by Sunny
I felt him fall heavily to lie beside me and listened to our panting breaths for a moment. Then Amber moved and rolled me onto my back. Braced on his elbow, he loomed over me, looked down at me, a little hesitant. His eyes were back to his normal aquamarine. His beast, his bloodlust was gone. So was mine.
His body was whole, smooth. All the gashes and tears and claw marks were healed, even though I hadn't touched him with my hands. Those handy appendages had been buried in the dirt, too busy holding me up as he pounded into me. Apparently all I had needed was just skin-to-skin contact to heal him.
My shoulder twanged where he had sunk his teeth into me and bit me. He'd broken skin. I could smell my blood in the air, and it hadn't healed. Why? Was it because I hadn't wanted it to? Bite marks from a lover were a compliment. A form of the highest praise among the Monère, a sign that you were a most sensuous, pleasing lover. Had I been able to control what healed and what didn't? I testingly moved my shoulder and winced.
"Are you all right?" Amber asked.
All right. What a mild word. I laughed and winced again. "I think so."
"Did I hurt you?" A soft question.
"No." I shook my head, smiled. "Although you almost killed me… with pleasure."
He crouched between my legs and spread them, gazing intently at where we had merged. It was silly to feel shy after what we'd just done, but I couldn't help it. He was looking at me. Down there. I felt the force of his attention there almost like a palpable exam. My hands came down instinctively to cover myself.
"Amber…"
"Shhh. Let me see with my own eyes that I did not truly hurt you." With soft insistence he moved my hands away and I let him, squeezing my eyes shut, feeling him gently spread my swollen folds.
Just that careful touch sent sharp sensations zinging through my oversensitive nerves and I gave a little whimper. "Amber, please. Enough."
Something soft touched me between my legs, and I opened my eyes to see him lifting his head. He'd kissed me. His fingers released me and his eyes lifted to meet mine as he crouched between my legs. I froze, and the sharp awareness that I was a woman and he was a man, that my body was made to receive his, passed between us.
He shifted back to my side and pulled me into his arms, lifting me so that I sprawled on top of him, his heart thumping in slow steady beats against me, his large splayed hands caressing my back. Possessive fingers brushed over the bite mark at my shoulder.
"You used your full strength, didn't you? You never did before."
I murmured against his chest. He'd always been so careful with me, so very careful, slowly and diligently working himself in until his full length was rooted deep inside me, and then keeping to an easy, gentle rhythm.
I'd known he'd held back. I just hadn't known how much.
"I did not know before that your other form was a tiger. You are even larger than I am in my cougar form. Just as strong, if not stronger than me," Amber said, and he sounded pleased. "Your eyes had changed. Your beast had partially emerged, giving you some of its power. I knew you would be able to take my full strength. And just once I did not want to hold back."
He was so big, he no doubt had had to be careful his entire life, to always be in control. This was probably the first time in his life that he'd let himself fully go during sex, that he hadn't had to taper his great strength. And he was right. I had taken his full strength—and it had been an incredible amount—and I had survived it whole, unharmed. Of course, I hadn't thought I would, during the time. But I had. And I was suddenly glad I'd been able to. How hard it must be, to have to control yourself always, while your partner lost herself completely in her rapture. To have to always reign in your strength, never let it go. To never loosen your control. That was the true joy of sex—letting go of your every inhibition and casting free from your moorings completely, surrendering to the unthinking heat and feel of it. How hard that must have been—to get a taste of pleasure but never truly taste the full bounty just within reach.
"I'm glad," I said, sighing, running my hand over his damp chest, petting him. "I'm glad you took your pleasure fully. You returned it in much greater fold."
"Mona Lisa." He breathed my name and hugged me to him like something precious.
I knew that my eyes had changed back to their normal brown.
That my beast was gone. "My eyes," I said. "What color were they?"
"Green," Amber answered. "Pale green."
I froze as I felt the beast within me stir, lift up its head, and look at me with pale, shimmering eyes. Soon, it promised. I'll be free soon. Closing its eyes, it returned to its slumber.
I shivered, goose bumps spreading over me as if a ghost had walked over my grave. Pushing myself up, I looked around for my dress and, finding it, pulled it on.
