Deftly keeping hold of me with one hand, he unclips from around his shoulders the harness that houses his now-empty scabbards. After pushing the harness onto the pond’s edge at his back, he slips one of the cases free.
Leaning sharply to the right and stretching as far as he can reach, he places the scabbard under the waterfall.
He brings it to my lips. “Drink.”
I hesitate.
“Blood doesn’t meet the inside of this scabbard, if that’s yourconcern. My ice cleans my blades, and I never put them away dirty.”
As if to prove his point, he drinks from the scabbard before returning it to my lips.
Accepting the water, I gulp down the first mouthful, closing my eyes with relief when the awful dryness in my throat finally eases.
I finish all of the water. Without me asking, he refills the scabbard and brings it back to my lips.
Four more times he fills it, and I drink all of it before I finally shake my head.
I can’t possibly swallow any more.
He slides the scabbard across the edge of the pond behind him, twisting away from me, and when he focuses back on me, his free hand drops into the water.
I gasp when his fingers find my toes beneath the surface. A slow touch. Then my heel. Circular presses, rubbing slowly as he works his way along my calf and toward my thigh, where the water laps.
Soothing.
Heated hands.
For long moments, he massages my feet and calves, swapping hands so he can rub my other leg.
Oh, warmth.
When his mouth brushes my ear, his voice is alluring, humming with pleasure, but he utters a warning I can’t ignore.
“I’ve done what I can to prepare your body, but you will not be ready for this,” he murmurs. “It will hurt.”
I close my eyes and brace against him.
Ready for the pain. Needing it.
An ache builds as his voice becomes melodious and he sings into my ear, “Try not to scream, Oracle.”
With that, he slides off the ledge and deep into the water, taking me with him.
Chapter Fifteen
Stellen
Thyra’s cry sends a shock through my body.
As I pull her into the hot water, submerging her to her neck, she moans against my neck, her chilled torso clashing with mine, and her voice…
Hervoice.
Layers of pitch carry cadences of aching, grief, determination, and a startling need. More than physical. As if she wants something from me that I can’t give her.
Empathy, maybe. Compassion. Understanding.
Her next exhalation streams warm air across my chin as she tilts her head slowly back, arching against me, her breasts pressing to my torso, and her pelvis jammed against my stomach, just high enough above my cock that she won’t feel how hard I am.
