Conjunction

Chapter 10 - The Bath

As the thick blackness began to recede from his consciousness he found himself in another dream.

He was on a mountaintop, in a large clearing outside a ruined temple. It was near dusk and there were sparse snow flurries blowing in the air around him. He felt the frigid wind blowing his hair, whipping strands across his face as he viewed his surroundings.

He caught a flicker of white movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a large white wolf watching him from atop the stump of a broken pillar. The animal leaped down and loped over to him, licked his hand, then turned its head towards the sky.

The wolf let loose a fierce howl up into the heavens.

A moment later he heard a trumpeting reply and heard the buffet of large wings coming nearer to where he stood beside the wolf. An immense white dragon came into view, and landed in the clearing facing him. The dragon regarded him from a distance with its large golden eyes, then moved closer, craning its neck down to peer at him from beneath its horned brow.

He could feel the heat of its breath on his skin. A large gout of white flame shot forth from its mouth, cocooning him in heat, but he wasn't burned. Instead the fire simply warmed him and seemed to awaken all his senses. He reached out a hand to touch the beast that stood before him (not a beast - she is something more, and magnificent).

The dragon closed its eyes as he stroked its jaw, its hot breath ruffling his hair. Then it stretched its head to the sky and trumpeted loudly, the wolf next to him adding its own howling voice to the dragon's in an eerily beautiful song that echoed across the mountain tops.

Warmth began to seep back into him gradually as he regained consciousness. He opened his eyes a crack and found himself in water.

Was he still dreaming?

Disconcerted, he looked around, opening his eyes wider and taking stock of his surroundings. No, this was not a dream, he thought with relief.

He was in a bedroom - probably in an inn. A small fire sputtered in a hearth across the room. The air was mostly cool but the water he was in was comfortably warm. There were lanterns burning nearby, and a small candle sat on the edge of the large stone tub at his feet, casting a dim reflection into the water of the bath. He estimated it must be after midnight from the level of darkness outside the window and the utter calm he sensed that was only ever present in the depth of night.

He felt a slight pressure on his chest and looked down to see a slender, pale hand resting there. To either side he saw a pair of pale knees rising out of the water. He could feel the pleasant pressure of a pair of soft, naked breasts behind his shoulders.

He was in a bath, and someone – a woman – was in here with him. He couldn't help but laugh to himself at the absurdity that this should keep happening to him. Women and baths seemed to be a recurring theme in his life.

He delicately lifted the arm laid across his chest and placed it on the side of the tub. Then, as slowly and quietly as he could, he moved to the other side of the tub and leaned back to regard his savior.

It was the woman from his dream, he realized with surprise. He knew he had never seen her before in his life – he would have remembered. Well, maybe his amnesia had wiped her out of his memories, too, but he still had the sense that they had never met before.

This must have been the figure he had noticed near the clearing earlier. She was deeply asleep, eyelids fluttering constantly as if she were dreaming. It was the kind of exhausted sleep he recognized could occur after a long period of struggle and finally winning; after knowing if you didn't win you would be dead. It was the sleep of a survivor.

He sat quietly in the warm water watching her in the dim, flickering light.

She had short hair the same color as his own that curled delicately around her temples, this was unusual considering the apparent youthfulness of her features. But without his scars he might only appear to be in his 30s, even though he was much, much older.

She had striking features: a long, slender nose; high, soft cheekbones; a small, square chin; full lips slightly parted... he felt a stirring in his loin when he gazed on her lips. He laughed quietly to himself again, and pulled his hands out of the water to wet his face and try to clear his mind. As his hands dropped, he noticed an odd blue glow to the water.

Whatever magic she had used to cure him of the poison was in this water. He wondered how much of herself she had put into it, too - enough to bring her to such a point of exhaustion that his movements hadn't awakened her yet. He wasn't an expert on sorcery - especially not healing magic - but knew quite a bit, and this woman's methods were unusual to him. It would have taken powerful healing magic to bring him back from the brink of death as she had, and even further. He felt invigorated, as if he hadn't been hunting contracts for the past week straight, with little rest.

As an afterthought, he glanced at the spot on his upper arm where the harpy had gouged him earlier in the week. There were three neat pink scars where the wounds had been just hours before. He returned his gaze to her.

She had scars, which was unusual for a sorceress. The sorceresses he was acquainted with would commonly use magic to hide even the smallest blemish. Even if they had scars, you would never see them.

