The Stormcrow Cycle [Slow-burn Slice-of-Life Tragic Fantasy Romance]

Chapter Fourteen: Lukios of House Helios, Part II

Ba'an woke up, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from making...noises.

The fire had burned down to embers and the not-vuti was dark. Even so, the starlight was bright and Ba'an could see Lukios sleeping in what had been her nest of blankets. He seemed to prefer it, mostly because he could fit all of himself on the floor. The blankets were still a bit too short, though.

He was sound asleep. Thank you, ancestors.

He slept without his shirt, and he had kicked off his blankets. The spearhead had flopped over his shoulder, the leather thong just a dark line against his skin. She could see the shadows play against the shape of the lean, hard muscles of his chest and belly. The scar left by the sword wound she had sewn closed was not visible, but she could see the dark blotch that was the patch of hair that started just below his navel and trailed down until it disappeared beneath the blanket.

In her dream she had used her mouth to—

No. Stop. That is rude.

She turned her face away and tilted her head back to look up at the sky. There was a familiar, aching throb between her legs that demanded relief.

It had been five years since Thu'rin, and Ba'an had not had a man since. She had only been here, alone in her not-vuti except for trading trips to the city or jaunts across the red sands, and—

Lukios was a man. Ba'an was a woman, a woman who had not had a man for five years. It did not help that he was funny, kind, handsome, and sharper—much, much sharper—than anyone likely guessed—though he did have a foul mouth. He was young, too—perhaps just upwards of 25 or 26—and clearly strong and virile.

She was only frustrated. Only that.

Besides, he likely had women everywhere he went. It was foolishness to entertain these thoughts, and they would stay just that—thoughts, never to be spoken out loud in the light of day. Ever.

The problem would resolve itself once he was gone. But for now, she could not stay in a bed that smelled like him and expect to calm down.

Ba'an left her bed as quietly as she could. She took the stairs slowly in the dark, careful to keep her palm pressed against the wall so she would not become disoriented. It would be a very stupid thing to die falling off the stairs after everything Lukios had done to keep her alive.

She was sweating again by the time she reached the top. She couldn't see anything on the ground from this height – everything just looked like a dark, lumpy shadow – but she thought she would have heard it if he had woken. She walked up the final set and then she was outside. The breeze was cool and held the refreshing smell of a desert at night: sand, the dry plant smell from the akaikai grove, and sweet sagi grass.

The wind was playful tonight. It caught her hair and tossed the strands around her head in little gusts. The sweat from her climb dried quickly.

Ba'an found a nice spot just past the stairs to lie down. It was not completely flat, but there was an incline that made it good for lying down and looking into the distance.

Ba'an would never tire of the sight of the night sky from here for as long as she lived. The stars glowed, millions of them, scattered across the black sky like shining jewels.

Why do you stay here, Ba'an?

But why would she leave?

She was a desert creature.

Ba'an touched Thu'rin's necklace of teeth. He had liked to tease her by calling her his little bird, but Ul'ma had always told her that was stupid. "You are no delicate bird," she had said, and Ba'an knew that Ul'ma had always been right about her.