Lorcan was sitting watch, pondering when exactly his self-control had eroded so thoroughly. It had begun, he thought, that night at the carnival when he'd followed Elide into the oracle tent. Her eyes had been smoky with kohl, her lips apple red. He had noticed her beauty for the first time then, and had been unable to stop noticing since. Try as he might to tell himself that she was utterly forbidden—young, scared, and untouched—he hadn't been able to curb his desire. In fact, her inexperience did nothing to lessen his need for her. She was a grown woman with so much to learn about her body, and Lorcan longed to be the one to teach her. With a soft bed and several, uninterrupted hours, they could discover together exactly how to rouse those exciting new feelings.
Lorcan couldn't stop himself from wondering which touches would give her the most pleasure, would make her moan and writhe under his hands. Gentleness would, of course, be essential in the beginning: his lips on her neck, his hands tracing the length of her spine, his thumb brushing over her nipples. Once she was fully relaxed and comfortable, he would grasp that delightfully round backside as he ran his tongue right up the center of her. Lorcan was nearly undone at the thought of feeling Elide shake under him, using his tongue to guide her through that ecstasy of release for the very first time. Unfortunately, he reminded himself, she had asked for no such instruction. He had done unspeakable things in his five hundred years, but he had never forced anyone who didn't want him, and he never would. Elide was certainly attracted to him, he reflected with no small amount of satisfaction, but that didn't amount to an invitation.
He let his head fall back against the stone wall, as though the light of the moon might reveal a solution if he looked close enough. He wondered what Hellas thought of his chosen warrior, darkness incarnate, blindly lusting after a human like a stag in rut. If she were just beautiful, it would be easy to dismiss his desire for her. In his long life, Lorcan had enjoyed the company of a great many gorgeous partners in his bedroom. With those females, and the occasional exceptional male, he'd learned the limits to the value of physical beauty. But Elide was so much more than an alluring set of curves; she was also brave despite her fears, hopeful after so much tragedy, and possessed of a delightfully cunning mind. He thought he'd closed himself off to fear several centuries ago, but then he had seen this exquisite creature drive a knife toward her chest. He may no longer regard the loss of his own life with much trepidation, but he was terrified at the mere notion of her being hurt. She had already been through enough.
Elide tossed fretfully, drawing Lorcan's attention. Her face was troubled in sleep, her brows drawn tightly together. And no wonder she slept uneasily, Lorcan thought, with the unquiet dead whispering ceaselessly around her. He reached out and smoothed back her hair, his fingers tracing the delicately round shape of her ear, so unlike the sharp tips of his own. "It's just the breeze through the stones," he whispered, running a thumb over her cheekbone. She relaxed under his touch, falling back into a deeper sleep. Lorcan watched her chest rise and fall in steady rhythm, and marveled at this burgeoning instinct to offer comfort. It was not a skill he had ever required before, and his sudden wish to practice it showed quite plainly that there was more to this than lust. He swatted that thought from his mind like one of the many mosquitoes nipping at his skin. Lust was easier to deal with. And besides, Lorcan thought with a wry smirk, scratching absently at the plethora of insect bites on his exposed chest, putting someone else's needs first was rather uncomfortable.
He didn't regret giving up his shirt, though. That delicious little breathy sigh she'd made while putting it on had set his mind whirring, imagining what other sounds he could coax out of her with the right touch. And then he'd turned around, and found he was wholly unprepared for the sight of her. His clothing was overlarge on her, obscuring the sinful curves beneath while exposing her pale and shapely legs. But it wasn't the expanse of bared, unblemished skin that threatened to completely incinerate his last shred of self-control. Neither was it the thought of ripping that fabric away with his teeth and tasting her. No, it was the fact that she was wearing his shirt. The moment he laid eyes on her, every fiber of his being echoed with the same thought: mine, she is mine. It was with an almighty exertion of willpower that Lorcan had stripped the lust from his face, and forced himself not to reach for her.
The night hours slipped away uneventfully as Lorcan ruminated on his predicament. When he eventually spied a faint lightening of the horizon, he decided it was time to get some sleep. He would be no good to Elide if his senses were dulled by exhaustion. And, if they found the fire-breathing bitch tomorrow, he wanted his wits about him; she wouldn't get the better of him a second time. With a gentle hand on Elide's shoulder, he shook her awake. Her eyes snapped open, more alert than he'd expected.
"If you'll sit watch, I'll sleep until dawn." Sitting up, she looked toward the horizon.
