Black Moon Draw

The battle-witch did so slowly, wincing with each bite. Half her skirts were gone, along with the bodice of her dress.

He watched, leery of any sign the bugs had managed to crawl inside her. Men did not normally die of being eaten to death. The bugs usually clogged their lungs or jammed their hearts long before then. Telling her the truth was unwise. He kept his tone soft and calm, never revealing his own concern for the popular traps set by Brown Sun Lake.

"It's free," she said, her voice sounding fainter, a sign she was either ready to retch or panic.

The Shadow Knight rose and circled her, expertly judging where the trap ended. Picking the spot closest to her, he held out a hand and prepared the dagger in his other. "Here."

She was nearly covered in the bugs. They crawled up her hair and neck. Her gaze was glossing over in a sign he was close to losing her.

"Now," he barked in his command tone.

Jarred, she reached out to him and stepped at the same time.

The Shadow Knight snatched her and whirled, flinging some critters off, and then deftly cut free the remains of her clothes to free her from the majority of them.

She was trying to fling off the rest, panicking and dancing like a madwoman.

"Stop!" he snapped and replaced the knife. He snatched her by the back of her neck and lifted until she was on her tiptoes, her focus shifted from bugs to breathing. She went rigid, gasping for air, while he swept a large hand down her curves to pick, flick and swipe bugs away. She wore clothing beneath the dress he did not recognize and which left most of her exposed. One garment appeared to be to support her breasts while the other was around her hips and feminine parts. "Be still. Understood?"

"Yes."

Releasing her neck, he lifted her arms by the wrist and started at her hands, running his palms firmly down her smooth skin, ensuring he missed no part of her. When he was finished, he twirled her and did it again.

Her eyes were squeezed closed. He slowed his movements, enjoying the sensation of her too-soft skin. She was neither too small nor too plump, the perfect combination of curves and plushness. From the large breasts to the flair of her hips, she was the kind of woman whose body he would worship in bed until she was too exhausted to move.

His hands reached her stomach and the sensitive skin there quivered. She pushed at him.

"Stop," he growled. "Obedience, witch." Lifting her arms back into the sky, he touched her stomach and hips again.