katerinawinters
Katerina Winters
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Predator: Huntress Alpha ch 8
"Is this…" she paused, looking around the narrow space in disbelief. "Is this your apartment?"
Jarak looked from her and followed her line of sight around the cramped space, trying to see what she saw before nodding.
"Jarak, it's so tiny!" she blew out an exasperated breath as she sat the fruit on a narrow counter jutting from the wall in an area that looked to be a small kitchenette. Turning back around to the hunter, she gave him a confused look. "You're way too big for a tiny apartment like this. Is rent high here or something?"
Tilting his head in question, Jarak lifted his gauntlet and clacked the tips of his claws against the data-pad. Entranced, she watched him as he read the holographic information before closing it and lowering his arm.
"I do not pay rent," he answered firmly.
For a moment, Justice let the little scene playback in her head and remembered the backward lettering he pulled up from his gauntlet, with a slow spreading smile of realization, she fought back the urge to laugh. He had looked up the word rent.
Pressing her lips together, she stifled her laughter to ask another question, but Jarak's eyes narrowed as he watched her closely, and he cut her off.
"Yautja do not use money. We gain what is needed ourselves. We bring honor to our clan, and if I am worthy, the clan leader will decide what to bestow to me."
Nodding, she walked toward the bed which dominated most of the back wall, save for the two doors on either side of it, the bed looked properly proportioned, at least. Although, she noted it was another black leather mattress. Pulling Larsa from the harness, Justice carefully put her on the bed.
"So, does your leader not think you are worthy enough for a bigger room than this?" She asked, genuinely interested. Maybe this leader of Ojibwe was a real dick. She knew it was only a matter of time before she would need to meet the reigning yautja, and she wanted to know as much as she could about the hunter beforehand.
Turning in place, Jarak watched her as she sat cautiously at the end of his bed and shook his head once at her question. "Rakkah is a worthy leader. He has shown respect to my victories. He has offered me much, but I need little. I have taken a ship as one of my bounty payments, that is all I require."
Right now, she was positive she possessed more information about yautja than all the galaxies combined. Nodding once more, Justice glanced around the cramp quarters and reassessed. It was spartan, just like the hunter's ship. Besides the ridiculous amount of weapons lining the left wall, there was not one other piece of personality lying about like it was in her apartment back on LV594. Baby toys had been scattered across the living room floor. Dirty clothes, hers and Larsa's were sitting in a pile by the door ready to be taken to the laundry unit, and the single holo-photo of her and her sisters kept on a tiny piece of flimsy, all smiling and posing within their suits and guns, tucked under her pillow. All lost to her now.
Running her fingers softly across the bottom of Larsa's soft foot, she looked up to the hunter. Whatever he saw shining back in her eyes made the hunter stiffen suddenly.
"Stay here, I will return," without waiting for a reply Jarak turned and left through the only door.
Justice waited until the door shut once more before finally standing. Taking off her backpack and pulling the gun's strap over her head, she sighed just as her stomach let out a deep growl. Walking over to the kitchenette, she surveyed the simplicity of it: a counter, a sink, and a glass refrigerator nearly tall as she was holding a huge rack of raw marbled meat inside.
A meal of champions, she thought wryly.
Washing off the fruit, Justice took a tentative bite and smirked at the tart flavor. Grabbing and washing three more, she began to walk the length of the apartment. Similar to his ship, the uneven black walls were covered in various striations and grooves, hiding a number of hidden compartments and interactive displays. Circling back around until she was at the bed, she stopped in front of one of the two doors. Pushing the data-panel, she was surprised at the spacious--of course, all black--bathroom beyond.
Stepping into the bathroom, she was relieved to see that this one had a large blank space of wall next to the data-pad. Scrolling through the yautja lettering, she found the selection she wanted and tapped it. The portion of the wall next to her shimmered and rippled as if the metal had turned to water before blinking into a dark mirrored surface. Looking at herself in the floor to ceiling mirror, Justice sighed. Her clothes were filthy with dirt and grime, and her braids, which hung to her waist, faired no better. Picking one up, she was beginning to pick out some of the dirt trapped within the coiled braid when the door to the apartment swooshed open again.
Stepping in holding two black leather sacks, Jarak walked towards the kitchenette counter.
"The other human women have provided you this," he waved a hand brusquely to the bags and stepped back.
Justice looked up at him in surprise. "There are other humans on your planet?"
Well, there goes that theory of her being the first to have collected such rare yautja information, she thought sorely.
"Yes, Rakkah's mate and Akur's," he replied as if she knew the mentioned hunters.
Too tired to delve into the subject, she began to reach for the sack as he turned back toward the door.
"Wait, you're leaving?"
Pausing, the towering hunter did not turn around as he answered. "Yes."
Justice felt a twinge of guilt as she looked around the tiny space. "I don't want to kick you out of your room--your very small room," she added with a smile as he turned to look at her directly. "To be honest. I kind of expected you to put me in some sort of holding cell."
His eyes glimmered in the shadow of his pronounced brow ridge, and his fanged mouth beneath his mandibles moved slightly. "We have no holding cell," he informed her seriously. "Yautja do not take prisoners."
"Right," she nodded, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter to her right. "Yeah, you just kill whoever you don't like or send the rest to your creepy science ones."
Jarak didn't argue that.
Not sure what else to say, Justice looked away. "Where are you going to sleep?"
"I do not currently require sleep," Jarak responded, his naturally aggressive tone at odds with the simple statement.
"But what if you did and you wanted to sleep? I have no problem sleeping on a couch…" she paused, looking around the empty place once more. The front of the apartment was suspiciously empty as if it were designed for seating, but she would bet her last credit that the hunter used the bit of open space to train in. "Ok, floor," she corrected.
"No," his deep tone was final.
"Fine," she said, throwing up her hands and turning back towards the bed to sit next to Larsa. "I'm not going to argue with you. If you want to go sleep in a tree or whatever, be my guest."
As if completely satisfied with that option, Jarak turned back around and began walking to the door.
"Wait, how do I contact you," she called out just as the door opened. "...if one of your brethren tries to come in here or something happens and I might need you," she explained. "I would like it to be said I at least attempted not to go with my natural inclination of shooting first."
Slowly, Jarak turned his head until one eye caught her gaze over his shoulder. "No one would dare come into my space."
Like all statements from the hunter, the words were simple, but the meaning was lethal. Letting her gaze drop past the red tips of his long dread-like spines, she observed the strong striation of muscles corded along his wide back, tapering down to his narrow waist. Justice remembered the way the hunter had slung the adult xenomorph by its tail with ridiculous ease as if it were the size of a cat, and she couldn't imagine too many people or even other yautja crossing Jarak and surviving.
Opening his data-pad on his gauntlet once more, he turned around fully and stepped back towards her until he stood only a foot away. Holding out his hand, he gave her a waiting look.
Justice cocked her head in a smile as she obediently laid her hand in his. "How did you know what my rings were for?"
With a gentleness that seemed wholly strange on the humongous crab faced alien, Jarak carefully turned her hand over until her palm pressed against his. Justice could feel the rough ridges of his tough skin press against hers and marvel at the heat that radiated through it. For something with no discernable heat signature, he sure was hot to the touch, she thought. Again that made her think of the amazing sleep she had against the creature the other night.
Touching one of the two white and silver rings she wore on each hand, Jarak activated her personal computer.
"I am yautja," his voice growled out over her like a rumbling blanket made of storms and thunder. "There is little I do not know."
Watching him type on the holographic keyboard her ring projected, Justice gave him an evil grin that caught his attention. "But you didn't know what rent was."
Entering the data with a gruff growl, Jarak turned on his heel and left.
Inside the sacks, Jarak had brought her was proof enough that a human lived on the planet: two thermos-like containers filled with still warm food, bottles of shampoo and soap, a pillow, and even a few baby things.
Justice stared at a stuffed giraffe and turned it over in her hand in absent thought. Were the yautja purposely bringing human women with children back to their planet? And if so, why? It couldn't be torture, she thought as she looked at the hastily written note on a piece of flimsy that she found in the bag as well. Supposedly the woman, named Ember, was more than excited to meet her. Following the helpful instructions on the flimsy, she walked up to the wall near the kitchenette and activated the data-pad, and searched for what the note told her. With a push of a button, a drawer popped out of the wall to her right, and Justice smiled.
A basin that is what yautja called their washing units. Shaking her head in a smile, she thought it was fitting. A washing machine was much too verbose for the towering Jarak to say. Basin in his deep guttural voice was much more appropriate.
Stripping off all of her clothes until she stood completely nude, Justice stuffed her clothes into the drawer-unit and activated the washing cycle. Walking back to the bed, she grabbed one of the sacks in one hand and scooped up Larsa in her other arm. Settling the grunting baby onto the pillow on the bathroom floor, Justice fiddled with the controls on the shower until a black wall raised from the floor. Stopping just above her knee, the half wall turned the bottom of the large black shower into a tub. Pressing a few more commands, Justice filled the tub with water before stepping in with a deep groan. Sitting down, Justice was surprised at the spaciousness of the tub. It was deep and perfectly long enough for her, which was rare indeed.
Closing her eyes for a few precious seconds, she was about to let her head lie back against the wall when Larsa began to fuss. Adjusting so that breasts were pressed against the bathtub's wall and her arms were folded on the rim, Justice stared down at her daughter.
Catching her mother's eye, Larsa opened her tiny toothless mouth and let out an agitated sound. Justice rummaged in the bag with one wet hand and pulled out the soft giraffe. Making little noises, she knew Larsa enjoyed, Justice danced the doll over the baby and played with her from the rim of the tub, letting the sight of the little girl's gummy smile soothe her.
"We're in a new place," she whispered as she kissed the giraffe's mouth against the side of Larsa's cheek. "We are surrounded by big scary-looking hunters, but it will be ok," she said, repeating the kiss on the other fat cheek. "Soon, mommy will meet their leader and hopefully talk him into letting us stay for a little bit."
Playing with her until she was content to quietly look around on her on, Justice grabbed the large sea-sponge that was tucked in the bag and dipped it in the water. Water dripped and splashed as she raised each leg to the surface of the deep tub and ran the soft sponge over her legs. Her mind drifted back to LV549 and the "woolly woolies" in the primigenius. The large docile tusked mammoths were most likely safe but no doubt scared and lonely. For a year now, she had been working with the beast, studying their glowing tusk and their behaviors. Over time she had become attached to them. Their liquid black eyes staring at her with eternal patience as she fed them their favorite leafy treats while she performed her never-ending scans. Even Larsa had learned to enjoy the large beast, engaging them in a battle of stares that made Justice's eyes feel dry just thinking about it. Now her mammoths were bound for an early death on the infested planet. Before she fled the lab, Justice had made sure to call all her mammoths in from the outside enclosure and back into the lab before sealing it off. Inside they would have access to their daily reserves of water and food, but the supplies would run out, and the poor, gentle beast would starve--if they were lucky. Justice could only pray that the xenomorphs wouldn't sense the beast through the reinforced walls of the lab and work their way inside.
Standing up in the now tepid water, Justice paused, looking around. There were no towels. Did yautja not dry themselves with towels? That made no sense. No one this advanced and this meticulous with their technology walks around soggy after each shower, she thought resolutely. As the water drained at her feet, she stood naked and braced one hand against the wall as she jabbed a finger at the control-screen in the shower, going through the options. Stopping at one foreign yautja word, Justice repeated it a few times in her head, searching for a translation. Gusting? After a second, her eyes widened in realization, and she smiled. Pressing the button, she stood back. Narrow vents opened up along the sides of the shower stall, and warm air began to blow through them.
Dry, she stepped out of the shower stall and scooped up Larsa and her things. Changing, cleaning, and getting Larsa ready for sleep, Justice walked naked across the room and found the "gusting" option for her now clean clothes. Letting it run its cycle, she walked back towards the bed and sank down on the mattress, letting the cool leather press against her naked skin. Rummaging through the second bag, Justice grinned at the folded sheet tucked at the bottom and flipped out, spreading it partially over Larsa.
Positioning her gun to the right of her, Justice stifled a yawn as she took a big gulp of the soup from the thermos. Fatigue was catching up to her. She needed to be rested for tomorrow because if for some reason things went south, she would need more than enough energy to fight her way off yet another planet crawling with aliens.
by katerina winters
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Predator: Huntress Alpha ch 7
Walking back and forth across the large common area, Justice let out a ragged groan as Larsa's cries intensified. Casting a worried glance over her shoulder towards the bridge, she looked to see Jarak calmly sitting in his seat, occasionally adjusting the ship as they approached the oncoming planet. He didn't seem bothered by the noise, but Justice was sure it was an act. For nearly an hour, the sound of Larsa's hungry cries echoed off the ship's walls. Even she was starting to become undone by the constant crying.
Hugging the baby closer, Justice put a bit more bounce in her pacing as she rubbed her cheek against hers. It was hot, and her screams rang in Justice's ear, but she endured it.
"I know, I know," she soothed, her heartbreaking as she walked from one end of the room and turned on her heel. "Once I get something to eat, then you will be able to eat too."
Her milk was coming out only in tiny amounts. The last time Justice ate was three days ago back on LV549. She had eaten her last energy bar that morning as she hid in the desert, preparing herself to run to the dorm building.
Waking up from her first night of sleep on the ship, she had asked the hunter if he had any food onboard and received a quiet no in response. Justice wasn't surprised by the answer, oddly enough, the ship was immaculately clean. It made her wonder if the ship was new or if the hunter was just OCD or something. Besides the weapons on the wall and his precious sack containing what she was sure was a xenomorph head, there was nothing else in the ship.
After a few more laps of bouncing steps, Larsa settled her head sleepily against Justice's chest as her cries dropped into a constant mewling noise that tore at Justice's soul worse.
"Jarak?" she called quietly, knowing the hunter's keen hearing would pick up her voice.
Turning silently in his chair, he stared at her in answer. His orangish-red eyes that reminded her of solar flares were calm and patient. He really wasn't all that bothered by Larsa's crying, she realized. And for some reason, that made her think of last night, which was probably some of the best sleep she had ever had. Half naked, she had slept a good portion of the night in the yautja's arms. He had moved only once, early that morning, carefully shifting her so that she lay against the bed, allowing him to finally get up. And if she was really being honest with herself, she hated to see him go. For years she had slept with all of her senses open, with one hand on her gun and ready to react within a second, but last night for the first time, she entered a depth of sleep she had only ever read about, and it was glorious--and she hated herself for it.
Unaccustomed to asking for help, Justice forced the words out, wincing at how awkward she sounded. "Is their fish on your planet?"
Jarak just blinked.
"I only eat fish, vegetables, and fruit," she explained, knowing that Yautja were primarily red meat eaters--raw meat at that. "I need to eat in order to produce milk so that she can eat. Does your planet have an edible fish I can eat?"
Thinking, Jarak nodded before turning around. His black claws clacked at the console, pulling up a large holographic viewer, overlaying the window. Stepping closer, Justice looked at the images and smiled. Sorted into two groups were seemingly all the known fish on his planet.
"Ok," she breathed in relief. "That's good."
Exiting the screen, Jarak looked up to the encroaching planet, and she followed his gaze. It was beautiful. Covered in dark greens and deep blues and shrouded in a thin filmy white gaseous layers, the jungle planet floated proudly in the sea of glittering black space. Even their planets were foreboding, she thought with a smirk. How thick was their jungle if even from this distance, the planet shined like a dark emerald? How deep were their unexplored oceans? The scientist within her leaped at the excitement the new planet offered, but the bigger part of her, the soldier, stared at the planet with a cool appraisal.
"Sit," Jarak commanded over his massive shoulder.
Holding the now quiet Larsa higher against her chest, Justice stiffened and gave the yautja a deadly smile. "I think because you have seen my tits, you are under the impression that you are entitled to give me orders, yautja. Let me inform you that you're highly mistaken," her whispered words came out through clenched teeth. "I promise you this, once I have eaten, rested, and taken care of Larsa, you and I are going to have to have a talk about this giving me orders habit you have going."
Jarak turned in his chair, and she watched as his sunburst eyes brightened in response. "I will look forward to it, until then--sit," he pointed a black claw towards the bed.
For the longest moment, they stared at one another in silent combat. She wanted to break that finger, but she couldn't, not with Larsa in her arms. She wanted to shoot him, but not while she and Larsa were aboard this ship. She wanted to punch that satisfied glimmer he was staring at her with right out of those tiny beady eyes, but she couldn't--not right now at least.
Holding back the rest of her snarky words, she spun on her heel and marched back to the bed and sat, not daring to look back at the giant bastard.
~
It was dark out when the ship landed. With her backpack on and Larsa strapped back into her harness, Larsa grabbed her gun and stepped to Jarak on the bridge, who gave her a pointed stare.
Pushing some of her braids, which had fallen from her bun, out of her face, she gave the hunter a questioning look. "What?"
Jarak looked from her gun and back to her meaningfully.
"I truly hope you didn't expect me to leave my gun on this ship," she asked, one eyebrow lifting cynically. "I don't know this planet. For all, I know it's probably full of species evolved to match its primary occupants. Which endangers my child even more so. That’s-"
"Only endangering the child?" Jarak asked, and Justice resisted grabbing a handful of his spines and yanking them out of his big fat head.
He was purposely trying to bait her into an argument. The giant lunk wanted to fight her, she could feel the need for it vibrating off of him. She was sure it was the sole reason he saved her and Larsa. His "curiosity" was just a polite way of saying, "I have yautja hard-on to fight you."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I would manage on my own," she said evenly, "but with her," she pointed to the baby in the harness. "I will take no chances."
Without a reply, Jarak walked towards the hatch and hit a button on the wall activating the pressure-sealed door. Warm swampy air hit her immediately, and Justice nearly groaned. She forgot about that aspect. Hot, humid, jungle planets were paradise for these creatures. Stepping onto the smooth metal surface, Justice looked around in silent surprise at the hangar. Parked in a line of ships that spanned at least eight kilometers, cutting a large strip out of the thick jungle, they walked out onto the path that sat between the row of ships. There had to be over fifty ships, not including the empty spaces she could see that were obviously reserved for other ships.
Walking down the quiet path, Jarak suddenly stopped and looked towards the jungle. Turning to her, he gave her a firm look and pointed to the ground. "Wait here, do not move," he growled.
