Toussaint had quite a bit to offer. He spent a few days traveling around the area, sampled the wines of the area (as Ciri had strongly suggested). He quickly became a regular at the Fox Hollow. He enjoyed the music, Gwent, and food. Ivan made his own ale, and it was strong. He eyed the notice board when he came in, not quite looking for work but still curious if anything ever happened.
It was a warm night, a recent posting caught his eye.
Please help, some evil stalks our vineyard.
He heard a few women whispering about the deaths at a local vineyard, the bodies shredded and missing limbs.
Several workers killed, grape vines torn from the ground.
I care not for the vineyard, please stop this creature
before it kills again.
Others in the Tavern talked about Grenneck, who was apparently the proprietor of said vineyard, being inconsolable over the loss of his workers. They spoke of his wife, too afraid to leave the home. Called the place haunted.
"Sure doesn't sound haunted." He mumbled, folding up the notice.
A woman sat across from him. Her eyes glittering in the candle light. "No, not haunted. Sounds like they have an infestation. Could be bugs, they're pretty awful around here."
"Yeah? How so? Bigger? Drunk all the time?" He took a pull from his mug, glancing up at Meadow. "Know something about these people?" He motioned to the notice, now tucked in a pouch at his side.
She shook her head in the negative. "Not well, but I have helped Grenneck and Deidre with deliveries to their vineyard, met Elden and Heath." She sat quietly for all of three seconds. "What about those giant plants that come to life and eat people?"
"Archespores, yeah. I've seen 'em." He took a bite of his meal, boiled potatoes and chicken. "Don't think that's tearing people apart and keeping their arms and legs. Sounds like a troll, actually."
"I've never seen a troll, not alive. I've seen pictures, read about them in a book. Can they actually talk?" She watched him with curious anticipation.
Lambert thought of the trolls out by Kaer Morhen, dumb as a sack of bricks. "They're shit for conversation, too stupid really."
"What do they look like? Are they as big as a man?" She curled up in her seat, almost like a child, eagerly waiting for his answer.
"Yeah, they look like rocks with small heads. They can get taller than me, I think the biggest one I saw was in Skellige. Ugly fucker, ate anyone that came too close to its cave." Lambert started telling her about them, their odd way of talking, their incredibly simple logic. She had mentioned they seemed like children, just bigger. Lambert agreed that they also smelled twice as bad. "You wouldn't think it but they smell like rotting meat."
"So, are you going to help those people? That's what you do, right?" She snatched a piece of chicken off his plate.
Lambert watched her for a moment before answering. After all this time of him trying to ignore her she had managed to weasel her way onto his good side, despite his constant trying to put her off. She always had a meal and drink ready for him. After all those weeks of her pestering him, he finally gave in and started talking back. He had thought several times of finding another place to be social but he kept coming back, night after night. He was a glutton for punishment, though even he was hesitant to call her a punishment. Besides, Ivan was a nice enough guy, decent conversation and was pretty good at Gwent. Some of the other men and women that came in were fairly pleasant and he didn't mind the noise. Meadow treated him like he was a novelty, and in a strange way he'd grown to like it. She was fascinated by his scars, his swords, his eyes, God's she even nagged him about his clothing. She would fire off a series of questions about his day, ask if he was hungry, thirsty, she would wait patiently for him to eat. Once he'd finish his meal he'd tell her about whatever she wanted to know. After a while he started looking forward to seeing her.
"That was my chicken." Lambert finally spoke, watching her tear off a piece of his bread and nibble at it.
"And? I made it and you don't ever pay. Now talk, are you helping them or not?" She smirked, eyes full of hopeful curiosity, always with the curiosity.
"If I say yes will you leave my chicken alone?" He cast a worried glance at the chicken still on the plate.
She laughed at his expression. "Ok, deal."
