6 - Iona #2
Iona pulls in her wings and stands, offering her hand to Ariadne.
“Perhaps I advanced too quickly,” she admits when she stands. “Let us start slower at first.”
“I’d like that very much,” Iona says.
“And perhaps,” Ariadne trails off.
“What?” Iona prompts.
Ariadne chuckles to herself, then looks at Iona with an odd expression she cannot decipher.
“What is it?” Iona asks again warily.
“This needn’t be a serious undertaking. Not between us,” Ariadne decides.
“I shall always be there to protect you, given my general fondness for your company and our bond connecting us for whatever brief interludes we spend apart. If you were ever in danger, I would know and use a portal to find you within seconds. There is also that dragon who came to your defense on the blood moon. If you were ever in peril again, he may reappear as well. So, all of this is an overabundance of caution, in my view.”
“I suppose,” Iona says.
“You will have many years to hone your power,” Ariadne says, and it’s a great comfort for Iona to hear it. “If the malefician does reemerge in Brazil, I will go and lend my magic-”
“But you should not go alone,” Iona protests.
“My artifact is better suited to the job anyhow,” Ariadne points out.
“Your pendant cannot shield against maleficium, so far as I’m aware.
” She takes Iona’s hand and gives her a reassuring look.
“Moira was only attempting to sow doubt in you, as she so often does. She delights in toying with others’ emotions. ”
“I’d gathered that,” Iona says. “But what is it you are trying to say, really?”
Ariadne’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “I propose a sort of competition to lighten our spirits and make this all a bit more… entertaining.”
“Oh,” Iona smirks. “For what are we competing?”
Ariadne deliberates for a moment, then levels her with a look that has her heartbeat quickening.
“I offer myself as a suitable reward for your efforts,” Ariadne grins devilishly. “If you perform well, you may do whatever you wish to me for… let’s say one hour.”
Iona’s flush spreads down her neck and Ariadne’s smile widens.
“I suspected that would get your attention.”
“And if I should fall short?” Iona asks.
“Then I shall have leave to do whatever I wish to you for an equal amount of time,” Ariadne says. “Fair compensation for my expertise, I find.”
Her doubts creep up, but she tries to feign indifference. “You have an unfair advantage.”
“Yes, I do, don’t I?” Ariadne’s eyes sparkle. “I shall enjoy it while I can.”
“And how will my performance be measured? Simply by your opinion?” Iona raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, nymph. Impress me, if you can,” Ariadne goads her.
Iona looks down at her hands, unsure if she could ever strike fear in anyone’s heart.
“Doubt yourself at your own peril. I will only benefit from your hesitance.” Ariadne shrugs as she backs away.
“You are hoping for me to fail?” Iona asks incredulously.
“I only hope your lust for me shall prove an effective motivator.” Ariadne waggles her eyebrows. “And my hunger for you will ensure I shan’t make it easy for you.”
Iona rolls her eyes, though her stomach flutters with anticipation. “Fine, but when I win, I shall take full advantage.”
“I look forward to it,” Ariadne says, her eyes flaring with curiosity. “For now, let's focus on the task at hand. You must overpower thirty men by day’s end, or I shall claim victory.”
“Thirty?” Iona’s jaw drops. “But…”
“Or you may give in now,” Ariadne shrugs. “It is all the same to me.”
Narrowing her eyes, Iona steels herself. “Very well.”
Ariadne recreates her illusory men but rather than observing from afar, she keeps close and blocks any spell that Iona misses to teach her how best to react, though each time she fails is a point against her.
She preaches the importance of swift thinking, being two or three steps ahead of an attacker at all times. They run the length of the field again and again as they evade the illusions and conceive of new ways to overpower them.
Even with Ariadne beside her and even knowing that this is all meant to be recreational in nature, Iona cannot smother her fear of pain.
She remembers the burning acid of Elise’s touch and the crunch of bone when Ariadne’s nose had shattered.
When Elise had floated above her, casting her spell to turn her into a wraith, Iona had been paralyzed, unable to escape the searing agony of Elise’s will ripping her soul to pieces, before Ariadne saved her.
She never wishes to experience anything like it again.
Flinching when an illusory man lunges at her with a spiked club, she throws a torrent of water to push him away, but he jumps back up and charges at her once more.
“You cannot avoid confrontation forever,” Ariadne warns.
“I’ve already,” Iona gasps. “I’ve already defeated twenty…”
“Two and twenty,” Ariadne says. “Eight more.”
Iona groans, her muscles protesting, but she holds her ground, incanting, "Fau fale!”
A blue house with white shutters materializes over the illusion and crushes him under its weight.