Justice was opening her mouth to tell him to fuck-right-the-hell-off when the hunter turned and moved so quickly she just ended up standing there with her mouth open. Fucking hell, he moved fast. Pulling up her retinal interface, she replayed the last scene of him. In one fluid move, Jarak had turned on his heel and took one lunging step forward, his powerful thigh muscles bunching at the contracting movement before launching himself forward into the air and into the jungle.
A rustle in the trees tore her attention from her replaying footage, and she brought her gun up and angled her chest away, making herself a slimmer target as possible. With a small thud, Jarak burst through the tree line and landed back onto the metal hangar, holding something in his hands. Dropping her gun, Justice scowled at the hunter until he got close, and she realized what he had done.
Holding out both hands, he held the small red globes of fruit towards her. "Humans can eat these," he informed her, offering her the fruits.
Letting her gun hang by its strap, Justice carefully took the handfuls of fruit from his waiting hands. This was odd. She wasn't sure how to react or think at this. There was an inexplicable urge to scowl and smile at the same time. Nodding her thanks, she followed the hunter as she cradled the fruit in her arms. As her eyes passed over the array of ships, her mind focused on the hunter's odd actions trying to analyze them. He saved her because of what she was, she knew that. He wanted to bring his find back to his leader, no doubt. But he also wanted her to be appeased, she thought, remembering the way she woke up to find him holding Larsa to feed at her breast. She could not understand him. Wouldn't making her angry be the best way to incite a fight? Or did this yautja have so much honor he wanted her at her best when he did fight her? That was it, she nodded to herself, following the hunter down an ornate metal staircase, he wanted a good fight. That was why he was feeding her and appeasing her by looking after Larsa, he wanted her back in fighting shape. Shaking her head, she grinned at the thought of his reaction whenever she eventually got around to telling him the truth.
Looking over the curving stair's side, Justice stopped abruptly, letting the sight beyond her soak in. A few steps down, Jarak paused and turned back to her in silent question.
Down the large hill, the hangar sat on top of a city of mythical proportions lay before her. Justice could hardly move, she couldn't believe she was seeing this. Growing up and training with her sisters, they had been taught everything the company knew about the yautja, which was limited, to say the least: reptilian-like carnivores, honor system, blooded versus unblooded, male versus female hunters, advanced technology, different factions, some space-born and bound and some planet dwellers. But this in front of her was nowhere in their limited teachings about the yautja. Like something from old earth Egyptian history files, a great black pyramid stood in the center of the cleared jungle floor. In front of the entrance, made from the same black metal, the long narrow pathway was lined in shimmering, dark reflecting pools that moonlight shimmered off of. Excited to see more, Justice carefully and quickly took the stairs down to the bottom, standing between two great statues of hunters, each wearing their masks and both holding spears.
Reaching out, she touched the metal greaves of the statue. "This is amazing," she whispered.
Jarak stepped behind her with silent patience as she turned and stared out at the smaller pyramids in the distance.
"How many of you live here?" she eventually asked, her voice sounding loud in the still night air. Certainly, all the rest of them weren't asleep right now?"
"Many," Jarak stated, walking ahead of her.
Justice stared at the back of his head. His spines swayed slightly against his broad back as he moved. He certainly wasn't verbose, she thought dryly. Getting information from the lumbering hunter was like pulling teeth.
Looking around again, Justice tried to open her senses and broaden her retinal interface in an attempt to spot a cloaked hunter, but by gods of the galaxies, she was so fucking tired it was useless to even try. All she could do was follow Jarak as she stared in awe at her surroundings.
Sounds of her footsteps echoed off the metal floor as she followed Jarak across the empty pyramid's grand gallery. In the center, just below the point, sat a square reflecting pool filled with dark, still water. At the four corners of the pool were more of the giant statues that had guarded the entrance of the palace, but instead of male statues, these were beautiful depictions of huntresses standing tall, their mandibles flared out, and their bladed gauntlets crossed over their breasts. If she wasn't so tired, she would stand and stare at the statues longer.
Reluctantly, Justice pulled herself away from the statues and followed Jarak down empty corridors until they were passing one with numerous doors. This part of the pyramid reminded her of her dormitory building back on LV594, and for a moment, the unbidden memory of her black case came to mind. Pushing the painful thought away, she stopped as Jarak paused outside of a door and waved his gauntlet in front of the discreet data-pad on the wall to the right of the door. Witch a silent swish, the metal door parted, and Jarak walked inside.
Why in the hell did she follow him here? Why did she allow him to take him to his planet? Looking into the shadowed room, he stepped into Justice, glanced down at the plum-like fruits in the crook of her arms, and down to Larsa's sleeping face squished up against her breasts. A few kind acts, and you'll just follow anyone anywhere, huh? You're doing it again, Justice, she mentally admonished herself. You're getting yourself wrapped up in a guy again when you have bigger shit to be worrying about. But then again, she looked up to see Jarak's eyes glow faintly in the darkness as he stepped back towards her in silent question, this wasn't technically a guy. At least with him, unlike with Luke, there was no question if he was a monster or not.
Stepping forward, she followed him inside.
by Katerina Winters
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Predator: Huntress Alpha Chapter 6
(in my mind this is how Justice looks)
Jarak's claws clicked quietly against the control console as he set the ship's coordinates back to Ojibwe. Pulling up the radar, he set the constant sweep to a much wider circumference. If anyone or anything came near the ship, he would be alerted. It was a setting he had never activated before, but with the woman and child on board his ship, Jarak would make the exception.
Turning away from the controls, he stood up and paused. Looking across the short bridge into the ship's deck, he watched the two females sleep soundly. Laying on her back, the fat human baby slept with both arms up and her fists balled on either side of her head. Watching her stomach move up and down as she breathed, Jarak could tell that the child was sleeping deeply--just like her mother. Silently, Jarak took another step forward, clicking the datapad on his gauntlet and lowering the ship's lights until it was nearly pitch black. Jarak watched as the woman's brow relaxed from its frown and her breathing deepen. Using her extended arm as a cushion, the woman held onto the rifle's strap at the far end of the bed while her other hand lay protectively on the child's chest.
Out of curiosity, Jarak reached for his mask attached to his belt and lifted it to his face. Peering through the mask's eyeholes, he confirmed what he witnessed earlier on the planet. Unlike a normal human, this woman shined bright like a white star under his thermal readouts. Glancing at the child, he scanned her and found her readouts pulse normally with reds and yellows. She was unlike her mother.
Having received an alert of a new outbreak of xenomorphs, Jarak had gone to that planet to hunt down a juvenile xenomorph queen, he was not expecting to find a known open file. He had been climbing the domed outside of the air filtration building when he looked down to see the bright star pass him. Changing the display in his mask, Jarak watched the woman move with tactical grace and precision across the colony. Changing course, he followed her taking in every detail of her until he could finally remember why the heavily modified human intrigued him so, there was an incomplete file sitting in Ojibwe's records about this type of woman. Twenty women, to be exact, all modified down to their bones and ligaments, all highly skilled in combat. Pulling up the record as he followed her to the rectangular dormitory building Jarak had read the mostly empty file and stopped at the instructions at the bottom: apprehend at all cost.
Reading the file's limited data as he pursued her, Jarak could see her shoulders stiffen and realized with satisfaction the reports were true about her. Looking over her shoulder, bright purple inhuman eyes shined as she scanned her surroundings. She knew she was being watched. Forgetting completely about his initial mission, Jarak followed the woman with growing interest. Getting closer to her, Jarak had blinked in surprise as he realized there was something beneath the alien carapace she kept strapped to her chest. Moments later, the child's cries not only confirmed his assumption, but the child eventually gave him the opportunity he needed to redirect the woman back to him. For nearly forty-eight hours, he had followed her and watched. He watched her hide and scan the terrain as she slowly made her way towards a particular building. Biding his time, he waited until she made her move.
Coming up behind her just as she accessed the building's ladder, he paused at the chittering sounds echoing in the darkness. Long black cylindrical heads appeared over the roof's edge, and the woman paused. With slow turns of their heads, the xenomorphs communicated in silent hisses with one another as the woman accessed her worsening odds from above and below. Letting the xenomorph pass him in the darkness, Jarak looked up at the woman's expression. For a brief second, he could see the maternal fear in her eyes shine past the purple and white circuitry in her eyes before cold resolve engulfed it. She would make it out of this situation, he thought, but he saw no reason to risk her nor the screaming child's safety. Taking one step forward, Jarak grabbed the barbed black tail of the alien and yanked it back until it was pulled off its feet and forced to follow its attacker's motion as he swung it around. Hitting the other side of the wall with a shrieking screech, the xenomorph flailed and scrambled its limbs to find purchase on the ground so it could attack, but Jarak activated his cannon blaster. As he shot the remaining xenomorphs, he watched as the woman abandoned her mission of getting in the infested building and run off into the desert.
Now, here she was lying in his bed, a feature he never once used on his ship, sleeping deeply. Looking between the woman and the child, Jarak lowered his mask and reattached it back to his belt. There were few similarities between the two females. The child's soft skin was a lighter shade of brown than her mother's, whose skin was dark, signifying her people, wherever she was from, lived close to their planet's equator. Her hair, unlike the child's short wispy curls, was braided into many long rope-like braids that were secured into a ball at the top of her head. Looking at the sleeping child, Jarak remembered her brown eyes staring up at him as her mother cleaned and changed her. Were the woman's eyes once brown, or were they a trait from the father? Looking back at the woman, he examined the muscles in her arms as she slept and recalled her height. What kind of human man did this woman find suitable enough to mate? Where was this mate? Who were these "demons" she referred to chasing her? From the little information they had on file for her kind, was she not more than capable of dealing with the issue rather than running? Frustrated at his lack of answers and the surge of new questions at every turn, Jarak turned on his heel with an annoyed growl buried in his chest. He would never understand humans.
Going back to the cockpit, he sat down in his chair and looked back to the sleeping woman, he was not sure what to do with her. The scientists that worked deep in the bowels of Ojibwe, separated from the rest of their society, would want her and the child for themselves; he knew that for certain. Finally, obtaining a live subject to the mystery file that had remained empty for years would be something they would not pass up on. Their research would be akin to torture. Looking to the child, whose small foot shifted and kicked softly into the air, Jarak could feel the repressed growl in his chest deepen. There was no honor among the scientist, a sentiment all yautja hunters shared. Jarak would not let them have her or the tall woman, he decided. He had given his word that no harm would come to them, and besides, he thought with the tilt of his head, thinking of the woman's proud and determined expression as she had stared back at him without fear, he found himself intrigued by her. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to see these combat skills rumored in the lacking report. He wanted to fight her.
~~
He was cleaning the alien queen's head when he heard the keening noise. Looking up, Jarak listened as the discontented cries grew louder. Grabbing the decapitated head, he placed it back into the specially lined sack. The traces of xenomorph blood still left inside the skull would not eat through the sack and onto the ship. Cleaning his hands, he stepped away from the small work area of his ship and around the corner to the common area.
Awake and squirming, the human infant cried, looking at her mother's face above her in angry desperation. Tiny fat fists pummeled the air as her body jerked in her rage. Calmly, Jarak stared at the child's reddening face and back to the sleeping woman--she did not stir. Lifting his gauntlet, he typed into the datapad and stared at the holographic data that pulled up in response. Reading the list, Jarak dropped his arm and stared back at the child who had turned herself over onto her stomach. By now, her whole body was tense with anger, and her cries had become ceaseless in their anguish. With little choice, Jarak stepped forward. Reaching over the woman, Jarak carefully removed the black gun strap from the woman's hand. Considering for a moment, he reached down and grabbed one of the woman's shoulders and watched as the muscles in her sleeping face moved in awareness, but she did not open her eyes. Pulling her forward until he had her sitting up, Jarak sat behind the woman on the bed and let her rest against his chest. The necklace of skulls around his neck jangled as he settled her limp body into the crook of his arm. Looking down at her, Jarak watched as her subconscious tried to fight through her exhaustion. Her eyelids fluttered but never quite opened while the smooth space of skin between her brows furrowed.
His claws found the tiny metal tab under her chin. Pulling it, he listened and watched as the teeth of the zipper unhooked from each other as he dragged it down to her stomach. Hot, smooth skin revealed itself under the separated material of her top, and Jarak let himself examine the slow movements of her abdominal muscles flex with each breath. Moving his gaze upward, he focused on his targets and reached for the black material covering them. The woman made a noise in her throat, but it was hardly heard over the child's cries. Pulling the cups of fabric that covered her breasts up, he watched from above as her naked, full breasts bounced free. Turning his head, he looked to the child and carefully slid his hand underneath her. Jarak could feel his pulse quicken as the soft baby body slid past his sharp claws inch by inch. The child was much too small and very fragile. How did humans survive this stage?
With her soft stomach in the palm of his hand, he carefully lifted the crying child and brought her around to his and the woman's front. As if driven by a surge of maternal instinct, the woman's eyes shot open as he transferred the screaming child onto her back and into his other hand.
The white rings he noticed in the woman's eyes earlier were now shining bright, nearly drowning out the purple of her eyes. Staring closely as his hands continued to position the child, Jarak could see the fine filaments within glisten around the white rings.
"What are you…" There was a resonating quality to her tone but was cut off just as Jarak positioned the baby closer to her dark nipple.
Latching on greedily, the child stared up at them both with angry betrayal as she drank from her mother.
Jarak could feel the sudden understanding relax the woman against him, her stiff frame laying more pliably against him.
Inhaling, Jarak mentally cataloged the warm scents coming from the woman. Intertwining together, there were two scents that mingled in the air at every rise and fall of her chest. Floral and manmade, the scent of her soap still lingered on her skin, but there was another that piqued at the back of his mind. There was one other scent that he could almost place. Frowning, Jarak looked down past the smooth skin of her exposed collarbone and let his eyes travel slowly over the slopes of her full breasts until his eyes settled on the pair of brown eyes staring at him. Suckling noisily, the infant pushed her fists into the fatty globes of her mother's breast, kneading more of the life giving sustenance out. White, milky residue gathered at the corners of the child's mouth, unknowingly filling the air with more of the scent. Inhaling again, Jarak suppressed the guttural sound forming in his chest. It was milk. The woman smelled of sweetened milk.
Looking at where she rest against his shoulder, he watched the woman's profile as she stared tiredly down at her child. The slight purple glow of her inhuman eyes were framed in curling black lashes, a feminine feature shrouding something more deadly beneath, a concept that Jarak noticed was carried throughout this woman. From her reinforced skeletal system to the hum of nanites, his mask had picked up running through her veins; this woman was a contradiction to all of his senses. The relaxed weight leaning against him would no doubt react with precise and enhanced speed at any threatening action. Everything about her could change in a matter of seconds, she could answer his lingering questions all at once with just the right provocation. The thought, Jarak realized, was not as tempting as it should be. Soft and inviting, the woman stared down at her child with a gentle devotion only a mother could possess instead of the hard lines of calculating skepticism she had stared at him with earlier. He would not provoke the woman into a fight, not yet.
Shifting uncomfortably, the woman turned tiredly against his chest, trying to look over her shoulder. "What's poking me?"
Pulling his gaze away from the child's never-ending stare and past the woman's waiting one, he looked down between them. Still holding the child with the arm he had wrapped around the woman, Jarak used his free hand and reached around his neck to pull off the trophy necklace as the woman let out a grateful sigh.
In silence, they continued to sit like that, one leaning against the other as the child suckled at her breast.
"How did you know what to do with Larsa?" she eventually asked her voice heavy with exhaustion.
Looking down at her, Jarak watched her body sink deeper against him, her muscles relaxing until she was pliable and soft against his chest.
"I do not," his tone was measured and deep as he answered. "I looked up the common reasons for a human child's squalling."
She gave a soft laugh.
After a while, the woman finally shifted and lifted the child from her breast and placed the fat child against her shoulder, and began to rub her back. Jarak stared down at the child's face, which was now inches from his chest, and watched as she angled her tiny head until she could resume her silent staring at him.
"You know what and who I am, don't you?" the woman asked, not looking at him.
Jarak nodded. "Yes"
"And you're sure your planet is the best option?"
It was her only option as far as he was concerned.
"Yes," he answered.
He could feel one of her shoulders lift in a shrug against him. "All right, big guy, I'll trust you. But if I find that you cannot keep your word and keep me and Larsa safe, everyone's resulting deaths are on you."
by Katerina Winters
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Predator: Huntress Alpha Chapter 5
All her words seem to vanish in the hunter's presence. With pale hide like bleached sand, his tough reptilian skin was dappled in blotchy red markings that reminded Justice of a particularly poisonous Viperidae. Never in her life had she seen a yautja this big. Up and up, her eyes seemed to never stop as they traveled over his foreboding form. It was as if someone took one of the great underwater reptiles and stretched its touch hide over an eight-foot frame of steel and then covered it with body netting and armor and then adorned it with a big necklace of bone and various small skulls. Long, deadly black claws tipped each toe, and each finger punctuating the creature's monstrous difference. Its black spines, the dreadlock like appendages hanging from its massive sloping head, were long, reaching just under its armpit and tipped in the same dark red coloring that smattered across its thighs and abs. Its sloping forehead, a characteristic of all known yautja, was crowned in a sharp, pointed red frill that lined the edge of its head just above the hair-like spines giving the yautja an almost regal quality with its natural crown-like feature. Mandibles flared as its orange and red eyes set in deep within the shadow of its browbone gleamed at her.
Forcing herself to focus, Justice averted her gaze and looked back to the glowing console lights before back to Jarak. "So…where are we going to-"
Her words were cut off at the skittering sound across the ship's hull. Without speaking, they both reacted, whirling around on their heels: her towards her child and Jarak towards the controls.
Picking up Larsa's plump weight, Justice settled her against her chest while Jarak leaned past his chair and clicked his claws against a few buttons. The red letters of his native language showered above the large viewing window and disappeared just as the ship's engines hummed to life beneath her feet.
"Sit," he commanded without looking over his shoulder.
Looking around the empty room, she glared back at him with annoyance. "And just where am I supposed to sit? You don't have-"
Another bang, louder and harder this time, hit against the port side of the ship, and Justice could feel the ship jostle at the impact.
Whipping his head around, causing his long red-tipped dreads to arc around his shoulders, he pointed one menacing clawed finger at the bed with an angry jab. "Sit," he commanded again.
