Chapter Ten

I woke to low firelight, painted caves, and a god. I blinked. There he knelt, shirtless, an embodiment of strength and vulnerability, before a makeshift altar. A deity incarnate, deep in the throes of prayer.

With the arrival of dawn, a gentle illumination began to seep into the cave, accompanied by a gradual cessation of the raging rainstorm outside. As if the universe itself had exhaled, relinquishing its tempestuous fury. Amid this new day's emergence, a newfound clarity gradually overcame me—a profound comprehension of the warrior who had inadvertently become my guardian amidst the chaos.

Unfurling myself from the blanket's embrace, I stood, dirt-streaked and blood-stained. His care had been cautious, avoiding any overture that might seem predatory. Though draped in a blanket, I stood vulnerable, the symbol of my exposure hidden but never truly concealed. "I need to bathe," I declared, my voice a fragile tremor, as I faced him in the cave's dim light. His visor briefly met my eyes, a connection forged in an unspoken understanding.

"These waters," his words emerged slowly, as if the very act of speaking was a careful deliberation, "they carry an energy. I will guide you to a place where you can bathe, untouched."

I nodded in agreement, surrendering to his guidance. He procured a fresh blanket and clothing for me, his hands moving with a practiced efficiency that bespoke of a deep-seated routine in this new, unexpected role.

"Irina!" His voice reverberated through the cave, raw and primal. I had wandered towards the cave's entrance, drawn to the mouth that opened to the stormy world beyond. He circled me, a whirlwind of motion, his helmet's black gloss replaced by a blur of iridium. "The storm."

Tears welled up, a torrent of emotion that I hadn't meant to unleash. But why did he always have to be so harsh, so unyielding? "I'm not Irina," I whispered, my voice a fragile thread. He didn't understand the depth of my meaning.

Slowly, his arm softly circled my body, tenderly, almost. "You are Irina," he murmured, his voice carrying an odd blend of conviction and compassion. "First of your name, heir to the throne of Astraeus." I would have laughed at his assumption of my delusional state, were it not for his bare hands holding mine. “The Empire attacked your home. We are on an island west of Astraeus’ outer rim.”

He guided me to my knees before the altar. Paintings and florals surrounded us, it was beautiful. Otherworldly yet rooted. "You suffered a nightmare," he spoke gently, his words a veil of understanding that softened the edges of my terror. "Hallucinations induced by the electric storm." A kind interpretation of my ordeal. "You collided with me and broke your nose. I've been tending to it with the limited technology available."

My hands instinctively flew to my nose, a detail that had indeed slipped through my fragmented memory. Before I could touch the mending cartilage, his grasp enveloped mine once more, saving me from unnecessary pain. "You're safe now.”

I blinked, grappling with the enormity of his concern. It was as if he cared, genuinely cared, for my well-being. It both frightened and thrilled me. And yet, my playful spirit couldn't resist the urge to tease. "I'm confused," I feigned, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "Are you my father?"

An awkward shuffle rippled through him, his hands retreating as if burned by my jest. If I could have seen his face I know he would have been nervous. His shoulder rolled, an awkward, modulated response being fashioned. I broke into a fit of laughter before he could muster some appropriate response.

"Irina," he growled, a mixture of frustration and affection. I had been jealous of Irina my whole life, how she selected me out of hundreds to live a life of servitude as her Shadow. But her name on his tongue is what I despised she took from me most. I wished for him to scold me by my real name.

I nudged him, my laughter bubbling forth like a spring's song. "I'm just teasing, warrior."

He was standing now, the painted circle altar serving as a backdrop. I blushed again as I readjusted myself. On my knees, before the Kaimarian, how I wished to remain in this position forever. To offer my own form of devotion, to reward him with my lips and my body for being so tall.

“Come,” he growled again. I loved making him angry with me.
—--
The warrior led me through the labyrinth of caves, torchlight painting undulating shadows across his imposing form. His presence was larger than life, an embodiment of divine craftsmanship. It was as if he had been plucked from the very menu of gods, sculpted by some beautiful goddess to fulfill my every fantasy. That was the only faith I had.

In the cavern's intimate confines, he ensured there was enough distance to maintain my modesty. Yet, an invisible thread seemed to bind us together, a connection woven from shared experiences and unspoken understanding. Perhaps neither of us desired the solitude that our surroundings beckoned, or maybe he too felt the inexplicable bond that had arisen between us. He had rescued me, after all. Did that mean he desired me in return?

"Kaimari," I dared, swimming to the edge of the hot spring with a surge of boldness. The helmet lifted, and I couldn't help but wonder if he could discern my silent desire—to be seen, to be acknowledged, to offer myself in pure devotion. "Your armor," I continued, pressing the matter when his silence lingered, "Did the storm damage it?"

