by Lexi Johnson
That gave him pause. Well… yes, he certainly did. But he didn’t like her way of asking, as though touching him would be a duty, and not a pleasure for both of them.
A change of strategy was called for, he decided.
“Let me kiss you,” Haytham asked.
She nodded, and sat down on the bedding beside him.
Gently, he cupped her jaw, letting his thumb drag over her soft cheek, before he brought their lips together.
She was stiff at first, though her lips parted for his tongue. Haytham closed his eyes and let himself explore her mouth. He noted it when her breath quickened with desire.
Sex was only another facet of the dance, after all. First, his body had to listen. And then, once he had made his partner’s desires his own, he could use that knowledge to bring her to the most soaring heights of ecstasy.
He ran the fingers of his free hand along the side of her hip, reveling in the feel of the elven silk, and the shape of her body beneath. She leaned into the touch, and Haytham pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.
They remained like that, exploring each other’s mouths as Haytham unwrapped her from her elven garb. Her body was all lush, fine curves, heavy and tantalizingly rich beneath his hands, and his arousal grew and grew as they lay their bodies down together.
Sade leaned her head to the right, and, taking that invitation, he ran kisses down her neck. She was beautiful, haloed in the firelight. He caressed her side, cupping her rear, and she shifted closer to him. The soft inner hide of the blanket teased his cock, increasing his arousal.
He pulled Sade closer, pressing their bodies together. His cock brushed at the space between her thighs. She was soft and warm; thankfully, the elves had not removed her hair below. He reached between them, feeling for the wetness between her secret lips. She was moist and ready for him
But he had learned long ago that in this kind of chase, it was better to circle one's prey, rather than try for a direct strike. So Haytham explored her body, noting where she shivered and when she tensed, until soon her hips were thrusting towards him. Her nipples were tight, brown nubs, and she sighed into his touch.
He took her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. Haytham had no doubt that he was causing her pleasure, and with each touch, he craved her more and more.
And yet, though her body was responding, a secret, silent part of her heart remained apart. Sade had closed her eyes, her lips parted, as she breathed through her teeth.
He ran his palm over her stomach and downward, until his fingers pushed through the soft hair of her pussy. Parting the lips, he thrust three of his fingers inside. He felt for her center of pleasure.
She was wet for him, and the tips of her fingers brushed over the top of his head as he found her sweet spot.
Sade moaned. Haytham took this small sound as a victory, and pushed in again, harder and faster. He wanted her, and she wanted him. Yet no matter how much he tried to take her apart, no matter how well he read her, there was a place he could not touch.
She was mewling now, tiny sounds in the back of her throat, her chest heaving, and Haytham knew she was close. Taking out his fingers, he put a hand on her thighs, and opening them, thrust his cock inside.
The warm heat was intoxicating. The wind of their flight and the sweat of her exertions had wiped away all scent of the elven court, leaving only her mortal musk. He rode her, pushing in and out, careful to target her source of pleasure until she was bucking with him, her eyes squeezed shut as she rolled her head to the side.
Haytham lost himself in her heat. Her orgasm crested first, pulsing around his cock, and he came right after, the sweetness of release washing through him as he managed a final thrust, his cock spilling inside of her. The orgasm was so intense, Haytham’s vision grew white. He dropped his palms to the bedding on either side of her beautiful breasts and breathed.
When he opened his eyes, Haytham realized, to his abrupt horror, that Sade was clutching her chest. Tears were spilling from her eyes.
“Sade?” Haytham touched her face, catching a tear on his index finger. “Are you okay?”
Sade turned away and curled up on her side, burying the side of her face in the bedding.
Haytham was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt and failure. How could he have read her so wrong? He had never suffered so severe a misstep in this dance, not even when he was an awkward youth.
Haytham curled up behind her, not touching her. She sobbed, and Haytham carefully reached out an arm over her body.
She rolled over, pressing her face into his chest. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.