Justice bristled all over at the hunter's gall, but she moved toward the bed regardless just as the ship began to rise. Sitting down, she was about to loudly mutter her concerns on how the fuck she was supposed to securely strap onto a stupid bed when she felt the gentle pulse of stabilizing energy surround her. Well, that made sense, she thought wryly as she carefully got fully onto the bed, letting only her feet dangle off the edge. Despite the sharp ascent of the ship, she and Larsa sat comfortably level on the bed as it took off into the sky. Breaking through the planet's last layer of atmosphere, the ship gave a sharp tug as it hit space before settling into a placid float.
Turning from the console, the hunter eyed her silently. Realizing she was still on his bed, she pushed herself to scoot off the edge and stand. Her vision flickered and spun around her, and she could feel her legs threaten to give out. Without making a sound, she could feel the large hunter cross the bridge to her side, but she held up a hand halting him as she found her balance at the last moment.
Swallowing, she blinked and breathed through her nose. "I'm fine," she whispered brusquely, hating herself for this pathetic display of weakness. "Just haven't slept, that's all," she explained.
Stepping back with a slight jangle to his skull necklace, the hunter observed her in considering silence. He could probably stare at her all day, deep in whatever thoughts he was thinking, she realized with a soft smirk. Yautja were so fascinatingly simple yet complex in surprising ways. He was probably trying to determine exactly what she was and how he would go about killing something with a diaminium skeleton. Looking down at Larsa, Justice grinned at the sleeping baby. The kid was so happy to be out of the combat zone and in a nice quiet space she wasn't even demanding to be fed like she normally would be at this time, she just wanted sleep--and by the sun and moon, Justice could not blame her.
"I saw that you had a shower," she paused, feeling a little self-conscious, "May I?"
With a jerking nod, Jarak turned from her and grabbed his sack he dropped by the entrance before disappearing around a corner.
In the bathroom, Justice awkwardly shifted the grumpy baby from one arm to the other as she peeled off both of their dirty clothes.
Laying Larsa on the pile of clothes, she stared down at the frowning brown eyes of the infant and smiled. "Well, at least momma brought a bunch of your clothes and things with her to work every day, right?" she said in a light voice to the girl.
"That means you have a nice fresh onesie to change in while momma has the same old stinky clothes to put on," Justice announced in a sing-song voice as she turned on the shower and lowered the scalding temperature to lukewarm.
Picking up the naked baby, she cradled her carefully in her arms and ignored her cries of protest at the spray of water. With one hand, Justice pulled the baby soap bottle out of her bag and began soaping the both of them down.
"I know, I know," she soothed as Larsa's cries intensified. "You just want to sleep and be a dirty girl, but you stink, and I stink, so just let me do this, and you can go right back to sleep."
Larsa ignored her and continued to cry until the spray was turned off. Holding the slippery naked baby with one arm, Justice somehow managed to get dressed with the other hand shuddering at the feel of her grimy clothes against her clean skin before carrying the bag and Larsa back out into the common area.
Taking a peek at Jarak, who stood near his wall of weapons, she paused and stared as he shoved something that looked awfully like a xenomorph skull back into the black bag. There was something different about this hunter than the handful of hunters she had come across in her past. Wearing the full-body netting underneath his armor, Jarak seemed rougher around the edges than the other yautja. His armor was a dark matte gray covered in various gouges and scars. Braided leather straps that wrapped across his wide chest holding the pauldron shoulder-piece in place was probably once a beautiful display of fine craftmanship was now frayed and torn. The skirted belt at his waist was made out of the same dull gray metal, and a strip of thick leather hide that hung in front of his thighs lined in stained fur and decorated with various skulls and metal beads. Even the netting covering his big frame was torn in a few places here and there. It looked as if his armor had been used in a great war--years ago. There was something very old world about this hunter.
Going towards the bed, Justice laid Larsa onto it and watched with a smirk as her naked body immediately reacted to the soft comfort. Calming her cries into a dull prideful whimper, the baby kicked out at the air and turned her head, and spotted Jarak. Immediately her hollow cries were forgotten as Larsa stared at the unfamiliar creature. Glancing up, Justice nearly laughed at Jarak's silent stare back at the naked baby. Even without much facial expression, she could tell he found the baby perplexing.
"Jarak, meet Larsa," she muttered as she grabbed the Diaper Wizard from her bag.
The white and green box cost a fortune, but it was worth every single penny. Taking the soiled diaper out of her bag, Justice could feel Jarak's eyes on her as she stuffed the stinky diaper into the box. Pressing a button, they both listened and waited as the box whirred and worked its magic. With a soft ding, the unit shined a green light, and Justice opened the box and reproduced the now perfectly clean diaper.
Sensing the question in the hunter, she answered it as she put the clean diaper back onto Larsa's naked bottom.
"It burns away all waste leaving the diaper clean and safe to use," she explained. "If I believed in a god, I would say God specifically created this for mothers. You have no idea how much single-use diapers are, only for my cute, smiling ball of fat to shit in them."
Clean, changed, and wearing a fresh onesie, Larsa lay sprawled out on the black bed like she owned it. Standing up straight, Justice fought off the wave of dizziness and met Jarak's eye.
"Just tell me why?" she asked, "Why save us from the alien at the dorms building? Why let me onto your ship?"
For a moment, he simply stared at her, his small black pupils ringed in a sunrise of orange, never wavering. Eventually, he spoke, "Curiosity."
Justice let out a small tired laugh under her breath as she nodded and looked over his shoulder to the glittering black space beyond. "Of course," she mumbled, "And where exactly are you taking me?"
"Ojibwe," he answered simply as if the place was common knowledge.
Feeling her energy drain by the second, she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "I'll assume that is your homeworld," she stated dryly. "And…if I don't want to go there," she let the statement hang in the air like a question as she tiredly stared up at the massive hunter.
Sweeping one hand stiffly at his side, he gestured to the space around them. "You have little choice," his deep, animalistic voice had a challenging finality to it that that sparked her ire.
Shoving her fatigue to the side, just as she had done for nearly the past week, she stood up to her full height and stepped up directly to the hunter. Justice caught the flash of excitement in the yautja's eyes and mentally cursed their moronic species for their love of a challenge. Any other time she would find the trait amusing if not interesting, but right now, she was too tired and had bigger things to worry about.
Knowing that he would never relent, Justice let her thoughts stray to the worries and guilt that she had been running from for nearly two years now. Like a hairline crack in a vault, the truth slipped from her lips and past her fatigued senses. "I am going to be real honest with you, big guy," she said, anger and exhaustion lowered her voice to a menacing whisper. "I have been running for a long time now, and I promise you don't want to be anywhere near me when my demons finally catch up with me."
Luke's face flashed without consent through her mind, and Justice tore her eyes away from Jarak's, forcing herself to think of something else.
"There is nothing I fear," Jarak replied, crossing his thick arms over his massive chest.
Justice smirked as she looked up at the big creature. That was probably true, she thought, but then again, he had never met her before. "We shall see."
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Predator: Huntress Alpha Chapter 4
A/N: I apologize that I did not mention this sooner, but it would be helpful for you to have already read the Predator: Invisible Prince in order to fully enjoy this story.
Justice found it on her second try. A yautja's ship was always placed in a somewhat elevated location near the target area of combat, but with enough clearance for undisturbed takeoff and landing. After a few minutes of highly accelerated running, she put distance between herself and the xenomorphs, but that wouldn’t buy her long. They could be hanging back to regroup only to flank her later or holding off in their pursuit to give her a sense of false safety, making her take down a surprise. By every moon in the galaxy, she really hated fucking xenomorphs.
Using the planet's map, Justice went from one small clearing near the northwest part of the map before leaving the area in a cloud of muttered oaths and running to the next location she thought viable. Sandy wind pelted at her shitty mask, and she tightened the carapace around Larsa's body, trying to block out the growing storm winds from touching the baby's soft skin. Within a few minutes, she arrived at the next plausible location she marked on her map and stopped. Sweeping her gaze around the area, she inspected the umber rocks and the coarse, resilient plants that covered the arid terrain. Broken arms of the large phreatophyte plants signaled the presence of her target. Walking forward with one hand outstretched and her rifle up in her other, she took cautious steps toward the seemingly empty clearing in front of her. At first, there was nothing. Just sandblasting wind hitting the palm of her hand. But as her steps took her closer, the nanites in her veins began to hum in recognition. Stopping with her hand only an inch away, Justice stared at the artful nothingness in front of her--the ship was here.
Not risking touching it, she stepped back and toed a rock out of the sandy earth. Flipping it out of the ground with the toe of her boot, she lined up the shot and kicked it. With a clink of stone hitting metal, Justice watched with relieved satisfaction as the stone fell back to the ground undamaged.
Larsa tensed and shifted against her before letting out another demanding cry for appeasement.
"Shh," Justice whispered as she looked down at Larsa's angry face.
With her hands balled into tiny plump fists, Larsa held up her arms in stiff protest as she let out a deafening cry. Reaching in between the makeshift shield, Justice rubbed the back of the infant's head in a soothing gesture while she looked back up at the ship. Going back up to it, she gave it one last testing bump with the side of her rifle and exhaled as no shield met her with resistance. She had minutes if that, Justice surmised, letting her hand trail along the surface of the cloaked ship as she walked around it. Like bloodhounds, the xenomorphs would hear Larsa's fed up cries, and they would track her to this spot soon.
Finding a groove in the ship that was deeper than the rest of the ones that lined the alien ship, Justice traced its edge and nearly grinned at the massive rectangular shape. It had to be a door. But finding a door and opening a door were two separate things, she frowned. It was bio locked, it had to be. The yautja were not the kind to risk having their ships found or stolen. It would take their DNA to access and pilot the ship.
A skittering in the distance stilled her. She was out of time. Rage and fear churned in her gut as the thermal readings in her retinal interface displayed the pulsing red and orange figures circling her a few yards out. She should have chased down the yautja and cut off its fucking hand or something when she had the chance! With steady breaths that belied the inner turmoil inside of her, she raised her rifle and hugged Larsa tighter to her chest.
Switching the rifle to rapid pulse, Justice prepared herself as the skittering noises of the aliens drew close. They were toying with her, seeing who among them would strike first. Well, they could try, she thought savagely, and Justice could feel her eyes glow in the darkness of her mask as her body prepared for combat. She was going to take every fucking one of them down before they got to her.
About twenty yards away, a bright blue light streaked across the air and exploded in a shower of sparks. Squinting, Justice pressed her back against the cool metal of the camouflaged ship and watched and listened. Xenomorphs screeched in the darkness of the surrounding desert as pulse after pulse streaked through the air like bolts of blue-white fire before landing with a crack of sizzling plasma. With the last shot, Justice could see the heat signatures of the aliens' retreat, but her focus was on the void of heat that the shots originated from. Silent besides Larsa's fussing noises that had grown tired and hoarse by now, Justice listened for any approaching steps, but she heard nothing.
Instinctually, she knew the hunter was close, standing and waiting for her next move. So, she took it.
"Please," she said. The foreign word tasted like acid in her throat.
When was the last time she had said that word? She honestly could not think of a time, maybe never. But now, she had no choice. She was far too tired to fight a yautja, and she had more than just her life to think of.
Ripping away the carapace shield, Justice stared at the spot in the dirt where she assumed the hunter stood.
"I will not let her die by those monsters," she declared. "Help us…please."
There was no response, and Justice felt all the exhausted anger she had been keeping at bay for days surge to the forefront.
Ripping off her helmet, she threw it to the ground with a wild, strangled growl while letting her rifle fall by its strap to dangle on her shoulder. Snatching off the smooth black alien carapace, she grabbed Larsa with both hands and hauled the upset baby forward off her chest. "Goddammit, aren't you supposed to have honor?!" She yelled into the night. "What kind of honor could you have if you leave a child here to die?!" Tears stung at her eyes, and Justice blinked in alarm. There had only been a handful of times she cried in her life, and each one of them was carved into her brain, never allowing her to forget one detail of the cause. The last time she cried was five months ago when she had given birth to Larsa.
Pulling the harness completely from her, Justice ignored the wet streaks on her face and stared stubbornly at the empty spot where she assumed the hunter was standing and held out the squirming, crying baby. "Please…at least take her," she begged, her voice thick with pain. "Take her and drop her off at the nearest human orphanage. Just save her at least," she said, telling herself to leave it at that and to staunch the venomous words quickly, wanting to follow after, but she couldn't. Lifting her head, Justice stared directly at the spot with a lethal fixation. "Because if you do, I promise I will get myself off this planet and find her--then I will find you," she whispered the promise, knowing the creature could see her violet eyes glow with every ounce of the conviction she felt. She wondered if it was taking in the fine lines of lambent circuitry orbiting her irises or the bright whites of her pupils that were calculating the speed and trajectory possibly needed to kill the yautja.
As the silence stretched between them and the fury within her began to change into something cold and little chaotic, the sound of pressure being released behind her interrupted her rising tension. Turning her head just enough to see over her shoulder, Justice could see the inviting orange glow of the ship's interior shining back at her. Pulling Larsa back to her chest, Justice turned and critically eyed the spot with the invisible creature searching for answers, but received nothing. Did it mean for her to put Larsa inside? Or could she step in as well? Not bothering to wait around and see, Justice quickly backed up inside and watched as the door closed shut behind her.
For three beats, Justice did not move. Still holding Larsa with both hands, she stared at the door and opened her senses to the silence of the ship around her. Was this a trick? After another moment, she finally allowed herself to turn from the door and face the ship's interior.
It was a single occupant fighter class ship, Justice concluded as she carefully walked further in. Once inside the door of the ship, there was a hallway that led down into what looked to be a storage bay and the engine room below. Walking past that hallway, she kept straight into the main area of the ship. With all black interior, it took a second for her eyes to adjust to the low lighting. To her right, there was a large cockpit array lit up with low, warm orange light. Buttons and holographic images covered the large dash partially surrounding a big black chair that sat in its center. Examining the chair, Justice raised a brow, it must be a pretty big yautja.
Turning from the cockpit, she walked the narrowing path past walls lined with various weapons secured to the wall into a larger room to what on any other ship would be an operations deck or galley, this room was indeterminable. Made out of the never-ending grooved black metal like the rest of the ship, it only had a few points of that dim orange lighting to break up the darkness. Larsa made another tired sound of dissatisfaction, which echoed off the empty ship's walls. Hoisting Larsa up higher on her chest, Justice cuddled the fussing baby's cheeks.
"Ok, it's ok," Justice murmured against her soft cheek, placing small kisses. "We are inside now and away from those nasty bugs."
Justice's eyes scanned the walls of the room. Each pass of her eyes revealed the circuitry running along the interior of the black walls and the hidden recesses the wall was designed to hide. Stopping at a smooth glass-like square that blended smoothly into the wall, she reached out to it and smirked as her fingers ran across the glass surface, activating the red yautja lettering. Reading the words without issue, Justice pressed the command her body had been pining for, for days now. With a pressurized release similar to the ship's door, the far back wall moved, and a big black rectangle lowered down to the floor. A bed. A wonderful, wonderful bed.
Smiling, she sat Larsa on the soft black material and ran her hand across its surface. A leather bed? What kind of kink shit was this, she thought with a smile. Just imagining a serious yautja into fetish made her laugh. Dear God, she must be tired if this was where her mind was going. Pulling Larsa out of the harness, the fussing baby quieted for a moment, seemingly letting the incredible feeling of her body without the harness she had been strapped into for days now sink in. Rolling her own shoulders, Justice laid Larsa on the bed and slipped the backpack off her shoulders, and lowered it to the floor. Taking the rifle back in hand, she turned and scanned the ship again while letting Larsa lay in the middle of the bed.
Shapes highlighted in yellow pinged along her retinal scan as she walked around the ship, and Justice could see that most of the walls contained various panels and hidden compartments. Moving towards a small opening in the wall not too far from the bed, she found a small room that contained a narrow galley and another door. Waving her palm over the sensor to the right of the door, she blinked in surprise as the door opened, revealing a fairly decent size bathroom. More than grateful not to have to squat onto the ground like she had done since the xenomorph invasion, Justice quickly took the opportunity to use the tall toilet. Going back to check on Larsa, who was fast asleep, Justice made her way back to the bridge. Shifting the rifle in her grip, she leaned over the cockpit's chair and stared at the control panel. Justice frowned at the board; it was a haptic control system. Not only bio-locked as she speculated earlier, but flown using both hands simultaneously on the two touchpads on either side of the chair. She had only flown with this type of control system once, and it was a rough flight, to say the least.
At the sudden sound of the pressurized release of the opening door, years of training took over Justice's senses like a knee-jerk reaction, and she swung around, her knees bent and her gun up and aimed at the door. A colossal figure stood outlined by the door holding something in its hand. Lowering her gun just a fraction from center mass, Justice cautiously stepped back and backed up the steps that separated the bridge and the large common area where Larsa slept, allowing the creature to step forward. Stopping near the bed, Justice positioned herself somewhat in front of the sleeping infant and let the gun point lower towards the floor. The last thing she needed was to piss off the yautja, not while Larsa was lying out so vulnerable, at least. Still concealed by the shadows of the bridge, the creature dropped the large sack onto the floor beside it and stood quietly. Justice could feel its gaze on her and narrowed her own gaze back at the shadowed figure. Even standing three steps down and four yards away, the yautja was fucking massive. Justice herself was very tall compared to the average human, especially a female human, standing over six feet and eight inches. But this thing had to be nearing eight feet. A little alarmed, she let a few scenarios run in the back of her mind on how to take down the big fuck without using her antimatter gun on the ship.
After a long few seconds, Justice finally let her rifle rest completely and stood straight, her movements tight and cautious. "I guess I should be thanking you," she murmured, looking away from the towering shadow and back down to the sleeping baby to her right.
That was about as much gratitude that was going to get past her lips, she thought sourly. Looking back at the quiet yautja covered in the shadows of the dark ship, she recalled her practically begging the alien before. Her pride could only withstand so much in one day, a thank you on top of a please was asking for too much.
Clearing her throat, she continued. "So, what's the next move?"
She could see its big head cock to the side at her words, and she listened to the low, almost purr-like clicking the hunter made. An odd sound that originated from their chest and not their mandibles like others presumed.
Not used to having to explain things, she called on her patience and tried not to glare at the creature through the darkness. "Are we leaving this planet?"
"Yes," the deep words hit the quiet air like a pile of falling boulders. It was male, Justice was now a hundred percent positive of that fact. There was an undercurrent of thunder in his tone that only a male yautja could produce.