"We should get back to the others." Not that I was eager to, with all those people back there. They would know what had transpired between us the moment they smelled us. That was the problem with such acute senses… you couldn't hide anything from them.
Amber donned his pants, held his big hand out to me. I took it.
Fingers intertwined, our scents intermingled, we headed back.
Chapter Five
A shower was what I wanted. But it didn't look as if I would get it right away. The people—my people now—had cleared out of the house. Nice. Fewer eyes and noses to witness their new Queen's inglorious return. But the few witnesses there were—my little group, and among them, my young, impressionable brother—was bad enough. Horace, the little weaselly steward, hovered anxiously in the background, apart from the others.
"What is he still doing here?" I asked. My hostile tone widened Horace's little eyes.
"He was not sure if you wished him to show you the rest of the house," Gryphon said. "I told him that you would not be interested in a tour once you returned, but he insisted upon waiting. He said he did not wish to risk offending you."
More like he wanted to find out what had happened in the forest so that he could report this to his Queen. He was Mona Louisa's spy as far as I was concerned, soon to return to her. I did not want him here.
"Lord Gryphon is right, Steward Horace. No tour tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Very well, milady." Horace bowed his head, his eyes flickering from Amber's healed chest to me and back.
"Aquila, if you will please drive Horace to where he is staying," Gryphon said, telling me two things: One, that Horace wasn't staying in the house. Good. The other was that Gryphon didn't trust him either or he wouldn't have bothered to have Aquila escort him off the premises. All the other Monère had apparently walked, flown or whatever, back to their homes. So could have Horace.
The steward obediently followed Aquila out the door. Car doors opened and shut. An engine started and pulled away from the house.
"Are you injured?" Thaddeus asked softly.
My eyes softened when I looked at his young concerned face. He was sixteen, but looked much younger, thin and lanky, several inches shorter than my five foot eight. "I'm fine. Amber took care of me. But we both need to shower. Does anyone know where our rooms are?"
"Your suite is on the second floor in the west wing," Gryphon said. "But before you ascend, could you first look in upon Dontaine?"
"Dontaine's here?" I said with surprise. I hadn't bothered scanning the house with Gryphon, Chami, and the others here. I knew they would have ensured that the house was secure.
Gryphon shrugged. "There are no other healers. The one healer they had departed with Mona Louisa."
I wanted to close my eyes and rub my temples to ease the headache I knew was coming my way. Jesus H. Christ. Over four hundred people, my people, and no healer other than me. I was a registered nurse, sure. And had recently tapped into my healing power, true. Problem was, my ability was limited. Very limited. I could only heal by having sex with the person. And I refused to do that with every person that got hurt. Getting a healer would be a top priority. I wondered how one went about getting one.
But until then, it looked as if I was it.
I sighed. "Show me."
"Let me see to the others first," Gryphon murmured. He conferred briefly with Rosemary about settling the others upstairs. "The north wing," he told her.
"Can we pick our own rooms?" Thaddeus asked eagerly, looking to Gryphon first, then to me. Jamie and even Tersa's eyes brightened with interest.
I shrugged when Gryphon glanced my way.
"It seems that you may," Gryphon said.
Thaddeus whooped with joy.
"I have first dibs," Jamie yelled, loping up the stairs.
"Whoever calls it first," Thaddeus shouted back.
There was a clattering as the children rushed up the steps en masse, Rosemary behind them. Tomas followed with an indulgent grin. Chami trailed behind them, shooting a troubled look my way. Amber remained down below with Gryphon and me.
"Dontaine's in the guest room downstairs," Gryphon said. He seemed to know his way, good thing. One could easily get lost in this vast space. Or one could just follow the rapid whistling air.
I heard Dontaine before I saw him. And smelled him, or rather, smelled his blood. Dontaine lay on his side in a bed, blood staining the sheets, the carpet, even the walls. His eyes were open, green gems darkened with pain and anxiety. He'd changed back to his human form, I saw to my relief. Much easier to bear than that monstrous Half Form I had braced myself for. He was just a man now, injured, alone, his chest laboring for that little bit of air that whistled through his open trachea.