“It’s my fault,” Haytham said, feeling helpless. She had given him every indication that she was willing, and yet... “How did I hurt you?”
“It wasn’t you,” Sade said. “ It’s -- The soul-bond -- it just hurts so much. And I don’t know what to do.” There was a moment of anguished silence. “Laire says to make the pain stop, I have to kill the prince,” she said in a low voice.
Haytham closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“There isn’t any other way?”
Haytham’s mouth was dry as he held Sade close. He was silent for a while. Her breathing soon evened out, and she slowly began to relax in his arms.
Whatever had happened between the courts, however this mortal had gotten so tragically involved, he doubted the elven prince was responsible, or at least as responsible as Princess Laire had claimed. Elves couldn’t lie, but they knew how to manipulate the truth to their own ends.
But Haytham had his own truths, and he had to defend them. His freedom mattered more to him than a mortal’s heart.
“I’m sorry, Sade,” Haytham said into the silence. “That is the only way I know.”
Chapter 7: Mate of Spirit
The difference between the Edenost Court and Haytham’s home was so striking, Sade felt as if she’d been pulled out of her own life, shaken up, and then sewed back in with invisible stitching.
She’d enjoyed picking the flowers and fruit, but the deer had been a shock, especially when Haytham cut the heart up in front of her and put it on a spit to cook. As difficult as it sometimes was to be Laire’s pet, Sade knew her place in the Edenost court. She had served the princess in all ways, and, in turn, the princess cared for her. Dressed her. Made Sade important.
Sade wasn’t sure what purpose she served for Haytham. It was clear she annoyed him sometimes, just as it was obvious that he wasn’t comfortable with her in his home. If the elf Sade had spoken to before leaving was correct, Haytham was somehow constrained to perform the princess’s will. But his life here didn’t seem to reflect that. He seemed as free as any bird -- not even concerning himself with being clothed, and certainly not concerning himself with the thoughts and opinions of others.
Yet, in spite of all of this, in spite of the warning she had been given, Sade found herself warming to Haytham. He was brutal at times, but he had never yet been unkind.
After they had finished their dinner, Haytham invited her to join him in his bed.
This, Sade understood. She had performed the same duties for the princess, and while Laire had refused to share Sade with any of the other elves, she doubted she would have difficulty figuring out how to bring Haytham pleasure.
To begin things, Sade asked: “Had you wanted me to touch you?”
It wouldn’t be an unpleasant task, not by far. Haytham was not unhandsome. He had rugged features -- a strong jaw and piercing green eyes -- and his lean, powerful body and aura of feral independence had fascinated her since she’d first seen him. Some of his honey-brown hair had come free from where he’d tied it back, making him look even wilder.
His eyes narrowed in response to her question. Sade thought, with a sinking heart, that she must have made some mistake.
But before she could correct herself or revoke the offer, Haytham said, to her surprise: “Let me kiss you.”
Sade nodded, trying not to show
her surprise. She sat down on the bedding beside him.
Despite his question, she expected him to take her by the hair and push her down to his rapidly hardening member. That was what she would have expected in Edenost. But instead, he did exactly what he’d asked to do. He cupped her jaw, running his thumb over her cheek, and brought their lips together.
The surprise of it at first kept her from relaxing into his touch. But he was so gentle, so sweet, that she found her lips parting to let him in.
A rush of sweet pleasure swelled inside her. But it only sharpened the always-present ache in her chest.
Sade did her best to will that ache away. She wanted to enjoy this. To enjoy him. She was rapidly discovering that Haytham was nothing like Laire, who had only touched her to show ownership, or to see to her own pleasure.
Haytham ran his hands along the side of her hip, and she leaned into the touch as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. They explored each other’s mouths as Haytham took off her clothes, slowly, as if unwrapping something beautiful.