A little unnerved by the depth of the voice along with its enormous size, she stared skeptically at the shadowed figure. "Then what do you plan on doing with us?"
Again another infernal tilt of its head, and it made her want to snap at him. Seeking patience, yet again, she forced herself to take a calming breath. "I know you understand me perfectly, hunter," she began in a near hiss, her patience was dwindling. "Look, be honest with me. Do you plan to harm my child or me?" she waved a hand towards her plump baby lying in the creature's bed.
"No," his naturally harsh voice rippled through the air.
Needing more clarification, she continued. "Do you plan to use me in one of your human hunting games for your younger hunters? What do you call them, unblooded?" she asked, trying to pull up all her limited info on the hunter species.
"No," he answered again.
Still unconvinced, she let the rifle hang by the strap at her front with only one hand at the pommel while her other hand began ticking off the possibilities one by one. "Test on me? Take my daughter? Torture her or me?" It felt as if she was going through a very carefully worded contract between her and the devil.
"You nor the infant will come to harm," he said succinctly, and Justice couldn’t help marvel at the yautja's own patience with her.
She was hoping the barrage of questions would spark a true aspect of his personality, some sort of temper or rage she rather find out about now on the ground rather than in space. With the antimatter rifle, she could not risk shooting the yautja while onboard the ship, one stray cluster of the sparkling black antimatter, and it could affect the integrity of the ship, but there were other ways to take the hunter down. She much rather know right now who exactly she was dealing with.
Nodding, Justice hesitated, tapping her finger against the side of her gun in thought before coming to a decision.
Looking beyond the figure, Justice stared longingly without meaning to out the window towards the one rectangular building amongst the colony in the far distance. Ok then, this was happening. Not for the first time, she was being forced to step away from the one thing she simultaneously loathed and craved. Who would she be now without her suit? Forcing herself to focus back on the here and now, she took one step closer to the yautja and lifted her chin, acknowledging the veiled creature.
"My name is Justice, and thank you," she said, meaning it.
Without so much as a sound, the colossal figure stepped forward, one clawed foot stepping into the light, and Justice made herself not step back and raise her gun on instinct. Another step brought him closer, and Justice's eyes widened as the giant yautja stepped into the light. Towering above her, the creature looked down at her, his face free from his kind's usual mask, allowing her to stare directly into its piercing beady eyes.
"I am Jarak."
By Katerina Winters
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Predator: Huntress Alpha Chapter 3
Crouched by the bushes, Justice eased forward, scanning the terrain around her. Over the large boulders that dotted the landscape between the colony's buildings, she surveyed nooks and crannies along the buildings and every shadowed spot. The sun was going down rapidly, and the wind was picking up speed. Where the serpent aliens feasted, storms always followed.
No one was quite sure how or why the xenomorphs affected the local weather of any planet they terrorized, but it was a known fact that with time even the very atmosphere would begin to cry out as a result of the beasts. Soon the sandy surface of this desert planet would be razed black. No plants, no water source, no living being would survive the killing legion forsaking this place. Narrowing her eyes within her helmet, she scanned the area once more. Moments before, she had removed Larsa from her harness and awkwardly cradled the baby as she changed her diaper without setting her on the ground. Chubby and round, Larsa looked up at her with the most condemning look of consternation Justice had ever seen. Justice would have laughed if this had been any other day; instead, she kissed the baby's pouting little lips and put her back into the harness.
Seeing that her path to the dorm building was all clear, Justice moved. With inhuman speed, she crossed the distance and rushed to the metal ladder gripping the bars on either side. Without missing a beat, Justice seamlessly transitioned from her run to halfway running up the ladder's rungs. She was a quarter of a way up when Larsa finally had enough.
Tiny fists began to beat at her chest, accompanying a loud breathy cry that rent through the still desert air with the same disrupting force of an explosion.
"Oh Larsa, please," Justice moaned, wanting nothing more than to comfort the baby, but with one hand on the ladder's bar and one hand gripping the rifle, Justice had no choice but to endure it.
Unused to being ignored, Larsa's cry grew louder, and Justice paused as she felt the tremor vibrate through her hands and boots.
Jerking her head backward, Justice froze at the black figure hunkered down at the roof's line. Glistening even in the dusk's low light, she could see the glimmer of xenomorph's curled up lips as it bared a cold, deadly smile.
Sensing it before it made a sound, Justice looked down through the space between her arm and body and cursed under her breath as another xenomorph crawled slowly around the building's corner. On all fours, she could see the bunched muscles in its large hindquarters, it was ready to leap at her.
Larsa continued to cry, the sound acting as a beacon on the silent, newly dead planet. She was tired of being in a harness, she wanted attention, she wanted to be cuddled and cooed at as she ate. She wanted a nap in her bed. She was tired of hanging off her mother's chest being ignored and draped in alien carcass parts, and now she wanted to be heard.
"Oh, sweetheart," Justice said in a low measured tone as she kept her gaze bouncing from the alien below her and the alien above her. "I truly understand. I'm quite tired of this shit too."
Possibilities filled Justice's brain as the seconds slowed. The sounds of Larsa's crying muted in her head, and she focused only on the twin pair of seething breathing above and below them. She warred with herself with the decision on what to do. Shooting the one above would cause it to fall. But she had to account for its barbed tail. If there were any last vestiges of life in the creature, it could easily kill them as it fell. Just the thought of that long, black sawtoothed tail striking out at her and puncturing Larsa made Justice's thoughts stutter, and her heart tighten in sheer agony. No, Justice pushed the thought away immediately. She couldn’t even consider thinking it. If she shot it, she had to time the slower warp shot perfectly and aim to kill while moving to the side just in time to avoid its bulky body slamming into her as it fell down. Shooting the one below, however, from this angle would prove even more difficult. In the alien's position, it had the advantage, not her. It could see where she was aiming and it without a doubt knew her limited movements hanging off the ladder, especially with its sibling advancing from above.
More hissing noises filled the air, and Larsa lowered her crying to a dull, continuous protests as if even she heard the dire noises. Looking back up, Justice felt herself grow cold at the three other dark shapes that appeared at the roof's edge. Whatever decision she was going to make disintegrated at the sight, leaving her only one choice with very slim margins of survival. She had no choice. Putting her feet on the outside pole of the ladder, Justice loosened her grip on the ladder and began to slide down, aiming her rifle down to the alien that waited.
Her finger didn’t move on the trigger as she watched the xenomorph suddenly screech and flail before being yanked violently around the building's corner. Landing with a silent thud onto the sand, Justice did not hesitate. Switching her retinal interface, she took a mental snapshot of the scene as she took off running at full speed, leaving the xenomorphs to scramble down the building after her.
Ignoring her daughter's bouncing cries of protest, Justice pulled up the mental snapshot in one eye and examined it quickly before pulling up a holo-map. Searching the terrain, she veered sixty degrees. She knew what she needed to find. Somewhere not too far. Somewhere elevated, not close to a hive, somewhere that had plenty of room to maneuver in and out without notice.
Sparing one last glance over her shoulder at the dorm building, she looked past the black shapes loping behind her to keep up and envisioned her black case inside her apartment holding everything she had been taught to think she was. Looking back down to the disgruntled infant staring up at her with wailing fury, demanding answers, Justice gave the baby a wan little smile and increased her speed towards the last card Justice had in her deck to play.
What living thing leaves no heat trail? What could be large or strong enough to drag an uninjured sentinel xenomorph by its tail? Or should she say, what in the hell was crazy enough to do it? Oh, she knew exactly what it was. No heat trail, strong, and ballsy--a yautja that's fucking what.
By Katerina Winters
#yautja#yautja fanfiction#yautja smut#yautja love#predator#sexy predator#predator fanfiction#predator smut#predator love#monster boyfriend#monster love#Monster#writings#katerina winters
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Predator: Huntress Alpha chapter 2
Justice knew she was being watched.
It wasn't a guess, nor was it merely just a feeling. The feeling of eyes tracking her movements felt so certain, so tangible it surpassed being just a hunch. It was an infallible sensation thrumming through every nano-receptor in her body. It was daytime again, and she was standing outside the common area's massive silver dome. Big enough to house a mess hall to feed every inhabitant of the planet at one time, the common area was equipped with three gyms, a pool, two rec rooms, and a movie theater, a project that had cost nearly two million credits to build and was now a desolate ghost town crawling with sentry level xenomorphs.
Last night, she had spent the night holed up in the extremely narrow access tunnel letting Larsa feed and sleep. Two things the child was not happy to do while still strapped in her harness, something Justice was sure Larsa vehemently hated by now by the way she wiggled with increased agitation. But by the blessing of the stars and the moon, the baby had hardly cried the past few nights. Could the baby sense the unsettling quietness that had settled over the small planet? Or did she Instinctively discern the lack of screams ripping through the air or how the siren that had rang constantly for two days straight had suddenly stopped as if it too sensed the hopelessness of LV594's situation. Or did she just look up to see her mother silently plead with her every second to please be continue being a good baby and stay quiet for momma?
After letting Larsa sleep through the night while Justice stayed awake, with her insides coiled tight and her finger gently resting ready on her rifle's trigger, they were now on the move again. Xenomorphs didn’t really sleep, not when they were actively feeding and breeding like this. It was more of a dormant rest they allowed themselves during the daylight hours since hunting in the cover of darkness was preferred. But make no mistake, the aliens would kill during the day. Justice knew just as the sun rose and fell that the serpent aliens would chase her across LV594's desert in the bright afternoon light with little trouble and do everything in their power to mow her down. Meaning that fact did not help with the added knowledge that she was currently being silently stalked. Quietly, Justice skirted the dome building making her way to the giant square-shaped building about four hundred yards away, all the while constantly scanning her surroundings, trying to find the eyes that watched her.
Five days now, she had been awake for five days straight. Pausing, Justice crouched near a large scraggy bush near a covered corridor. Even in her borrowed mask, Justice narrowed her eyes at the gale of gusting wind tearing through the sandy terrain and pulled the makeshift shield tighter over Larsa's little body. When it all happened, Justice had been working her shift in the primigenius lab. Just as she always did, Justice had brought Larsa to work with her, letting the baby sit in her portable playpen while Justice documented and cared for the gigantic animals. With her extensive knowledge in predacious species behavior, working with docile mammoth primigenius was on the surface very out of the ordinary. Although, between the gentleness of the gigantic beasts and the quiet solitude of her job, the slow, peaceful life she established had helped her begin to heal. Justice had felt the improvements within her, she had felt her fractured confidence mend and the weight of her guilt become more bearable--but now all of that was gone. One person's fuck up had cost her and every one of this planet everything. Their costly error had reverted her back to exactly what she had been trying to distance herself from.
Thankfully, Larsa's baby bag had her harness in it, and with the calling feature on her gun, it had taken only a few minutes for her gun to come flying across the colony, nothing standing in the path of the rifle's anti-matter rounds until it landed securely in her grip. Within the first hour of the xenomorphs assault on LV594, three more of its kind spawned and matured, and it didn’t take long for Justice to encounter one. Making sure to avoid hitting the carapace, she had set the rounds of her anti-matter rifle to vacuous warped shots. Each round of the sparkling black anti-matter hitting and obliterating the target while pulling in the acidic blood into its warp, preventing the dangerous spray-back. Cleaning out the shiny black carapace and shaping it, Justice attached it over the front of her harness, shielding Larsa. It was a foul and ugly looking piece of armor, but she had little choice. There was only one thing that repelled the xenomorph acid, and that was the glossy black hide of xenomorph skin. Protecting Larsa from any face-hugger or acidic spray-back was all that mattered.
Now, the only thing Justice needed was her goddamn suit.
Pausing outside of the foggy translucent dome of the corridor, Justice picked up the sounds of footsteps--human footsteps. Pushing herself back into the dry brush, she watched as two people ran hunkered down, their heads swiveling right and left as they skittered across the long corridor. Justice simply watched. They were headed towards the dorms as well. Did they seek the safety of their rooms, thinking they could hole up in there until help arrived? Or were they trying to get back to their rooms in hopes of reaching a comms unit so that they could hail for help? Justice watched as they disappeared from sight, her face impassive. Either way, they were dead, she surmised. Help was not coming.
A direct competitor of the Weyland-Yutani, the Undul corporation who owned and operated LV594, would not waste one penny sending out a rescue operation for this lost cause. Pulling up her holo-data interface in the palm of her hand, Justice pulled up a map of the dorms. The two survivors would probably try going up the service elevators on the right or the stairwell on the left, avoiding the main elevator in the middle. Looking up to the sky, Justice could see the rivulets of dark gray stretch across the sky as the sun began to recede. While there was still light out, she would use the outside access ladder. Tilting her head up, she scanned the side of the tall building. It may be twenty stories, but that sure as hell beat making her way to her dorm through the darkened halls. With her rifle set to the vacuous warp mode, it meant the shots were slower, meaning if she was swarmed suddenly with Larsa strapped to her chest and her without her suit--she would be fucked. Taking a deep breath, Justice partially stood, feeling the blood rush in her head and the fatigue of her body threaten the normal grace of her movements. She had never gone this long without sleep before. Even with the enhancements to her body, she was still human-deep down, she did require sleep occasionally. But that occasion wasn't now.
She had to get back to her dorm. Everything she needed was in there, sitting in a big black case waiting for her--calling to her. A case she had not turned to in months, a case she had purposely locked--like an idiot. Ignoring the hair raising tingle on the back of her neck as someone or something watched her, Justice pressed forward towards her only chance at survival.
by Katerina Winters
Happy Thanksgiving
#yautja#yautja fanfiction#yautja love#yautja smut#predator#predator love#sexy predator#predator fanfiction#teratophilia#writings#katerina winters#monster romance#monster boyfriend#monster love#Monster
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Predator: Huntress Alpha
Synopsis:
She was out of options. She needed help, a concept that was once alien to her. But with her pride stripped away and guilt weighing her down, she no other choice. If not for her, then she would do it for the sake of her child. Silent and begrudging the hunter offered her his help, curiosity scoring through the back of his mind. There was something not right about the human, something he would get answers to.
Chapter 1:
With her back pressed to the wall, Justice controlled her breathing and listened to the sounds of the group of people she was running with pass her by. Something had seemed wrong when she scanned the ship ahead. Relief should have flooded her nervous system with endorphins at the sight of the ship--the last ship on LV549. But her instincts had burned hot and bright in the back of her brain, forcing her to clutch the bundle at her chest tighter and veer suddenly off course. Some of the people she had been running with slowed and gave her a frantic questioning look before snatching their gazes away impatiently, their will to survive demolishing any sort of camaraderie they may have had as they sprinted towards the ship.
Looking down at the round pair of innocent eyes nestled between her breasts, Justice slipped her hand through the makeshift carapace shield and ran her fingers lovingly across the tiny warm scalp and the black silken curls covering it. Turning her head to the side, Justice looked back up towards the hangar as the group of survivor's footsteps tromped noisily against the metal bridge. It was too quiet. After days and days of inhuman screeching and the very human cries of terror and agony coating the air of LV594, now all of a sudden it was quiet? Now the last drop ship on the planet was just an island of safety, docked serenely at the hangar? Like hell it was, Justice thought with a sneer of anger, her own flare of hope she foolishly let ignite guttering and snuffing out entirely with her anger. Not bothering to wait for the inevitable, she clutched the bundle to her chest tighter and raised the rifle with the other, and ran in the opposite direction.
She was crossing the narrow catwalk that bordered the underside of the bridge that led back towards the colony's storage facilities when the screams started. Running faster and quieter, Justice pulled the shitty tech's helmet back over her face. It wasn't her helmet, but it was getting the job done. Out of the seven hundred plus colonists that lived on this planet, Justice was almost certain only a tiny fraction of that were still alive--for now. All of them now half-dead hosts for the invading force that arrived on a distressed ship that wasn't properly quarantined. Slipping onto the storage facility's ladder, Justice awkwardly shouldered the gun while keeping a comforting hand on the squirming bundle of life strapped to her chest and made her way up. Going inside the building was no longer an option. A lot of things were no longer an option, she mentally snorted in disgust.
For four days since she activated the planet's alarm, sleep had not been an option. For four fucking days, she had been stuck on one side of the colony, away from the dorms where everything she needed was stored. Between running through the day, avoiding the main corridors that were rife with monsters and their face-hugging fucking spawn, and stopping to feed her own doe-eyed spawn, she was down to only one option. The option that was now no longer an option she could avoid, and what she had wanted nothing more to do since the moment she saw the slick black surface of the xenomorph's head appear on the camera. On the storage building's roof, Justice crouched and stared out at the colony below. Like the legs of a spider, the corridors branched out towards silver domed structures, each one different in their purpose: the main engineering hub, the common areas, sanitation, various science labs, greenhouses, logistics, and namely the dorms.
If she could get to her dorm then get through to the labs where half a dozen escape pods still sat uncompromised, she could get off this swarming planet. But the labs were no doubt a thriving hive nest by now. Justice imagined the bodies of the science officers plastered to the walls covered in sticky, pellucid xenomorph secretions, and she let out a steady breath. Justice would need her suit in her dorm if they were going to make it through that. With her suit and her gun, she would carve her way through that nest in seconds. Taking a deep breath, she looked to the benign-looking dorms in the distance. Also most likely rife with serpent-like aliens, just waiting for her to fall for the human lure of comfort and safety their domiciles provided, just like they waited in hiding at the drop-ship behind her. Intelligent and hungry, the disgusting creatures had laid a trap for the last group of survivors. Looking down at her chest, Justice stared into the silent infant's familiar brown eyes, and she felt the diaminium skeletal frame in her body harden as her mind formulated a plan.
One way or another, she was going to get her daughter off this planet.
by katerina winters
#yautja#yautja love#yautja fanfiction#yautja smut#teratophilia#monster boyfriend#monster romance#monster love#predator#predator love#sexy predator#predator smut#predator fanfiction#huntress alpha#katerina winters
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The Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 7
"You're not focused. Again!" Geralt barked as he held the wooden sword with both hands, readying to attack her once again.
Wiping the sweat off her face with the back of her sleeve, Ciri exhaled and bent her knees slightly as she prepared herself for the oncoming attack.
He was right, she was not focused whatsoever. Ever since she was awoken by the witcher's deep rumbling voice to wake up and get dressed she had been lost in her thoughts. She watched him dress, wash, and eat; all the basic preparations for the day as if nothing monumental happened last night. His gaze did not shy away from hers nor did it settle on her with a familiar warmth like she hoped it would. Geralt did none of the things one might expect would happen after events akin to last night, today was treated like any other day--she was his ward and he was her teacher and guardian.