This woman, if she was a sorceress, was an anomaly, but he didn't know how else to explain his survival. Her body looked more like it belonged to a soldier, her skin was soft and creamy white, but he could see taught muscles beneath. He saw small scars on her upper arms that appeared to be from arrows that had pierced her skin, and faint criss-crossing scars on her forearms and hands that could have come from hand-to-hand combat. She also had a narrow scar that ran along her jawbone on the right side of her face and came to a point in the center of her chin. And she had one long, ragged scar that extended from the left side of her collarbone diagonally and ended just over her heart.

In the hollow at the base of her neck rested a heavy white bone amulet elaborately etched with the figures of a dragon and a wolf, the outline of the wolf glowing brightly. Something nagged at the back of his mind. There was something about that amulet that he should know but he couldn't remember. Another lost memory?

Just then he heard something move in the room. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw a large, black dog standing up near the fireplace, regarding him with a very serious look. He didn't think he'd ever seen a dog so huge before. And menacing. The dog emitted a low, rumbling growl as their eyes met.

Solona woke with a start at the sound of Lusa's growl, and saw the Witcher looking apprehensively at the dog.

"Lusa, shush," she said quietly. The dog huffed and then curled back into his spot before the fire, still vigilant, but at ease.

When the Witcher turned back to face her, her breath caught in her throat.

She had seen those eyes in her dreams, but being faced with them finally was a bigger shock than she had anticipated. She regained her composure quickly and gazed back at him.

So, this was the infamous Gwynbleidd. She had suspected it when she first saw him fighting those monsters, but became convinced once she had undressed him and began healing the poison from his blood. He appeared just as Dandelion had described in his ballads. Strong and scarred with snow white hair and the silver wolf's head medallion.

But there was a heat in his eyes as he looked at her that made her quiver to her core. That was something the bard had left out.

"Thank you for saving my life today," he said, his voice deep and somehow suggestive. "I'll have to think of some way to repay the debt."

She smiled softly, still holding his gaze.

"I'm sure I can come up with something. It may require some effort on your part," she said, her tone equally suggestive. Her mouth turned up at one corner.

Her tone and expression turned sober.

"But first I need to make sure you're okay. How are you feeling?" she asked as she moved down the tub towards him, the warm water rippling around her.

"Alive," he said, Very much alive, he thought, feeling his arousal grow as she came nearer.

She stopped just in front of him, kneeling between his thighs, acutely aware of their closeness but preferring to ignore it for the time being until she was certain he was in no more danger.

"Let me check your vitals," she said, reaching behind him for the candle that was still burning on the edge of the tub.

He blinked owlishly at her as she held the small light up in front of his eyes, observing the response in first one pupil, then the other.

She leaned to set the candle back in its place and felt his warm breath on her shoulder as she leaned past him, her skin prickled slightly in response to the sensation and she felt her nipples harden. When she leaned back she laid two fingers on the side of his throat to check his pulse. It was strong but fast.

Looking into his eyes again, she asked, "Does your heart always beat so fast?" but was conscious that her own pulse seemed to be keeping pace.

"Only when I wake up naked in a bath with a beautiful woman," he replied softly. His eyes burned with lust.

He took one hand from the side of the tub and laid it against her cheek, caressing gently with his thumb.

"I think I'd like to discuss payment of my debt now," he said gruffly, and she felt him attempt to gently draw her closer. She resisted, smirking at him slightly.

"Right now, you would?"

He looked confused, and looked around trying to re-assess the situation just in case he had missed something. Yes, they were still two people naked in a warm bath together.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, suddenly on the defensive and wishing fervently that his cock would follow suit, and soon.

She smiled and said slowly, "No. I just think that more – negotiation – is in order. That's all."

He felt something soft stroke against his stiffened flesh and realized that her hand was under the water just between them. He groaned quietly at the sensation.

"What do you propose?" he asked her, slightly breathless.

She looked at the ceiling as though contemplating her answer then leaned closer to him, her lips brushing softly against his ear. She responded in a whisper.

"I think I will take what I'm owed, and will let you know when your debt is paid in full. It might have to be done in installments..."

He felt her stroke him again and was unable to control the twitch of his hips toward her hand. Her smile widened as she watched him respond to her.

"I am at your mercy," he said, smiling back, and placing his hands obediently on the sides of the tub.

Accepting his surrender with a coy smile, she moved so that her knees were straddling his thighs under the water. As she adjusted her position and her breasts drew level with his face she heard his deep murmur of appreciation.

She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "You can touch me..."

He took his hands from the sides of the tub, resting them lightly on her hips.

She gazed at him intently. He's the one, she thought. He's the reason I'm here. She forgot her desire for a moment and brought one hand up to his face, tracing the scar that extended across his left eye from his brow to his cheek.