"That's less than an hour away! You should have woken me earlier." Lorcan merely shrugged, laid down, and was asleep. A short time later, the weak light of the dawning sun alerted him that it was time to move on. He sat up, looking for Elide. She was sitting atop a half-wall, breakfasting on a piece of dried meat, once again wearing her own clothes. He noticed this last fact with some disappointment. Her eyes tracked him as he rose and approached her.
"The insects feasted quite well last night, I see," she remarked, gesturing to the patchwork of red bites on his chest.
"They will heal in a few hours," if he could keep from scratching them, he thought. Elide gave him an amused look, as though he'd finished the sentence out loud. He wondered, not for the first time, whether she could read his thoughts. The idea stirred a peculiar unease within him that he didn't wish to contemplate.
He accepted the shirt she offered and slipped it over his head. The fabric was drenched in her scent, and he resisted the urge to inhale deeply. When the wind had shifted that day in Oakwald forest, blowing her scent to him for the first time, he'd thought she was Valg-possesed. He knew now that it had been the wyrdstone he'd sensed, layered on top of her distinctly human aroma. While he logically understood that hers was not a scent he had encountered before, it evoked a strange sense of familiarity in him. It was like walking across the threshold of your home after a long period of absence, and appreciating all the subtle details that you previously took for granted. Which, of course, was utter nonsense, since Lorcan had never in his life had a proper home.
"How did you sleep?" Elide asked. She was looking at him too intently for the question to be casual.
"Well enough," he replied, which apparently did not appease her. Her eyes narrowed beneath her furrowed brow, as though she knew perfectly well that he was lying. Again, Lorcan brushed away the thought that she understood far too well things that he hadn't voiced. She was staring at him expectantly, so he added, "I dreamed." Elide was nodding now, having received confirmation of what she seemed to already know.
"Yes, I thought so. I saw them too. Faces, pale and bloated, beneath the water…" She trailed off, gaze becoming unfocused as it was drawn inward, held captive by eyes which had not seen light for a millennia. Lorcan did not like the purposeful interest that the resident dead were taking in the pair of them. He didn't know whether it was more curious or sinister, and he didn't wish to linger long enough to find out.
"Let's go. We have to keep moving if we want to find your queen." As Elide slid from her perch on the half-wall, Lorcan extended a tendril of magic toward her ankle just before her feet contacted the ground.
"Yes, though I do wish we could search for her somewhere more pleasant."
Their progress across the marshes slowed to an infuriating crawl that day. The pools were growing larger, with islands of safety scattered among them like stepping stones. The ruins– which were also increasing in size and quantity– combined with the waters to offer shelter for the beasts, which were becoming quite a hindrance to their journey. By the time the sun was at its zenith above them, they had already spotted another armored tail, and two sets of slitted, amber eyes. Lorcan had thrown Elide over a shoulder and run in each instance. Despite not knowing their true size, he felt it likely that he could have dispatched the creatures if required. But he was wary of using his magic in this place, and didn't want to waste time and energy in a drawn-out fight.
The water crossings, too, were becoming more difficult. At times when Lorcan sensed a lurking threat, they were forced to wait until it had moved on before crossing. The pools were also getting deeper. This caused Lorcan to appreciate just how tiny his companion was, as she was struggling to keep her head above waters that he walked through easily. She had such a fierce presence that he often forgot she was hardly more than child-sized. After a particularly deep stretch where the waters had nearly reached her neck, he decided a change was in order.
"I will carry you across," he announced as they too quickly reached the end of yet another island.
Elide crossed her arms and glared. "You'll do no such thing. I'm sore everywhere from being tossed over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes all day."
"I wasn't asking." Elide was exercising that remarkable skill of seeming to look down her nose at him despite being a foot and a half shorter. "The water is getting so deep that you can't walk through it, and I'd bet the last time you went for a swim was when you had two unbroken ankles." He felt the soul-twinge of her hurt even before he saw it on her face.
"I manage my ankle perfectly fine," she seethed.
"Yes, I know. You've walked on it every day, all day, since we met, despite that grievous wound," Lorcan replied. He wished she would stop looking like she was contemplating slapping him when he was only being sensible. "But everyone has their limitations, and there is no shame in accepting help."
Her stiffly crossed arms were beginning to loosen, her scowl softening. "Fine," she sighed.
Lorcan transferred his small pack to her before kneeling down in a mossy patch. She stared down at him uncomprehendingly.
"If I carry you over my shoulder, you'll get a mouth full of water. On my back, you'll be up higher and I'll have my hands free if there's trouble," Lorcan explained impatiently. For a moment, she looked bizarrely like she was going to start laughing. With a shake of her head, she recovered her composure and approached him. She placed her hands on his back, then hesitated.