He finished eating while she talked about the various people who lived at the vineyard. Older noble couple, three older sons who had been in line to inherit the land. She talked about Garrett, the oldest, and how he was controlling, meticulous, and extremely orderly. Also, an advisory to the Princess, one of many. He had no interest in the vineyard, would have sold it were his brothers not so eager to continue the family tradition. Wine makers, good wine too. The Royal Family of Beuclaire bought their wine frequently for feasts and banquets. Elden and Heath were twins who loved the land and wanted to expand it.
"I take it back, it's entirely likely there isn't even a monster involved." He plopped the empty mug down.
Meadow hopped up to grab another jug to fill his cup. "Think one of the boys killed those people? Why not kill the family, then?"
He thought for a moment. "Could be they're trying to scare them off. How have they been acting since all this happened? Where are they?"
"Garrett is still in Beuclaire, he has been working in the palace as an advisor of sorts. Elden and Heath live there. Garrett would never hurt his family, neither would the twins. Garrett is just…he's different, cold. He never really warmed up to anyone." She said with a shrug.
Lambert thought for a moment that she meant herself. Hard not to warm up to a woman who won't leave you alone. But maybe Garrett was more like himself, not very friendly or outgoing. Lambert could charm the coin out of anyone he wanted, he simply didn't care for people. He was bitter.
"I'll go to the vineyard in the morning, look at the bodies and see if I can figure out what happened." Meadow let out an excited squeak.
"Oh, I wish I could go! I've always wanted to see a Witcher in action." Lambert chuckled at her excitement.
"It's not like you think, pretty simple really. Enhanced senses help with most of it." He pointed to his eyes. "I can see pretty well in the dark, too. I have different potions to enhance different things." He held up a bottle of Swallow. "This speeds up the healing process, useful when something is kicking my ass."
"Why do you have two swords? One for each hand?" She said with a glance at them. "They look too heavy for that." She noted off handedly.
"Yeah, one at a time. Silver for monsters, steel for humans." His face was solemn. "I use the steel blade more often than I'd like." He thought of killing Jad Karadin, Selyse, and the red riders.
"You kill people, too?" Her voice faltered, he could sense the hesitancy in her.
"Sometimes, when I have to. In Velen there are a lot of very bad people, bandits and deserters from different armies. They tend to pillage and rape so I have to kill them. Nothing is as dangerous as a man, especially one who is has nothing left to lose." He kept his eyes on the mug, it made him sick to his stomach to think of all the men he'd killed. More than any knight would boast of, or any bandit he'd ever encountered. Sure people were awful, soulless creatures, but he never did get used to killing them. He only ever wanted to see two men dead, he'd had a chance to end one and the other died miles away from him without his permission.
Meadow reached out and touched his hand, snapping him back to reality. He started, looking at her delicate fingers against his calloused, rough hands. He thought it odd that she found him so interesting, that she was so eager to know him. But he didn't hate it. It was a far cry from Kiera, Triss, the brothel girls. He was an oddity, a curious creature for her to study. He was still surprised that she hadn't shown any disgust or repulsion, most women did at some point. When the novelty of a Witcher wore off and he was just another scared and damaged sack of flesh paying for the attention.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I don't ever seem to know when I should stop prying into someone else's head. It's dull here, lovely but boring. I want adventure, excitement!" She clasped his hand firmly in her two smaller ones. "I want to see all the things you've seen, hear about trolls and bandits. I'm so afraid I'll spend my life here, wasting away into nothingness and boredom."
Lambert could respect that. She was young, at least younger than he was. Elves did live an awfully long time, though there were few pureblood elves in the world anymore. Most were sages, living off magic. She wasn't pure elf, but whatever it was had her living longer than normal.
"Your kind are never happy in one place for very long." He eyed her over his drink, leaning back in the chair as if to get a better look at her. "And I don't mean 'elves', which you most certainly are not."
She watched him for a moment, her eyes were looking right through him and it made him a little nervous. His medallion was vibrating so softly he nearly missed it. "No." Her voice was different, soft and yet somehow dangerous. "I am not." Her eyes changed, the iris became more of an oval, dilating in the dark of the tavern but he could see it clearly now. She was an Aguara, very rare and very dangerous.