Lifting her wooden sparring sword at the last possible second, she deflected his first blow and spun around to deliver her own. He deflected it. Stepping back, she quickly scanned her next point of assault while keeping an eye on his movements, but her thoughts strayed yet again.
He must regret what happened between them last night, Ciri concluded with a pang of hurt in her chest. What she thought was monumental and wonderful was probably just a monumental mistake to him.
Sidestepping his oncoming swing, she noticed his disapproving grimace. He wanted her to attack and successfully deflect all his attacks, not to evade. Well, he wasn't the only one disappointed. The anger that had been churning in the base of her stomach all day, from the time they left the inn and until they finally stopped in this sunny glade, dispersed into her veins and filled her with a jolt of chaotic energy.
Watching him raise his sword over his head to deal out a painful blow, Ciri's eyes met his and narrowed. For the briefest second, she registered the surprise in his amber eyes just before it was overshadowed by realization. With barely a flick of her wrist she met his sword high above her head with her own and planted her foot in the center of his stomach and pushed. Power from deep within, white hot and foreign pulsed through her sending Geralt sliding back a few feet. Blinking in fearful confusion, Ciri stood there frozen to the spot as she registered what just happened. Frightened she looked up to Geralt, ready to see his disgust and anger at the revealed secret.
Geralt looked at her with a small smirk. "I was wondering when I would see your power."
"You knew," she whispered, barely finding her voice over the slow fading fear and rising confusion.
Tapping the long wooden sword uninterestedly on the toe of his shoe, Geralt nodded. "I assume it is why the Nilfgaard wants you so badly. Power of any sort is always sought. Power like yours and power like your mother's," he added in a tone so soft and so oddly reverent for the white haired warrior that it caused the back of her eyes to sting with threatened tears as he continued. "is especially prized."
"I…my grandmother told me to tell no one about it."
Geralt nodded solemnly. "That is good advice. The man who brags about a pocket full of gold is the man that is sure to get robbed later."
Ciri couldn’t stop the smile at her lips at his random use of sage quotes. The man was filled with unusual sayings and proverbs that mostly sounded as if they came from an old drunkard sitting in a bar too long.
"Until you are properly trained on how to channel and use that power, it would be best if you avoid getting angry," he informed her matter-of-factly.
The smile she wore faded into a scowl as she let his words sink in. Taking a step forward she pointed her sword accusingly at the large white haired bastard. "How dare you tell me not to get angry after…after…what you did last night!"
Geralt flinched slightly at her words. His back seemed to straighten even more so than usual making his chest seem bigger in that moment as he stared down at her, regret flashing through his amber eyes.
"Last night…" he began.
Ciri resisted the urge to shut her eyes as she braced for the words of regret. She didn’t want to hear them, she didn’t want to be something or someone this man regretted. The image of his steely eyes staring at her with purposeful intensity last night as he rocked her against him until she found her ultimate please was the image she wanted to keep in her mind forever.
"Last night," he repeated. "I lost control of myself," he explained gruffly while stepping forward to close the short distance between them. "You are my ward, that should not have happened."
Though she expected such words it still hurt all the same to hear him actually say them aloud.
Giving a firm nod she began to turn on her heel, to walk away, but stopped. Looking back up at him, she swiped a wayward strand of her ashen hair from her sweaty face and gave him a pained look of acceptance. "I understand," she managed to whisper out. "But I will not lie and say I did not enjoy what happened last night despite my initial shock." She could see her words hit him like a bolt to the chest, as he inhaled sharply, his glittering eyes focusing on her as she continued. "And I will not lie to myself and say I would not want it to happen again."
"Ciri…" Geralt's gruff voice attempted to cut her off, to stop her from further admission but Ciri pressed on as if she didn't hear him.
"I love you Geralt," she inwardly noted how his eyes widened a fraction at the sudden confession. "Maybe that is naïve, maybe it's purely based on the fact that you saved me when I needed you most but I honestly don't care what the reasons are. I know that I do and I know that I do not want to regret last night nor would I regret your touch in the future."
Turning before he could say anything further, she walked over to camp trying her best to ignore the pounding of her heart with each step.
~*
That night as they settled down at their camp within the forest, near a large grouping of mossy boulders silence stretched between them. Not since her confession earlier had words been spoken. Roach was brushed and cared for, blades were sharpened and cleaned, the fire started and food cooked, all done without a word. Taking the small cast iron pot from over the fire Ciri sat it down next to her. The water inside simmered from its boil and slowly cooled as she prepared herself. With the large rocks at her back and Geralt's silent presence to her left Ciri dipped her cloth carefully into the small pot of hot water. Loosening her shirt from her pants and undoing the top ties, Ciri discreetly removed her undergarment from beneath the shirt and extracted it through the sleeve. Casting a furtive glance to the witcher, Ciri was relieved and simultaneously annoyed to find him leaning back against the mossy stone with one knee drawn up and bent and his eyes closed.
Running her fingers through her loose hair, she pushed the ashen mass of silken hair to her left shoulder as she carefully grabbed the cloth. Running the hot, wet cloth over her arms she wiped away the day's sweat and grime. Dipping the cloth back into the hot water, she squeezed out the access water listening as the slight splash of water splashed like a deluge in the silence of their camp. Occasional pops and crackling from the fire along with the sounds of nocturnal birds high above in the trees sounded deafening against the wall of silence erected between her and the witcher. Undoing the fastening of her trousers, Ciri froze for a second out of modesty before immediately stamping the feeling away. Who cared if he saw, let him see she thought angrily. Without a care, Ciri boldly pulled down her pants past her feet and laid them on the bed-roll next to her. Removing her last undergarment in the same manner, Ciri sat naked, dressed only in her long shirt. Turning back to the small pot of hot water she reached for her cloth again when she felt the weight of his gaze. A small gasp caught in her throat as she looked up to see Geralt staring directly at her.
For what felt like an eternity neither one of them moved, neither one breaking the shared look between them. Subtly, Geralt's gaze dropped down slowly tracing down the slender column of her neck and past her exposed collarbone until lingering on the rise of her breasts against the fabric. Inflamed by his questing gaze, her body reacted, her nipples stiffening against the rough fabric of her shirt while gooseflesh covered her arms. Shakily, she grabbed the wet cloth again, doing her best not to let him see how much he was affecting her. It felt like a game--no, a war---she corrected. It felt like there was a war of wills taking place right now and she was on the verge of losing. Bringing the cloth to her legs, she finally tore her gaze from his and began wiping down each leg. Starting with her foot, she let the cloth run up her ankle and past her knee before dipping the cloth back into the water. Glancing up, her heart sped up at the sight of the witcher watching her movements with barefaced intensity. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he watched the wet cloth in her hand trace up her thigh. Emboldened by his gaze, Ciri subtly shifted atop her bedroll until she faced him directly. Dipping the cloth back into the now barely warm water she parted her legs just enough to allow her hand to pass between. Geralt's sudden intake of breath wasn't lost on her as she faced the warrior exposing only the barest peek of herself as she continued to bathe. With the length of her shirt and the position of her outstretched bent legs she knew that even his unnatural keen gaze would have to work hard to see past the shadows her shirt created. Gliding the cloth to the juncture of her thighs Ciri could not resist the unbearable pull to look back up at him. Amber eyes clashed with hers as Geralt met her gaze with a silent threatening challenge. As if commanding her to finish the game she started, Ciri suppressed a shudder that ran through her. Parting her legs further at the silent command, she watched him lift his chin and exhale deeply as he stared at the hidden spot between her legs. Flicking his gaze back up to hers, he issued another unspoken command with his sharp gaze. Ciri's body throbbed at the new turn her game was taking. No longer in control, her body was overly sensitive and charged with an indescribable current of heat. Complying with his wordless wish, she moved the cloth between her slick folds and cleaned herself as his eyes missed nothing. With each pass of the rough cloth a shudder passed through her. If she continued Ciri was positive she could bring herself to that undefinable moment she experienced last night in Geralt's arms, she could lean back and ride this feeling until she was limp and gasping. But that was not what she wanted. Suddenly dropping the cloth, Ciri moved the pot aside thus calling an end to this game. She had wanted him to say something, to do something, anything to show her that last night wasn't a mistake and that he really did care for her but she should have known better. Playing chicken with the witcher was a losing battle, a lesson she learned tonight.
Frustrated in more ways than one, Ciri began pulling out her blanket.
"Go to sleep, we have a long ride tomorrow," Geralt's voice thicker sounding than usual, halted her.
Anger flared to life inside of her. "Got to sleep," those were the same words he told her last night. What was she, a child to him?! Beyond angry she stood up abruptly, ignoring the brief look of shock in his eyes. Stepping over to him Ciri tossed her hair over her shoulder with a jerk of her head as she stepped one foot over his legs, straddling him.
"Ciri…" he began either in question or in warning, she did not know nor did she wait to find out.
Lowering herself abruptly to his legs, she forced him to straighten his bent knee to accommodate her. Face to face now, she glared at him with tears glittering her eyes. "If I were to kiss you," she said taking in the fine line of his firm set mouth and the agitated ticking muscle in his clenched jaw. "You would not kiss me back would you?"
Geralt said nothing, his fiery amber gaze was like molten steel. Anger, self control, and something else she could not quite label swirled within warning her to tread carefully.
Nodding at his unspoken answer Ciri looked down in defeat. "I don’t understand, why touch me like that why give me what I know you knew I wanted. Why look at me just now as if you wanted to devour me and then treat me like a child a moment later?"
Staring down at her hands braced on top of each of his thighs, Ciri waited for a reply but received nothing. Tears ran down her face and seeped into the fabric of his pants. Bracing herself to push herself up and off, Ciri was startled by the sudden grip at her thigh. Looking up she gave the witcher a questioning look.
"You have everything ahead of you," his tone was so deep and quiet Ciri felt as if her heart had stopped beating along with the forest quieting just to ensure she didn't miss a word. Cocking his head slightly to the side he gave her an imploring look, wanting her to understand. "You have the bloodline to lead nations and powers we know nothing about. You are destined for greatness, not to a life with a half human."
She didn't care about any of that, didn't he know that. Shaking her head she tried to argue. "But…"
His grip on her thigh tightened and she was startled to feel herself being drug forward until her bare flesh sat atop the hard rise of his groin. They both released a small groan at the contact.
Closing his eyes as if to gather his remaining control, Geralt opened them and stared at her with renewed determination. "I cannot kiss you Ciri, it will undo everything I am working hard to prevent. You are my ward and I am your guardian, there can be nothing more."
"Please Geralt," she spoke gently. Lifting one hand up she softly stroked back a lock of his white hair from is face, tucking it behind his ear. "I don't…"
Wrapping his arms around her back, he pulled her even tighter to his hard chest forcing her cheek to rest against his shoulder. "Go to sleep, Ciri."
#
His life was a living hell. Geralt closed his eyes for a moment trying to gather himself for a moment before opening them back up to look at the path ahead of them. Walking along a long-forgotten mountain trail, Geralt inwardly cursed at himself to focus. Last night he got no sleep. With her astride his lap he spent the entire night focusing on the moist spot resting just above his rock hard cock. He fantasized about letting his hands glide up her thighs and under her shirt so that he could caress her naked flesh again. The memory of her firm but soft ass in his hands that night at the inn would haunt him until he died. Last night, Geralt had watched her sleep against his shoulder wanting more than anything to snatch off that fucking shirt from her and plunge himself into her warmth. He imagined her shocked cries as he drove himself in and out of her tight cunt and nearly groaned aloud at the picture. It was the delicate little moan that came from her throat and the shift in her sleep against him that nearly tore his control apart. Laying her carefully down next to him, Geralt spent the remainder of the night remembering his training and enacting his the old tenants of self discipline--anything to keep his thoughts and hands at bay.
Now he sat atop Roach like a zombie as they rode through the mountain pass.
"Wait…I recognize this," her voice rang out from behind him, her arms stiffening around his waist. "Are we…are we going back---back to the cottage?!"
The excitement in her voice soothed some of the hard edges of his mood. Turning his head until he could catch a glimpse of her from his right eye he smirked.
"Yes, I figured we go back to complete more of your training at least until the Nilfgaard army moves further away," he explained. Talking to Thomas from the inn and a few other men around town, he knew the Nilfgaard presence was still too near in these parts. There were scouts and small squadrons everywhere listening and waiting for news of Ciri. "And when they do, we will travel to Kaer Morhen to finish out your studies properly."
The grip around him tightened. "Thank you Geralt, thank you so much."
Turning back ahead, Geralt tried to ignore the guilt as he endured her hug against his back. There was nothing to thank him for, nothing at all. He was her guardian and he had watched her with blatant lust that night she fell asleep in the bath. Wet and transparent the strips of cloth she had used to cover herself did nothing but entice him more. Somewhere along the way of carrying her from the tub and dressing her in one of his shirts his control snapped. Maybe it was the slight jiggle of her petite breasts and rosy nipples or maybe it was the sight of her beautiful cunt with the same sprinkling of ashen color hair--he didn't know or care, he was too far gone. That night he watched her come in his arms, he watched her break apart and call out his name at once. It was the night he may as well had sold his soul to the underworld because he could never go back to what they once had, not without pain on both their parts.
Grabbing her hand that was settled around his waist he brought it up to his lips and inhaled, he could feel the flutter of her pulse at the action. "Don’t thank me Ciri."
#
Though the route back to the cottage was the same, the journey was most decidedly not. A sexual tension so thick and alluring had settled over them Ciri often found herself out of breath and tingling with awareness. Small touches, stolen glances here and there, or knowing she was being watched each time she bathed it all added up to a long insidious torture. Her only saving grace was that Geralt was merciful enough not to allow this unspoken tension that existed between them to affect their friendship. All it took was for her to pose a silly question or a make a snarky quip and they were back immediately just like it was before the night at the inn, arguing and talking as if nothing ever happened. It was only when the silence settled between them that the sexual tension crept back in.
Walking along the crest of a large hill that overlooked a sloping valley, Ciri walked along side of Roach and Geralt. Having got down from the horse to relieve herself she decided to stretch out her sore muscles with a walk. Riding on the back of a horse all day was probably one of the most tiring things in the world. Looking down at the brown grass with various patches of snow still clumped on the ground she peered down to the frigid looking river below that lined the narrow valley. It would snow again soon and next time it would not stop. The realization only made her all the more glad they were heading back to their warm, comfy cottage.
Raising her arms above her head in a stretch, Ciri arched her back with a groan before letting her arms flop back to her sides. "What if the cottage is taken already by someone else?" she asked worriedly, the images of her their cottage filled with other people making her angry.
"Then we move on and find another place to lay low for a while," his tone was so nonchalant it bothered her.
How could he be so cavalier about their wonderful cottage being taken by someone else? She opened her mouth to ask why they couldn’t just run these people off but she quickly closed it. Sneaking a glance up at him, she frowned at the knowing look in his gaze. He knew exactly what she was going to say and knew exactly why she stopped herself. Arrogant man, she thought with a curse. No, running anybody off would just raise suspicion. They would undoubtedly run to the nearest tavern any tell their story to anyone willing to listen which would eventually cross the ears of a Nilfgaard scout. It simply wasn't worth it.
As if sensing her dismay at the possibility of their cottage being usurped, Geralt spoke. "The cottage is well hidden and has been abandoned for a long while, I have no doubts it will be just as we left it when we return."
"I hope so," she sighed.
After a few more minutes of walking a long howl broke the silence. Looking to the copse of trees in the distance Ciri looked up to Geralt who halted Roach. Though it was still reasonably bright out, dusk was only a few hours away and wolves didn't need the cloak of night to attack.
"Come," Geralt commanded deeply as he extended his hand. "I would rather not kill any wolves I do not have to."
Taking his hand she expected him to guide her behind him like he always did but this time she felt him swing her ahead of him, forcing her to lift one leg high over Roach's head so that she could sit astride the saddle. Nestled snugly between the saddle's horn and Geralt, Ciri tilted her head back and gave Geralt a confused look.
Geralt said nothing simply raised a brow.
Looking at the serious witcher in this upside down manner made a smile break out across her lips. Closing her eyes in a small laugh she leaned her head back against the witcher's chest as he urged Roach to continue walking. Glancing back up at him as her laughter faded her heart lurched at the unreadable look he gave her. Something intense and akin to wonder passed through his golden gaze that made her open her mouth to inquire, but she stopped herself. Looking back forward, Ciri kept the question on her tongue at bay as her thoughts swirled within her head. With just a glance this man could send her thoughts into a chaotic spin. He was just so blasted confusing! In one moment he looked at her as if she were simply his foolish and naïve ward that occasionally entertained him and then there were other times, albeit rare, that he looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen--like now. She just wished she knew what she was supposed to do to get him to look at her like that all the time, she thought with a heavy sigh.
Keeping Roach in a slow walk along the muddy wet hills, they slowly made there way along the edge of the valley.
After some time, the comfortable silence was broken between. Point a hand beyond them to their left, Geralt spoke. "About forty miles down that way was the forest where we were attacked by the fleders," he informed her.
"And that horrid town of depression," she added, scrunching up her nose at the memory.
"Mmm," Geralt made a deep noise of agreement.
With his left hand returned to Roach's reins Ciri let her gaze focus on it. Strong and callused, his hands told a story all on their own. Old scars discolored the skin while his knuckles were darkened over years of battering use. Unbidden memories of the night in the inn resurfaced in her mind and she recalled the way his large hands felt gripping her ass and squeezing her flesh. Closing her eyes briefly, Ciri let herself bask in the memory while imagining what it would have felt like for those hands to have explored her body further.
Absently she watched his grip around the leather reins tighten. It wasn't until she felt his free arm come around her waist hugging her tighter to his front did she shake from her thoughts.
"Did you know that I can sense when your thoughts turn to me?" Geralt's voice rumbled deeply against her back.
Freezing, Ciri sat stiffly in the saddle as they moved.
Seeing that she was not going to reply right away Geralt continued, his voice slow and easy as if each word was edged with an arrogant smirk. "Like a tang that hits the air, your arousal delicately glides past my senses trying not to be caught, but I catch it every time."