His eyes closed at the small caress of her fingers and then opened again, holding her gaze with intensity. He noticed that her eyes were the same color as the dragon from his dream and for some reason fully expected her to breathe fire on him. He felt his pulse quicken and his fingers tightened on her hips.

Who is she? He thought, and wondered idly if he really was still dreaming. Her soft flesh under his fingertips felt real enough to him. And she had saved his life. He slowly relaxed his grip on her and slid his arms around her, his large hands trailing gently up her back and pulling her body closer to his.

When she was close enough, he kissed her chest softly between her breasts, then laid gentle kisses across the tip of one breast, pausing at the peak to flick his tongue briefly across the hard pink flesh. She felt a small jolt that shot straight to her core, the fire there burning ever hotter. She let out a soft moan as his lips wrapped around the flesh of her nipple and he sucked gently. One of his hands slid softly down her hip and over her backside under the warm water, down the back of her thigh, then snaked inward and slid back up her inner thigh. Her breath quickened and she let out a soft moan as his fingers found her center and began to stroke her gently. All thought left her mind at his expert touch.

After a moment of gentle teasing, he slid his hand back up to her hip and the warmth of his lips and tongue left her breast. She looked down at him to see his face tilted up to hers again, eyes regarding her hungrily.

She answered his wordless need with her lips on his, kissing him deeply and lowering her hips until she felt his hard thick flesh press against her center. He grasped her hips again tightly, guiding her down until she enveloped his entire length. They let out simultaneous gasps against each other's lips when the penetration was complete and they began to slowly rock together, kissing each other again hungrily.

His hands slid up her back and their kiss broke, the building passion causing them to gasp for breath. She gripped his shoulders tightly with both hands and tilted her head back in ecstasy as they found a rhythm, his deep thrusts inside her sending jolts of pleasure through her body. His mouth found her exposed throat, kissing and biting gently. She purred in pleasure when his head tilted down and his lips wrapped around her nipple once more.

His thrusting became deeper and more insistent, their rocking movements causing the water around them to slosh over the edges of the tub, one big wave splashing the candle and dousing the flame, leaving only one small lamp near the bed, and the dwindling fire to light the room.

Her thighs clutched him tightly as she felt herself nearing climax. He seemed to sense that she was on the edge and quickened his thrusting, sliding one hand down her stomach between them until his thumb found the small pink knob at her center and beginning to stroke it, gently at first and then harder when he heard her deep moan of pleasure at his touch. Her breathing quickened and he watched in fascination as a deep flush began to rise over the pale skin of her breasts and up to her neck. His stroking tipped her over the edge and she cried out in ecstasy, her muscles clenching around him and pulling him over the edge with her, his own deeper cry of pleasure mingling with hers as they plunged into the abyss.

The waves of pleasure washing over them gradually abated and their rocking slowed. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, out of breath. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around her, enjoying the feel of her soft, damp flesh under his touch, and her softer, wetter flesh enveloping his still erect sex.

He shifted slightly, supporting her with his arms as he tilted her body backwards and got his legs underneath them to stand. She clung to him, legs wrapped around his hips, their bodies still connected at the center. He stepped gingerly out of the bath and walked the few paces to the bed, water dripping from their skin and leaving small puddles on the floorboards behind him. Still holding her, he rested one knee on the bed and laid her down gently against the pillows, tilting his own body to follow hers so they remained joined, his hard length still enveloped in her warmth.

He began to move in her again, slowly and deliberately, and his eyes found hers.

He felt connected to her in more than just a physical way. They had spoken few words since she woke, but he felt that there was some deep unspoken connection between them; whether it was from his dream of her or from her act of saving his life, he wasn't sure exactly.

He tilted his head down and kissed her deeply, then broke away, gazing into her eyes. His gaze dropped to the amulet at her throat, and he slowed his movements as he brought one hand up to touch it, a question forming in his mind. He was about to put the thought to words when he felt her legs clench him tighter.

"Don't stop," she insisted in a breathless whisper. "Kiss me."

Time enough for talk later, he decided, and complied, covering her mouth with his own and quickening his pace, her hips rising up to meet each thrust. They climaxed simultaneously, their cries of ecstasy mingling in the night.

Breathing heavily still, he gave her a long, lingering kiss and shifted his weight, extracting himself from her grip and laying next to her on the blankets that were still damp with the remnants of their bath.

She turned her head to look at him, thinking, Well, the rumors are true. She was limp and breathless after their exertions but felt a subtle pulsing between her legs. She knew she wasn't finished yet for the evening, but she might just need to catch her breath before embarking on the next leg.

He lay on his side next to her, one elbow bent and his head propped up on his hand, his other hand laying on her belly and tracing small patterns between her breasts and navel.