Something in his touch echoed a memory. For a moment she felt as if there were two sets of hands touching her, and she closed her eyes. She tipped her head to the side to expose her neck for his touch, and when his lips and tongue brushed over that sensitive flesh, the touch seemed to be echoed by moonlight… an odd thought, surely, considering they were inside a cave.
Haytham caressed her side, then suddenly cupped her rear with strong, masculine hands. She gasped into his mouth, and flexed back into that possessive grip.
Haytham’s hardness was pressing between her thighs, and she let them fall apart. She fully expected to feel his strong cock pushing into her, and she wanted that feeling. But, instead, he caressed her slit with his strong, calloused but dexterous fingers, before pursuing his relentless teasing of her body.
Soon she was pushing against him, lost in the sensation, an experience made doubly intense because wherever Haytham’s fingers, lips or teeth touched, it seemed as if was another pair of hands also touching her, bringing her higher, teasing her desire to sweeter and sweeter heights.
When Haytham took her nipple into his mouth, Sade thought she might shatter. She couldn’t keep her eyes open -- partly because when she did, the ghostly hands faded. Good as Haytham’s touch was, the ghostly hands took her to greater heights, even as they filled her with an unspeakable longing.
Haytham was rubbing her stomach with his palm, while ghostly lips ran kisses over her thigh. She opened her legs, wanting more of that touch. But instead of the ghostly hands, Haytham pushed his fingers into her pussy again. It was good. He moved with deft skill, drawing pleasure from her. But the touch was not enough, and in the welling of her body’s pleasure, the ghostly hands seemed to fade.
Sade moaned, and Haytham took this as a sign to go faster and deeper. She did want the touch -- but she wanted more than that, wanted something she did not know how to say. And in spite of the pleasure Haytham’s skilled hands were pulling from her body, the pain in her chest was increasing, as though her heart was being squeezed in an angry fist.
Sade panted, the rising of her orgasm battling with the rising pain even as Haytham pushed his cock inside of her.
Sade came, in an agony of release that brought tears to her eyes. She gripped at her chest, and wept.
“Sade?” Haytham’s voice seemed very far away.
He touched her cheek, and suddenly she could breathe again.
“Sade. Are you okay?”
Sade curled up on her side, burying the side of her face in the bedding. The guilt in his voice was too much for her to bear.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
Carefully, she felt him reach him arm over her body, as if he were afraid that she would flinch away. She rolled over to him, pressing her face into his chest.
“It’s my fault,” he said, stroking her hair. “Just tell me what I did.”
“No, it wasn’t you,” Sade said, trying her best to put this feeling into words. “The soul-bond -- it just hurts so much. And I don’t know what to do...”
It probably made no sense to ask Haytham. If Naira, the princess’ elf, had been correct, he had no will, or at least no freedom, apart from Laire. But he was the only one in her strange, short, blurry memory who had been kind to her without condition – at least, so far. Who else could she trust?
In a low, rough voice, as if confessing her secret, Sade said: “Laire says that to make the pain stop, I have to kill the prince.”
“Yes.”
“There isn’t any other way?”
She felt Haytham’s body stiffen behind her. It took him a few seconds too long to reply.
“I’m sorry, Sade,” he said at last. “That is the only way I know.”
Sade let herself drift to sleep in his arms. The pain of the soul-bond throbbed deep in her, as the wind cried over the cave mouth.
She knew that she could not trust Haytham: not fully. But she could learn from him. And, when the time came, she hoped she would have the strength to make the right decision.
The next week was the most difficult in Sade’s -- admittedly short -- memory of her life. Haytham woke her before dawn. After a meal of smoked deer meat and the remainder of the previous night’s soup, he invited her to climb onto his back, and carried her to a narrow ledge overlooking a sheer drop. The wind was strong over the side of the cliff, and Sade’s hair, so artfully kept in Laire’s court, became a mass of brown frizz around her head.
