Chapter 14

There must be something to this idea of a mating bond Ras refuses to stop talking about. That's the only reason I can think that, despite being sticky with sweat and grime, all I want to do is jump his bones.

Not that he's bad to look at, nope, he's the opposite of bad to look at.

He's freaking artwork, even sweat looks good on him, sliding across his golden tan skin. My skin pebbles as I recall the feel of his beard on my skin, and I wonder what it would feel like between my legs. I shift, pressing my thighs together.

Ras looks up from the fire, where he's been roasting the roots. "What are you thinking about?" he asks, and the purr in his voice that turns me on even more.

"I was just thinking about how I could help. Can I smash it in the bowl that you found yesterday? Maybe?" My words come out rushed and high-pitched, and it couldn't be more obvious that I was lying if I held up a big sign that flashed LIAR in red lights.

Ras doesn't seem to care though, his smile growing. "Of course. That would make it easier to wash you."

I stumble as I start walking toward him, his words sending pure lust raging through me. "I am perfectly capable of washing myself."

"That's what I said," he answers agreeably.

I ignore him. Or, at least, I do my best to ignore him, considering I suddenly can't keep my eyes off him. The way his thighs and calves do all sorts of interesting things when he crouches by the small fire. The way his large hands work at the spit, nimble and quick. God, I already know how good they feel on me.

God, I loved how he talked to me in that low, soothing voice, teaching me how to find the power in me, which I did, pretty easily, too. Which means he's right at least about one thing; that I'm not fully human. That one of my ancestors came from this place. Maybe he's telling the truth about the mating thing, too.

I must be horny as hell, because suddenly? Suddenly it doesn't seem like that bad of an idea, just to throw down with him. I like him. I like how he treats me, how he looks at me.

How he looks, like a freaking Adonis, is definitely not a deal breaker, either.

I bite my lip, diverting my attention to selecting a rock and finding the stone bowl. Once acquired, I carefully pick my way back to the fire. Ras blows on the roots before cutting the rest of the plant off and depositing it in the stone bowl.

I wait a minute, the silence between us thick with tension. I'm afraid to look at him, the weight of his gaze scorching across my skin. I stamp my foot, familiar self-consciousness riding me. It doesn't matter how nice he's been, how kind and comforting. How he's an incredible teacher, patient and funny.

I am not ready to tether myself to a being I don't fully understand. I still don't understand myself. Getting even more involved with him would only complicate things. No matter how good it would feel for a few minutes, it would hurt more in the end. It always does.

I bring the rock down hard into the root, smashing it. It takes the edge off my frustration, beating the root to a pulp. It releases a floral, fruity fragrance that reminds me vaguely of mint and roses, and my anticipation intensifies.

I can't wait to be clean.

I grind it more, until Ras makes an approving grunt.

"It's done?" I ask, still not trusting myself to look at him. A curl falls over my face.

"You learn quickly." He tucks the hair behind my ear, and I can't help the shiver that ripples over me. "I like that." His finger is on the rim of my ear, and I stand quickly, nearly upsetting the bowl.

I clutch it close, my fingernails biting into the bowl, my heart beating a mile a minute.

"Okay. I'm getting in the water now."

He stretches out, a lazy grin on his face. His eyes devour me, and I step back. My goodness, he's sexy like this, mostly naked save the piece of makeshift cloth between his legs, stretched across the ground.

"Do you want help?"

"No," I squeak and turn towards the pool. My feet tear up the distance, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I set the bowl on the edge, dipping a toe in. It's not too cold, but a nice lukewarm temperature that's going to feel amazing against my charged-up senses. Too charged-up. Maybe its colder where its deeper.

Cooling off my sex drive is imperative, at this point.

I tug my shorts off, revealing my underwear.

Ras lets out a low growl, and I look over my shoulder at where he sits. His face is tense, his focus pinning me in place as his gaze rakes over my nearly naked body. I turn back to the pool, trying to make up my mind. My emotions and thoughts are a tangled mess, but I know I want him.

I know it would feel good.

In a split-second decision, I tug my underwear off too, still facing the water. My bra follows, and Ras is silent behind me. Still, I can feel him watching.

I like it. I must be seriously messed up because I am one giant mixed signal at this point.

I don't care.

Slowly, I bend, picking up the bowl, and wading into the deliciously cool water. Rocks give way to muddy silt, slipping between my toes as I move further into the pool. Something splashes next to me, and I startle, my free hand flinging to my chest as I gasp.

It's Ras. His eyes are feral, pupils blown, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

A little part of me revels in it, the way I hold his undivided attention, the way he looks at me with worship in his eyes. Need is written across his face. It's a heady feeling, and my barely constrained lust intensifies.

I keep walking, putting space between us without acknowledging his presence. I'm playing with fire, and I want to get burned. The water flows over my hips, my breasts, and Ras takes the bowl from me, never looking away.

Sinking into the water, I let my hair fan out around me. I release a breath, and bubbles rise to the surface. Ras knew exactly what he was doing when he suggested a bath, knows exactly what it does to me when he looks at me that way.

I can't seem to care.