"Who are you?" he asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"I'm your destiny, Geralt," she said in a soft, serious voice, and she wondered what had compelled her to say those words.

He didn't seem surprised, only asking, "What took you so long, oh destiny of mine?" His lips tilted up into a wide smile.

He thinks I'm joking, she thought, so she smiled back at him and turned onto her side to face him, mirroring his posture and leaning on one hand.

"You can call me Solona," she said, "but you should know the destiny part isn't a lie. I came here to find you. I need your help with something important. Something only you can help me with."

He nodded and asked with a lusty glint in his eyes, "Is this something that needs to be done before dawn, or can it wait?"

His hand had strayed lower and lower on her stomach, his fingers now twining themselves in the muff between her thighs and moving lower still. She moaned softly when his fingers reached her center and began softly stroking her.

She leaned in close to him, their faces nearly touching, snaked her tongue out and delicately licked at his lower lip, whispering, "It can wait at least until Noon."

She grasped his lip gently between her teeth and sucked lightly, moaning again at the way his fingers were gently working her. She placed her free hand on his chest and slowly traced her fingertips across his scars and down his abdomen. Finding him still hard and ready she began stroking him, returning the favor. After a moment he let out a deep groan and grabbed her by the hips, laying back and rolling her on top of him.

"Time for another installment," he said with a gleam in his eye as he slipped back inside her. She smiled playfully and started moving on top of him again.

"At this rate you might have your debt paid by, oh, this time next year." He was in no hurry.

He awoke to a grey morning and a fierce hunger, his stomach rumbling loudly. He sat up, placing his feet on the floor and rubbing his face in his hands in an effort to clear his head.

Last night, he thought, dazed, was it a dream?

He turned and looked over his shoulder at the bed and saw her. She was on her back and still sleeping very peacefully in the dim morning light, one arm slung over the top of her head, elbow crooked, and her naked, pink-tipped breasts just peaking out from beneath the tops of the covers.

His eyes lingered on her and he had an urge to reach out and touch her but his stomach rejected the thought with sudden insistence. Food first. Sex later.

He stood up and hunted for his clothing, which he found folded neatly on a chair by the table near the door. He dressed in his breaches and cloth shirt, donned his boots quickly, and grabbed his coin pouch, then quietly stepped out the door to go order them some breakfast.

He came back into the room a moment later and stooped immediately to stoke the remaining coals in the fireplace. Days were getting colder as he made it further north into Kaedwen. Winter would be on him soon and he hoped to be back to Kaer Morhen by then.

But this was a new development. He wondered what she wanted his help with. His destiny, she had said, and he felt something start to untwist in his mind. He still had so many missing memories, much of his past lost to him. But this woman somehow lit a spark in his mind. It wasn't something that illuminated the lost pieces for him, but it showed him something deeper, something that he sensed had been buried in him even before he had lost those memories, and it was bringing it to the surface.

Maybe it's just about the sex, he thought, not ready to embrace the deeper thoughts that he'd started having.

He realized it was just an excuse, but thought it might be a good idea to rest and recover for a couple days. He had nearly died the day before, after all. But he rarely met a woman who could keep pace with his libido... he didn't think he ever had, now that he tried to recall.

Most women were enthusiastic and appreciative but he was such a thorough lover that they were satisfied enough to push him away at a certain point, like he was a third serving of holiday pheasant and they just couldn't or they would burst. He had enough experience to know that even prostitutes enjoyed his attention, but after a certain point it was clear that it had just become work to them. He preferred a partner who was wholeheartedly invested in the encounter from start to finish, and was ready to go again when he was.

He rarely took matters into his own hands, either. When he wasn't with a woman – which was most of the time – he was generally too focused on his current contract, or some other dire mission, to think about it, aside from the odd distraction. For those occasions that he found himself with leisure time he had a small stock of pleasant memories he would draw from, but there were few truly worthwhile ones – the image of Triss in the elven bath popped into his head unbidden and he smiled at the memory.

He had a sense that after a couple days with this woman he would have a stockpile of pleasant memories to last him through the winter, and winters in Kaer Morhen were long, lonely, and cold.

He sat back in the chair by the fireplace and thought back to the night before, watching her. Solona, he remembered. He savored the memory of their lovemaking. They had come together at least three more times during the night, until they were finally exhausted, and she had kept pace with him the entire time.

He was contemplating crawling back into bed with her and having another go, when the large black – monster – dog arose and loped towards the door, his ears perked up expectantly and his nose twitching.

There was a soft knock at the door and a voice said, "Your breakfast, sir."

Yes, of course. Food. Then sex.

