt a little detached from her body, as if she was watching all of this play out from somewhere else. Her legs weren’t her own and she could hardly feel her own breathing. It was a floating feeling she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It felt like someone had tugged on her strings a little too hard and separated her mind from her physical body. It was disconcerting and renewed the sickening feeling in her stomach.
She walked from the couch to the nearest wall, her hand outstretched to catch a hold and steady herself. Then from there to the doorway and finally into the bathroom. It took all she had not to give in to the tremor in her legs and the pull of gravity. That’s when the sickening stench of her throw-up from earlier returned. She was going to have to get rid of that somehow before she took her path if she truly wanted to relax. Peering into the metal tub revealed that it had dried somewhat, leaving a gross sticky film to the metal. Thankfully, there seemed to be a plug hole at the bottom of it. Now, she just needed to find some water.
Looking out the doorway, she considered hauling water back and forth from the kitchen to clean it up... but that seemed like the wrong way to go about it. There must be a closer source of water in the bathroom of all places. She casually searched the walls and found an intricate pressure plate that slid further into the rock with her touch. A gurgling noise startled her, as did the sudden splashing of water into the metal tub. A spout of some sort had appeared from the wall, where fresh hot water spilled into the container. Maybe this was some kind of bathtub she was supposed to sit in and not some kind of toilet or sink.
No wonder her host had been so upset.
She smiled to herself at her success and ran her hands along the bottom to scrub her mess away. Once it was clean, she did up the plug hole at the bottom and allowed it to fill up almost to the top before realizing she didn’t know how to turn it off. Pushing the pressure plate again yielded nothing so she tried to find another, an off switch of some kind.
By the time she did, water was already spilling over the edges of the tub and creating puddles on the ground. She’d created a horrible mess, one that her host would likely be upset about, but she honestly couldn’t care. If he hadn’t wanted her to get water all over the floor, he should have shown her how to use it in the first place.
Delighted at the promise of a hot bath, she quickly stripped her disheveled clothes and plunged herself in. It was pleasantly scalding and she could feel some of the layers of dirt already sliding off her skin. It was a shame the metal tub was so small or else she would have had the chance to stretch out and enjoy herself further. Instead, she was confined with her knees to her chest and unable to fully submerge herself beneath the surface.
She couldn’t complain much, though. The hot water was doing wonders for her mood and taking away the filth of a day of travel. The minor bruises and cuts she’d gotten reopened to the fresh clean water and started to sting. All for the better, she supposed. Getting any kind of infection out here wasn’t her idea of a good time.
She gazed at the rocky shelf that ran along the entire perimeter of the room. Nearby, there were several small bottles, none of which were labeled. She figured one of them had to be soap of some kind and plucked the smallest one from the shelf. It was a clear, green color with flecks of something sparkling inside. She popped the top and found the smell of it to be quite pleasan
t. The bottle upturned, the gel-like substance poured quickly into her palm, faster than she expected and ended up with more than she really wanted. She dabbed her fingers into it and rubbed at the side of her neck. There was no lather to speak of but no allergies either. Whatever it was, it wasn’t soap but she didn’t mind the feel or smell of it either and so continued to spread it across her bare skin.
Leaning back, she was just about to rub her gelled hands over her exposed ankle when she found herself a little short of breath. Not in an unpleasant way, like that of an allergic reaction, but in a way that made her feel tingly all over. She touched at the pulse point on her neck and found it racing a little. She was afraid that whatever she’d slathered on herself was having an adverse reaction to her biology, or the combination of it with the water was taking a toll on her health.
She stood up out of the bath and hissed in surprise. The sudden chill of the cool air on her hot, exposed nipples made them ache something fierce, so much so that she had to retreat back into the safety of the steaming, spring water. Confused, she examined her breasts to find out what was wrong. They looked fine, felt fine... felt even better the more she rolled them around in her hands. A soft keen escaped her lips as she tested her nipples as well and found them quite sensitive.
She braced back against the metal wall of the tub, confused as to why her body was feeling like this... but not at all disappointed with the results of her own touch. She instinctively clenched her thighs together, as just the exploration of her breasts alone sent jolts of pleasure down to her slit. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good, long before since she’d left Earth.
Another rolling squeeze of her breast drew another ecstatic moan from her heaving chest. Her other hand slid further south, tracing the curves of her soft stomach, scratching nails against her inner thigh, until her fingers finally found her swollen labia. It almost ached to touch them, her clitoris retreating at how sensitive it was.
She teased at her entrance, drawing circles around the outer lips of her vagina to keep herself riding that slow high towards ecstasy. She hitched one ankle against the side of the tub, the other arched up onto the ball of her foot so that her knees could spread as wide as possible. With full access to herself, she worked in the first knuckle of her middle finger and almost collapsed into the water with pleasure. This wasn’t the first time she’d ever fingered herself but something about that gel she’d bathed herself with made it feel better than she’d ever remembered before. She felt her inner walls clenching down around her digit, going to work on trying to draw it deeper within herself. Her body was yearning for more, eager and desperate for satisfaction that only she could provide at the moment.
Deeper, she plunged her knuckle, past the first and the second, almost to the third. The curl of her fingertip against her vaginal wall sent her spine into spasms as she arched back against the delight of it all. Her hips thrust against her touch, drove her finger deeper still until there was nothing left. And then she added a second. The internal stroking of her pink flesh, the deep probing of her digits within herself almost doubled her backward, drove her breasts into the cool air once more. The cool air pinched at her skin, her nipples instantly getting erect against the chill. The ached for a hot, sweet mouth to capture them one by one and tease them with pleasured kisses and the hot embrace of another’s tongue.