"How do you want me to…?"
"Just stand right behind me with your legs spread apart, and I'll pick you up." She did so, and Lorcan looped his arms under her knees and scooped her up onto his back. She felt hardly heavier than the pack had been.
Lorcan was soon sunk chest-deep in the brackish pool, making slow progress toward the bank. At first, he could feel Elide holding herself stiffly, with a rigid spine and a tight grip on his shoulders. But she soon relaxed, leaning gently against his back, her arms coming forward to loop loosely around his neck. He was admirably focused on sensing potential dangers, and not enjoying the warm press of her body, as he pushed through the chilly waters. The strong grip of her thighs around his waist and her breath against his neck were a little more difficult to ignore.
They reached the bank without incident, despite Lorcan's distraction. He knelt, allowing Elide to slide to the mossy ground, leaving his back suddenly cool with the absence of her. She wandered toward a stone wall whose supporting pillar had been carved into a statue. Its face was stained and cracked with weather and time, but the stone woman retained some essence of her former beauty. Elide was staring up at her intently.
"Who lived here?" she asked. Lorcan saw her eyes trail the length of the statue's chipped stone veil, and he knew she was thinking of a burial shroud. The shiver that ran down her spine only confirmed it.
"This place was forgotten and wrecked centuries before I was even born," he answered.
"Did it belong to Eyllwe?"
"It was part of a kingdom that is now gone, a lost people who wandered and merged with those of different lands."
"They must have been very talented, to have made such beautiful buildings." Lorcan grunted in agreement. With one last look at the statue, they continued walking.
They walked in companionable silence for a time, before Elide said, "You have been alive a very long time." He raised his eyebrows at her but did not respond. "You must have seen so much of the world." The longing in her voice was plain, and Lorcan remembered with a bolt of fury that she had spent most of her life in chains.
"Yes, I have. Though I wasn't always a peaceful visitor." She waved a hand, as though this was beside the point.
"What is your favorite place you've been?"
"I'm not sure I have a favorite," he began, thinking that his favorite place to be was right here at her side, "but some were more memorable than others."
"Like what?"
"There was a little village… they built wooden huts right on the beach," he recalled, dredging up the image from centuries ago.
"Wouldn't they flood? Or rot?" Lorcan squinted into the murky shadows of his disused memory, trying to recall the particulars.
"No, the huts were raised off the sand by thick pillars. They had staircases to reach the entrance. During high tide the children would swim around the steps."
"How sweet, though I don't much like the thought of swimming in sandy water at the moment." Glancing down, he found her grinning as she plucked at her wet, silty clothing.
"There was a human town in a mountain forest," he said, trying to think of somewhere she might enjoy, "that had a yearly festival for their goddess of light and life."
"Mala?" she asked, thinking of the Sun Goddess.
"No, this goddess has been long forgotten. I can't even recall her name. The festival honored her, and celebrated the circle of life. They baked apples sweetened with cinnamon; I remember smelling them everywhere I went. During the day, they decorated their ancestor's graves with acorns and pine boughs." A look of fascination on her face, Elide nodded for him to keep going. "At night, they lit torches in the town square. There was a grand fountain, with a statue of the goddess in the center. She was always depicted in the nude, her belly swollen with child. After the children had been put to bed, the men and women would strip naked and enter the fountain, immersing themselves in the water and touching the goddess's stomach to ask her blessing." Lorcan refrained from detailing the conclusion of this memory, though it was languidly replaying in his mind.
Elide had a perceptive twinkle in her eye as she asked, "And how did this remarkable evening end for you?"
Lorcan smirked, unabashed. "It ended in the bed of a newly married husband and wife."
They had emerged dripping from the fountain, their dark brown skin gilded in the firelight, seeming to glow as they approached him. Maybe it was simply their aura of joy, or truly the favor of their goddess, but they radiated such incredible vitality and strength. When they had each grasped one of Lorcan's hands, he'd gone with them without question.
Elide was looking at him in mild surprise. "You did ask the question," he said.
She cocked her head slightly in thought. "Yes, and I thought I knew the answer. But I didn't realize that you also enjoyed the company of men."
Lorcan shrugged. "As you once said to me, a body is a body. Pleasure can be found in any willing partner. Though, it did help that they had likely just been blessed by the goddess of life." Elide's curiosity seemed satisfied with this answer, but he felt compelled to add, "I do prefer women, though."
The look on her face was inscrutable for a moment, but then one corner of her mouth lifted in a crooked smile as she boldly met his eyes and said, "Yes, I'd noticed."