He stood up and opened the door. The maid stepped in and placed a huge platter on the table by the door and then left quietly after receiving a small tip. The strong aromas of the food made his belly growl loudly. The dog looked up at him and whuffed.

"Should we wake her before we eat, do you think?" he asked the dog.

Geralt watched in amusement as the beast turned to look over at its master who still lay sleeping soundly, and then trotted over to the side of the bed and nuzzled her cheek with his cold nose, then gave her one slobbery lick across the forehead.

It had its desired effect. Her arms flailed out and swatted at the dog.

"Ugh! Lusa! Gross!" she yelled.

He stood there panting at her, his butt wiggling happily.

She sat up and gave him an evil glare.

"I was sleeping, you beast, and having the nicest, dirtiest dream, too..." she trailed off when she realized the subject of her dream was standing by the fireplace regarding her with his arms crossed and an amused smirk on his face.

"You're still here," she said, smiling brightly at him. "I was afraid it had all been a dream."

"No dream," he said and pointed at the table, "I ordered breakfast for us."

"Oh, fantastic! I'm so hungry I could eat a … fat slobbery dog," she said, glaring at her pet.

She stood up and faced the window, stretching heartily. When she did his heart sped up at the sight of her bare backside and the odd birthmark that graced one side near her hip. A dragon? he thought, and wondered if it was actually a tattoo, but was too imperfect. She bent down and rummaged in her pack, pulling out a small, flimsy robe that she shrugged into and belted around her waist, then turned towards him. She looked up at him, brows creased.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she said.

"Are you a dragon?" he asked abruptly.

She blinked at him, and laughed out loud, surprised at the question.

"Hah! A dragon? In my dreams!" She smiled at him, but the smile faded when she saw the serious expression on his face. "You're serious aren't you?" she asked.

"Your birthmark..." he said. "And that amulet you wear..."

"No, I'm not a dragon, that I'm aware of. But I do occasionally dream that I'm one. A big white one, flying over the mountaintops," she illustrated with her arms outstretched and swaying in an imaginary breeze.

"And sometimes there's a wolf... a big white one," she said with a significant glance at him, "... following me... or leading me, I'm never quite sure."

He responded, "There is power in dreams. In my own dreams sometimes I'm a wolf. A white wolf, like the elves call me... Gwynbleidd."

He added softly, "I dreamed about a dragon last night, though. A large white one..."

"But you aren't actually a wolf," she replied, in a reasonable tone. He had no argument. She sat at the table and dove into the food. He watched her, intrigued, and after a moment sat down to join her.

In between bites she asked, "So are the bard's songs true?"

He was quiet for a moment, chewing his food.

In a suspicious tone, he asked, "Which bard?"

Affecting an accent and tone that was strikingly similar to the bard's actual voice, she said, "The famous troubadour, Dandelion." She elaborated, "I met him in Vizima, about a week or so ago I think, and had the pleasure of hearing him play. He knew a good bit about you, judging from his songs." Her voice was lightly accented and pleasant to listen to

"Lies and exaggerations," he said, looking uncomfortable.

A slow smile spread across her face. She had gotten a sense from the songs that the White Wolf was a hardened, unemotional killer and had wondered how hard his shell really was. She was starting to see a crack now that gave her a peek to something softer - more human - underneath. She decided to test it.

"Well, he sang his own praises almost as much as yours." She paused, then with a small smirk said, "But I have to say he was no where near as good, or thorough, a lover as you."

It was only a slight exaggeration, but it was true... She stopped and held her breath for a second, anticipating his response. She wasn't disappointed. She heard a small hiss escape his lips and his eyes flashed with irritation and... was that amusement? He shook his head and laughed quietly to himself, idly massaging the scar on his forehead with a thumb.

"Care to share?" she asked, extremely curious now.

He sighed, and said, "Dandelion and I are old friends. I think sometimes he feels like he's living in my shadow, but he gets very full of himself when he gets the jump on me. Let's just say he's never going to let me live this down if he finds out you were with me after him."

Understanding dawned on her. So there was a little playful competition between the two men.

She said, "I get the sense that this kind of thing doesn't happen often... him getting the jump on you, I mean."

"Almost never, but it's not like I try to keep him down. He's quite capable of seduction on his own, to hear him tell it. But I admit I've inadvertently derailed his pursuits on occasion."

She smiled softly and said in a husky voice, "No... he wouldn't have stood a chance with me if you had been there."

He looked at her from beneath lowered lashes and emitted a low growl. The next thing she knew he'd pulled her astride him from her chair, and was pushing the light robe off her shoulders with one hand to gain access to her skin.

Next Chapter: In which she makes a request.