He studied her, how she moved and talked to the others when he saw her. He reasoned her interest in him was one of self-preservation, maybe even anger. "Why did you choose to live here?" He finally asked. "Of all places, here." He sat back still staring at her. Figures, he goes to get away only to wind up in even deeper shit than before.
She sat back in her chair, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "I like it here. I'm not the only tame monster here. I'm sure that if you know Geralt of Rivia then you know of Detlaff and Regis, and there's Orianna. I'm no blood sucker, but I've never done anything to any elven child. I just love the beauty of Toussaint. And wine, I do love wine." It made sense now, her odd attraction to him. "I like the odd little nuances of this country, that even a monster such as I could find a place here."
He took another drink, she offered him more and he accepted. "Were you ever actually interested in me or was this all some elaborate test to see if I would kill you?" He couldn't quite explain the cause for his disappointment, it wasn't as if he'd actually come looking for anyone or anything. Even still, it was a refreshing change to have such a lovely young woman seeing him as a man and not a killer.
"No." She answered without hesitation. "I didn't want to tell you, I still don't, but if something is out there killing people then I should show myself now. I was never worried about you, I don't think you've ever killed unnecessarily. I don't want to be a surprise later on, I'd rather not be killed by you. Or anyone." She stood and retrieved a mug for herself. "I protect them the best that I can, which is to say that nothing happens to the people of Fox Hollow. I know enough from other healers to cure illness and sew wounds. I can fight, as I'm sure you're aware. I love these people, this is my home and I will protect it." She drained the mug without spilling a drop. He was impressed by that alone.
He thought for a moment. "So you are actually concerned for Garreck and his family?" He found it difficult to wrap his head around it. Her animal guile could be dangerous to even the most seasoned of his kind, but it would also make sense that she could effectively protect a village this small. Geralt had once mentioned a beautiful brunette and a red head who both were extremely grateful when he rid the place of bandits. He never mentioned anything about a fox woman being here, or magic of any kind happening near his vineyard.
"Yes." She didn't hesitate. "I don't know what has taken up residence in the forest there, but it is stronger than me." She poured herself another drink. "And it attacks in broad daylight, evening, whenever it pleases. I haven't been able to find anything, not its scent, no tracks, nothing."
"Well, I did say I would look into it." He declined another drink, she frowned. "I should get back, prepare for whatever it might be."
"I'm sorry if I've offended." She stood with him. "I just didn't want it to be a surprise later, I'm not capable of defending myself from you, either." She stared intently at her hands, wringing them together in worry.
Lambert didn't know what he was feeling, it wasn't like he'd never experienced a monsters' charms. There used to be a succubus in Oxenfurt who was very talented. And he'd known a bruxa or two who were rather friendly with Witcher's. He couldn't decide if he felt foolish for thinking she was interested in him or for the fact that he hadn't noticed what she was earlier. "You didn't, I just didn't notice earlier and it pisses me off. I'm better than this." He dropped a coin pouch on the table. "For dinner." His tone was cold and he turned to leave. She started to stand, move after him, but he turned and stopped her with a look. "I'm not angry, Meadow. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, either. I just...now is a real bad fucking time for me to start losing my grip." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'll be by tomorrow. Good night." He spun on his heel, rushing out the door. She could hear his horse whinny as it bolted for Corvo Blanco.
Meadow sat down, holding the coin purse in her hand for a moment. She hadn't wanted to tell him, it wasn't really relevant, she just let her guard down and let him see what she was. She certainly wasn't killing anyone. She liked the people here, they were good and honest and they cared for each other. Ivan took her in when she was sick and hurt and never said a thing about what she was. 'Makes no difference where you came from. Toussaint is plenty full of strange as it is, you ought to fit right in.' She had never hurt a soul, not before she lived there and not since. She couldn't shake the coldness his eyes left her feeling, not quite sure why she should be so upset that a stubborn ass of a man was upset with her for being what she was.
"What's bothering you, little one?" Ivan came over to clean up the table and check in on her.
