Goddess Liv Savell (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

he gasped. It was dark, but her figure was illuminated by the wan moonlight shining behind her.

She held one finger up to her lips, indicating he shouldn’t speak. Shutting the tent flap behind herself, Meirin then started to undress, her back to Etienne. Her feet were already bare, and she pulled her tunic off over her head, revealing the narrowing of her waist and the swell of her hips. Black hair, half braided and half free, swayed beneath her shoulder blades and slithered against her skin as she slipped her breeches past her thighs.

Never in Etienne’s dreams had he imagined the warm beauty of copper skin in the twilight of his tent. Now, he thought that he would never forget it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind perhaps, that knowledge would plague him forever. Meirin glanced over one shoulder and arched a brow, eyes glittering. Only after she met his gaze did she unwrap her breast band and toss it aside. When she turned to face him in nothing but her loincloth, Meirin paused for a moment, as though she enjoyed the effect she had on him.

“You didn’t ward your tent like Delyth has been teaching you, Etienne,” she chided, smirking. She came to the edge of his pallet and dropped to her knees, hand coming to rest on his leg hidden by blankets.

Etienne’s mouth turned to parchment, and he pulled his knees up so as not to give himself away. She was devastatingly beautiful even in the dim light, hard muscle and soft skin. “I—” Etienne stuttered, looking down at her hand on his thigh. “Is this supposed to teach me to ward my tent? Because it isn’t working.”

He almost didn’t want to move, as though she would turn away, change her mind if he did. Tentatively, he reached out a hand, stroking up her arm.

There was a smile in her voice as she leaned forward, brushing her lips along his cheek. “I’ll tell on you to Delyth. Just wait.” Slithering forward, Meirin straddled Etienne’s hips and brought both hands up to cup his face.

“Things have been so terrible lately. I just wanted one nice thing.” She kissed his throat and down his shoulder before pulling back. In the darkness, her eyes were black, her warpaint a faint mask around them. She looked even stronger this way. Proud and corded and stunningly naked, with fierce lines of yellow war streaked down her chin.“Am I wrong in thinking you would enjoy it too?”

“N— not at all,” Etienne stuttered. He was bewildered, unsure if he had woken at all or if this was all a very vivid dream. He pressed his hands to her waist, stroking the warm skin there with his thumbs.

She felt real.

And yet, he still could hardly believe it.

“I want something nice too,” he said finally. Because it was the truth. He wanted some break from the heaviness of their situation every bit as much as she did. “I want you.”

Meirin arched her back, showing off. “Who wouldn’t?” But before Etienne could reply, she kissed him and pulled back the covers, the white of his skin suddenly bright against hers, a moon in her sky.

“Now—Do you know any spells that will keep the others from hearing us?” she asked, her voice light. She straddled him, and the faint light slipping in past the tent flap haloed around her.

As it turned out, Meirin didn’t care if anyone overheard them.

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Meirin hadn’t slept all night. At first, she had kept Etienne distracted and awake, but after enough play, he had drifted off, snoring faintly beside her. His was an endearing sight, his white hair sticking up at odd angles and her yellow war paint smeared over his hands, face, chest. For a long time, Meirin had been happy enough just to lay beside him and think about the day to come.

She knew they would wake, make breakfast, and then attempt to find a village.  Mascen would appear, run them off. Enyo would curse and rage, Va'al would snarl. Moaz would say exactly nothing, and Esha would try to calm them all. Delyth would sink further into herself, disappearing slowly but for flashes of teeth. Mascen would destroy the village they tried to approach to keep them from gaining a Vassal. Another day wasted.

More people dead.

Delyth couldn’t become the Vassal, and Etienne hadn’t offered. She didn’t blame him. The idea was repulsive and frightening, and he wasn’t a warrior. He wasn’t made of stone. He was a soft man—sweet-natured and tame.

It wasn’t his fault.

Etienne stirred beside her, and Meirin closed her eyes, breathing deeply, feigning sleep. The mage woke slowly, stretching out long limbs and yawning. He didn’t seem to remember right away all that had happened the night before. When his arm brushed smooth skin, he jumped and turned towards her, a breath escaping his mouth. There was a moment of stillness, but he didn’t seem to realize Meirin was awake.

He lifted a loose braid away from her face, brushed a kiss across her cheek, and then rose, careful to leave the blanket tucked around her. There came the rustle of clothes sliding over skin, and then he stepped from the tent. In the camp beyond, the sounds of others stirring was clearly audible. Pots clanged, voices murmured indistinctly. The familiar noises of sleepy people starting their day.

Carefully, Meirin redressed and listened at the tent flap. When it didn’t sound as if anyone was nearby, she slipped through it, finding herself with no witnesses. She walked to the bucket they had filled and dashed handfuls over her face, washing away her ruined war paint.

She pressed damp fingers through her hair, feeling where bristles had started to grow back along the sides of her head. She could count the days of this journey in the length of them. Meirin started to braid the long hair at the top of her skull back. Today, she would allow for no distractions—no