By now her breathing had become much more labored as she tried not to focus on the embarrassing meaning of his words. Shifting slightly in her seat she wanted to groan at the glaring truth of it all--she was aroused. Throbbing and heated, her sex yearned for the same stimulation he gave her in the inn. She wanted to feel that unbearable build up again, she thought. She wanted to look into Geralt's amber eyes and know that he wanted it just as much as she did.
Gathering the remaining shreds of her pride she straightened against him. "Why would you assume I am thinking of you?" she said haughtily. "I have met many warriors, princes, and knights that are pleasing to look at, so if I were I would not presume…"
Her words were cut off with a small cry of shock as his hand snaked its way between the fabric of her pants until he reached the hot center of her desire. Pushing away the fabric of her under garment with skilled ease his thick fingers delved into her slick folds causing her to arch and nearly lift off from the seat at the sudden invasion. Taking the opportunity she gave him, Geralt slipped his middle finger into her entrance.
"geralt," Ciri cried out at the mind numbing feeling. Never before had she been touched here, it was odd and intrusive although not entirely unwelcome.
His thick callused finger felt rough against the small opening sending arcs of fear up her spine.
Sensing her needs, Geralt pulled his fingers back up letting it ghost delicately over her folds. Teasing and light, Ciri found his new movements frustrating. She needed more than this, more pressure more--
Her thoughts were expelled from her mind as she let out a deep moan. Finding the source of her heat, the pad of Geralt's finger brushed over the sensitive nubbin of nerves hidden within her slick folds. Toying with it, Geralt circled the pearl of her sex in soft circular motions making her shift restlessly against him in the saddle.
What a sight they made, she thought deep within the recesses of her mind. Walking along the cliffs at and even gait anyone would see the large white haired witcher with his arm crossed over a girl at his front as she writhed and moaned in his grasp.
"Please," she begged in a tortured moan. Ciri had no clue what she was asking for but she just needed…needed him to do more.
Tilting her head back she met his fiery amber gaze.
"Now tell me again Ciri," his voice was low and savage as his slicked fingers began to bat at her clit driving new desperate sounds from her throat. "tell me who you were thinking of?"
With her pride forgotten in her madness she gave him a beseeching look. "Please Geralt! I was only thinking of you," she cried.
Dark satisfaction glowed in his eyes as he cupped her sopping sex roughly. Lifting her in the saddle until she no longer sat flush against it Geralt inserted a middle digit inside her entrance before setting her back down. With his thumb at her clit and a digit pushed into her dripping passage, Geralt kicked the horse into a trot.
The torture intensified immediately. Clutching at his arm that was wrapped around her front Ciri let out a series of small cries as the combined movements of the horse and his hand worked against her. Each step brought her down and up against his finger sinking them deeper and deeper as his thumb batted shyly at her clit avoiding the full pressure she craved from it. Faster the horse was spurred on into a gallop and her cries intensified until she was sure they rang out into the valley below. Pressing her hips further into his hand Ciri's body locked in an intense spasm as euphoric waves crashed against her body and darkeness crept around the edges of her mind.
Trembling and exhausted Ciri felt herself slump against the witcher's arm as he slowly pulled his hand from her pants. Shifting her slightly in his arms so that she rested on his other arm holding the reins Geralt brought his glistening hand to his mouth. Eyes wide, Ciri watched in stunned silence as he brought his fingers to his mouth licking each one.
#
It took them nearly a week to stop in a small town. It was a town they had avoided on their initial journey from the cottage but were stopping at now. Geralt had told her it would take them only a few days once they leave the town to get to their cottage and they needed supplies. More than excited for the prospect of reaching their destination soon, Ciri let the thoughts of a warm bed and a hot bath push away the constant thoughts of frustration she had been feeling for days now. Ever since that afternoon he touched her while riding, their relationship was right back to their odd quasi friendship with an undertone of sexual hunger. She hated every damn minute of it.
Keeping her hood down, as Geralt instructed, she walked behind the witcher as he led her and Roach through the muddy streets of the town. The place was called Meerdol which roughly translated to "soggy marsh" a name that could not be more accurate for this sad town. Though the sun was shining it seemed as if the bleak little town naturally expelled any rays of sunshine away leaving it grey and muted everywhere.
Giving the man who ran the stables a couple coin, Geralt led them inside. Although very large, Ciri could only hear a couple muffled snuffles meaning that there were only two or three horses in their stall. Turning to the white haired man she waited for his instruction.
"I want you to stay here while I go gather supplies and information," his naturally grim voice held a note of authority underneath that went well with the firm look in his eyes.
Putting her hands on her hips she ignored his attempt to forestall her anger and glared at him.
Geralt at the courtesy to wince ever so slightly at the oncoming attack.
"Why must I stay here in the barn?!" she hissed. "While you get to go out and no doubt drink at the tavern in the name of "information gathering" while I molder about in here?"
She could see the muscle in his jaw tick and his lips tighten as he suppressed the urge to grin. "Because dear princess," he whispered just as harshly back at her. "You are a highly sought after young woman, I would think the answer as to why you and I cannot traipse hand and hand around town stock hoarding supplies and casually asking about the Nilfgaard army would be obvious."
Her arguments jumbled in her mind as she tried to think of something that she could retort back with--but nothing came to mind.
Raising one brow in apparent satisfaction at his victory, Geralt stepped back. "I will be back. Stay here and out of sight," handing her the horse's reins he walked away.
Using every curse word she ever heard Ciri grumbled to herself as she backed Roach into a stall in the back and gave him a wild carrot they had in the pouch.
Glancing up to the hayloft and the ladder that led down from it she let out a sigh. Was this how it was going to be from here on out? Why couldn’t Geralt just admit he liked her or at the very least liked touching her? His hot and cold attitude was driving her crazy.
"Ciri…are you in here?" The unfamiliar whisper sounding from the front of the barn stopped her blood. That was not Geralt's voice.
Sinking further into the darkness of the stable, Ciri thanked the heavens that the owner had not thought to open the back door. Using the darkness to her advantage she waited as the steps from the front came closer.
"Ciri are you…What the--!" The boy's words were cut off at the pressure of her blade against his throat.
Having had waited until the figure approached her shadowed spot, Ciri only needed to step out at just the right time so that she stood at his back with her arm reaching up and around his neck with her knife.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice lower and deadlier than even she expected.
With both of his hands raised in the air in a sign of surrender the boy turned his head nervously over his shoulder to look her way. "It's me," he whispered loudly. "Sulik…" Met with only silence he quickly continued. "You stayed at my house a while back, Yurga is my dad and my mom--"
"Goldencheeks," Ciri finished his sentence in a soft voice, remembering the kind woman fondly. Lowering her blade she stepped aside. "What are you doing here?"
Turning around, Sulik dropped his hands and gave her a hopeful ut nervous look. "I…I…I just came to see you is all. Swear!" He added at her suspicious glare. "I saw the white haired witcher walking into town while I was emptying the water barrels and I saw the smaller person next to him with their hood up and figured it was you."
She snorted, forgetting that this boy was indeed taller than her. "I'm not that much smaller," she said pridefully with a lift of her chin.
He smiled warily. "What are you two doing here anyhow, you should be long gone from this area there are spies for Nilfgaard everywhere."
"We took a job not too far from here clearing out a town infested with monsters," she lied easily, still watching him with narrowed eyes for any possible deceit.
Nodding with wide eyes, he looked at her with a mixture of shock and fascination. As if catching himself for showing such raw unguarded emotion, Sulik sniffed and stood straighter, obviously puffing up his narrow chest a bit more. "Well, dad has me working for the blacksmith in this shit town, he says I need a trade I can rely on in all times whether peace or war."
Nodding she said nothing.
Unnerved by her silence, Sulik shifted on his feet. "Are you hungry? I was just about to eat. I can bring you some food and drink," he gave her an imploring look. Ciri could easily see he wanted her to say yes. For some reason she got the feeling the boy might be lonely, which wouldn’t be surprising to hear in this miserable little town.
Thinking of Geralt's parting words, she suspected the withcer would not be returning quickly. Lifting one shoulder in a shrug she gave Sulik a tired smile. "Sure, why not."
It only took the boy a few minutes to run and fetch the small sack of food. A bottle of cheap wine that burned with every sip, a crusty loaf of bread, and a few generous slices of ham were there only options.
Sitting in the hayloft above the horse stalls they both sat cross legged with the food spread out between them. Since a lamp would be far too dangerous to have in a hayloft they used the open hayloft door to usher in the much need light from the dying sun.
"So, tell me how has it been travelling with a witcher. He's trained you I gathered," he said nodding to her sword she had laid carefully at her side.
Taking only a nibble of the ham, she gave Sulik a quizzical stare as she examined him. "I thought you hated me," she said changing the subject.
Taken aback Sulik's narrow shoulders stiffened. "I…"
Immediately feeling bad for the boy, Ciri smiled and waved off the tension with a warm laugh. "I am just teasing you, I know you were just mad I suddenly showed up in your life--or your room to be exact," she pointed out in which he replied with an embarrassed smile. "Bringing not only a sudden change to your quiet life but possibly danger. I get it, truly."
Tension eased from his frame and he gave her a warm look of grateful understanding, something she was not expecting. "I'm sorry I acted that way it was childish and mean. I just…I just had so much going on at that time. Trying my best to look after my mom alone, all the while worrying about my father and brother hoping."
Nodding she took a small bite of break along with a sip of the burning wine. She didn’t want to eat too much of his food. Her and Geralt ate well each night but by the looks of this town she was not so sure she could say the same for Sulik.
"So, are you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" She feigned innocence, making a show of tearing apart her tiny slice of bread.
"How is it travelling with the witcher? Is training hard? Is he a tough teacher?"
Ciri could tell that these rapid-fire questions were only the beginning of the mountain of questions that gleamed in his eyes back at her.
Scooting back to lean against the wall of the barn she moved her sword along with her before finally looking to Sulik.
"Honestly, it's everything I could have ever wanted," she admitted with a heavy sigh letting her gaze focus on the dark rafters of the roof. "I am safe, cared for, and taught new things everyday; I honestly cannot imagine where I would be without him."
"I have to say that is quite surprising to hear about the half-human," Sulik retorted in a huff.
Ciri's ashen brows knitted together in confusion as she stared at him. It seemed within seconds his mood had changed and she couldn't begin to understand why.
Seeing her confusion Sulik gave a quick shrug. "I mean, you know, comparing what you said to the rumors and all, I just find it surprising."
"And what rumors are those?" she inquired with a far too sweet voice edged in pure sarcasm. She was starting not to like his tone.
Sensing her change in mood Sulik looked at the hay covered floor in guilt. "Just that all the witcher's are sex crazed ruthless killers. They say it has something to do with their mutant changes they endured."
Ciri said nothing when he finally gathered the nerve to look up at her, she simply gave a him a look that suggested "is that it."
She watched as the flame of anger sparked in his eyes. "No doubt your wonderful witcher is probably holed up in the tavern right now with a few working women on his arm. I would be…."
"Is that what I am doing?"
The familiar voice rumbled from the darkness in the back of the loft causing them both to turn in surprise. Stepping out from the shadows, Geralt lazily let both hands rest casually on the low rafter above him. Ciri's breath caught at the sight of his muscular arms straining against the fabric of his shirt before trailing down the length of his tapered waist and strong thighs. Her mind was nearly lost at the sight of him, if it weren't for the heart stopping look of simmering anger she caught in his gaze.
Shaking herself out of her momentary lapse she looked to Sulik worriedly. Though she still could not stand the boy, she didn't want him to get throttled by Geralt just because he spouted off a few stupid rumors out of what she could only guess was jealousy. Though she had no clue why he would even be jealous. Maybe he was angry he had to work as a blacksmith while she got trained to hunt monsters. Dawning understanding settled over her as that answer made more and more sense. That must be it, she inwardly nodded. Understanding his anger now she felt for the boy even more now. Ciri couldn’t blame him, she wouldn’t want to be a sweaty blacksmith's apprentice either.
"Get your stuff and leave," Geralt growled low in his chest, stepping away from the rafter he used to rest against and step closer to the frozen boy. "And if you tell anyone of Ciri's presence I will find you--and gut you."
Both Ciri and Sulik blinked in shock for a second before Sulik hastily complied practically leaping from the loft to the stable ground and taking off through the door below.
Looking back up to Geralt, Ciri's blood stopped. The look in his eyes was still there.
"Umm…" she began, clearing her throat as she stood up. "He saw us when we came to town so…so he followed us and came in here looking for me."
Geralt didn't say anything, he let his fiery amber gaze sweep over her body making his own deductions. Apparently pleased with what he found or didn't find he turned and grabbed a sack he had hidden in the shadows before tossing it to her.
"Eat. Sleep. Tomorrow we leave."
#
The remainder of the journey was spent in miserable silence. Gone was the laughter, the illicit touches, or even the smiles. The next few days passed in a brutal silence that she could not conquer. After the first day she learned her lesson on trying to change the new routine. Twice she tried to confront him about his silent treatment since they left Meerdol and each time he grabbed her wooden sparring sword and tossed it to her, forcing her to fight and each time she landed hard on her butt with a wooden sword pointed at her throat.
It was the morning of the third day of their journey and they were getting close to the cottage. Ciri recognized the craggily forest terrain and knew soon they would have to dismount and walk the rest of they way just as they had done months before. Having walked away from their camp to relieve herself in privacy, Ciri now stood staring down at her shoes as tears fell from her eyes in thick rivulets. She wanted Geralt to speak. She wanted to know what she did wrong. Sniffing, Ciri suppressed a deep hitch that threatened to begin in her chest as she tried to restrain her crying. Was she not supposed to have spoken to Sulik? Maybe she wasn't supposed to speak to anyone as a witcher in training. Desperately she tried to remember if Geralt had said anything like that before but she couldn't remember. Maybe he thought she was making fun of him behind his back with Sulik. Ciri's heart twisted in pain at that thought. She would never do that, but if he came in at the wrong part of the conversation, maybe that is what anyone would think. She wanted to try to clear up the misunderstanding, to beg for his forgiveness but every attempt she made was met with a soul shattering flat stare.
Her senses suddenly tickled at the back of her neck causing her to turn around swiftly, her hand on the hilt of her sword. The forest was quiet. Morning sunlight speared through the trees around her, beautifully illuminating the dissipating morning fog slowly rising from the forest floor. There was no one around. Swiping the tears from her eyes she took a few deep breaths, composing herself, before walking back to camp.
Hours later with the sun higher in the sky, despite the still biting cold wind, they emerged from the tall wall of reeds and grass on the other side of the river. Across the river sat their cottage, quiet and desolate just how they left it. Leaving Roach to stand on the other side of the river she and Geralt carefully crossed the wooden bridge with their hands on their swords, ready for any possible attack. Opening the door to the cottage they stepped inside.
All was exactly how they left it. Despite the settled dust, nothing had changed and there were no signs of life. Ciri couldn't help but sigh with relief.
Exhaling deeply himself Geralt let a slow smirk play at his lips. "And you were worried for nothing."
Hesitantly she turned to him with a tired but hopeful look. "Does this mean you are no longer angry with me?"
A flash of guilt passed through his eyes before he masked it.
"Please Geralt," she pleaded, balling her hands in the fabric of her shirt anything to keep from reaching out to clutch onto him. "Please tell me what I did wrong. I know you were angry with me but…but I truly cannot stand your silence. You're…" the words threatened to fade on her tongue as tears formed in her eyes, but she pressed on wanting to be honest with herself and him. "You are all that I have. Please don’t take yourself away from me too."
Surprise and guilt intertwined like dancing flames in his eyes before immediately shuttering under the wither's cool control.
"I was angry I let that boy nearly compromise our position with Nilfgaard. I was angry I did not strangle the little cur when I had the chance and let him walk away still possibly posing a threat to our whereabouts," he began in a dangerous even tone.
Ciri opened her mouth to say that she did not think Sulik would do something like that but Geralt continued, cutting off her words of defense.
Steeping forward until she was forced to look up at him, Geralt grabbed her chin and gently held it as he tilted her face upward. "And I was angry I got jealous seeing you alone with a boy who obviously wanted your attention."
Ciri's drew together in confusion just as the shock and pleasure of his admission strummed through her veins. "I…I don’t think he…"
"Yes, he did. You were just too naïve to pick up on it," said with a shake of his head as he turned to exit the cottage.
Appalled, Ciri drew back as if she had been struck before immediately stomping after him. "I am not naïve!"
The tension that had settled on her shoulders ever since they left that godforsaken town behind finally lifted as she spent the remainder of the afternoon arguing off and on with the witcher while she cleaned out the living area and the two bedrooms at his request. Ciri couldn't deny the sharp pang of dread as she watched Geralt patch up the outer wall that connected to one of the tiny bedrooms. Unpacking all of their items from Roach's pack, Geralt led him to the small stable next to the house and removed the horse's saddle while she organized their goods in the larder. Shaking off the mattresses and placing them back onto their small bedframes, sweeping, and cooking a simple rabbit stew, the only meal she could make half way decent, Geralt began to bring in buckets of water from the river. Tonight, they would bathe, eat, and sleep in warmth as the cold winter wind turned no doubt into snow.
Pouring the last bucket of water into the large wooden bathing tub in the middle of the room, Geralt stepped back and checked the rocks he had heating inside the wood furnace. Stepping past him to check on the small loaf of bread she placed in the baker’s oven, Ciri couldn't help but stare at the domed oven dreamily. By the heavens she missed this place--or at the very least she missed hot bread. Living life like a witcher did not constitute itself to a hot bread every day. Meat and vegetables—yeah sure. Hot savory bread with butter and cinnamon on top--think again.
Ladling the soup into the wooden bowls, she sat them down on the wooden trunk they were using as a table. Adding more wood to the stove, Geralt turned and sat down on one side of the trunk while she sat on another.
"I hope it taste ok, I swear every time you force me to cook it comes out a little different," she laughed taking a spoon to the thick soup and scooping out a few vegetables and broth.
"Mmmm," Geralt intoned deeply as he pulled one bent leg up and held his bowl with one hand. "If it's not, then I will have to eat you."
Laughing mid-swallow, Ciri nearly choked on her food. "Firstly, I do not think I would taste very well," she rasped as she took a big swallow of water from her cup, completley missing the dark look of hunger that passed through the witcher's gaze. "And secondly, I think cannibalism is a rather harsh punishment for bland soup don’t you think?"
Geralt just gave a shrug as he spooned more soup apparently ok with the flavor.
