Black Moon Draw

She flinched and licked her lips, a faint flush on her cheeks. She shook from the cold, fear, and his touch, and he kept his hands on her hips a moment longer than necessary.

Kneeling in front of her, he traced his palms over one smooth leg, from hip to toes, and then the other. She had the softest, smoothest skin he had ever experienced, with no birthmarks or scars marring her. He had never touched any witch this way, but there was aught about her that snagged his senses and compelled his attention towards her.

The Shadow Knight stood and moved behind her. He took her wrists and placed her arms at her side before stepping into her. With her plump ass at his groin, he had a hard time concentrating on working the bugs free of her hair, his other hand on her lower belly to keep her against him, in case she followed through with her promise to pass out.

"'Tis a shame you are destined to be a witch," he said. "A man would take great pleasure out of your body."

She said nothing. She was tense.

"Trust, lady." He softened his voice, not quite understanding her fear. He only killed those he needed to and never bedded a woman who was not willing. She was like one of the foals, new to the world, fearing the touch of the man that cared for her. What worked best with young animals was calmness and warmth.

His duty was to protect his armies and wards, not coddle them. Had she been any other battle-witch or warrior, he would have rescued her then left her to deal with the bugs.

With her, it was not simple duty. It was overwhelming desire as well.

Her supple skin was a reminder he had not bedded a woman in over two fortnights, her silky curls another indication she was from a world where she was pampered and not forced to work the land or with her hands at all. She had time to care for her skin and body, and it showed. He marveled at the subtle differences, fascinated by her.

She was forbidden. The thought had the opposite effect it should; fire lit in his blood and he breathed in her fresh, womanly musk.

He plucked bugs free from her hair and dropped them at his feet, crushing them. Running his hands through her hair and then neck, he leaned back to ensure none of the bugs had returned to their battle-witch feast.

The Shadow Knight turned her to face him, keeping her against his. She was upset but quiet, her arms clutched to her chest as if she tried to hide her breasts. She was also much more expressive than he was accustomed to, making no attempt to conceal the emotions flying through her gaze.