Haytham’s shape-changing seemed a private thing, so after taking the bag from her back that she’d used to carry the supplies they’d need for the day, including his clothes, and leaving it as far from the edge as she could, she turned her back to Haytham and looked out over the world. In the distance, the yellow and red trees of the Edenost court rippled like a flame. Sade was too far away to see the actual structures within the leaves. Her gaze drifted from that familiar vision over the treetops, to where the red and yellow gradually shifted to a deep green. Something about that color comforted Sade, and, as she looked upon it, she forgot the wind’s chill.
“Are you ready?” Haytham asked. His voice startled Sade. She turned to him and nodded.
Haytham wasted no time.
“Watch my stance,” he said. He placed his feet widely, slightly beyond his shoulders, and bent his knees until they were in a forty-five-degree angle from the ground.
“This is your neutral ground,” he said, “until the wind shows you differently. Next, you will need to perform the three steps. Stay put and watch.”
Sade did as she was instructed. The steps seemed simple: one step right, lift the left leg, sweep, and then turn. Why had the princess had insisted that Haytham drag her to the top of a mountain to learn this? The hardest part would be fighting the wind to stay upright.
After watching Haytham run through the sequence a few more times, Sade said: “I think I understand.”
Haytham gave her a lopsided smile. “I doubt that,” he said. “But you will.” Sade blinked at him in surprise.
“Take your stance,” he told her.
Sade did as instructed. There was a rustle behind her, and Haytham said, “Close your eyes.”
Sade obeyed. She felt a soft strip of hide settle over her eyes, felt him tie it in a knot behind her head, effectively blinding her.
“Now, begin,” Haytham said.
The darkness drained Sade of all her earlier confidence. She was terrified. How would she keep herself from falling over the edge? All she could hear was the wind.
Doing her best to visualize, in her mind, where she had been standing before Haytham had tied the blindfold, Sade took her first, hesitant steps.
“Listen to the wind,” Haytham said, his low voice in her ear. “You’re to move with it, not fight it.”
Sade didn’t know how long she spent, that first day, trying to capture the wind. Several times, Haytham warned her in a neutral voice
that she was close to the edge. And once, Sade stepped into nothingness only to feel his firm grip on her arm, pulling her back before she toppled over the edge.
“Oh, God!” Sade gasped, panting, her stance forgotten.
Suddenly Haytham had both his arms around her. His gentle hand stroked her cheek.
Sade turned her face up, toward where, in her blindness, she guessed his had to be. Though the pain of the previous night scared her -- though she knew that, somehow, he intended to betray her -- she still wanted to kiss him.
Come on, Sade! Girl, you know better. You’ve got to stop making these same mistakes.
The voice speaking in her head was hers, but not quite -- not the voice of Laire’s pet, but of someone who had lived her own life, and had some measure of self-understanding.
Sade’s reaction to the voice must have shown in her physically, because she felt Haytham’s body stiffen. He released her and took a step away, though she still felt him holding one of her hands.
“This way,” he said. “And try again.”
Inner voice fading and forgotten, Sade turned her energy again to struggling to learn the dance.
The next seven days went by in much the same way. They ate breakfast together, trained together, cooked together, and at night slept curled in each other’s arms.
Sade appreciated Haytham’s body. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with lean muscle that was a pleasure to run her fingers over when he was asleep. Once, she offered herself to him. But though Haytham was clearly interested, at least in body -- his arousal warm and semi-hard against her thigh -- he refused. Sade wasn’t certain if the refusal was a relief or disappointment.
Sade found that she loved the dance. When the wind filled her properly, the pain of her soul-bond faded. The darkness of the blindfold only focused her energy. She wished she could spend all her time dancing, but no matter how hard she tried, after a while her concentration faded, and she lost her steps. Still, she persevered.
The first week faded into a second, and then a third. Haytham took off her blindfold after a while. They used it again when she was learning new steps, but on other days, Sade could see the light and air around her, and she felt as if it fed her steps.