She made a soft whimpering sound and looked up, handing him the coin purse. "He thinks I'm a monster." She cringed at how pathetic she sounded.
Ivan chuckled and sat across from her. "Don't think he's just trying to figure you out? I see him watch you when you're off tending to the others, little one. He is a curious one, not sure why he's here but it wasn't to kill monsters." He leaned over, cupping her cheek. "It wasn't to hurt anyone. You could try and talk to him away from here, where everyone can see you." Meadow started to say she didn't know where he was staying. "You know damn well he's staying at Corvo Blanco, where Geralt lived. Go, talk to him."
She was gone before he turned around, dashing through the thicket and down the road. As a fox she was fast and far less noticeable. She saw his horse in the stable, looking perfectly content as it ate. She crept behind it, earning a curious snort from him. The door was ajar, she could hear him moving about inside and almost lost her nerve.
Meadow was terrified he'd come out angry with her, furious that the monster followed him home. She tilted her head, ears picking up the slightest movement. "Oh just come in already. Your breathing is so loud I heard you from the stable." She flinched at his tone. He sounded angry, drunk maybe.
She quickly assumed the feminine form he was used to seeing and hesitantly pushed the heavy door open. He was sitting at the end of a long table, a large bottle of liquor opened and two cups sitting in front of him. He motioned for her to take a seat. She made her way over to him, silent and nervous. He poured a drink into a wooden cup and a silver one, offering her the wooden. She whispered a thank you, taking the drink and sniffing it. Strong vodka, homemade, aged. She sipped it, surprised it was actually decent.
"I make it myself." He said softly, watching her drink.
She nodded. "I can tell, it's good." Coughing as the liquid scalded her throat.
"How can you tell?" The question shot out before he could stop it.
"Fox." She said simply. Of course her sense of smell was keen, she'd picked him up before he'd even gotten to her little village.
"I know, I forgot." He waved a hand dismissively. "So, why did you follow me? Afraid I'd leave before fulfilling the contract?" His eyes were cold, staring her down.
She shook her head, unable to speak. He frightened her. She couldn't look him in the eye, so instead she stared into her cup. "I wanted to explain myself, I think. You seemed so upset-"
"Fuck yeah I am. You never thought this might be information to tell a Witcher before? Oh hey mister monster killer, I happen to be a fucking monster!" He slammed his fist into the table.
"I'M NOT A MONSTER!" She shouted, frightened and enraged. "I have never hurt a soul, never done anything to anyone. I didn't ask for THIS!" Her face was no longer the lovely face of Meadow the elf but a terrifying fox demon. "I hate this, I hate that I can easily kill those people, Ivan, anyone I wish. I chose not to hurt anyone. If you have to kill me then do it, but I didn't come here for some sort of a showdown." She shook her head, changing made her skin tingle and she intensely disliked the feeling.
Lambert felt a twinge of guilt, which he wanted to stamp out with his boot. She hadn't actually done anything wrong. She told him what she was and didn't have to. She had let him figure it out. Geralt had once talked about a woman he'd encountered on a boat. A group of sailors had nearly killed her pup and she successfully killed all of them. They died horribly, terrified. She let Geralt live because he saw her as a mother protecting her child, not a monster. Meadow may not have put up the notice but he knew she was likely the one paying for him.
"I shouldn't have come; I don't know why I did other than I wanted to say I was sorry I kept that from you. I lied to you, I'm sorry." She bowed her head and stood.
"Wait." He was still staring at the cup in his hand. She slowly took her seat again. Lambert finished his drink. "Why me?" He offered her more, she accepted.
She took a slow sip, planning her next words carefully. She caught him staring at her, waiting for her reaction. "You seem lost. I know that feeling well. I thought I could help you. The way Ivan helped me."
"Ivan know what you are?" Lambert looked shocked.