A subtle shift in his posture caught my attention—his legs, moving from their outstretched position before him to finding purchase on the ground. For an electrifying moment, I entertained the notion that he might stride toward me, finally allowing the palpable tension between us to take its course.

His pause shocked me. Six deep breaths, slow and deliberate, marked the passage of time before he finally spoke. "I'm not certain," he admitted, his words hanging heavy in the air like a promise. "The energy discharge was extraordinary. I'll need to assess the damage once the storm subsides."

I accepted this for what it was. Resuming my place in the water, I swam to the far end of the spring. The tension in the air was thick, charged with anticipation. It seemed we were both daring the other to make a move, to bridge the gap that threatened to consume us both.

“H-how are you?” His voice, when it came, was a revelation. It held an effort, a willingness to connect that he rarely exhibited.

I turned to him, a spark of audacity igniting within me. Boldly, I lifted the top portion of my body from the water, positioning myself on the edge of the spring. Water droplets adorned my breasts like glistening jewels, and I felt his gaze upon me, unwavering and intense. Gods, he wanted me.

"I am well, warrior," I flirted shamelessly, allowing the silk of innuendo to lace my words. "I could certainly use some company."

A subtle tilt of his helmeted head indicated that he was assessing his next move. It mirrored the cautious dance we had initiated in the corridor when we first crossed paths—me as Irina's Shadow and he as her enigmatic bounty hunter. The air was charged with anticipation, each of us calculating the other's intent, mirroring the careful choreography of a seductive dance.

"Is that a challenge, princess?" His voice carried a daring edge, the undertone of a game we both understood. It was a dare, a tantalizing invitation that drew me deeper into this intoxicating web.

I melted beneath his gaze, surrendering to the heady allure of his energy. Heat spread through me, a wildfire of sensations that I had never before experienced. I could feel how he enjoyed it, how he enjoyed making me blush.

"It's everything you think I am implying," I reply, and then something in the caves energy shifted.

Without a word, he shed his armo, peice by piece as I grew more wet. I wanted him, needed him, and it was clear he felt the same.

He joined me in the bath immediately. We met in the middle. His arm lifts slowly, gloveless, warm, and traces my jaw and collarbones. I moan, the heat between us undeniable. Would he claim me? My virginity? Would he take what was rightfully his?

"Are you sure?" He asks me, and I know what he means.

"Yes," I breathe. "I want it to be you."

He growls and suddenly the wind shifts. The fires around us have gone out with a wave of his hand, his power, and the only light is very dim.

"Close your eyes," he commands me and then I hear his helmet raising. All I can imagine is heat, and wildfire. The most gorgeous tanned man I have ever seen.

His touch is dominat, unyeilding. His hands cup my face and I want his fingers to press into my mouth. I'm panting already, dripping wet for him. Nothing in this moment is him and now.

"Please," I beg as his thumb traces over my mouth. "Please, take me."

"Such a good girl," he praises over me, and I swear I whimpher. "Spread your legs for me, now."

I instantly obey, welcoming his large hand into the warmth between my legs. Even underneath the water he can tell how slick I am, how shamefully wet I have been.

"I won't claim you," he says in my ear and I swear I could cry. "But I will make you cum until your legs shake, and all you can see are stars."

With a strong, swift movement, the Kaimari puts his hands around my waist and props me on the edge of the obsidian stone. The stone is as unforgiving and strong as him, uncomfortable, almost, but then his tounge makes contact with my core.

"Oh gods."

His tounge is experienced, pressing into me in fast, sweet movements. But his hands are the furthest thing from gentle, gathering as much of my stomach, and breasts and throat as he can.

I'm thrown to the planets, floating somewhere among mars. Never before have I been touched like this, kissed like this. Never have I even dreamed of a sensation like this before.

He growls as my hips involuntarily press against his face. I'm begginign for something I'm not quite sure of, grinding my hips against his tounge.

"Fuck, princess," he praises, his warm breath against my clit. "You taste so good."

His tounge is back on me before I can respond, and the pressure is building once more in my stomach.

"Beg to come," he directs me and I wiggle my hips once more.

"Irina," his voice is strict, hand slapping my erect nipple. "I said beg to come."

I tilt my blushed heat to the stars and arch my back. "Please let me come," I say, over and over again as I forget where I am. "Please, I want to be a good girl, I want to take your cock."

He slaps my nipples again and presses a finger inside me. He only fingers me for ten seconds before I'm screaming and cumming all over his hand.

"Good girl," he grazes against my slit, "good fucking girl."