Chapter 12 Portarius
Portarius
IN THE SHADOWS - AMY STROUP ?
Ilook at the small scratch, almost perfectly curved underneath the soft, full mounds that rise and fall with each breath.
Her blush pink nipples call for me to run my tongue over them, but I can see the poison spreading from the blackened one inch cut.
Feathering my thumb over it, I can barely detect the small change in her milky skin.
“What? Where! I can't see anything?” She panics, pushing my hands away as she tries to examine what I speak of.
This is a cruel twist of fate that would bring me a human so perfect, only to take her from me.
My soul sinks, and I feel the tug of the Gate.
It seeks to help, but this? What's happened?
It cannot be fixed. The Gates' waters rapidly heal me because, at our core, we are one.
It feels my aching sorrow all the way from Inferloch.
“I'm sorry, sweet Emmie. I have failed us both.” I bow my head, digging my fingers into her soft flesh, overwhelmed with the need to let my rage out.
I stare transfixed at the sickly gash across her otherwise untarnished skin.
A tremor shaking through my whole body as I try to control the ferocity swarming within me.
My heart leaps and thuds with every beat, my blood circulating with such intensity I start to sweat from the heat it builds.
I need an enemy to destroy and release this pain upon.
“Any mark from an Ananea is fatal. Although they are not the strongest creature, their poison is deadly. A sought after toxin for those who mean harm. Slowly, the poison will spread until it consumes you, and you will be no more.”
Releasing my grip on her, I tenderly take hold of her shaking hand and lightly drag one of her fingers over the wound, her eyes widening the second she feels it.
“We will see the potion master in the morning, but this explains why you are still feeling discomfort.”
“Why didn't I feel it? The cut?” She whispers, her forehead furrowed and shoulders wilting forward, soft doe eyes staring at me blankly.
“The poison. It numbs whatever it's infected. The Ananea is known to stalk its prey for days, sometimes even weeks. The barb that entered my back when we fought. It must have … It must have gone through and marked you on the other side.” I look away, ashamed I was unable to protect her as valiantly as I promised.
“I understand if you're unwilling to grant me your forgiveness. I'm sorry Emmie.”
I pull her against me, her arms falling over my shoulders as she nuzzles into my neck.
“I don't understand? So I'm going to die all over again? Will I just come back here then, and you can keep showing me around?” She stutters, voice edged in hope.
She is not crying, not weeping in a way that I understand humans to act when they are faced with their demise.
Just another reason why I'm pained that we are over before we had begun.
“We will see the potion master. Things could have changed since the last time I crossed paths with them.”
I don't want to give her false hope. It's not likely that anything can be done, but despite the evidence, there is one tiny flicker I cannot ignore. Maybe it could be that simple.
I lift her small body, holding her firmly against me as a torrent of water falls from us.
The bathroom is living up to its name with the small lake of water we have spilled.
Taking the drying cloth, I wrap it around her back, covering her naked skin and keeping her warm as I walk about the room.
The truth of her poisoning reinforcing the reality of her fragility.
I work on extinguishing several of the oil lamps until one remains.
The soft flicker of its flame leaving a haunting glow.
It is hard to believe that only minutes earlier, I was enjoying complete ecstasy.
I have known of a woman's forbidden centre for millennia, but I have not experienced its true wonders until now. A sick twist of fate.
Not all Gatekeepers find company in their lifetime.
In fact, we are raised to expect not to.
We are a feared race. A warrior bloodline that protects all Gates without limit.
Our purpose does not falter, but I cannot pretend that while her small body moved against mine in the warm water, I did not toy with the possibility.
For several minutes, we had a blinding future together, one of passion and companionship.
The hum of life beat faster in my chest when her plush lips pressed against mine.
Emmie is like no human or creature I have met before.
She is full of fire and life, whereas for centuries, I have simply existed.
My cock twitches at the thought of how she grinded against me.
I've stroked myself before, but nothing compared to her warm cunt gripping my fingers.
Laying her in the large bed, I cover her with blankets as she moves to get comfortable.
“Wait. Where are you going?” She says, reaching out and catching my wrist. Her grip a testament to her unease.
“I will fetch you a looking glass. You cannot see the Ananea mark, so I will show you.”
I uncurl her fingers, and her arm drops as she nods her head in reply. Hastily taking a pair of pants, I go out in search of Steve. Returning only when I have one in my possession.
“Emmie?” I say softly as I sit on the edge of the bed. She peeks her head out from under the covers, her braids dishevelled and her eyes wide. “I have the looking glass. Do you wish to see?”
Her head disappears before the blankets fling away and she kneels before me. Her naked body, fully exposed like a ready to eat buffet. Every dip and curve on display, and I cannot help but greedily consume it.
“We call it a mirror. Well, on Earth we do. The looking glass is a mirror,” she sighs, closing her eyes. “I’m ready. Can you show me where?”
She looks at me, placing her hand over one chest mound and pressing it flat. I hold the mirror to the side of her, and catch the moment her eyes flare when they lock on the thin mark. It’s recognisable by touch but her fingers track the black tendril of poison creeping away from the cut.
“I'm sorry,” I murmur again. The weight of my failures, heavy in my chest. She stares at the mark, her eyes never leaving the reflection of the mirror.
Her curiosity flares in and among flickers of sadness.
Her eyes so expressive as her brow dips and bows.
She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and I worry she will bite it clean off from how white the skin goes.
Her plump, blush lips paying the price of the unknown ahead of us.
Taking a loud sigh, her chest deflates before she looks at me. “Can you stay close to me tonight? I don't want to feel alone.”
Lying back down, she pulls the blanket over her as I place the looking glass down and quickly remove my pants.
A selfish move, but I do not wish for clothing to act as a barrier between us.
Climbing in behind her, I pull her small body across the bed so her back is cradled to my chest. My arm drapes over her waist, and she places my hand against her chest mounds.
“What are these called? Your chest mounds, do they have a name?” I say, my hand stretching open to feel their softness. A snort escapes her, and I smile into her hair. Breathing in the sweet honey smell.
“They’re breasts, sometimes they’re boobs or tits.” I can hear the humour in her voice. “What would you call them?” She laughs at my ignorance. If only she knew how naive I truly was. There have been no others before her, as my body will only truly open for one person.
“They are like jiggly flesh mounds, and all I want to do is relish in them.”
A true laugh escapes her now, the feel of her body against mine is one of comfort.
“I guess it just goes to show that no matter where you are, everyone likes a pair of boobs.”
“I do. I like them very much.” I say nodding. A simple pleasure to behold when we have an uncertain future. I breathe her in. My hand kneading and caressing her breasts.
How can I lose her when I have only just found her? How can we be at the end when we've only discovered the beginning?
She doesn't respond to me, only nuzzles closer, laying a single kiss to the palm of the hand she holds. Tomorrow we will go to the potion master. We will find a way to save her. I deny fate’s hand in this game. I will not let her go so easily.