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crazkoala

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       I don’t remember much of the flight, only the brief moments of consciousness in which the ground slid away behind me in a blur of color. Most lucid in my memories though, was the rise and fall of Fate’s chest on my back; The way I felt with the strength of his arms holding me in my sleep…

       I was jarred awake by the jolt of the landing. The griffon slowed to a stop, cooing in a purr of delight. Fate dismounted, and lifted me from its back, helping me steady myself as feeling flooded my legs. Carefully, he removed and aged leather saddle bag I had not noticed from is muscled feline hindquarters, letting it fall to the ground from his hands.

       Fate stepped in front of the magnificent beast, gazing at it in grateful fervor. I watched him take its feather covered head between his palms, caressing the soft down. The griffon clucked happily, nudging its head into Fate’s bare chest, nipping playfully at the skin of his arm with its sharp beak; all the while Fate murmured words of thankfulness. Giving it a reassuring pat on the head, he whispered a brief word of dismissal to the griffon. It trotted across the grass to an area washed in the night’s shade of a tree, where it curled itself into a ball and closed its eyes in well deserved sleep.

       Absorbing my surroundings, even in the dim light I recognized where we were immediately. The jutting land stopped abruptly, falling to the roaring sea that expanded endlessly on the horizon, the forest exploded from behind. The cliff of Odyn.

       I turned my back to the ocean—the old memories it stirred within me were too much to bear. Fate was looking at me, silver eyes gleaming in lunar light. The way his chest moved with each breath, rippling muscles expanding and contracting beneath his smooth skin, made me want to touch him. A warm flush flooded my cheeks at my thoughts, and I turned my head away.

       In the last second, something caught my eye that made my stomach fall. Lodged in the rounded muscle of his shoulder, buried deep within the skin, was the shaft of an arrow. A line of dried blood stained his arm in veining rivulets to the fingertips. I breathed in sharply in my surprise.

       Seeing the concern in my eyes, he mumbled modestly, “Nothing fatal.” A soft smile touched his full lips. I closed the distance between us in a rush, hands darting instinctively to the wound after my months of practice with the Healing Crusade. As my palm pressed over the circumference of the wound, I felt him flinch away slightly.

       “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked him, tone lightly scolding, though the silent gesture sent my heart aflutter. All night he had flown… not stopping despite his injury… The only thing that answered my question was the chirping song of the crickets. “I have to remove the arrow before infection sets in.” I informed him. “You might want to sit down…”

       Fate dropped to the ground gracefully, legs pretzeled below him. I followed. “This is going to hurt…”

       The arrow head was protruding out the back of Fate’s shoulder, making it easier for the both of us. Had it not broken through on the other side…  With one hand I grasped the shaft of the arrow at the base of the wound, the other gripping above. I snapped it off as close to the skind as possible without upsetting the length of the arrow buried in his flesh. I heard Fate’s sharp intake of breath and realized I must have jarred the portion of the arrow inside of his flesh. “Sorry,” I apologized.

       “You warned me,” he said, strained humor only slightly masking the pain in his voice.

Gently, I applied resisting force, easing the arrow out as painlessly as possible. Fate’s lips drew back in a silent snarl when the pain confronted him. His jaw was clenched, every tendon on his arm stood out, the outline of his hand bones were clear under the strain as he dug into the moist ground with his fingernails. Finally, the shaft came and I tossed it onto the dewy grass, wiping the droplets of sweat from my brow.

       Fresh blood seeped from the wound. “Water?” I asked. Breathing heavily, he fumbled for something at his side. He handed me a wineskin, snapping the cord from his belt with a sure yank of his hand.

       I sprayed liquid into the wound with moderate pressure to cleanse it, then tearing a portion from the hem of my dress I proceeded to bandage his shoulder, wrapping it tightly to stop blood flow and tying it with a secure knot.

       I tore another section of my dress, soaking it in the remainder of the water, and began to wipe to blood from his arm. I was distinctly aware of Fate’s eyes watching me as I worked, aware of every movement, but I set that fact aside as best I could in my mind.

       With the wound fully dressed, in all honesty I was done, but almost thoughtlessly I found an excuse to return to his shoulder. I couldn’t bring myself to abandon the marvel of his skin. My fingers traced across his forearm and up to a knot of muscle near the edge of his collar bone. The heated rush of his breath washed across my skin. Horrified, I withdrew my hands, a hot blush creeping up my neck and into my cheeks.

       The coaxing force of his fingers beneath my chin brought my face to meet his. Something burned in his cloudy eyes, heating me to the core. My body went weak and I didn’t seem to be getting enough air to maintain consciousness.

       My mouth hung slightly agape and I close it, feeling foolish. The fire of his fingers wandered to my ear, where they tucked a loose section of hair safely away. A palm cupped the nape of my necl. Slightly disoriented and overwhelmed by so many sensations, I discovered his face descend upon mine. My heat skipped a beat, threatening to sputter to a stop.

       The sweet intoxicating smell of his breath flooded my lungs. My own breathing was somewhat shallow and frenzied. His lips hovered not even a full inch from mine; I frozen beneath them. Bringing both hands to my face, he caressed my skin in tantalizingly slow movements. “May I just…?” the warmth of his words washed over my lips, stroking their way to my ears where I sluggishly interpreted their meaning.

       It was all too much, his hands, his face, his lips, his hair, his eyes his breath. Him. Fate. Oh, so foolish! Unable to control myself, both arms darted behind his neck and I pulled him into me, crushing my lips into his. My Rash action caused us both to tumble to the ground, him on top of me, in a tangle of limbs.

       My body seemed to have found a mind of its own. Without my consent, my hands ecpored the vast area of broad, muscular chest, savored the feel of his carved back, the softness of his golden hair, all the while his lips devoured min—stealing my breath, my unspoken words. One of his hands tugged mine away from his body, fingers twining.

       With a regretful tension, Fate broke the Kiss, chest rising and falling rapidly. Something wild and hungry danced in his eyes, but also there was a controlled reserve. He gazed down at me, silently asking permission. Just as wordlessly, I gave it to him—raising myself from the ground I guided our interlocked hands behind me, helping his fingers find the lace of my dress.

       A simple Smile met his lips, but somehow, I knew it had much more significance. A metallic line caught the light of the rising sung, flashing slightly from his dewy lashes to halfway down his cheek, and I realized he was crying. Tears of pain and pleasure, joy and sorrow. Tears like my own.