Dipping some of her bread into the broth Ciri took a hearty bite as her thoughts focused more on his words. "I wonder what it feels like to be eaten?"
Geralt's sudden cough startled her. Worriedly she watched him set his bowl of nearly finished soup onto the table as he grabbed his own water.
Ciri waited until he stopped coughing to speak. "I am sorry," she laughed softly, feeling simultaneously bad and amused at the dark look he cast her. "I was just wondering what it would…"
"Yes," he rasped, his voice still rough from the choking fit. "I know, “what it would be like to be eaten,” I heard you."
Seeing that he was well enough to be a surly ass, Ciri resumed her thoughts as she took another bite of her bread. "Surely as a witcher you have come across cannibalism in your journeys. I bet it’s terrifying knowing that another human wants to dine on your flesh," she thought aloud warming up to this topic. "See, I can understand monsters wanting to eat me but a human is somehow terrifyingly different. …what?"
Looking over to him she was surprised to see the witcher wearing a wide grin.
Geralt shook his head. "Nothing, nothing at all." Leaning against the wall behind him, Geralt closed his eyes still wearing that smile that made her heart race. "Let's see, when was the last time I encountered a cannibal?" he gave a great sigh as he mentally went through the catalogs of his memories.
Serving him and herself a few more bowls of soup and the remainder of the small loaf of bread, Ciri listened to him recount his story with three cannibalistic witches.
Full and thoroughly entertained from the exciting story, Ciri had her arms crossed on top of the wooden chest and her head resting on top of her arms. Getting up, Geralt stretched before looking down at her with a waiting look.
"You have three seconds to decide if you want to bathe before me," he warned.
Closing her eyes with a wistful groan, Ciri pushed herself up to standing. "Fine, fine," she grumbled.
Geralt moved the chest back to the side of the room near the door while Ciri grabbed her soap, towel, and comb from her bag from the second small bedroom she begrudgingly designated as her own. Both rooms were identical and both pathetically small and even though he hadn't said anything as of yet she knew that he intended for them to sleep apart tonight. Ciri wouldn’t lie to herself and say she wasn't hurt by the new arrangement. One of the many reasons she wanted so desperately to be back here in this cottage, even if for just a little while, was to sleep in his arms once again. Out on the road, camping in the forest or rundown abandoned buildings Geralt always slept with his back against a wall while she laid down fully beside him. She wanted what they once had, to feel his overwhelming strength as he wrapped his muscular arms around her as she slept.
Setting her supplies down near the washing stool in the corner of the room, she began to undress. Gone was her shy modesty she had when they started this partnership together. She had bathed countless times by river, lake, pond, or the use of the small pot he had on his saddle pack and each time she had felt the witcher's gaze on her naked form.
Completley bare she sat down on the stool with her back to the living area. Her heart hammered in her chest despite her boldness. The room was so quiet, only the sounds of him moving to open the stove's grate and remove some of the scalding river stones from the flames echoed in the room. Running the bit of soapy cloth, she used to wash herself, over her arms and chest Ciri could swear with each breath she took the air became more charged with an undefinable energy. Finishing cleaning herself, Ciri entertained the idea of simply standing up and turning around in full view of the silent white-haired warrior but even her boldness had limits. Using the large swath of cloth she normally used as a towel, Ciri got up and turned holding the towel in front of herself. Her skin tightened into gooseflesh and her heart felt as if it skipped five beats as she felt the weight of the witcher's gaze on her. Not brave enough to look at him directly, she could see that he was seated on the floor again with his back to the wall. Stepping gingerly into the hot water she stood with her back to him, exposing her rear, as she removed the towel and lowered into the water.
The near scalding heat comforted her sore tired body as she relaxed into the water's depths. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of something to say but nothing could compete with the overwhelming comfort she was experience right now.
The warm touch to her shoulder jolted her from her state of euphoria. Blinking she turned her head to see Geralt now sitting behind her on the outside of the tub.
"Lean forward," the note of authority in his quiet tone made her shiver.
Following the gentle pressure of is hand, Ciri brought up her knees and leaned forward in the tub.
Taking the cloth from her hand, she could hear him rub the bar of soap across the fabric before pressing the warm wet towel to her back. Ciri sighed, the sound almost an inaudible moan though she knew the witcher heard. In slow torturous circles he massaged the soapy cloth into her back. Knotted muscles in her back worked away under the firm pressure of his touch. Her eyes rolled back behind her eyelids and Ciri feared she would let out another moan. Dipping the cloth into the water, he lifted it up at the top of her shoulders letting the warm water cascade down her ack to rinse off any residual soap. Hearing Geralt stand up right, Ciri turned around in the bath water sloshing slightly with her movements as she faced the witcher. With her eyes level with his thighs she let her gaze travel upward until they landed on the hard ridge of his groin pressing against the fabric of his pants. Her blood pulsed in her veins as she looked up further to meet his gaze.
There was an unnatural excitement shining in his gaze, an eagerness she could see warring with his self-control.
Encouraged by the look of restrained want in his eye, Ciri shifted in the water until she was on her knees and her breasts exposed from beneath the water’s surface as she faced him. Ignoring her hammering heart and racing thoughts she reached for his belt. The tips of her fingers barely ghosted the leather material when her hand was caught in his iron grip.
Faster than she could react, Ciri felt herself being pulled and lifted from the water in one neat move. With his hand at her naked waist, Geralt lifted her over the rim of the tub and pulled her wet body flush against his.
Held against his form, Ciri's feet dangled above the floor as one of his arms crossed her back and the other just below the cleft of her ass as he held her tightly against him. Her lips were still parted from the gasp she let out moments before at the surprising move and she could see that his eyes were drawn to them. They began to tingle under his perusal. Thoughts of his lips meeting hers filled her mind until she found herself leaning instinctively forward. A look akin to pain and fierce longing ignited in his eyes as he watched her come close.
"Ciri," he grumbled a warning but did nothing to stop her as she came closer.
Ever so softly at first, their lips touched sending arcing electrical currents all the way to her toes. But with each second their contact maintained the feeling intensified until Ciri no longer had any control over the kiss she started. Geralt's arms around her body tightened bringing her up against him even higher. Ciri moaned into his demanding lips at the friction he created against her naked body. She could feel her stiffening nipples rub against his shirt yearning for the heat and contact of his bare skin beneath. As if reading her thoughts, Geralt groaned against her lips before opening his mouth, expertly guiding her to do the same until their tongues met. Ciri made a sobbing sound of pleasure in her throat as she greedily moved her tongue against his. Spearing her hands through his thick white hair she marveled at the symphony of sensations that assaulted her senses.
With both of his hands now gripping the soft flesh of her ass Ciri could feel him take a step forward then another, both in the direction of the rooms. Her body sang at the realization, the heated feeling between her legs turning damp and nearly unbearable with expectation.
Soft and strong his tongue batted against her while his lips moved with what felt like almost an angry desire against hers before harshly pulling away. Ciri blinked as she felt herself being lowered to the ground. No, her mind frantically shouted. Not wanting the distance, she knew he was going to put between them judging by the determined expression on his face Ciri rushed to close the distance but Geralt kept his hands firm at her shoulders. Leaning down to scoop something up quickly Geralt ignored her attempt to question him and started to pull the shirt he grabbed over her head.
"Geralt, stop…" her words cut off as the fabric covered her face briefly, her head finally finding the neck hole of the shirt. With the only the choice to stand there with a shirt draped over her like a sack, Ciri angrily thrusted her arms through the arm holes. "Why are you…"
The grim expression on Geralt's face halted her words.
Shaking his head, he used her shoulders to turn her around. "I shouldn't be doing this to you," his words were rough and near whispered.
Realizing he was pushing her to the second bedroom door Ciri's heart dropped. Rejection so tangible and hot weighted down her heart until she nearly winced from the pain. She wanted to turn around and scream at him. To rip off his oversized shirt he gave her and stand proudly naked in front of him while she hurled every object within grasping distance at his face. The surging want to kick and curse and tell him how much of a coward he was being licked at her veins like wild flames. But just as soon as the chaotic thoughts of anger settled into her mind a calming feeling rose up out of nowhere like a gentle sea wave, iridescent and blue washing away the anger.
No longer resisting his hands, Ciri walked ahead to the bedroom door and slowly opened it. The tiny room was like a dark cave. With no window and as narrow as a broom closet it was apparent at one point the rooms were joined as one and the wall erected in between was simply an afterthought. A memory of Geralt telling her a small family used to live here flitted through her mind. Walking slowly forward with her bare-feet against the boarded floors made her grateful she took the time to sweep earlier. Reaching for the taper in her room she lit the wick allowing a soft yellow glow to illuminate the tiny room. Stepping into the room fully, she could feel Geralt's body heat fade from her back and knew that he had stopped outside the threshold of her door. The calming wave of peace that washed over her formed itself into a thought that grew into a resolute decision. He could push her away now but she would win in the end. Because no matter what he said, Geralt wanted her and that gave her leverage. He could walk away tonight but it would not stop her, even if that meant she had to try her best and seduce him nearly every night.
With renewed purpose she turned back to Geralt and could barely contain the urge to smile as she watched him recognize the new determination in her eyes with wariness.
"Good night," she said softly before stepping back and closing her door.
#
Pacing the small bedroom, Geralt eyed the small window with disgust. The room was more like a prison cell more than anything else. This wasn't going to work; he couldn’t sleep in this hole-in-the-wall. Grabbing his mattress, he stepped out into the living area and tossed it onto the floor. Settling onto it, he let out a lengthy sigh of ragged frustration. His bath earlier felt lonely and empty. In the span of a few months he had grown used to the feeling of being secretly watched by greedy feminine eyes. An examination she thought he was unaware of, but Geralt knew each and every time she turned and snuck a glance at him as he took his turn to bathe by the river during their travels. He could hear her indrawn breath as she caught glimpses of his cock as he stepped in and out of the water. Geralt found himself closing his eyes at night and resisting the overwhelming compelling need that wracked his senses as she snuggled up to him. It felt as if his control has been forced to balance on the edge of a blade.
He wanted her and he hated himself for it.
Pressing the palms of his hands against both of his eyes, Geralt laid back against the mattress. Unbidden memories of her slick naked skin came rushing to the forefront of his thoughts as she recalled how he helped her bathe. He nearly lost it then and there. He wanted to wrap his fist in her long ashen hair and pull her head back as he covered her mouth with his own. He wanted to cup her soft pale breasts and play with the pink buds until she cried out against him. Warbled and distorted from the water's rippled surface, Geralt recalled seeing a glimpse of her pale cunt as he pulled her from the water. By the heavens, how he resisted dropping to his knees and tasting her then and there was only a question the gods could answer.
Groaning, he dropped his hands to his sides as he recognized the throbbing ache between his legs. He had to stop this. He couldn’t think of this anymore, she was his charge goddammit. He had no right to do this to her. She trusted him, he told himself weakly. She needed him to guide and teach her, to be her friend, not…not be the man that bedded her each night. The throbbing in his dick intensified. She didn't need him like this, he tried to remind himself savagely as he felt the walls of his will start to crumble.
The memory of her faint smile and galvanized look in her eyes from earlier broke him.
~*
Ciri was sitting on her bed when she heard the loud footsteps cross the living area's floor boards, she frowned. When she left him, Geralt was barefoot but even if he did have on his boots the man was normally as quiet as a mouse when he walked. With her knees drawn up under the oversized shirt, his shirt, she rested her head against her knees and listened.
The footsteps walked purposefully and powerfully from the living room to his bedroom and paused before going back in the direction of the living room. Stopping only for a second the footsteps came back in the direction of the bedroom. Light underneath her door flickered as a shadow passed over it. Ciri went very still willing even her heart not to beat as she waited.
Her door suddenly slammed open and Ciri jumped. Standing with his feet spread shoulder width apart Geralt stood towering at her door with an expression so fierce it made it made her body tremble and her core heat at once. Ducking his head as he stepped into the tiny room, Geralt stopped in front of her bed. Ciri couldn't say or do anything as she watched him reach for her, his callused palms gliding against the underside of her warm soft thighs as he hooked one arm beneath her and supported her back with the other. Lifting her from the bed, Geralt carried her high in his arms as he turned and walked with her back to the living room. Clutching at the material of his shirt, Ciri stared at his hard profile as he carried her into the living area. It was only when he stopped walking did she look to see that his mattress had been placed on the floor again. With her feet on the floor now, Ciri needed no words to know what he wanted from her. Lowering herself to the mattress, she never took her eyes off of him as he knelt down. Every single nerve and muscle in her body felt wound tight as if any moment she would just snap apart. Looking to Geralt's intense amber gaze Ciri suddenly felt very nervous. His silent watchful gaze made her feel exposed and hunted. The courage she had earlier was burning away under the intense heat in his eyes leaving only a girl that was far out of her depth.
As if sensing the direction of her thoughts Geralt reached out to her. Warmth from the pads of his fingers startled her as they whispered up her exposed knee. Staring at his hand with transfixed fear, Ciri watched as he let the full flat of his palm cup her knee. Arcs of radiating warmth shot up her leg making her shiver as gooseflesh covered her body. Slowly Geralt pushed his hand from her knee and up her thigh causing her intake of breath to become deeper, his hand stopped its ascent as it reached the hem of her shirt. His amber eyes flicked to hers and he held her gaze, silently seeking an answer.
A brief frenzied moment of cowardice materialized in her. Stolen glimpses of Geralt's naked body began to fill her thoughts. Big, hairy, and covered in hard muscles this man was going to make love to her she thought, her breathing picking up. She wasn't sure she could do this. Images of this witcher's large body covering her as he took pleasure from her body made her tense in fear. The grip on her leg tightened by a fraction, bringing her attention back to the present. Fear and shame warred within her as she realized how she must seem. Just earlier she had basically thrown herself on this man but now just as she received his full attention she was beyond frightened.
"Ciri," he called her name gently, forcing her to meet his gaze.
A small seed of relief bloomed amongst the frozen fields of fear in her heart as she saw a flicker of gentle understanding pass through his gaze.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
Ciri nodded immediately, not allowing even a second of doubt to come between them. Of course she trusted him. With him she didn’t even need to think of the answer, she trusted Geralt with her life.
A spark of a gentle type of warmth flickered in his gaze before it was consumed by the intense heat that blazed in his eyes. "Then lie back for me."
Giving him a shaky nod, she did as she was told and lay back until her head hit his pillow that was placed at the end of the mattress.
"Lift up your knees," his voice seemed huskier to her as she slowly brought up both of her knees.
Ciri had yet to put on any of her undergarments and knew as she lifted each leg with torturously slow movements that the shirt would do little to cover herself from him. Finally, with both legs bent and tightly pressed together, Ciri waited for the inevitable command for her to spread them apart. Her heart was beating so wildly in her chest it felt as if it were echoing around the room. Memories of maids and handmaidens whispering about their first time came back to her, variances of pain were the common topic they seemed to focus on. Would this hurt? The memory of seeing Geralt's cock as he stepped from the river popped into the forefront of her mind, answering her question. Yes, it would surely hurt she thought squeezing her eyes shut just as she felt his hands on her ankles.
Pulling her legs apart with a gentleness that surprised her, she could feel Geralt's hands move up her shins and over her knees until he was tracing down her thighs. Feeling the warmth of his body settle closer between her legs, Ciri was momentarily distracted by her fear as she blindly focused on the path of his questing hands. Keeping her eyes shut, she sighed as she felt the large rough hands push up the shirt as he cupped her waist and pushed upwards. Ciri sucked in a deep breath, her stomach caving in as her chest filled with air as he slowly glided over her ribs. This was torture, she thought absently as she felt her sex moisten and heat. This simple touch of his hands gliding over her was so warm and so overwhelming but not nearly enough. The air in her chest caught as she felt the shirt bunch at her breasts and his hands stop just inches away. Ciri was about to open her eyes but stopped at the deep rumble of his voice.
"Keep them closed."
Swallowing, Ciri nodded not trusting herself to speak.
His hands continued. Covering her breasts with his hands, Geralt released a deep groan.
The breath she had been holding was released as Ciri began to breathe faster waiting for the witcher to move.
Lifting away from her breasts, Ciri nearly let out a whimper at the loss of contact. Feeling the tug of her shirt around her head, she moved obligingly as she felt the shirt being tossed away. Completely naked, Ciri could feel the witcher's warm body hovering above hers, she could feel his clothed thigh pressed against her aching center as he shifted slightly above her. She regretted closing her eyes now, she wanted to open them and look at him. She wanted to see what he was feeling in this intimate position. With each second that passed without his touch on her body she was beginning to feel alone in her darkness.
A brush of hair against her collarbone preceded the radiating wet warmth that covered her nipple and Ciri could not help but cry out. A hand came down against her other breast and captured her nipple between his fingers while his mouth worked at the other. Suckling at the tender bud as the other hand plucked and rolled its sister, Geralt groaned against her as she wrapped her arms around his head with a cry. Changing to the other, he tortured each one in the same fashion before finally pulling back. Opening her eyes, Ciri watched panting from the exquisite torture as he pulled off his own shirt revealing his thick sculpted chest and arms. Ciri reached out a hand and marveled at the feeling of the hot hard flesh of his abs. Capturing her hand with his, Geralt leaned forward and brought her hand to his chest letting her run her fingers through the sprinkling of chest hair that drove her crazy. Lowering his torso with the strength of one arm he covered her mouth with his own. Ciri melted into the kiss immediately, playfully gliding her tongue in time against his. Subconsciously he legs widened until they were nearly flat against the floor on either side.
Pulling away from the kiss, Geralt gave her a devilish smirk at her whimper of disappointment before sitting back up onto his haunches. Grabbing each of her thighs he kept them flat onto the floor as he lowered himself down.
Ciri frowned, he was too far down for them to join. Shifting uncomfortably Ciri tensed as he brought his face to her sex. This felt awkward. No one had ever seen her like this before. It made her feel terribly self-conscious.
"Geralt please," she began. "I don't…" her words were stolen right from her throat as her whole body went stiff.