She nodded. "He rescued me from a hunters' trap." She showed him the horrific scar on her ankle. "Caught and nearly broke the bone. He took me home and nursed me back to health. I didn't have to tell him, I was a fox in the trap and a girl when I woke up the next morning. Gave him quite a scare. Ivan didn't mind, he had never seen one of my kind before. Said I looked like a girl so I might as well be one. Let me work at the tavern, I have a room above it." She took another sip of her drink.
Lambert mulled it over, taking a long drink. He looked at her, sighing heavily. "I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't even come here to take on any contracts, and yet you put that one up for that farm."
"Vineyard."
"What the fuck ever it is, you knew I wouldn't be able to say 'no, sorry, taking a break." He was conflicted, it wasn't that she was using him, she needed him. And she wasn't trying to sleep with him to get him to do this.
"I'm sorry, you're the only one capable that can stop this before someone else dies." She slumped in her chair. "I'm not using you, either." She grumbled. "I don't know how other creatures see it, but when someone thinks you're up to task it's a compliment to them."
He chuckled. She had him there. "Alright, I already said I'd do it." He stood up, took off his leather over coat. Meadow stared for a moment, he had scars everywhere. She wondered how he wound up with so many, and if they were all from monsters. He was well built, broad shoulders. She tore her eyes away from him, taking another drink. "I hate being a Witcher. I didn't ask for it, I was given to the School of the Wolf because my father couldn't afford the cost of a contract. He tossed me at this guy, said he wouldn't give him the goat…it was actually useful. Fucker." He glared down at his medallion. "But I am one, and a damn good one. Funny thing is, I don't think you and I are very different."
"That's terrible." She whispered, not looking at him. Her head was starting to feel a little fuzzy thanks to the strong liquor. "You don't seem useless." She chanced a glance at him. He was staring at her with an intensity that made her shudder.
"Don't I?" He growled out. "I was trained by one of the best, he died like a fucking bug. Crushed by someone bigger. I never got my vengeance and my father likely beat my mother to death. And there's Kiera. I don't mind being fucked, but I mind being thought of as too stupid to see what you're doing." He was standing in front of her.
Meadow's mouth went dry; he was close enough she could feel the heat coming off of him. She slowly got to her feet. "I've always been too curious, I never saw a real Witcher. Well, not this close. I couldn't help it, I wanted to know more about you." Her voice shook, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was making it worse." She turned and started for the door.
Lambert caught her by the arm and spun her around. "No."
"I'm sorry I came, I just wanted to make it right." Her eyes were a beautiful crystal blue, shimmering in the candle light. Her pale pink dress hung off her shoulders and left her back bare. She smelled faintly of jasmine.
Meadow frowned at him, his hand still held her wrist. He gently rubbed his thumb over the inside of her wrist, loosening his grip and letting his fingertips slide down the back of her hand. She felt her breath catch in her throat as his fingers gently grazed her palm and trailed along her arm up to her elbow. Her eyes slid closed as he brought his other hand up to her face to cup her cheek. She sighed softly, pressing into his hand.
Lambert moved in close, his lips hovering over hers. "How can you possibly help me?" His voice was somewhat horse, his face inches from hers.
She stared up at him, fascinated. She brought her hand up to touch his face, tracing down a scar across his eye, tracing along his bottom lip. She felt him snap before he moved, his lips collided with hers a second later. She reacted immediately, her hands burying themselves in his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth molded perfectly to hers, he groaned softly as her tongue traced across his lips and allowed her entrance. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up easily to sit on the table. He brought his hands up to her delicate neck, running his fingers along her exposed shoulders and through her hair.
She broke away as his fingers began working her dress up her to her thighs. She nipped at his neck, tugging his shirt off. She gasped at his chest, he had scars all across his abdomen and along his arms, and his chest. She traced along one near his waist line, fingers leaving a trail of fire. He sucked in a breath as she moved lower, trying to untie his pants. He carefully lifted her by her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He took long, purposeful steps toward the stairs, roughly shoving her against the wall. She moaned as his lips found their way along her neck to her shoulder, leaving little red bite marks as he went. He moved up the stairs to the room he'd been using, throwing the door open, kicking it shut once they were inside. His fingers raked along her back, pulling her dress off with them. She let out a startled gasp as she hit the bed, his body weight coming down on her, grinding into her.