The thought of it alone covered her skin in goosebumps as she continued to writhe against her palm. She rode her knuckles, bucking her hips against them until she soon added a third to the mix. The sensations throughout her body were both exquisite and numbing at the same time. She seemed to float above it all, soaring on the biochemicals pouring through her and lifting her above this simple metal tub. And the longer she fingered herself, the more intense it grew. Pins and needles danced across her skin and pinched at her flesh, leaving her sore and prickly all at the same time. She’d never thought this level of pleasure possible before and was surprised she could last this long at such levels without an orgasm. Soon, she kept telling herself, soon she would reach that peak.
But every second seemed to make that end further and further away. The steep climb to that crest of pleasure seemed higher and higher every time, always out of reach. Her sexual frustration was reaching a new peak she’d never thought possible before, forcing her hands to work even harder against her sex to maintain her euphoria.
Her thirty-minute soak soon became an hour of manipulation and fondling. Her hands were growing tired and she had a feeling that man would be coming back soon. If she wanted satisfaction, she was going to have to pull out all the stops. She stole another bottle from the shelf - different from the earlier one - that had quite an intriguing shape to it. She dipped it into the water to wash it clean and ran the shape of it against her clit. The dips and falls of it felt like heaven against her sensitive pink pearl, and Samantha quickened her rhythm. Feeling it glide against her skin told her it would slip easily enough inside her. She turned the bottle onto its cap and slowly worked her entrance against the bottom end, feeling the pressure of her internal walls tighten.
Just a little more... just a little-!
Everything melted together once she felt the first ridge slip inside. Samantha took a second to adjust to the feel of it before she worked herself down on it some more. Another give, another swell of pressure, and the second dip-and-bulge slipped inside her as well. This was much better than her fingers, this makeshift toy filling her entire canal and touching at every pleasurable nerve inside her body.
She adjusted herself until she was on the balls of her feet, squatting over this bottle of sparkling pink liquid as it protruded from her snatch. Her hand kept it in place as she slowly eased herself off of it; a pop! of the second bulge exiting her drove spikes of both pain and pleasure up her spine.
Satisfied that she could take in, she lowered herself onto it again, down past the second and half-way through the third. One by one, she rode the divinely-shaped bottle to town, her knees and thighs aching with exhaustion. Water splashed around her and out of the tub with each downward motion, making more of a mess each time she increased the intensity of her pace. Her breasts bounced and slapped against her wet torso and the fingers of her other hand manipulated the pink, swollen head of her clitoris to somehow, hopefully, bring this all to a satisfactory end.
Zen’s hunt had been long and hard. That creature from last had earned his ire and although it would have been very easy to take down now that it only had one eye, it wouldn’t make for a very good meal. He’d settled on smaller game instead, prey that would make a sizeable meal for both him and his guest and still have leftovers for the rest of the week. He would need some fruit too, something to extend between meals when they needed to ration the meat. And he could make some pretty good alcohol with it too if the fancy struck him. That woman was wearing his patience thin after only a day and he was going to need something to dull it all.
How did his brother end up with such a woman? Was it her constant arguing that kept Ethan on his toes, kept him interested in such a spunky woman? She was rather attractive, Zen would give her that. But she was nothing in comparison to his Senna.
He sighed as he plunged the knife straight into the beast’s heart, felt it quiver beneath him as it took its final breath. It had been so long with her light in his life that he couldn’t remember what it was like to be with it. Sorrow and mourning had consumed him, hardened him, where once he was light and free and laughed. He was afraid that he never would again, that he was destined to be this... thing his brother had turned him into with his lies and deception. A sad pitiful thing that would know no joy until his dying days.
On the way back, with his meal across his shoulders, he pondered on whether he could give that up on his own. He could create his own joy, try to be happy again once Ethan was... “gone,” in some respect. Without this burden hanging from his shoulders, it would be a struggle trying to find that man again, to allow himself the freedom to laugh and
smile. Perhaps he could even start before then, get some practice in by being nice to this woman, Ethan’s woman.
He hadn’t even gotten her name yet, had he? How impolite. He would definitely have to change that when he got back.
And when he did, Zen smelled her long before he stepped inside. It was so potent he almost dropped the large kill he had across his back. He didn’t want to think about what must have struck her to engage in that while he was away. Not that he was judging.
“I’m back,” he bellowed at the top of his lungs as he entered. He heard a quiet squeak and the splashing of water; at least she’d heard him.
Samantha froze in terror and disappointment. She was so close but she didn’t have the brazenness to finish. She was going to have to get out of the bath, dissatisfied.
Only to discover that there was no towel to dry off with.
“Hey...hey, you.”
Nor did she know the man’s name.
‘Hey, you?’ Zen paused in his butchering, his knife held high and an arched brow. What did she want now?
“It’s Zen,” he called back.
“What?”
“My name. Zen.”
“Well, Zen, where do you keep your towels?”
“I don’t have any.” What did she think this was, some kind of hotel? “I usually drip dry.”
Drip dry. She scoffed at the thought. She had no intention of going out there and sitting outside naked. Nor did she want to crawl back into her filthy clothes, not now that she felt so clean.
“Do you have any clothes I can borrow?”
“Clothes? You do remember I’m a shifter. I have no need for clothes out here by myself.”
Samantha rubbed at her temples; Fate was apparently conspiring against her, forcing her to be stuck with a man who had an aversion for covering himself up.
