27. Kuret

27

Kuret

I refill our water, in case we need to flee quickly, then turn back to Nasrin. My breath stops midway through pulling it in when I see the look on her lovely face. She's no longer avoiding my gaze.

She looks… I don't know how she looks, but it is so intense my markings flare. I haven't felt like this since… ever. I have never experienced whatever this is, and I'm not sure if I like it. My head feels light and I blink rapidly.

What I said had an impact, and she's ready to learn to fight now. I swallow compulsively, almost feeling sorry for the hunters she will soon be decimating.

I feel tense as she approaches with a knife, my hand almost reaching for my own. My instincts are screaming out at me that there is heavy danger in the air right now, but I force myself stay still.

She holds it up toward me, her grip awkward. "Teach me how to hold this. Use your hands to move my body how it should be. We don't have much time, Kuret."

Her breathing is elevated, and it makes me realize mine is too. Those images that I keep trying to suppress of her white hair moving against my skin surge up again and my hearts start pounding.

I swallow hard, then move to do as she asks, hoping she won't notice the ever-increasing bulge of my erection, which I have to start ignoring or I'm going to have to adjust myself and all of this is awkward enough as it is.

I take the knife from her, listening carefully to our surroundings. A glance over to Roshan reveals that he's napping, which makes me feel a bit more settled. If I had to guess, he has a better sense of smell than I do. We've been downwind of where I killed the green hunter—the braceaaer—since we left. He was tense for a while, sniffing the breeze, before finally relaxing.

I turn my attention back to Nasrin. She still has that intense look that sends shivers down my body and makes my armor even more uncomfortably tight. She's much smaller than the females of my kind, and softer. My fingers twitch, longing to touch her waist again, and then I realize I've been given an invitation, and a good reason.

But, first, she needs to know where to strike. "The best places to slice are here and here," I tell her, pointing at my neck and wrists. "If there is no armor, make quick stabs for the chest and belly if you are standing, and the back of the ankles or knees if you are on the ground."

She moves her head up and down, which is her way of saying she agrees, and I assume must also mean she understands.

"If you are behind someone, the base of the skull is good for a stab or you can reach around to the throat to slice… if you are tall enough."

She wrinkles the small structure between her eyes, and I smile. I was initially taken aback by humans breathing from there, but now it's just endearing. Especially now that I know that it can convey emotions, though I'm not sure which one yet.

I take in a deep breath, and then move my body behind hers, still pulling in the air as I settle myself behind her and so her personal scent invades my senses. I take a moment to enjoy it, then bend my body down so I can place the knife in her hands, carefully rearranging it so she can take it in a firm grip.

I bite down on my tongue and taste blood when I imagine her with something else in that hold. I have to keep my hips away from her so I don't announce my struggles by pressing into the middle of her back as I move my arms so they are positioned to the outside of hers.

She shivers as my braids engulf her and my fingers wrap around her wrists, but she doesn't complain. I hope it doesn't mean she is still afraid of me. My hearts constrict at the thought, but then I get distracted for a moment, enjoying the way my braids have mixed with her long hair, before pushing all the unhelpful thoughts aside.

It doesn't work and I'm right back to looking. Light mixed in with dark, soft waves caressing war braids. The glide of her hair against my skin makes me ache to run it through my hands.

This is about our survival, I remind myself, not about how much I want to touch her soft body.

It's hard to remember that admonishment after I get her arms in the correct position and then move my hands to her hips. She's just as delicate as I remember, and now as I move her, I also realize just how flexible she is.

I clear my throat. "Keep your hips shifted this way so you provide a smaller target. Good, now move your body a bit lower and shift your weight this way so you can move more nimbly."

As I shift her to keep adjusting her stance, I move my grip up from her hips to help her feel the difference between her balance in different positions. "Does that make sense?" I ask as I tilt her weight a little too far forward, then reposition my hands to pull her back.

When I do, the heavy weight of her generous breasts pushes against me and she takes in a sharp breath. I let go of her, appalled that I have frightened her, but she grabs me with her free hand, moving it back to her body, once again right under her breast.

"Like this?" she asks.

It takes me a moment to understand what she's asking, since my world has narrowed to the feel of that soft weight, then I realize that she has moved her body back into the exact position I had her in.

I swallow thickly again, then answer. "Yes, that is correct. Then you can shift like…"

A groan tries to rise up when I realize I will need to press her up against me to best demonstrate how she can move from one stance to the next. My marks are flaring with my embarrassment as I pull her close, but she's right. We don't have much time.