The Weaver's Source

Chapter 76

I woke slowly, a little surprised I no longer hurt from the burns that covered me and, for a brief moment, wondered if I had only dreamt the fire, but all those thoughts froze when I slowly registered fingers touching my hair and brushing the length of my back; bare, rough and tickling my magic pleasantly.

My eyes opened and gradually I realised my head was nestled on Grigore's thigh, his fingers roaming my shoulders and back absentmindedly and my body entirely naked, only faintly covered by a blanket covering my hip. He hadn't noticed I was awake as his attention was fixed on a ward in his hand, his song drifting about, whispering about my tongue. I watched him, my glazed eyes slipping over the line of his jaw and throat sleepily, gliding down into the gap of his shirt revealing the scars and hair of his broad chest. Abruptly my cheeks burned, my mind suddenly a hive of memories of Grigore free of his shirt and dark eyes glittering dangerously, that I had fed him with such passion and lust, nearly giving myself to him entirely, and that his brother was still alive and Grigore's final hunt was to slay him; a hunt he was fully accepting was going to kill him.

Grigore's eyes flicked to me the moment he felt me stir, no doubt feeling my swirl of thick emotions blasting into life; shyness, fear, love. I tried to push myself away from him, panicking and embarrassed, but his fingers circled my shoulder, coaxing me to remain still and nestled again him.

"Relax, Lyra." He murmured softly, his voice deep as his song purred about him.

The sensation of his rough hand warm against my skin and this thumb stroking soothingly helped break away the momentary panic. I settled back down at his quiet but firm insistence and soon his fingers were back to roaming my skin, tracing the curve of my shoulder and line of my back, my magic warm beneath him. I had never been touched by him like this when he was full. It didn't bring up a mindless desire to touch him, just a pleasant purr from my magic that warmed me, a lazy feed that felt like butterflies kissing my skin. It felt good.

"Don't get up too quickly. Take it slow." He warned gently, waving the ward in his hand away as his gaze flickered over me warmly with a glimmer of possessiveness, slipping over every naked curve. "Your skin's healed now." He said as he brushed his bare hand over my arm.

"My magic healed it?" I asked thickly, trying my best to ignore how my magic rippled warmly beneath his hand, heightening the sensation of his rough skin against mine. It was conjuring up memories of his feeding, his mouth blazing with hungry purpose and his husky declaration of how good I tasted to him, causing my body to burn with warmth.

"No, mine did. I've been sewing your wounds while you slept." He murmured. "Your own would've taken far too long."

I tested his reserves, confirming he was as full as I thought he was despite healing my entire body of soft burns and smoke. "You don't need feeding."

He smiled slowly and gently took my hand in his, lowering his head to press my fingers against his mouth, his eyes glittering at the pink beginning to heat up over my cheeks. "You've fed me more than enough." Grigore murmured, opening up my fingers to press another kiss against my palm.

I watched with pink eyes as his rough hand swallowed mine, his long fingers strong about mine, pressing his lips down to my wrist, inhaling my scent and tasting my skin. His gentle caress just made my heart flutter, my pulse quickening and body warming with soft need for him, but I didn't take my hand from him, despite knowing I should. I was enjoying the loving interaction from him too much. 

"I'm leaving for the manor soon." He said as he gently pressed my hand against his thigh, toying with my fingers before finally letting me go.

I was instantly awake, pushing myself onto my knees, trying my best not to fret too much about my nakedness after last night. It was difficult though by how Grigore's magic began to curl about me, his gaze darkening with hunger at the sight of me before him; breasts budded in the cool air and firelight glimmering over my pale curves.