Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the Airendell Chronicles (14 page)

“Let me use the human necessary, then I will
go get my planner. I don’t know the plan until I see it. The crash
really did a job on my memory and organization skills,” she admits
quietly.

“Sounds good,” he says before he rubs her
back gently a few times, then kisses the top of her head. “There’s
a new toothbrush and such for you on the vanity. I’ll go start your
coffee and get your planner out of your bag. Meet you in the
kitchen or in the bedroom?” he asks.

“Either’s fine with me,” she mumbles as she
walks over to the bathroom vanity. She hears the bathroom door
close quietly as he leaves. “Odd,” she thinks, “he doesn’t mind me
watching him, but he gives me privacy.” She shrugs and then looks
in the mirror. Her hair looks like a dust mop on steroids and her
skin is so pale today the jagged scar running down the left side of
her face looks angry and red. “You are a regular sleeping beauty,
Deidra ole gal.”

She makes a face at her reflection and then
goes about her morning routine. When she steps out of the shower,
he is waiting with a fluffy towel. She chuckles because she knows
the only reason he’s there waiting for her is to make her feel
better about her lapse in manners earlier. Her heart races as he
uses the towel to dry her body, planting random kisses along her
sensitive flesh. By the time he helps her into the robe from behind
and wraps his arms along with the robe around her, she is nearly
panting. He stands there embracing her for several sweet moments
before he kisses her neck and nuzzles her, inhaling deeply.

He pulls his face back with what she can only
call a sigh of regret and murmurs; “Your coffee is on the vanity,
and your planner and computer are on the bed. Meet you there!” He
winks at her before he sails out of the bathroom.

She walks over to the vanity absentmindedly
to pick up her coffee. She takes a few sips, and then notices a
hairbrush, blow dryer and straightening iron on the vanity top. She
looks around and sees the tube of anti-frizz cream and a can of
hairspray also on the counter. There’s also an emerald green pair
of panties with a matching bra laid out on the countertop. “Now
those things definitely weren’t there earlier,” she mumbles to
herself.

“No they weren’t. I stopped and bought them
on my way home this morning. I hope you don’t mind,” he calls from
the bedroom.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome,” he laughs.

She hurriedly tames her crazy hair and then
brushes her teeth again. She puts on the bra and panties, but she’s
not surprised in the least that they fit perfectly. As an
afterthought, she reaches down and rubs her legs. Damn, I should
have shaved yesterday. I wonder if I have any lotion in my bag? She
wonders to herself. And then she notices a bottle of the same kind
of lotion she uses at home. She shrugs at the coincidence and
moisturizes quickly and puts the robe back on.

She walks back into the bedroom to find him
stretched out on the far side of the bed with his hands behind his
head. She takes a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart at
the sight of him. His eyes are closed and he almost looks like he
is asleep, but she knows he isn‘t.

He is wearing the pajama pants from the night
before, but now he isn’t wearing a shirt. Her eyes hungrily devour
the planes and contours of his bare chest and shoulders. Her
planner and computer are resting on the bed near his crossed feet,
but she completely ignores them. Her heart skips a beat because she
thinks that he looks like a male model in one of those designer
cologne ads or something. He opens one eye to look at her
enquiringly. “Aren’t you planning to join me?” he says as reaches
out and casually pats the bed beside him. Deidra wants to crawl
into bed with him, to kiss and caress every part of him. She stands
rooted in place, nervously licking her lips.

His next words bring her back sharply from
her fantasy. “There’s food and more coffee on the tray.” Then he
closes his eye again and begins humming softly. It’s a Spell
Weaver’s song for inducing peace and tranquility. Deidra thinks
that the tune sounds familiar, but she just can’t place it. Oh
well, not a big deal. She shrugs at her forgetfulness, it’s nothing
new for her to find a piece of music vaguely familiar and not be
able to recall it.

She fills the coffee cup from the insulated
pitcher, grabs the small bowl of fruit and climbs gingerly onto the
bed. When she reaches for the planner, he tells her to eat first.
She looks at him and isn’t surprised to see his eyes are still
closed. “Have you already eaten?” she asks.

“Yes, before I came home,” he answers
casually, with small smile on his lips. Dee feels like there’s some
private joke that she’s missing out on, but let’s the feeling pass.
When he opens his eyes and sits up fluidly he gracefully assumes
the same cross legged pose from last night.