"Lambert…" She whimpered his name, tugging eagerly at his pants as he pulled her dress down her narrow hips.
He hovered over her, taking in her naked beauty. Her breast heaved as she struggled to maintain her breathing. His lips came down to her navel, moving slowly up her stomach and between her breasts. Her hands wrapped into his hair as she panted and sighed. His lips moved up along her left breast, his tongue tracing a slow circle around the pert nipple before slowly taking it into his mouth. She cried out as he did, arching her back into him. He moved to the other side, lips burning her as he went.
As he continued to tease her, she brought her delicate hands to his shoulders. She saw a myriad of scars, some healed nicely others were jagged and uneven. He slowly worked his way up to her shoulders, then her neck, until his was looking down at her. She brought a hand to his cheek, tracing the scar with her finger tips. His eyes closed for a moment as he leaned into the touch. Her lips brushed against his, kissing along his jawline to his ear, nipping him and earning herself a pleasant gasp from him. She smiled up at him, gently pushing him back off of her. He stood silently, his eyes never leaving hers. She moved to the edge of the bed, untying his pants and pulling them down. His eyes suddenly turned predatory as he moved toward her. She gave him a sly grin as she moved back onto the bed. He hooked one hand under her knee and the other caught her hip. He lunged forward with the grace of a big cat, pinning her to the bed.
He hovered over her, lips a breath away, watching her. She closed the space between them, kissing his lips, cheek, and nose. "Let go." She whispered, wrapping her legs again around his waist. "Trust me." He let go of a breath he hadn't known he was holding, kissing her roughly and he thrust to meet her. He groaned in pleasure against her lips, she whimpered and sighed. She bucked against him, eager to please. He buried his face in her neck, kissing and biting the skin, leaving his mark on her.
She made a sudden move to the right and he wound up on his back with her staring down at him with the eyes of a vixen. She began to move again, his hands shot to her hips as he matched her movements. He moaned as she moved faster, her hands prying his off her hips and intertwining her fingers with his. She was breathtaking above him, her body illuminated by the candle light, shimmering with perspiration. Her moans were intoxicating, he needed more. Her hair fell in soft curls around her body, over her shoulders and around her hips. He hadn't noticed it was so long, realizing that must be why she kept it pulled up.
Lambert closed his eyes and sighed, he felt the tension building in the pit of his stomach. He rose up suddenly, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead resting against his. Suddenly it felt as if the world had fallen away, she moaned his name as she lost all control. He held her, and with a possessive growl he kissed her. He held her there, too strong for even her to break free, though she didn't try. She nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder. He gently lay back, pulling her with him.
For the first time in his life, Lambert was speechless. He hadn't planned on this happening. He didn't know what this even was. She didn't stand to gain anything from it, he wasn't beholden to her for anything.
"You think too much." She whispered against his chest, her fingers tracing along the scars.
He chuckled softly, gently brushing hair out of her face. "I have never been accused of thinking too much." But he did. "It's been a shitty couple years, just fucked up." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, wondering if she'd leave while he slept.
"No, I don't plan to." He jerked back at that. "Not reading your mind, just body language. It's an animal thing." Her fingers found all of his old scars, and a few new ones. "Go to sleep, Lambert. You need it." His eyes were heavy, he was warm and comfortable.
He dreamt of Kaer Morhen, of Vesemir and training as a child. He was always on his ass about something. But this was different, it was decades ago, before the mutations. He was just arriving at the keep for the first time. A dozen other young boys were already there. Geralt and Eskel were still young, Eskel didn't have the scars on his face from his cursed child. He was quiet, Geralt was cocky. But they were kind to him, in their way. Lambert wondered if they had known he'd be the only one to survive, or if Vesemir had thought he'd be one to fail and simply felt bad for him. As the years went on and he went through his training, he saw that Vesemir had taken care to discipline his rage, never to take it away. He felt the dream shift again, he was by the lake where he and Vesemir had built a small hut to keep fishing gear. He forgot that Vesemir had taught him to fish, to build a boat, and that when he was fed up with not catching anything he dropped a bomb in the water and collected his prize.
