Chapter 11 : Melting

"I could turn you loose. Grant you your freedom and send you on your way. A pretty little thing like you wouldn't have any trouble finding a troupe to travel with. I'll let you scamper back to Evangeline and tell her exactly how much you've learned about me," he offered, hand lifting toward my chin.

At first, I thought he might be summoning more vines, but none of the plants in the room reacted. He reached toward me but hesitated, and I wasn't sure why that frustrated me.

He was much taller than me, so my chest was barely level with the bottom of his pectoral muscles, and I tried to focus on his face instead of how I didn't realize just how snug his trousers were.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that. And maybe I'll figure out who the hell Evangeline is when I get out of here," I retorted, jaw set in defiance.

Finally, his fingers brushed along my jaw, his thumb running over my bottom lip. He gave me a dangerous half-smile that made me wonder if I should be worried, but I was too distracted by his hand on my skin to think about being afraid of him.

"Truly, acting isn't your strong suit. I'd give up the clueless act and try a different approach," he suggested, still running his thumb along my bottom lip.

I scowled at him. I considered the fact he might just be stupid, that he could just be so deeply buried in his own paranoia that he couldn't see that I genuinely had no idea what he was talking about, but he distracted me yet again.

His lips met mine. It was hard and passionate, his mouth crushing against mine. Fynn wrapped a hand around the back of my head to hold me to him, and I felt fully electrified. I stood on my tiptoes so he didn't have to hunch so much.

Fynn's tongue searched my mouth as if there might be some answer to be found there. I dragged my nails along his ribs, listening to the sharp intake of breath that it caused.

I was never so fully aware of how much of the hem of the nightgown I'd had to tear away to use to clean and bandage his wounds. His other hand ran up my hip and along my ribs, dragging the ragged hem with it. His nails scraped down my back, making me arch into his touch.

This kiss, the one I had expected just a few nights ago, was explosive, like fireworks in July. Every single one of my nerves sang with desire, and I was scrambling into his arms. He held my ass as I wrapped my legs around him, needing to be closer, needing to taste more of him.

He pressed me against the wall, the plaster crumbling a little where my head collided with it. I barely noticed, trailing kisses from his mouth to his jaw, and along his shoulders. He let out a growl, and I nipped at where his collarbone was barely visible through his skin. His kiss turned hungry, desperate, and aggressive. I'd never been wanted this way, and though I hadn't showered in a week, I didn't have my makeup or any of my cute clothes, I felt the sexiest I'd ever felt in my life in that shredded nightgown in a tavern in a town I'd never heard of.

I tangled one hand in his hair and used the other to trace the muscles of his back. I breathed in the scent of him, all pine and musk. Carefully, I trailed a finger along his shoulder, skipping over the wound there. It seemed to practically knit back together under my touch. I excused it as some sort of fae healing that I didn't know about.

Besides, I was still too preoccupied with the rest of him.

Fynn spun and tossed me onto the bed as if I weighed nothing. He took in the sight of me on my back hungrily, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he bent himself over me. He held his weight off me using his good arm, burying his face in my neck. He used his free hand to tug at the laces at the neck of my nightgown, tossing it aside as it slid through the grommets.

His hand slipped inside the gown there, palming my breast and flicking a thumb over my nipple. I whimpered at his touch, and he dragged his canines along the sensitive flesh on my neck where it joined with my shoulder.

More, more, more, I wanted to beg him pitifully. I'd never been touched like this, never wanted this way. None of the boyfriends I'd ever had before had been so passionate. I shouldn't be letting my captor hold me this way, shouldn't be panting over him or biting my lip to stop from calling out his name. I shouldn't let him touch me at all, but this was the only thing I'd wanted all of my life. We fit together like puzzle pieces, and he played me like an instrument.

Fynn's hand pulled free of my nightgown, sliding down to my thigh. His hands drew long lines up as his mouth met mine again, moving feverishly. His fingers traced higher and higher, teasing dangerously close to my sex.

