Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
CASSANDRA
Iwoke to the scent of tea and odd rustling sounds. The movement made pain shoot up my neck, and the robe slithered low on my chest. Both sensations reminded me where I was; in Medusa’s warm little lair, safe and dry, in her clothes, in her chair…sleeping?
Kicking myself, I fumbled for the now-dry veil and tied it on, glancing around as I did.
She knelt in the middle of the room, a crow on one shoulder, bundles of sticks around her, weaving them into a large, thick mat.
She didn’t smile when she looked at me, but the snakes around her head shifted, slithering restlessly, turning their heads toward me.
There was a softness in her eyes that took me off guard.
“Sorry,” I said, sitting up, my limbs moving only grudgingly.
“Don’t be.” She set down the delicate twigs in her hands and stood. Her joints didn’t stick, and she’d been kneeling. Envy, but also excitement, coiled in the bottom of my belly. “I made you tea, but I didn’t know how much honey you take.”
A pot of water steamed beside the fire, studded with siderites and with a single, well-brewed slice of lemon floating within.
I supported the robe out of reflex, ignoring the drag of its weight against the floor.
Though I accepted the cup, I shook my head at the honey she offered.
The movement made pain shoot up from the poor muscle in my neck I’d insulted.
I stopped the grimace of pain almost before it’d begun, taking a sip and flexing my shoulders tentatively. “This is excellent.”
She wasn’t smiling. “Are you sore?”
“A little. It’ll warm up.”
A faint line of disapproval formed on her brow. She grabbed a pillow from the chair, which, now I had my veil on, I could see had been made with countless small branches woven together. In some spots, dried leaves, flowers, and the odd feather nestled amongst the wood. It was a hanging nest.
No wonder I’d fallen asleep so swiftly.
She tossed the cushion before the fire and waved to it. I went to protest out of habit, then saw the look in her eye. Really, why should I fight it? Maybe I’d have an opportunity to seduce her yet.
Taking my tea, I settled carefully on the cushion. The fire didn’t feel necessary anymore, but it was cheerful. I flicked my hair back, but she put her hand over mine to stop further movement, kneeling behind me.
“Your knees,” I protested.
“I’m not as soft as you.” From many, those words would’ve been an insult. From her, they made me swallow away the anticipation that flooded my mouth. “Can I take this off?” her fingers brushed against the knot of my veil that held it in place.
Warmth bloomed beneath my skin. I didn’t turn to her, though I wanted to.
“Yes,” I told her, tipping my head forward and then feeling the upset muscle in my neck spasm.
I held myself still against it. A little pain.
So what? Her fingers were quick in the knot, and I accepted the cloth back.
“Thank you for being so gentle with it. I’ll never be able to replace it, and it does help me so much. ”
“I liked seeing your eyes,” she said, and she wasn’t as close as I might’ve wanted, but it was early yet.
Maybe today I’d get to feed the crows after I’d seduced her.
“But I didn’t like you hurting your toe.
” The tips of her claws ran lightly against my scalp in a cascade of little pricklings not unlike a collection of hair pins.
“Your eyes are beautiful,” she murmured.
“I don’t work with precious stones, but if I ever make a statue of you… I’ll need to, for the eyes.”
The words made butterflies hatch in my belly. From a woman who was part crow, that sounded like the highest of compliments. “I suppose if you carry me around, I’d never hurt my toes and not need the veil.”
She hummed, a noise of pleasure. Her fingers were working through the ends of my hair, now, a light pressure. “I’d be fine with that, but you’d hate it in less than ten minutes.”
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her claws working the tangles from my hair, shaking the damp patches loose. She worked from the ends up, now. The tips of her claws were blunted. When they scraped against my skin, it was gently.
Her hands ran through my hair, scooping it back, lifting it from my neck in segments.
I felt her taking the weight of it and anticipation unfurled within me, as slow and inexorable as her stroking hands.
With a gentle tug I felt it being twisted and anchored above one of my ears by her hand, the pressure firm and not at all unpleasant.
The ends of her claws raked with exquisite gentleness along the curve of my neck and I shivered involuntarily. “Is that okay?” she asked, stilling.
