Where there is magic, there are monsters. Many live in fear of being stalked in the night, while others seek them out. Superstition and fact are often difficult to separate, and the demons who prey on human weaknesses have an easy time indulging themselves.
Special thanks to the wonderful volunteer editor stbkvln for helping me with tone, consistency, vocabulary, and so much more. Your assistance has been indispensable, and it means the world to me.
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She strode through the forest and breathed in the scent of springtime, barely casting her awareness beyond her immediate surroundings. Hardly any other creatures warranted a second glance from her. She moved as if she owned the land beneath her feet, and each of the trees and flowers she brushed with her fingers.
Her focus was entirely dedicated to the sensations of the present, never straying to worries, memories, or abstract thought. It was an oft-practiced state of mind. She perceived only the orange waning light of day, the moist plant life brushing her skin, and the distant sounds of lesser animals bedding down for the night. The unfamiliar sensation of clothing against her skin tugged at her senses, a reminder of why she wore it: she needed to leave this place. Too many had come looking already, and with each passing day the chances increased of better-prepared hunters finding her.
The bottom of the stolen cloak snagged on a twig and broke her waking meditation. The momentary annoyance brought thoughts of other nuisances she'd soon have to deal with while on the move, but she cleared her head of all but the present once more. She nearly passed the campsite by without noticing it.
The smells of moist wood burning and cooked meat contrasted against the new greenery. She approached it with curiosity, and very little caution. As the surrounding forest dimmed and desaturated, the campfire was easy to spot in its pretty little clearing. She hadn't planned on hunting anytime soon, but certainly wouldn't turn down the opportunity if it presented itself this easily.
Her movements became silent and nearly undetectable as she drew closer, surveying the area for any threats. One bedroll, one pack, one sword, and no animals. Perfect. She then caught sight of him; her prey. A mobile, strong body moved energetically about the campsite making preparations, humming happily to himself as he did so. He seemed so carefree, so peaceful, but the appearance of his clothes and gear bespoke the time he'd been on the road. He would be easy to conquer.
She made herself known by noisily entering the clearing at the edge of the firelight, and had barely taken a second step before a sword appeared in the man's hand.
"Who goes there!" He demanded, pointing it steadily towards her.
"Calm yourself, traveller," she said smoothly, "I am no threat." Her voice, sweet as honey, was laced with enchantment. He hesitated, but did not lower his weapon. She smiled. Perhaps he'd be an unexpected challenge; a welcome reprieve from the easy marks which had been stumbling blindly into her territory the past few weeks.
He looked young, no more than thirty, yet he wore no amulet of betrothal around his neck. His clothes, though recently cleaned, showed years of hard use. As did his body. A set of light armor and a doublet laid nearby where he'd stripped them off for the night, leaving only a thin layer of clothing between him and the evening air. His stance was firm and well-practiced; his demeanor confident. The skin on his hands and neck bore several jagged scars which told of many battles fought. And that thin shirt teased at what lay beneath it. Her mouth watered. He looked delicious.
Her eyes raked over him, and then locked with his. She smiled sweetly, and saw his expression soften just the tiniest bit. That was all the opening she needed to attack. She reached up to the clasp at her throat, and in one deft motion allowed the unwelcome cloak to slip from her shoulders. She wore nothing underneath it.
She appeared young, soft, and supple. Shadows of lean muscle ran up her long legs, inviting hands to be run along them. The smooth line of her hips gleamed in the firelight, framed by long black hair that ran almost beyond them. Her face was rounded and warm, with feminine features which would look utterly harmless at first glance. But her eyes and lips held an obvious self-assurance. The longer one looked, the more it resembled a ravenous hunger. She was a wondrous sight for men to behold. She was perfect. And the way she carried herself showed that she knew it, too.
"My lady, no!" He let his sword fall from his grasp and fumbled for a blanket on the ground behind him. "You'll catch a chill!"
"Shhhh," she soothed, advancing towards him on bare feet. "The fire is plenty warm for me." She stepped over his weapon, careful not to draw his attention back to it. "You're so kind. But you worry too much." Her voice deepened considerably, woven with magic and desire. She spoke slowly, as if tasting every word on its way past her lips. He stopped fumbling with his bedroll and turned to look at her. His eyes wandered, flicking nervously as if unsure whether he should be looking at all. She heard his heartbeat quicken.
She knelt before him slowly, feeling the air between them thicken with his warm breath. When her face was level with his, he did not meet her gaze. Whether out of fear or disbelief, he was frozen and tense. Like a deer with its head up and ears pricked forward, he was trained on her, and seemed ready to flee at the slightest hint of aggression.
"How generous you are," she said in a near whisper, "offering to help a complete stranger, out of the goodness of your heart." She reached towards him in a tranquil, deliberate motion. Her fingers grazed a scar just under his jawline. "You've fought so very hard, haven't you?" Goosebumps raised along his skin as if a sudden chill had blown through him. She pressed her palm to his cheek. A rough layer of stubble met her feather-soft skin. He exhaled shakily and closed his eyes, and then leaned into her touch. She could tell it had been ages since he'd had human contact, and longer still since he'd seen anything as soft and beautiful as she.
But he didn't throw himself at her. His guard was still up, driving her mad with sudden hunger. His resistance made for a challenge, and would make the reward that much sweeter.
She took a risk. Reaching for his shoulder with her other hand, she pulled him towards her. She felt him tense under that maddeningly thin shirt, teasing her. But he didn't pull away or open his eyes. She sighed a warm breath into his ear, and stroked the scars below his jaw. He shivered. She felt the goosebumps spread all along his neck, stubble bristling beneath her palm. She breathed in his scent of leather and earth, while his skin pricked with a light sheen of sweat.
His arms slackened at his sides. She planted a kiss on his cheek, light as a snowflake drifting from the heavens. And she whispered in his ear. "Such a strong man... I want to see every inch of your strength." She kissed down to his neck, more deeply this time. The hand she'd been embracing him with moved lower down his back. "I
need
you", she cooed, slipping that hand under his shirt to encircle his waist. He swallowed.
"What do you need of me?" He asked, his voice hoarse and heavy. She chuckled, and began unlacing his shirt.
"Everything," she murmured.
She undid the final knot and ran her hands slowly over his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken as if he'd sprinted to her. He was a little leaner than she'd expected, but the muscle was dense and firm to her touch. Hard lines and edges beneath surprisingly youthful skin. He sucked in a breath as she felt his scars, taking the liberty of exploring where she pleased. He was a fine specimen. A smile touched her lips as she indulged herself.
"Wait..." he croaked, "I don't..."
Before he could collect his thoughts enough to object, she interrupted him with a deep, slow kiss on the lips. He responded almost autonomically, returning the kiss and straightening. His hands finally reached for her, but jumped away when they met the bare skin of her waist, as if he'd forgotten her state of undress. He broke off the kiss and opened his eyes to meet her gaze. Apprehension and suspicion peered out at her through the lust she'd clouded his head with. What a flighty little bird he was!
"Relax," she said with a smile, "there's no need to worry." She added a dose of strong magic to the lie. His expression softened. She immediately seized the opportunity to slip his shirt from his shoulders and push against him, guiding him to the ground.
