Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)
Shall We?

With the woman’s back turned, the thought crossed Llew’s mind that they could just carry on, but somehow the very fact that Merrid trusted them not to made doing so impossible. She cursed and ran after her. “Merrid!”

The farmer’s wife turned, a placid smile on her face.

“We don’t mean any disrespect, but we might we dead by week’s end, and... he’s asked me to marry him when this is all over, so, do you think, maybe, this time, you could overlook...?”

Merrid’s eyes looked over Llew’s shoulder, to the darkness of the alleyway.

“Don’t you stay skulking back there. Come out where I can see you.”

Jonas stepped up beside Llew, head down, hands behind his back like he’d been caught doing something wrong, which Llew supposed they had, but she’d never been one to understand why, given how right it felt. With Jonas, anyway.

“You love her?” Merrid asked, to which Jonas nodded with the same confidence he’d mustered for Llew moments earlier. Merrid turned to Llew. “And you love him?”

Llew froze. Love. The concept still gave her pause. To love was to need, and to need was weakness. Besides, what did love have to do with fulfilling a physical need? Even as she thought it, she knew she was deceiving herself. If this was merely about a physical desire, then it would do nothing to erase what Braph had done. What was love? Was it the garden Anya had built for them? The warning she’d sent after Llew? Was it Jonas entering Turhmos to find her after Braph captured her? Was it in risking their lives to protect each other? Maybe it was all these things, or none. Maybe it was in wanting to be together, and the heartache that arose when they were parted. Llew didn’t know, but she knew what she wanted in that moment.

She nodded.

“Well …” Merrid’s fingers looped and unlooped in the front of her skirt. “You know where your bed is.” Llew nodded. “The men sleep in the bunker.” Jonas nodded. “And just so you know, we’re all heading for bed soon.” Merrid looked pointedly between them and they both nodded, receiving her suggestion clearly – the alleyway by the bunker was not a good place to carry on. “Hm. Well.” Merrid brushed imaginary flour prints off her skirt. “There is... There is a nice stack of straw round back of the chicken shed,” she rattled out quickly, then turned on her heels and walked briskly back up the cart-way.

Part of Llew wanted to follow the woman back to the kitchen, apologize, but a much bigger, more forceful part of her needed to do this, and if Jonas was willing...

Llew turned one hundred and eighty degrees, the toes of her boots making a tight circle in the loose dirt beneath them. Jonas turned a moment after and she held her hand out between them, brushing his to let him know hers was there. He gripped it.

“Shall we?” She gave him a sly look.

His eyes sparkled as she imagined her own must and they walked with a distinct skip in their steps past the stables and around the back of the chicken coup, where, sure enough, a stack of straw piled high against the wall.

Llew turned to face him, eager to continue from where they had been interrupted.

“I’d like to …” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “… undress you.”

“Okay.”

Nervousness reigned as Llew stepped closer to him. Excitement, too, but tempered excitement. Somehow it felt like so much rested on this moment. Like it was the difference between her feeling like a normal human being or pleading with Jonas to kill her, kill her now, she was broken, never to be fixed.

A smile lifted the corners of Jonas’s lips as he watched her, waiting for her to make her move.

She lifted his hat and tossed it aside so it wouldn’t get rumpled, then she worked down the buttons of his coat. His deep, relaxed breathing eased her nerves.

With the jacket slid free, she started on his shirt.

Shirt off left him with his warm undershirt. She wanted to take it off, see and feel the skin beneath, but that would leave him exposed to the night’s winter chill. She peered up at him, asking permission, and he nodded. She loosened the few buttons, and he swung his arms up so she could pull the undershirt up and free, the move bringing them nose to nose, breath to breath, making a kiss a tempting next move, but she didn’t. Not yet.

She gazed down, lingering on the thick black lines that made up the gryphon rearing up on his chest. It was such a part of him and spoke of his strength and heroism, she sensed herself slip into another stage of calm.

Watching for his reaction, she reached for his belt. Whether he found all this permission-seeking amusing or not, he didn’t let it show. He nodded.

She slipped the buckle, pulled the leather through the trouser loops, then she stepped back, looped the belt in her hands, crouched, and gently laid it silently on the ground.

One challenge overcome, she stood and stepped close to him again. He shifted before her, using one foot and then the other to slide his boots loose and kick them free.