It was a strange sensation, to have the tips of those claws pressed so gently but utterly immobile not too far beneath my ear. “Yes,” I said.
Her wings rustled a little. “I’m going to keep going, then?” she said, the words lifting at the end in question.
“I’d like that.”
The claws spread outward, like a flower opening on the sore side of my neck, and my breath caught at the delicate scratching that made sensation sweep over me like a fine, misting rain. Then the pads of her fingers pressed delicately into the muscle in my neck and squeezed.
As she rocked her fingers gently back and forth, the unnatural tension in the muscle I’d over-stretched while sleeping awkwardly started to settle. Her fingers rubbed slow, deep circles into my flesh.
“You’re tense,” she said, and sounded disapproving. “You’ll hurt yourself if you carry so much strain.”
I wanted to tell her that if she kept it up, I’d be as tense as a barrel of honeyed quinces after a century, but I couldn’t quite find the words.
Colors throbbed behind my eyes as her hand worked, kneading my flesh with warm, firm fingers.
I swayed with her. I breathed with her. Using her fist of hair, she rolled my head forwards and massaged both sides at once, her thumb working one side as her fingers maintained the pressure on the other.
What little strength I had left felt like it melted.
My skin felt primed for her touch, my flesh waiting for those strong hands to explore further.
“You’re about to spill your tea.”
In my hand I straightened the cup, but the action caused the liquid to spill over the edge. It was cool and wet against my fingers. I set it down before I made a mess all over her robe for a dull reason like spilling tea.
The hand against my neck released me, and I struggled to make a plan. I’d done nothing except sit there and drink in her touch. Before I could react to that realization her arms settled around me, and for a lovely moment I felt surrounded.
Something smooth and cool rubbed against my neck beneath my ear, a slow, seductive slide that made the breath in my lungs catch as the weight draped down the line of my neck and over my chest. A sensation akin to alarm skittered up my spine, but it only fuelled the hunger.
The snake-like tendril of Medusa’s hair was joined by another smooth, strangely heavy weight against my shoulder.
On the other side my hand was lifted above my shoulder.
The dampness on my fingers was cool against the warm air as its heat leeched away.
“Would you still like to seduce me?” she murmured.
I’d been successful.
“I would,” I confirmed, turning toward her voice at my ear.
My neck, warm now, didn’t hurt. More of her hair slipped over me, one snake’s head bumping softly at the corner of my jaw and making my heart skitter against my ribs, another settling between my breasts.
Did she feel what they felt? I throbbed at the thought, arching up toward her without thinking before I caught myself.
“I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage this moment, though. ”
“If that’s true,” she said, her lips brushing against my ear, “it’s only because you’ve accomplished your aim already.” The confirmation sent a thrill of delight through me. Then her lips closed over my fingers.
I struggled to keep my head as she sucked away the droplets of tea I’d spilled on myself, letting her take my weight.
I was cradled against her, and my thoughts slowing, only barely one step ahead of the present.
My free hand found her thigh, strong and wide beneath my palm.
I arched my throat and the snakes coiled around it, rubbing against me, sending an unfamiliar type of slightly uncomfortable excitement running through my veins.
My own digits, not at all serpentine, popped as they came free from her mouth. Heat coiled inside of me. I turned to her, starving.
The hand in my hair tightened, holding me back. Her breath rushed out, as if I’d pulled it into myself. “Careful,” she said, and that single word shook. “I’ve fangs. You could cut yourself.”
I strained against her hold, the words barely registering. Shocked, she let me go. I’d known she would. She wasn’t really holding me.
Her lips were slightly parted and tasted like tea when I found them. She’d never hurt me. No, Medusa only protected.
She shook like a sapling in a storm as I swept my tongue between her lips, exploring the sharp tips of her canines, the rough surface of her tongue.
She stayed, frozen, as I kissed her. Except for her snakes.
They writhed over me as if they, just like me, were starving.
Her arm remained locked around my body, though I’d half-twisted in her hold.
She moaned low in her throat, and I would’ve sworn I could feel the vibrations of it in my soul.