She’s eating the fruit and reaches for a
piece of dry toast and Swiss cheese from the tray when a thought
occurs to her. “How come we never eat meals together?” she
asks.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs as he swipes a
strawberry from the bowl and pops it into his mouth. He chews
slowly and swallows. Then he leans over to kiss her leisurely. The
touch of his lips send a shock of heat and desire through her body
to pool wetness in her core. The taste of the strawberry on his
lips and his scent coming from his slightly open mouth leave her
breathless and on fire. He pulls away and gives her his lopsided
grin. She turns and puts the food back on the tray beside the bed,
suddenly she is no longer hungry for food.

As she turns back to face him, she is
surprised to discover that he has moved to her side of the bed. How
can he be that fast? I didn’t even feel him move.

His legs are folded under him, and he‘s
facing her as scoots to the foot of the bed. He reaches out and
gently grabs her calves and slowly drags her down the bed toward
him. The robe rides up exposing the gem tone panties and her soft
belly all the way above the navel. He growls playfully and then
smiles carnally. Their eyes lock and hold. He’s asking permission.
Her tentative smile is all the permission he needs.

He drags his hands down to her feet, rubs
them gently for a few seconds. Slowly, torturously he moves his
splayed ice cold fingers up the length of her legs, leaving trails
of fire in his wake. Holding her in place with his eyes. When his
hands reach her hips, he drops his face to the front of the
panties. She draws a ragged breath as he plants a kiss at the apex
of her thighs. He inhales deeply then growls, a deep, purely primal
sound that wakes something equally primitive inside her. All the
while he’s holding her gaze with his unblinking, ridiculously
beautiful, now bright blue eyes. Morna realizes that she has been
holding her breath again and exhales in a huff of air.

Her heart races impossibly fast as her hips
arch gently to meet his lips. Her hands dart out to weave her
fingers into his hair. He reaches up with both of his hands, where
he disentangles her fingers, brings her hands to his lips and
kisses each hand, and then gently plants her arms along her body.
Quickly, he unties the robe, peels open the flaps and tucks them
over her arms and under her body, effectively trapping her arms at
her sides. “So beautiful,” he growls.

Through this whole process their eyes never
waver, but now her eyes hold a question. His eyes beg her to trust
him. She does.

He traces the scar on her thigh with his
finger tips and says, “These scars really make you feel
self-conscious, don’t they?” Morna nods wordlessly. Lucian kisses
the scar and says, “They shouldn’t. You are truly beautiful Morna.
On the inside and the outside,” Lucian says earnestly.

Yeah, if you’re into horror flicks, she muses
to herself but remains silent and watchful.

He kisses the scar again and then returns his
face to the front of her panties, where he places another tender
kiss before laving her sex with his tongue through the material of
the panties. The growling sound he makes causes her sex to flood
again with evidence of her arousal. “Fuck Morna! You are so sweet!
I want to lose myself in your precious flesh!” he growls before he
seems to get himself under control with a supreme effort. He kisses
her gently through her panties again before he smiles up at her
reassuringly.

She can’t help but feel a little disappointed
when he trails his lips upward, all the while looking up at her,
gauging her reaction to what he‘s doing. His chilly hands are
resting gently on her hips. He starts to knead the soft, pliant
flesh with his strong, cool fingers.

The fires in Morna’s blood are out of
control, consuming her with their intensity as the muscles in her
core quiver and she feels herself getting even wetter between her
legs because his nearness and her need for him. She wants put her
hands back into his hair and hold his mouth there as he licks and
sucks her flesh to bring her climax.

His icy lips make their way to the faded
C-section scar on her belly. His very cool tongue darts out and
traces the scar slowly, back and forth. She gasps at the contact.
His tongue is cold but it burns slightly on contact. Her scar
starts to tingle, then a prickly, mildly stinging sensation sets
in.

What the hell? She holds her breath as an
inexplicable fear grips her heart. “Easy Morna! You can trust me,
my love. You know that, right?” Morna stares into his luminescent
blue eyes and feels her fears dissolve so she nods wordlessly.
“Okay, love?” He breathes against her belly as his piercing eyes
continue to hold her pinned to the bed.