In the hour that had passed, the torn flesh around his throat had already started to heal. Enough fleshy tissue had regenerated so that his spine no longer gleamed through like a macabre illustration of living anatomy. Lying on his side as he was, blood and other fluids dripped down onto the floor from his wound instead of pooling there and hindering his airflow, but still there was a gurgling quality to the breaths he took. A bloody wash of fluids splattered out in a wide bursting spray as Dontaine went into a coughing, choking fit.
I rushed to his side, not able to do much but hold onto his shoulders and support him until the body-shaking paroxysm passed.
"Why is no one with him?" I asked, my voice harsh.
"He is an injured male. Who would you have had me tend him?" Gryphon asked.
"Anyone. He's hardly dangerous the way he is."
"On the contrary," Gryphon corrected me. "He is even more dangerous in this condition. Weakened, feeling vulnerable."
"Surely his family, at least, could have stayed with him."
"Lady Margaret and Francine wished to. I did not allow it," Gryphon returned coolly. "They had the option of taking him or leaving him here for you. They elected to leave him."
"If he's so dangerous, why are you letting me tend him?"
"You, milady, he will not harm." But both he and Amber were watching Dontaine quite carefully.
I blew out an exasperated breath and concentrated on Dontaine. "God, I don't know what his family expects me to do for him. What you expect me to do for him. Not much I can do, really. But we can at least start with basics. I need a basin of water, towels—lots of them—clean linen, and some clean pants for him."
No one moved.
"We cannot get infections," Amber said in his deep rumbling voice.
"I know that." It took an effort not to shout, to keep my voice calm and reasonable. "But if nothing else, he will feel better once he is cleaned."
They just looked at me. I glared back at them.
"Oh, for heaven's sake." I blew out a breath, grabbed a hold of my patience, and said more softly, "Gryphon, please. You seem to know your way around the house best. Amber will stay with me and see that I am fine."
Gryphon lowered his eyes to Dontaine and the two of them locked gazes for a long moment, with only the wet whistling of air breaking the silence. Then Gryphon inclined his head. "As my lady wishes." He glided out of the room.
I spied an adjoining bathroom and found one small hand towel and two thick bath towels in there. There were no cups, but there was a decorative ceramic soap dish. I ran the hand towel under cool water in the sink, wrung it out, and carried everything into the other room.
Going around the bed, I approached Dontaine from the front where he could see me, mindful of his uneasy state of mind. He stared at me, watchful, his expression as bland as he could make it. That same blankness of expression that I had first seen in Amber's face when he had looked at his Queen, Mona Sera. It was a look that said I'll take whatever punishment you mete out and not cry. I hated that look.
"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," I softly reassured Dontaine. "I'm just going to wash the dirt and blood off you. I'll be as gentle as I can."
I sacrificed one fluffy towel, laying it over the wet bloody floor by the edge of the bed. I positioned the soap dish to catch the blood trickling down from his throat, and knelt before him. Then hesitated, damp washcloth in hand.
Touching Dontaine when he'd been coughing and choking had been instinctive. Touching him now, as he looked up at me with his carefully blank eyes, was different, harder. I had never treated a patient that I had agreed to take to my bed before. The awareness of those spoken words was suddenly there between us, heavy in the air, the realization that we could have been sharing a bed even now. That I could have been covered with Dontaine's scent instead of Amber's. Of course, Dontaine had lost and I no longer had to sleep with him. But it was still very hard to bring myself to deliberately touch him as he watched me.
I brought the wet cloth gently to his face and brushed it over his forehead. At that first touch, Dontaine's eyes closed, and the tension gripping him eased, freeing me of my tension as well. He was relaxed and still as I smoothed the cool cloth over his cheek, down his jaw. His eyes opened, and I felt his gaze touching me as I wiped his shoulder, moved down his long arm, and cleaned each finger. He kept his gaze fixed upon me, the harsh sound of his breath whistling in and out of that hole in his throat as I gently washed him.
