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Sierra
The rocking woke me up. Without opening my eyes, I knew I was on a horse. Cool air whipped across my cheeks, leaving them slightly wet. My arms were pinned to my sides, and a tight band held me upright. I tasted berries on my tongue. I raised my head and wished I hadn’t. My neck spasmed instantly. When I opened my eyes, blurs of dark forest streaked past. I noticed the familiar white mane, the thick velvety ears. I was on Argenis.
“Not much longer,” Demos said in my ear.
As if a dinner bell had rung, my body woke, the pain in my neck forgotten. His voice poured into me, spreading warmth like honey into every vein. I tried to arch my back, but the band around me tightened. A deep need fought its way up from my sex and up to my mouth, as if they were connected like a long, lit fuse inside me.
I pressed back against him and moaned.
All logical thought had disappeared, almost like it had never existed. I was pure want, a living, breathing receptacle of desire. I had no name, no age. Only lust.
I felt that band tense against my ribs as Argenis turned sharply to the left. Light filtered through the trees, bringing with it fast-moving white dust that danced on my eyelashes before becoming wet drops.
Snow.
A sliver of memory came to the surface. “That’s right,” I mumbled. “A snowstorm.” Something about it was painful, as if I had touched a bruise. So, I pulled away from it and lost myself once more to the pulsating sensations in my body.
Time must have passed, because I found myself on the ground, a blanket covering me, warm and rich with a delicious scent. My consciousness homed in on that scent until I was nothing but this moment. A pool of hot liquid flooded between my legs. Words whispered near my head. Sharp heat licked my skin from head to toe.
“…only a few minutes,” that seductive voice said, burning me. Demos. He was the sun, and I was Titus, expanding, so full, spinning in his orbit. All I knew was him.
Alone now. His scent wrapped around me, made of heavy linen. I was wetness and warmth. Twisting limbs. Aching bones.
Touch, pressure, lifting. The band was back, securing me, anchoring my floating body. Then rocking in the wet wind, on a horse made of silver.
Bright light touched my eyes. The sun. And I am Titus.
A sweet smell of meadow and springtime greeted me. Gurgling of a stream. Birds chirping. Soft release. Fur on my naked back. Cool liquid in my mouth, down my throat. Berries. A sigh.
Clarity slowly returned. I was on my back. Underneath me was a bed of fur, around me pieces of sunshine and shade. Everything was green but the sky above, which was a sharp clear blue. Memories flitted through my mind of past springtimes, of me exploring the daffodils and tulips in my mother’s personal garden, of watching birds gather twigs for nests, of my bare feet in soft dewy grass.
Where was I? And when?
“A friend of mine is letting us stay here. No time has passed,” Demos said, startling me. Had he read my mind?
Still looking up at the pristine sky, I hadn’t seen him. I processed his words but only came up with garbled logic. I looked over at him then. His robe was gone. He was all golden skin, covered in patterns of a rich pine green, markings creating an endless maze of filigree and swirls on his chest, shoulders, and upper arms. Tattoos. Something I’d heard of but had never seen.
I gasped. He was beautiful.
His blue eyes were darker than I remembered and seemed to shine with a glint of something that made my breasts feel full. Another flood of wetness poured out of me, and my womb tightened painfully. But I ignored both, lost in Demos’ body, his eyes, his proximity.
He swallowed, and I saw his jaw tense. He seemed almost… scared. I noticed he was squatting, his knuckles anchored to the ground as if he were prepared to run at a moment’s notice. He was wearing light-colored breeches, and his feet were bare.
I glanced down at myself and realized I was naked.
Nothing made sense. Was this a fever dream? But it felt too real.
A twinge of panic lodged in my throat, which I touched now, hoping to ease the tightness, but my fingers found the choker instead. The choker given to me by Fadon, as a wedding gift.
The Ongahri.
“Demos,” I whispered. “What happened?” This was real, and I knew something terrible had occurred. Snippets of before, in the cave, the sounds, the snow, whipped by in my mind, then slammed into a blank wall. I had no memory of how I got here. Naked, alone with Demos, who was practically naked himself.
I needed to get up. I needed clothes. My body was too weak, however, and I could barely raise my head. I began to shake.
I heard Demos take in a deep breath, and the sound was so clear, so sharp, as if the very air here in this strange time-forgotten meadow was altered. Something about this place was more than off. Forget the fact it seemed to be spring here; the sounds, the sky, the colors and scents were all heightened. Or was it me who was?
“Lady Sierra,” Demos said, speaking quickly. “You seem lucid enough now, but I haven’t the time to explain everything. I promise I will later, when you are yourself again.”