While her fingers loosened the buttons of his trousers, she leaned closer, bringing their lips to a hair’s breadth apart.

Buttons loose, she placed her hands on his hips and pushed down, sliding the heavy material far enough for him to shimmy them lower and step free.

Naked, he stood at ease, watching her.

She went to reach out to touch his skin, hesitated, cocked her head. “Do you mind?”

“No.” Again, no humor.

She placed her hand on the head of the gryphon near his armpit, followed the sweeping line as if caressing the great beast. Jonas’s jaw rippled, and he swallowed as her hand passed around his rib cage, but he didn’t flinch. She worked her way behind him, tracing the great wings that dominated his back, down, down to the wingtip below his left buttock. Unlike the first time they had been together, his skin was mostly smooth, like he’d never seen a day of battle in his life, an impression easily supported by his light frame. Certainly, muscle rippled under every inch of skin, but the fact remained he was little more bulky than Llew. Those muscles worked overtime now, fighting to keep him warm in the night air.

Llew continued around until she came to face him, brought her hands up to undo her own jacket. Still Jonas stood before her, content to watch. Jacket, shirt, undershirt slipped to the ground. She kicked off her boots, stepped free of her trousers, and stood naked before him.

“It’s cold,” she said. “I’d like to share your heat. Can I …?” She smiled. It was odd, this talking about things, asking permission. Maybe it would come easier with practice. “Can I cuddle with you?”

“Sure.” He smiled, spread his arms, and stepped forward to meet her halfway. “I’d like that.”

She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and his came around her, pulling her close. While their exposed skin froze, chests, bellies and arms warmed.

Jonas risked the cold to pull his head back. “I’d like to show you something.”

Llew let him turn her and press her back into the wall of the chicken shed.

He kissed her once, twice, then left her wanting as he trailed little pecks down her chin, throat, between her breasts.

She felt exposed, and not only to the cold. Leaning on the chicken shed wall, in the middle of Merrid and Ard’s farm, in the heart of Turhmos, she was caught in a limbo between desperately wanting to experience Jonas’s touch and a need to cover up and hide. For the moment, the want was winning.

Jonas moved down, down and a mix of cool air and warm breath swarmed between her thighs. He planted a kiss where no one had kissed her before and Llew squawked and clamped her hands over her mouth. But she didn’t move. She waited. Warm breath blew over icy cold wetness. She didn’t know if she liked it, but she was willing to give herself the chance to find out. He didn’t disappoint, his tongue teasing, his hands exploring, but never quite delving to do more than draw out her need for more, and she wanted more. Legs desperate to part rather than hold her weight nearly buckled. She let herself slide down the wall, settling in the scratchy straw. Slowly, ever so slowly, trying to shift positions without interrupting proceedings. A sharp burr broke skin on her shoulder and she stifled a yelp. He grunted as her skin closed again, then crawled over her and took her mouth with his. He tasted funny now, and Llew didn’t know if she liked it, but she didn’t not like it all that much, not enough to turn him away, anyway. He kissed her again, and again, his hand continuing the work begun, fingers dimpling her thigh, trailing the crease where hip and leg met, making her hunger for progress. She pressed her hips up, naked in the freezing night, somehow not bothered by that, her only concern that she was about to go beyond ready and into frustration.

Jonas was still working his kisses back down her belly, too slow, too slow. She reached down, slid her fingers into his armpits, tugged lightly, trusting him to know what she wanted. A breathy laugh tickled her tummy, then cut off sharply. Had he heard someone approaching? Llew froze, listening into the dark, but could hear nothing.

She was about to sit up to see what the problem was when warm breath tickled her belly, nearly sending her into fits of laughter, but his mouth hovered over where their babies had been. It was strange, in this moment, to be reminded of something so deeply sad, but it was a sadness they shared and instead of making her burst into tears, despite the lump in her throat, it filled her heart. In the fates of their children, they would be forever connected. Shared loss. Shared love.

Coming out of whatever reverie he’d been in, he scooted up, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She wrapped her legs about him, pulling his hips into hers and they moved together, sweaty in the freezing air, clinging tight, and still Llew wished they could get closer. Just like every other time, and yet not like every other time, not at all. The mechanics were the same, but it was a part of something so much more.

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