Fuck, but she smelled even better there. Despite the muck crusting her, of a ripe body in need of a thorough wash, that smell of spring and snow intoxicated him.
“Please,” she whispered, head falling back to bare the smooth line of her throat etched in grime and lurid red bands as he whirled to face the crowd. The black smudge of her lashes fluttered, parting for a moment’s glimpse of eyes the purest black. Shining in their depths, the glory of a star filled sky. The heavens soaring through the frame of spiked lashes.
Er’it bellowed as those lights snuffed out and turned her eyes murky. Shaking the bewitching creature, he shouted a wordless denial as she flopped about, rag doll slack in his grip. Clutching the woman tight to his chest, willing his warmth and life into the small body, he charged through the gaping crowd of warriors towards the stairs.
Taking them two and three at a time, Er’it ran as fast as he could. Surrounding them in the fiery ball of his power to lend her more warmth when her teeth began to chatter, body shivering in fits. As her savaged lips grew pale and tinged with blue, a rage he’d never felt exploded within his chest. Drew out a sound of such brutal violence that dozens dropped to the floor in submission as he cleared the top of the stairs into the hall.
“Er’it?” Endi appeared before him, reaching for his arm as he rushed past.
Dragging in a breath that tasted of hot ash and burnt offerings, Er’it snarled at the woman that shuffled far from his path when he centered his gaze on her. “Get me a fucking healer. Now!”
Using his nose and what sense left to him in this blind rage, he searched out a room. Thick with the exquisite scent that continued to distract him, it must have been hers. The old bastard’s reek tainted the front rooms, but it was only her within the bed chamber. That morsel calmed him somewhat, but he had only to look at the deep gouges marring her perfect flesh to work himself into a fury that burned white hot and out of control.
“Majesty, set her down, please.” Meek and quiet, the dusty green of the healer’s robe sighed over the wooden floors as he came closer. Pausing when Er’it growled at him, palms spread to show he was no threat. “I cannot tend those wounds if you hold her like that.”
Er’it bared his teeth, sitting hard on the bed with the woman cradled close. Groaning when a cloud of that glorious sweetness burst into the air, flooding his senses once more. The molten tempest of his rage swelled, threatening to spill over the healer refusing to back down.
“Majesty, she needs—” The healer’s bald snort slapped Er’it in the face, would have earned the spindly man an exceptional amount of pain had he not then gestured at his crotch with a wry smirk and a single brow flying high. “A eunuch, Majesty. No more threat to her than a child. Now if you would be so kind to set her down, before she dies of exposure and whatever else the poor thing’s endured in this place.”
A cautious sniff at the healer proved it true. Though thick and pungent, his scent was redolent of herbs and old paper alone. Not a hint of pheromones to show his dynamic. Grunting his acceptance, Er’it slid the woman from his lap to the bed with the utmost care. Cradling her lolling head and slack body until it rested in the downy softness of the bed. He couldn’t pry his fingers from around her limp hand, holding fast while standing aside for the man to descend with a solicitous air.
While the healer did his work, Er’it examined the gentle beauty. Tried to keep the anger scratching at the back of his throat from tumbling into a full-throated growl as he noted every single mark on her body. Wishing he had taken his time with Otaso now, had made the man bleed for what he’d done to the woman. That would give him the satisfaction that abandoned him in that moment. To see him scream and beg, pleading with Er’it’s merciless vengeance for the hurt he’d caused her.
Tracing the scored edge of her cheek, a ripple of disgust coiled through his gut. Woman was a stretch, at the cusp of it if she was a day. No wonder she smelled of such incredible freshness, the tarnish of years having yet rubbed away the shine of youth. Lips pulled taut, a lingering hint of dismay at his reaction to her and the still uncomfortable tightness in his cock tried to make itself known. Vanishing on his next inhale, a fresh burst of heady sunlight assaulting him as the healer turned her to inspect her back.
“Magic did these,” the healer mumbled, fingertips ghosting over the thick weal marking her shoulder. As if unwilling to touch it, he leaned far back with twisted lips and a shake of his balding pate. “Old magic at that. Sour and dark, it is.”
“Fix it,” Er’it snarled, grabbing the man’s robes tight against his throat to drag him close. Voicing the growl that lurked deep in his chest in the man’s face, Er’it proposed no other option.
“I will, yes, but it will take things I don’t have to hand,” the healer wheezed, keeping his arms at his sides though his fists bunched the thick wool of his robes.
“Majesty,” Ath'asho called from well outside the suite, voice vibrating with tension as it twisted through the dark