He remembered all those times he'd been so furious with him, for the pain and outright torture he'd had to endure to become this thing that he hadn't wanted in the first place. The hatred he had for being the only one to survive. And for being the last. Kaer Morhen became a prison after that. He saw something, then, that he'd never noticed in all those long years and horrible winters at the keep. Vesemir lamenting over his inability to keep his children alive. He was fighting a dummy, yelling at it to fight back. The thing came apart, splintered wood flying in all directions as his sword slammed into it with impressive force. Lambert had been too hard on him. Vesemir had kept him alive during all those trials, he had been hardest on him because he must have seen it, that the others were too weak, too undisciplined. Lambert fought the hardest because he was angry, because his father had sold him instead of a fucking goat, and because his mother did nothing to stop it. Vesemir had taught him to be fury in battle and tempered when not. For all of his sarcasm and scathing remarks, Lambert was the most loyal and vicious Witcher to come out of Kaer Morhen, a talent he reserved for his brothers and the few that he trusted. His father died alone, but by then he wasn't even that anymore. He was just a man with a goat who couldn't stop the plague from killing him. Vesemir had died to save Ciri, who had become the first and last woman to be trained as a Witcher. She became family, the little sister he never had and who he now couldn't see his life without.
Lambert awoke to sunlight pouring in through the window, a warm breeze against his skin. He opened one eye, trying to figure out where he was and why it was so bright. He tried to sit up but a weight on his chest made him stop. He looked down, saw an arm draped over him. He followed it to the woman lying beside him, brown hair covering her almost to her hips. He smiled as he watched her sleep, tucking some of her unruly curls behind one shapely ear. She made a soft mewling sound as his fingers gently caressed her cheek.
Her eyes slid open, bright blue the color of the sky. She gave him a shy smile, not breaking eye contact as he leaned forward and gently kissed her. "How do you feel?" She asked as he pulled back.
"Lighter." He whispered, his forehead against hers. She kissed him again, pulling herself onto his lap. Her hair covered her, for the most part, she was strikingly beautiful as she sat above him like she had conquered him. "Didn't know you could do that, is that oneiromancy?"
She shook her head in the negative. "It's hard to explain, I can play against or with your strongest emotions. I can make people see what either terrifies or satisfies them. I know there's something eating you away, but you're different. Can't see it as clearly as a normal human." Her hands rested on his chest and she leaned forward, placing feather soft kisses up from her hands to his neck. "I can show you what your mind will hide from you, give you the truth."
He groaned appreciatively. "Is that what you meant by helping?" Her lips were trailing across his chest again to the other side of his neck, capturing his ear lobe in her teeth and gently tugging she giggled. "Is this also you 'helping'?" He asked with a gasp as her soft hand moved lower, her fingers wrapping around him.
She leaned into him, her breath tickling his ear. "Yes." She whispered in a tone that left him wanting more. He let his hands wander over her, cupping her breasts and running his thumbs in small circles around her nipples. She moaned softly at his touch, positioning herself above him and driving him into her. They moaned in unison, she collapsed against his chest as he took in a ragged breath, his hands moving to her hips. He started slowly, moving against her in slow, rhythmic movements. She moaned each time he drove into her and whimpered as he left. He felt her release building all around him, her nails digging into his arms as she tried to move faster. He laughed lightly before capturing her mouth.
He kissed her and rolled her over onto her back. "Gods, would you just move!" She groaned, frustrated with his slow pace. He made a noise like a growl deep in his throat. His pace sped up and he let go, no longer in control of himself. She cried out his name like a prayer, all but screaming in ecstasy as she found her release. He wasn't far behind, holding her tight, every muscle taught and refusing to release her.
"Better?" He gasped as he tried to control his breathing. She smiled and nodded, pulling him down to kiss her.
