Hey all, this is my first foray into erotica, let me know what you think!
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We burst through the doors of the basement apartment and I hit hardwood on one knee panting while my apprentice turned and made a few subtle hand gestures that activated her protective wards.
As embarrassing as it was, I had just been about to bite the big one at the hands of a tiny hoard of iron nail-welding faeries, and would have if Holly hadn't saved my ass with her first rate illusion work. "Thanks for that Grasshopper, you really saved my ass back there."
My casual use of her old nickname sent a pained look across her face for the briefest of moments and I suddenly felt very guilty for having said it. Our relationship had taken a hit when I sort of died last year and left her and some other very important people in my life to fight an incursion of supernatural nasties on their own. Ahem, it's a long story.
The last time I'd seen my apprentice she was a skinny, rag-tattered shadow of a girl, but six months on the street with my godmother as her mentor had put a glint of steel in her eye and her specialty, illusion magic, which had been top-tier before, was now nearly flawless.
I looked down at the gleaming floor for a few more seconds and decided I'd be better of standing up than collapsing face-down like I felt like doing. That way at least my pride would be unwounded, which I could hardly say for the rest of me.
The puncture wounds all over my body screamed for attention as I got to my feet, but already the worst of it was fading. I had been the Winter Knight for all of six hours and had already faced off with some pretty hard customers, but I'll give it to Nab, I only felt like a car wreck when I should have felt like a hold-riddled train wreck. Small favors, I guess.
The first thing I noticed when I looked around was that my head, which, when I'm upright is about 6 feet 9 inches off the ground, was nowhere near the ceiling.
I peered around at the cavernous room we'd entered and whistled. "Hells bells, kid" I said, "
this
is your apartment?" Holly gave a sheepish quirk of her lips. "Yup." "How did you manage to pull this one off?" I asked.
I looked around the place some more. Although it was a basement apartment, that's where the similarities between it and my old apartment ended. Three of my dingy old apartments could have fit inside Holly's great room, which included an open floor plan living room, dining room and kitchen. The place had granite counter tops, recessed lighting, and a kitchen straight out of freaking iron chef.
"The svaltarves built it for me," she replied, "I did them a favor a while back while you were, um, gone. I'll tell you about it sometime, but let's get you patched up before you bleed all over my floor." I looked down at myself -- my shirt was torn to shreds and there was an expanding bloodstain on my jeans where I'd taken a particularly deep slash. Damn. A nail to the quad is never going to feel good, but I suspected something about playing for team Winter made me sensitive to iron, same as any other being of faerie. I'm no stranger to pain, but that shit freaking HURT.
"Go sit over there on the table" Holly said as she bustled down a short hallway. I walked over to an ash-colored solid wood dining room table that could have seated 12 comfortably. I fought back another impressed whistle and moved two chairs aside so I could sit with my legs dangling off the edge, as much as legs as long as mine can dangle anyway.
Holly walked over to a closet outside the bathroom and reached up on tip toe to retrieve a fairly hefty and extensive looking first aid kit. I had a good view down the hallway from my spot on the table, and tried not to notice the interesting things the motion did to the shape of her body under her fitted white tank top and green cargo pants. I felt some heat come into my face. The kid wasn't flaunting her figure in the outfit, but damn if I didn't notice it anyway.
Holly hefted the kit down and I whipped my head straight ahead, trying to look as if I had been contemplating the mysteries of the universe and most definitely
not
Holly's fantastically pert ass.
Even looking ahead, I felt steady eyes on my face, which meant I had probably not been as subtle as I'd hoped. More heat crawled its way up my neck as I remembered that Holly was a what amounted to a psychic sensitive, she could feel emotions the way most people could feel the weather. I had no doubt that she was getting some intense signals from me right now. I swallowed and tried to look innocent, which is hard to do when you look like something between a cowboy, vagabond, and an NBA player, but I tried. I couldn't help but contemplate how fantastically
wrong
these feelings were.
Holly was in her mid-20s now, but I'd known her since she was in a training bra. As much as she would have liked it to be otherwise, over the years I had refrained from letting our relationship get anything close to intimate. But, damnit, it didn't help that she was a total knockout. Blond, just over 5'10" and built like the proverbial brick house, all curves and lean muscle with a generous helping of what could only be construed as fine art up top -- if one were inclined to notice such things. I had maintained a general principle of steadfastly
not
noticing these things about Holly, but my hormones and I hadn't exactly been on the same page lately.
Taking up the Winter mantle, the power that was endowed to the chosen mortal champion of the Winter court of faerie, had been a last resort move when I'd had nowhere else to turn in a bad squeeze last year.