The Raven Warrior by Alice Borchardt Read Free Book Online Page A

Black Leg asked.
    “The shit is a sorcerer, who probably got crossways with another powerful sorcerer. That’s what those big-time magical practitioners spend half their time doing, getting one up on each other. You’d think they could find better things to do.”
    She was not as tall as she’d looked standing in the water, but she was a comfortable size for kissing. Black Leg wasn’t used to kissing, but after a few minutes, he got into it.
    But when he came up for air, she said, “Damn! Hot damn! You are going to be good. I’m glad I didn’t stay in my palace and sulk. You and that old fool pissed me off.”
    But Black Leg was preoccupied. “Sorry,” he said absently. But at the moment he was searching for her breast with his mouth.
    She was wearing a dark dress of shiny, greenish purple lily pads. They were shaped like arrowheads and they clung to her, draping themselves over one shoulder. Three blue flowers belonging to the water lily glowed in beams of moonlight that seemed twined in her hair. She was fragrant and smelled like crystal water that somehow harbored the scent of flowers.
    He pushed aside one or two of the tiny lily pads with his tongue and found a nipple. He suckled gently.
    “Ummmm,” she said. “My, my, aren’t we a darling. Do that again.”
    “I’d love to,” Black Leg said. “But this dress gets in the way.”
    “Yes. Well, she likes you, too. . . .”
    “What?” Black Leg asked.
    “The water lily. I’m wearing her.”
    “He is an offering to love.” The voice was soft, it seemed only a breath, and Black Leg couldn’t be sure he heard it. “Thank you for letting me share him.”
    “Not at all, dear,” she said, stripping off the dress gently. It came away like a gossamer veil, roots, stems, leaves, and the last of the flowers clinging to her hair. Then she dropped it into the stream, where it floated away, pads and flowers on the surface, roots and stems dangling in their element, water.
    “Are you here?” Black Leg asked, because now, with the dress gone, it almost seemed he could see the moonlight shining through her.
    “Oh, yes. Sometimes I’m translucent, sometimes even transparent. But as long as you see my outline, I’m here. Close your eyes and just use touch.”
    Black Leg’s hand slid down over her stomach, down to between her legs. He had some education about what was expected of a male at this type of encounter, and he and his foster sister spent some months one summer spying on lovers. Everything he felt seemed to be in . . . order. Nothing unusual. . . .
    He probed delicately. “Is this where it goes?”
    “Yes. You’re a good boy,” she replied in a throaty whisper.
    “My,” she said, reaching down and exploring his body. “Um . . . you’re not only a good boy, you’re a big boy,” she cooed. “I like that. You’re even bigger than I thought you’d be.”
    “Will it fit?” he asked apprehensively.
    “Be quiet,” she said as she covered his mouth with hers.
    She stretched out a hand toward the old sorcerer. A faint dark haze hovered over him.
    “Don’t hurt him,” Black Leg said.
    “No. I’m just giving him a little deeper sleep, so he won’t bother us.” She spoke as she drew Black Leg toward a thick, soft patch of fern.
    When she sank down into the ferns, Black Leg again had the odd sensation that he could see through her body, see the fern fronds form themselves into a bed for her and clasp her legs, hips, breast, and face as she sank down among them.
    “Ah,” she whispered as she lifted one hand and drew him down toward her.
    “They seemed to know you,” Black Leg said as he knelt between her legs. “The ferns, I mean.”
    “They do, dear, they do. Now, let’s try it out and see if it will fit.”
    “It’s tight,” he said.
    “That’s the idea,” she told him. “I’m ready. Hell, you don’t know how damn long I’ve been ready.”
    “This feels wonderful,” he whispered. “Wonderful. I don’t think I ever felt