Her only response is to resume breathing, and
then she nods again, minutely. He rewards her with her favorite
lopsided grin and says, “There’s my Morna. Can I continue?” She
nods again and he kisses her navel, even swirls around it with his
icy tongue. Morna is surprised that this doesn’t burn at first
contact and only pleasantly tingles afterwards. She finds it very
stimulating, and yet another fire ignites in her body.

His icy lips travel to her right side until
he finds the scar from the chest tube, He kisses it gently, and
then snakes his cold tongue over it a few times. The burn and
prickly, stinging sensation that follows his tongue, is more
intense this time. She moans as her body processes all the heady
sensations he is creating in it. Her mind shies away from the
question of why contact with his tongue burns, and focuses on the
way he is making her feel.

His hard, cool hands ease their way up her
waist to cup her full breasts through the thin fabric of the bra.
Her heart is racing so fast that she vaguely wonders if she’s
having a heart attack. Her blood feels like it’s on fire for this
man. She gasps as he buries his face between her fleshy mounds, and
plants a gentle kiss in her sweet valley between her heaving
breasts as he gently kneads their fullness. He uses his thumbs to
expertly flick both erect nipples through the fabric of the bra.
She moans deeply, as he continues to hold her emerald gaze locked
with his luminescent blue one.

He raises his head from her valley, leans
upward and plants a gentle kiss on her lips. “Easy, baby, I will
never hurt you,” he murmurs softly against her lips. The cool touch
of his lips leaves a fire there as he trails his mouth back down to
the scar above her left breast where the jagged piece of steel from
the minivan had pierced her lung. Again the cold tongue snakes out
and flicks over the length of the scar. When the stinging burn sets
in he is still watching her closely and asks; “Are you okay, love?”
She nods mutely, but he notices her eyes look a little
uncertain.

He reaches up and cups her face with both of
his hands and lightly kisses her lips again. He searches her eyes
for any trace of fear, and is relieved when he doesn’t find any.
“You are always so strong and brave, baby.” She looks at him
doubtfully at that comment and he smiles before saying, “Morna,
this will be a bit more intense,” he whispers and then kisses the
scar that starts at her left temple. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” is her whispered reply.

He moves his lips to her chin then darts his
tongue out to trace the length of her scar up to her temple, and
then back down again, and up once more to her temple. The scar on
her face is wide and deep, and this time the burn and stinging are
very intense. She draws a ragged breath. “Easy, easy, sweetheart,”
his velvet voice soothes. “It is okay baby, I promise.” His gaze
holds her pinned to the pillow. His right hand comes up to rest on
her cheek. The intense cold of his hand soothes the burning sting
instantly. He kisses her lips tenderly and lingeringly. Her
breathing slows marginally after a minute or two.

He remains unmoving, watching her face
closely, kissing her lips tenderly at times, and hoping to reassure
her. After a bit he asks; “Is it okay if I continue and do the arm
and leg?”

“Yes, go ahead,” she breathes uncertainly.
She doesn’t really understand what he’s doing, she only knows she
does not want him to stop touching her.

“You are amazing, my Morna,” he whispers as
he slowly trails his hand and face to her left arm. “I will only do
a small section at a time, so this will take a little while. Are
you still willing, baby?” he asks gently. He reads the total trust
in her eyes and says, “Yes my love, I see that you are.” He kisses
her shoulder gently and then repeats the same process on the jagged
scars on her left arm as he did with her cheek. Then he moves to
her left leg, and slowly, and tenderly ministers to every inch of
the angry looking scars that stretches from mid-thigh to
mid-calf.

By the time he is finished she is shaking
from the slight burning, and stinging sensations throughout her
body, caused by the minute amounts of his venom that her body has
absorbed into her bloodstream. He helps her sit up just enough to
peel the robe off her shoulders and free her trapped arms, then he
eases her back onto the pillow. He covers her tenderly with the
quilt. “I am sorry, Morna. I was too impatient. It hurts me to know
how much those scars bother you. But I should not have done so much
at once,” he whispers into her ear as he stretches out alongside
her body, as his right hand traces small, lazy circles on her soft,
bare tummy under the quilt, sending out ripples of pleasure and
languid desire through her entire body.