"I do have some healing ability," I said to Dontaine softly, apologetically, "but it's not something I have much control over." I felt those green eyes shift to Amber. Knew that he noted Amber's healed state. Knew that he could smell our commingled scents, and once more yearned for that shower. I felt his glance return to me, and felt the question hover in the air as if it had been asked aloud. Why couldn't I heal him like I had healed Amber?
I didn't bother to answer it.
"I'm sorry," I said instead. And I was. But he wasn't dying. He was healing miraculously fast on his own. I was not going to fuck him.
But the pain from his wounds… that I could do something about. Putting down the cloth, I laid one palm over the deep slash that began at his shoulder. My other palm came to rest where the wound ripped across his bicep. Amber's dagger had not been silver, so instead of gaping wide, the flesh had already pulled together, beginning to knit, fill in. Amazing.
Sometimes you forget how intimate touching someone really is. It requires closeness, your skin against theirs, feeling the softness of their flesh, the suppleness of their muscles, the little downy hairs covering the surface. It was even more intimate when they looked at you, and you looked at them. He was cooperating. I had no need to capture him with my eyes, hold him in my thrall. I doubted I even could; he wasn't human. I kept my eyes fixed instead on my hands.
A bare flexing of will, summoning a part of me that was always there, like my beast. But this power I welcomed, was unafraid of. And it came to my call, awakening from the core of me, flooding me with a cool rush beginning from my heart and spilling down my arms, into my hands. Those pearly moles, the Goddess's Tears, embedded in the hearts of my palms, tingled and heated. Like a knowing, living thing, the power seeped under Dontaine's skin, assessing the damage, and removing the pain.
When it was done, I lifted my hands, feeling his intent gaze hard upon me. Folding back the dirty washcloth to reveal a clean side, I began washing Dontaine's other arm, reaching across him. "I canno
t heal you, but I can ease some of your pain," I said, my eyes on the washcloth as it moved over him.
I felt Dontaine's attention leave me, focus behind me, and when I turned, I saw that Gryphon had returned. He set the supplies he had brought on top of the bureau.
"Where's Amber?" I asked.
"He left."
"Why did he do that?"
"Dontaine will be able to rest easier if Amber is not here," Gryphon said, turning to pick up a basin he had brought. A natural move, but one that allowed him not to meet my eyes. Gryphon went into the bathroom, filled the basin with water, and set it by my side, his presence breaking the tense awareness between Dontaine and I. Gratefully, I rinsed the bloody cloth in the basin, wrung it dry, and began cleaning Dontaine's chest, moving the cloth carefully over the injured areas, pressing my warm tingling palm over his wounds.
It wasn't until I reached Dontaine's abdomen that I grew uncomfortable once more. A distinct bulge had risen, impossible to ignore. He couldn't help it, I told myself. It was the natural reaction to being so close to a Queen, to being touched by her. But still… my hands fluttered and my eyes didn't seem to know where to look.
Gryphon didn't help when he murmured, "Let me help you remove his pants." He stepped forward.
Beneath my hand, Dontaine's relaxed muscles sprang alive, bunched and ready, almost vibrating with tension. His lips drew back in a silent snarl and his hands—powerful hands that had remained still and quiescent while I had cared for him—lifted, fingers curled like claws in clear warning.
Gryphon stilled and backed away slowly. "It seems that you must do so."
I wanted to say Dontaine actually didn't need to be changed, after all. But that would have been too cowardly and too obvious after I had made such an issue of cleaning him, and having Gryphon fetch clean clothes for him.
"Let me wash his back first," I said instead, grateful to move on to a less provocative area of his body. I rinsed the washcloth again in the basin, then hesitated. It didn't seem a good idea to move behind Dontaine where he would not be able to see me. Lifting up from my knees, I sat on the edge of the bed in the little vee of mattress space where Dontaine's stomach curved around. I had to lean in close, almost pressing against Dontaine's chest to reach his back. It was an awkward position, but it worked. I quickly, carefully washed his back, skimmed my tingling palm over the gashes and stab wounds, and looked down to see how he was faring. A mistake. The heat in his eyes, the look on his face, had me shifting unconsciously back. Another mistake. Just that small movement and something hard and happy was pressed up against my hip. I'd forgotten how close to him I'd been. Almost sitting in his lap.