As if they had a mind of their own, my legs began to part to make way for him, and he chuckled darkly against my mouth. I could feel the way the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile, but I didn't dare open my eyes for fear of breaking the spell.

His fingers brushed the lines of my entrance, and I had to force my hips to stay glued to the bed. I was putty in his hands, melting at his touch. He slid a finger through my folds, feeling how slick I was from him.

He broke the kiss long enough to bring his hand to his mouth and place two fingers inside. He looked at me, testing, as he did so, one eyebrow raised in either a question or a challenge. My eyes rolled back in my head at the overwhelming sight of his hungry eyes.

Fynn moved his hand back between my legs, lips teasing and nipping at my neck. His fingers slid easily into my entrance, his thumb circling the nub of sensitive flesh at the apex of my thighs. He hooked one leg under mine to pull me open wider. His fingers worked cruelly, in and out, dragging wicked moans from my lips.

I tried to reach for him, to pull loose the laces on his trousers, but he stopped me. I couldn't stand the absence of his fingers at all my most sensitive parts, so I let my hand drop back to the bed, but I ached with the need to touch him.

His thumb rubbed in circles, his fingers curled inside me. My hips bucked into his hand, and I felt myself tumbling in a free fall toward an overwhelming pleasure. I turned my head to him, lips meeting his. I drank him in greedily as if I had gone days without water. He kissed me back, a little hum in the back of his throat the only sign he might be as caught up in all of this as I was.

Maddeningly, the feeling of his hand between my legs drove me on, deeper and faster toward an overwhelming pleasure. I couldn't think straight, vision blurring with the intensity of his touch. Fulfillment crashed through me, and I could feel myself clenching around his fingers. A sharp gasp took my breath away as pleasure racked through my body, muscles spasming.

I had never felt anything like that before in my life, and I feared I might never feel anything like it again. We hadn't even fucked and now sex might be ruined for me forever. Nothing could compare.

Fynn's kisses softened, gentle lips against mine as he brought me back to earth.

"Succubus for sure," he said, adjusting himself in his pants.

I narrowed my eyes but chuckled. "If that's what you'd like to call it."

"Not quite the same as saving someone's life, but it will have to do for now," Fynn joked, laying back against the bed.

He slid an arm under my head, and I laid still, afraid to stir him. I wasn't sure how this would change things going forward. What I did know was that there was a strange stirring deep in my bones that was neither familiar nor unpleasant. I couldn't describe the feeling, but it made me feel a little livelier.

"Will you let me return the favor sometime?" I asked quietly.

He barked out a laugh. "You don't owe me anything. Now, let's get back on the road. We've been delayed long enough by my foolishness."

I couldn't decide if he was referencing me or not. It sounded like he might be, but in my heart, it didn't feel like he saw me as some foolishness.

"Is there someplace I can get washed up before we get on the road?" I asked, hoping there might be some sort of bathhouse or something I could find.

He laughed again. "Here? Gods, no. I wouldn't trust the water here anyway," he dismissed. Fynn sat up and got to his feet, moving a little more lithely than before.

"Well, the water here is what I've been using to keep that stab wound clean," I retorted, sitting up and looking for my dress.

Fynn looked down at his shoulder, the raw pink scar all that was left of it now. He narrowed his eyes and frowned, touching it gingerly.

"Well, maybe we should both bathe in the water here then if it's that good at healing wounds," he answered, not bothering to look back at me. After a moment longer inspecting his wound, he turned to where his shirt was draped over the chair and pulled it on.

I almost hated to see him put the shirt back on, but he was right about us needing to get on the road. If nothing else, I felt more sure about where I stood with him out on the road. Here in town, sharing a room and a bed, things had gotten blurred. That was my only excuse for what had just happened. There were unspoken rules about the boundaries between us, but they only applied while we were traveling apparently.

Uninterested in getting my heart broken, and not wanting to waste more time lusting after a man who was keeping me as a captive, I finished stuffing the few belongings I had accumulated into my pack and shouldered it.

I prayed to whatever gods looked after this realm for a little sanity and mental clarity as we headed for the stables.