When I surface, Ras is stone still, waiting. I dip my hand into the pulp sniffing at the delicate aroma before slathering it in my hair. It tingles as it hits my scalp, and I moan in pleasure at the sensation.

Ras watches, and his throat bobs. I'm Icarus, flying too close to the sun, knowing my wings are going to melt at any minute. Still, I wait, my body already on full alert, my skin too tight, too sensitive. Suds spill over my fingers as I wash my hair, and I take my time, cleaning it as best as possible.

Really, the little soap plant works pretty dang well. The longer I wash, the more the tension unravels within me, as though I'm sloughing off the past, the fact that I'm a realm away from home. Home already seems unreal, the memory of it dulls in comparison to the reality of the cave, the cool water sluicing across my skin.

I dip my head back, rinsing out the soap plant, and then duck under again, working the strands.

When I come up for air, I dare to look at him from under wet lashes, my hair dripping and slicked across my shoulders. His empty hand slides around my waist, and I can't help the groan I let out. The cool water isn't enough to bank the heat I feel.

"May I?" he asks, his voice rough and low.

I nod, not even sure what I'm agreeing to. I find that don't I care, and shiver in anticipation.

With the look he's giving me, I want whatever it is he's asking permission for. We're both naked, and the knowledge sends a fresh thrill through me, despite the water covering everything below my collarbone. He's tall enough his chest is bare, the water licking below his taut pectorals. The thought of licking his chest blazes through me, and I drop my eyes back to the water.

Slowly, so slow, Ras dips his fingers in the bowl. I tremble under his light touch, his fingers rubbing the sudsy solution across my shoulders, my back. Losing myself in the sensation, my eyes flutter shut as he carefully works at a knot in my shoulder blade. His hands stroke lower, rubbing up and down my sides.

Tentative fingers caress my skin, a light touch that makes me want more. He doesn't demand, doesn't stray further than the dimples above my butt. It's respectful, and sensuous, and so, so different than how I've been touched in years. Maybe ever. It loosens my inhibitions even more.

He's waiting for me. The realization is a lightning bolt, and it melts my heart a little. He's respecting the boundary I keep drawing between us. Ras giving me space has turned him into a craving, and all I want is to fill that space with our entwined bodies, shred that paper-thin wall I've put up until it's a memory.

I want him. Need pulses through me. The pull of his body is magnetic, and I'm losing myself to it, to him. I can no longer deny that there is something to what he's been telling me, that we're meant to be, that this is fated.

The internal voice that protests that I don't want to belong to anyone, that I belong to myself, has become smaller and smaller. The steady thrum of my heartbeat has replaced it, the noise of water rushing over rocks and the sensation of his reverent fingers on my flesh.

My pulse, already fast, quickens as I reach a decision point. If I turn to face him, I will be lost in this. I haven't had many available choices since I managed to wish myself to this world. If we have sex, if we mate, it will seal whatever fate it is I have here. It will seal us together, tied here. It will give me power, something I have been too long without.

Was there anything left for me on Earth, anyway? Only my sisters, and they're here too.

My breath catches, and his big hands still on my waist.

"Lana," he says. His voice is low, pleading.

This is my decision. I have control in this; Ras has given it up to me completely.

I turn, and my mouth goes dry as I make my mind up.

"Here," I say, barely speaking above a whisper. "Let me."

I reach for the soap plant, scooping up most of what's left. "Let me wash your hair." I've been dying to see what it looks like, what his face is like under that golden beard. His eyes don't leave mine, and he nods once, dipping under the water. It streams off his face when he emerges, and I smile at him as he crouches until I can reach his head.

Like this, we're eye to eye, and his gaze dips to my lips, feral and hungry. I know how he feels.

I run my hands through his hair. It's coarser than mine, a lion's mane, and it reminds me of the fact that he's not human. I work my fingers carefully, untangling as much of it as I can. Soapy suds linger in the water near us, dusting his shoulders and mine. Ras is not human.

Neither am I.

I stop rubbing his head for a moment. A rumble starts in his chest, and I bite my lip and keep washing.

His hand snakes out of the water, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him dip his fingers back into the soapy pulp. Then his fingers are on my collarbones, dipping lower. Desire pools in my belly, and I close my eyes as his fingers linger on the swells of breast.

"Lana," he groans, and he tugs me to him, bracing his hands against my armpits. My legs wrap around his waist, and it's evident how much this bath has affected him. The evidence is poking me pretty firmly, after all.

"Your hair is soapy," I say, smiling. It's not so much that I'm enjoying torturing him, prolonging this… this thing between us. The control is intoxicating. He might be feral, might be a lion sometimes, but he's mine. If we mate, he will belong to me as much as I will to him.

I don't know if I'm ready for that, but I think I might be ready to do other things.

My hands are still laced around his neck, deep in his hair, and I let out a surprised laugh that echoes off the cave as he dips his head back, tugging me with him. I rinse the suds out gently, his hair long enough to float on the surface. His avid gaze never leaves my face, and his chest rumbles against the peaks of my breasts.

"There," I say, washing out the last of it. "Your hair is all clean."

He groans, tilting his head towards mine, pausing before his lips brush against mine. I swallow. This is the cliff, the precipice.

Do I jump off it?