Not a second after his demise, another illusion appears, running at her with full speed. Her shoulders slump in defeat.
“Enough, please,” Iona gasps. “I need a respite.”
“You yield?” Ariadne asks.
“Yes, I yield!” Iona says.
Her heart sinks as the illusory man lifts his wand, but he disappears before his spell can manifest. Ariadne cranes her neck to observe the sun’s position in the sky.
“I suppose we should cease for the day,” she says. “Continue again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Iona asks.
“Yes,” she says, as if that were obvious.
Iona fails to hide her disappointment.
“I practiced combative magic for four hours,” Ariadne says.
“Four hours?” Iona exclaims.
“Every day until my schooling finally ended,” Ariadne says, grimacing at the memories. “Often with my mother, when she was not away.”
Leaning against her knees to catch her breath, Iona tries to imagine such a grueling existence. She doesn't know if she can withstand these lessons every day and cannot fathom doing so for hours at a time.
Crossing the field, she retrieves her pendant where she’d discarded it. The moment the opal rests against her chest again, her limbs feel lighter, and her fatigue is lessened.
“How would you say you fared?” Ariadne asks.
Iona grimaces. “I did not defeat thirty men…”
“Still, you fared better than I expected,” Ariadne says, as if that were any consolation. She is comparatively immaculate, without a hair out of place or a drop of sweat on her brow.
Iona yelps as she’s pulled through the air and into Ariadne’s waiting arms.
“Now about my prize,” she grins.
She ducks her head into Iona’s neck and sucks on her skin until her knees go weak.
“You will always declare yourself the winner. I am doomed to fail,” Iona says breathlessly.
“Not so,” Ariadne murmurs. “I shall gladly accept defeat if you earn it. In fact, I very much look forward to it.”
It’s then Iona realizes what deal she has entered into. “But if we are practicing every day…”
Ariadne chuckles darkly. “You had best learn quickly, nymph.”
From through her closed eyelids, a flash of blue light makes her tense, then gasp when her shirt and stays slip off her body, the threads holding the panels of fabric together disappearing in an instant.
Instinctively, she reaches up to cover herself, but Ariadne shakes her head slowly with a wicked grin, and it’s all Iona can do to keep from shuddering when she allows the fabric to fall away until her torso is bare.
Ariadne’s gaze drifts down to admire her, her hooded red eyes roving over the expanse of bare skin with great appreciation.
“I love your freckles,” she murmurs, reaching out to run a finger over the tawny dots along Iona’s collarbone.
“I do not,” Iona mumbles.
“Really? Why?” she asks.
Iona opens her mouth to answer, then inhales sharply when Ariadne cups both breasts in her hands and ever so gently rubs the pads of her thumbs over her hardened pink nipples in small circles, over and over again. Iona’s eyelashes flutter as the acute sensations awaken her desire.
“I asked you a question, nymph,” Ariadne says.
She swallows hard. “They are like blemishes. Imperfections.”
Her breath hitches in her throat when Ariadne leans in to press a gentle kiss to the swell of her breast.
“I vehemently disagree.” She peppers soft kisses upon the splattering of freckles on Iona’s chest, expressing her adoration of every single one.
“That is only because you do not have them,” Iona breathes.
Her hands come to rest on Ariadne’s upper arms, and she grips tighter when Ariadne pinches her nipples, rolling them with increased pressure.
“I especially love the freckles here.” She kneads one of Iona’s breasts in her palm. “And here.” She reaches down to run a finger along Iona’s inner thigh over her trousers, higher and higher.
She lets out a disappointed sigh when Ariadne’s hand falls away without touching her where her desire grows, and she grins against Iona’s skin, then resumes her onslaught of soft, barely there kisses.
“Please,” Iona whimpers.
Ariadne chuckles, “Need I remind you that this time is for my pleasure, not yours.”
“Then use me for your pleasure,” she says, almost whining. “You needn’t tease me-”
She sucks in a breath when Ariadne lifts her breast up toward her mouth and wraps her lips around the hardened peak, pulling lightly and swirling her tongue around the areola, then flicking back and forth over the sensitive bud.
“Ari,” Iona sighs.
She suckles so gently, not nearly enough, and Iona leans into her. She tries grinding against Ariadne’s thigh to relieve the ache building in her core, but Ariadne won’t let her, wrapping an arm round her waist to hold her firmly in place.
“I need… more.”
Ariadne ignores her, moving from one breast to the other. That nipple is even more sensitive than the first and Iona moans at the tantalizing sensation of Ariadne’s persistent tongue, flicking and laving with increased pressure.