One single kiss against her folds rendered her helpless. Looking past her breasts and down her stomach she met Geralt's eyes and swallowed at the sinful look he gave her. Turning his attention back to her sex, Geralt placed another kiss enjoying the jolt it sent up her body. Taking one hand from her thigh he gently parted her folds until he revealed exactly what he was looking for. Exposed and swollen, Geralt placed a harder kiss at her clit wrenching a ragged cry from the girl. Practically salivating Geralt covered the nubbin of nerves with his mouth and took it between his teeth suckling and tasting it. Her reaction was immediate as her whole body bucked under the pleasure. Holding the girl down he let his tongue explore her further enjoying the taste of her. Delving deeper Geralt glanced up at her and nearly came at the torture that twisted her beautiful taste. Bucking her hips in time with his tongue he groaned as he felt her hand grasp at his head. Nearing his own end, Geralt suckled hard at the tormented bundle of nerves and felt the girl explode beneath him. His name rang like a song across the room and Geralt had to reach down as squeeze his cock with a hard uncomfortable grasp in an effort to regain his control. She was pushing him to the edge fast and that was not what he wanted. He wanted her moist and ready for him, he wanted her to enjoy every goddamn minute of this.
Dazed and a little sleepy, Ciri laid limply with her arms and legs spread out as she watched the witcher stand and remove his pants. A note of fear drove away the haze of sleep as she watched with wide eyes as his large cock bobbed with each move. Kneeling back down, Geralt gave her a hard look that revealed just how close he was to the edge of his desire. Fear edged away as she felt something in herself desperately want to answer that call of desire. Lifting up to her elbows, Ciri opened her legs allowing him to position himself in between them. Geralt leaned forward his cock thumping lightly at her entrance sending charges of white-hot lightening through her as his mouth met hers. Sighing into the kiss, Ciri wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she felt him position himself into her entrance. Kissing down her neck Geralt kept the fat head of his cock pressed against her as he placed sweet gentle kisses at her breasts. The juxtaposition of his gentle kisses and the throbbing hard heat pressing against her was driving her mad. Relaxing herself wider, Ciri's body opened itself wider for him and she could feel him begin to enter her.
Absently, she heard Geralt's whispered apology just before he surged his hips forward. The world around her seemed to melt away as he invaded the deepest part of her body. With her legs entwined around his hips and arms around his shoulders Ciri held on as he rode her body. Hard slapping thrusts mingled with her cries. Reaching deeper and deeper, Geralt ignored her pleas as he drove into her body covering her mouth with his own. She felt the tightening of his muscles and the tremors rip through him as she pulled him deeper into the heat of her thighs. Reaching between them Geralt cruelly pinched and batted at her clit forcing her to break with him. With a hoarse groan of completion along with her own shriek of exultation the room quieted with only their heavy breathing.
~
A creak of the floorboards pulled her from a deep dreamless sleep. Exhaustedly she opened her eyes and spotted Geralt standing by the window. With both of his hands planted on the window sill he stood tall, proud, and completley naked as he stared out the open shutters. Bright blue nocturnal light shined through the warbled glass window reflecting beautifully across the witcher's pale skin and hair. He looked like a marble statue she thought wistfully, letting her gaze drop to the sculpted figure of his backside.
Not taking his hands from the sill he turned his head and looked over his shoulder, his golden eye twinkling in the pale light. "Are you so eager to continue, princess?"
Blushing Ciri buried herself deeper into her pillow while pulling the quilts further around her face until just her eyes were visible. Just remembering what they shared together earlier made her whole-body flush and tingle with wanton desire. She did in fact want him to continue. She wanted to hear his animalistic groans in her ear as she felt his hips thrusting powerfully against hers or the sounds his tongue made as he tasted her sex. She wanted it all again and again but she couldn’t bring herself to utter a single sound. Smirking, Geralt closed the shutters again leaving the room bathed in the orange glow from the wood stove before walking back to her. She could see now that the other mattress from her room was placed along side of their current mattress giving them more space as well as the quilt from her room was layered on top of her. Pulling the corner of the quilt back, Geralt slipped in bed beside her, his searing naked heat pressing against her warm skin causing her to let out a sigh. Settling next to her, he turned to his side and propped his head onto his fist unknowingly showing off his bulging biceps and sculpted chest for her roving eyes. Laying a possessive hand over her waist he pulled her close until the tips of her breasts brushed against his skin. Smiling she nuzzled closer until the hair on his chest tickled her nose.
"Tell me you won't wake up tomorrow and regret this," she said in a low voice.
Wrapping his arm around her tighter, Geralt lifted her from the bed and turned with her until he was flat on his back and she was draped on top of him. Adjusting the covers around her until they covered them both he gave her small smirk as he folded one arm behind his head in comfort.
"No, I will not regret it nor will I fight what is between us any longer," his rumbling voice shook through her as he spoke. "You are mine Ciri, not because destiny wills it, not because I say it is so. You are mine because every breath commands me, every step leads me back to you. You are mine because my love will accept nothing less and there is no turning back."
Ciri didn't move. It felt as if her breath was coming out in huge deep pulls all of a sudden as his words rang out in her mind like a constant echo. He said he loved her.
Fingers brushing through her hair pulled her back to the present and she noticed his awaiting expression. With tears streaming down her face she pressed her lips to his and whispered her love back as he turned them both over in the bed.
Fin
By Katerina Winters
Check out all of my other stories. Go to my site for more.
#Geralt#geralt of rivia#geralt x ciri#ciri x geralt#geralt fanfic#witcher smut#witcher fanfiction#witcher netflix#the witcher#Witcher#writings
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The Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 6
"The life of a witcher cannot and will not be stationary one."
That was what Geralt told her the day he announced they were leaving their quaint cottage.
"What?! We're leaving our home," she stared at him in shock, the wooden sword she was holding sagging in her hands.
Giving her a meaningful look towards her sword he commanded her without words to lift it back into the proper position. "Mmmm," he murmured in that frustratingly deep voice as he took a few steps towards her with his own wooden sword held ready. "We need supplies, you need experience in battle beyond my teachings, and I…I need to move freely lest I lose my mind."
Dodging his blow, Ciri tumbled to her left and struck out with her sword at his shins. Not surprisingly Geralt's wooden sword met hers perfectly stopping the assault.
Standing up, Ciri wiped sweat from her brow and gave him a narrowed look of frustration. "What of the Nilfgaard army? What if we are spotted?"
Twirling his sword with a skilled playfulness that still suggested at a note of deadliness, Geralt gave her a taunting smirk. "And what if the mountain we sleep under each night succumbs to the constant rain we have been getting and crushes us in our sleep?" Holding the sword in that peculiar way he was so fond of, more like a dagger rather than a sword, Geralt approached her slowly. His eyes alert but playful while his steps were cautious and purposeful. "What if someone had spotted us on our way here and went back to report to the Nilfgaard general where exactly we are, what then?"
Annoyed, all Ciri wanted to do was throw a rock at the man's head but she knew he was doing this on purpose. Geralt was not a cruel man, she knew that firsthand. A cruel man would not hold her each night as he had been doing for a week now, using his warmth and silent strength to shield her from her dreams and comfort her through her unwanted memories.
Knowing that there were only a handful of attacks he could perform from his current position Ciri readied herself as he approached. She watched as the muscles in his exposed forearm flex as he begun to spin the sword.
Now.
Tossing her sword to her left hand she caught it midair as she took two running leaps, one foot landing on his left thigh just as her sword hand blocked his and her to her foot landing higher near his right hip taking her higher until she could lift both legs in one leap. Geralt's mild look of surprise was the last thing she clearly saw from his face as she locked her thighs on either side of his head pushing him backward onto the ground with a mighty thud. The move almost toppled her off as well but she held on, pivoting her weight backward as she rode him down. With his face buried between her legs, she held a wooden dagger she secretly crafted the day before over the spot between his eyes.
Triumphant she cheered with unbridled glee. "By the old gods, I did not know if that would actually work but it did!"
Grabbing her knees Geralt pried them apart just enough to free his face. His amber eyes were practically alight with raw intensity. But he made no movements of reprisal, he just sat there still gripping the tops of her knees looking up at her from between her legs.
Self-conscious of her position, her instincts told her to move immediately but she did not. Staying where she was, she tilted her head, pushing back a few locks of her hair, and gave the witcher beneath her a questioning look. "Will we come back?"
As if he was completely fine with the position, he let his hands continue to rest on the curve of her bent knees and shrugged slightly, causing her whole body to move under the gesture. "If we can. If this place is still here for the taking."
"But if we can and if it is?" she stressed. "We will come back to stay." Ciri did not want to leave their little cottage. It was like a hidden realm untouched by war and death, a place where she could finally breathe.
"Only for a short time," his tone was deep and final but she could see a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "Once we can bypass the Nilfgaard army safely, we continue onward."
"Onward to continue my training as a witcher, right?" she pressed.
"Yes." His eyes drifted down from hers and settled back on the juncture between her legs as if he was casually taking stock of the position, they still sat in. Curving his hands over the rounds of her knees he let them slide up the tops of her thighs until they rested at her hips.
Ciri's sex clenched at the feeling reminding her yet again she should move from this completley improper position. Not just yet, she thought, willing herself to ignore the building heat in her core as his eyes slowly dragged from the seam between her legs to her eyes again.
"And once I am a full-fledged witcher," she whispered, "what then? Will you leave me to go back to journeying alone?"
His gaze dropped from hers and his grip on her hips tightened. Lifting her up, he sat upright placing her back down until she sat astride his muscular thighs. Nearly chest to chest they say together staring at one another before he finally answered. "I will say this only once Ciri. Unless there comes a point in time where you decide to go your own way, I will never abandon you."
Placing her hands on his chest, Ciri gave him a determined look. "I will never want that."
Geralt smirked. "Then there is nothing else to discuss."
#
"I told you to behead it," Geralt's infuriating 'I told you so' tone rumbled next to her.
Holding both arms outward Ciri grimaced as she looked down her chest to the rest of her gunk covered body. Black sludge and viscera covered her practically everywhere. Pursing her lips together so none of the disgusting sludge would get in her mouth, Ciri pulled her shirt outward and wiped her mouth with the inside of the material. Looking down at the eviscerated goblin Ciri stepped carefully away from the felled creature trying her best to pick a spot not covered in sludgey black organs to step on.
"You still need the head," the deep bored tone of the witcher reminded her from somewhere behind her.
Ciri stopped and stiffened, not even daring to look at the white-haired man. She knew without the need to look he was clean from the disgusting gunk and most likely giving her that knowing smirk she knew all too well. Annoyed with him and herself Ciri pulled her silver dagger from her belt and poked the creature. A technique which was considered cheating by the witcher academy but one Geralt taught her nonetheless. "Technically you should know if a creature is fully dead by the killing blow you delivered, but I cannot tell you how many near misses I have had and the needless deaths others have had because a creature they thought was dead turned out to be still quite alive." Seeing no reaction from the creature by the touch of her sanctified blade, Ciri re-sheathed the dagger and grabbed the goblin by its grotesque head and began cleaving it from its neck with her sword.
With head in hand she turned back to see Geralt standing with Roach, both taking in the state of her.
"Luckily for you there is a river nearby," he said, turning and leading Roach to follow.
"Yes well, aren't I just so lucky," she mumbled trudging along behind them.
Grabbing a sack from Roach's pack she bagged the noxious head and tied it to the saddle. Grabbing a clean strip of cloth, she began wiping her sword. Both of her weapons were gifts from the witcher. He had given them to her on the second week into their journey, having them both made in a small-town blacksmith he seemed to use in the past judging by the friendly familiar greetings he shared with the smithy. When she realized what he was having made and why, Ciri nearly cried, it took all of her willpower to hold back the tears as he handed her the new blades. She knew they had cost a lot; she had watched Geralt hand the man a large sack of coins and another smaller sack of silver to use for her dagger. Money, where once in her life had no real meaning was now a dominating factor in her life. Meticulously wiping the blade down, she promised herself that tonight before she fell asleep by the fire and next to Geralt's side that she would clean and care for the blade more in depth by the light of the fire.
After a while of walking she could hear the sound of water as they approached and finally stopped at the river's edge. It was more like a stream in her opinion. A river should be a swelling strip of water with a steady current, rich with life and depth. Not a measly trickling thing such as this. With no real choice, she approached the water's edge and bent down testing the water with her hand.
Pulling back with a hiss, she turned her head and glared at the man who was now leaning against a tree. "It's absolutely freezing," she informed him with every bit of blame she could muster in her voice.
Arching one brow he gave her a deadpan stare. "It's winter, Princess."
Tsking underneath her breath Ciri turned back to the water and stood up straight. Having grabbed her change of clothes from Roach's pack beforehand she set them down near her. Knowing Geralt had no intention of leaving the area, Ciri began to discreetly undress. Kneeling down by the water she dipped her cloth in the frigid water and began to wipe herself down while her mind wandered to the sweet daydream of the time, they had their very own bathtub. Just thinking of the nice warm tub and their cozy little cottage, that was most likely plundered by roaming savages by now, made her want to throw something.
"Now tell me what you did wrong," Geralt ordered.
Suppressing the urge to sigh heavily, Ciri continued washing off the grime. With her top completely off, she began to strip off her pants. When she first did this, weeks ago now, she was shaking like a leaf. Getting undressed in front of Geralt seemed impossible, but the witcher gave her very little options. She could either bathe with his protection or she could go to bed covered in monster guts.
Sitting on a big lumpy rock near the water's edge she sat down completely naked as she quickly and discreetly washed between her legs. Down and loose from the bun she usually kept it in, her ashen colored hair created a curtain around her back and shoulders giving her a modicum of privacy.
"I know where I went wrong," she admitted, recalling the fight with the oversized goblin. "When I had the opportunity to take its head, I hesitated forcing me to bring my blade up at my flank from his belly to his chin." Its engorged belly full of sickeningly black guts, she thought with a lurch to her stomach.
Using her bar of soap that had a faint scent of lavender, a purchase she made recently in the last town of Subik they visited, Ciri began scrubbing her hair.
"And why did you hesitate?" Geralt pressed, his voice still coming from his spot near the tree line behind her.
Cupping handfuls of freezing water, Ciri rinsed her hair thoroughly. By now she was practically frozen to the bone, but she was clean, she thought with satisfaction. Ignoring her dripping wet hair, she quickly dressed in her clean clothes, washed her soiled clothes, and stood up casting a furtive glance to the witcher.
Amber eyes caught her immediately. As usual there was nothing there, no flush of desire, no awareness of her as a woman, nothing to register that he recently had full view of a naked young woman--just cool indifference.
Dropping her gaze from his, Ciri walked past him to the area of their camp for the night.
"I didn't think I could do it," she admitted.
"Explain," he said darkly.
Dropping her supplies near the base of a large tree she picked up her soaked clothes and began hanging them to dry on nearby branches. Pausing in her movements, she thought of how to answer.
"I didn't think I could physically cut it off," she said, embarrassment and shame coursing through her. "I felt that the blade would have just gone partway through and…"
"And what?" the sudden sound of his gravelly voice directly behind her made her jump a little.
Quickly hanging the sodden top over the branch, she turned to see his wide chest inches from her face. Wearing his black shirt and black fitted pants and boots, the outfit made the white of his hair and gold of his eyes stand out somehow even more so. Hanging in one of his hands was a strip of dry cloth. Silently he lifted the material and wrapped it around her neck, wordlessly commanding her to dry her hair.
The simple action made her skin tighten with goosebumps and her eyelids grow heavy. She wanted to step forward and bury her head into his chest. Ciri wanted to nuzzle the V shaped opening at his collar that exposed the hair on his massive chest beneath. She wanted his touch, but she knew she could never have it.
Taking the cloth into her grip she began rubbing her hair before answering. "And I didn't want you to see me fail at something so simple."
Her words seemed to echo briefly in the air between them before slowly fading away into the silence. The witcher said nothing. Seconds ticked by and Ciri could not seem to pull her gaze away from his chest and meet his. Why wasn't he saying anything?
Finally, Geralt moved stepping back to turn around. Walking to Roach he began to rifle through his bag, a slight chuckle carrying on the breeze.
Pain hollowed her stomach at the sound.
"Honestly, I fully expected that to happen," he turned back to her with a grin before taking a drink from his canteen.
Giving him an incredulous stare. "You did?!"
"If you were able to cleave the head off that goblin in your first try, I would have seriously spent the night tending to my wounded pride," looking at her confused expression he let out a deep bark of a laugh. "Every young witcher in training, hell anyone in training whether they be warrior or knight has to develop the strength and skill to wield a weapon, especially to take off a creature's head in one fell swing."
"Then why didn't you just tell me that in the beginning?!" she stomped.
Settling down against the large tree she previously put her stuff next to, Geralt leaned against it with a slight groan. "Because princess, you need to learn that failure is a reality in life."
"It never seems to be for you," she mumbled taking her designated spot next to him, a routine they have done every night since they met.
"You have no idea," his dry chuckle seemed more for himself, as if he was briefly lost in a memory. "Now sleep."
Preparing to lay down on her bedroll she paused. "You're not going to bathe?"
"I rather not bathe in the dead of winter in a freezing river when we will be in town by sundown tomorrow. There, I will take a nice warm bath maybe even with some paid company."
"Fine!" she huffed, immediately angry at his illicit intentions. Though he had threatened to enjoy evenings with paid whores before, he never actually done it, at least not with her. Ciri wasn't fool enough to believe this man has not indulged in such activities in the past she just rather hoped he was just teasing her. The thought of him spending the night with someone felt like a knife to her back. Giving him one last scowl, she settled into her bedroll before mumbling. "Continue to smell like a horse's ass."
She knew without looking that the evil man was smirking and she tried her best to calm down and focus on going to sleep. Snuggling deeper under her wool blanket she waited for the familiar pressure she had grown accustom to.
The sound of the winter breeze whipping through the trees was all she could hear as she waited--and waited. Ciri's stomach tightened in rejection as her mind began to race with worry. Why wasn't he doing it? He did it every night? It was something she looked forward to, needed even. When he first did it, on the first night after leaving their cottage she gave him a questioning look. He told her even witchers need to sleep and told her it was for her safety that no matter what happened he would know the moment something happened to her. So why wasn't he doing it now, she screamed in her head!
The sudden heavy weight of his hand settling on the curve of her hip nearly made her wilt in relief. Immediately, her body relaxed as she soaked in the heady heat his hand radiated. Closing her eyes Ciri slept.
#
Dismounting from Roach Geralt walked ahead of her and stopped to talk to a portly man standing next to the large double doors. With his arms folded and his expression tired, if not a little worn he spoke to Geralt in a low tone Ciri could not quite hear from where she stood with Roach. It was dusk when they entered the bustling town. When Geralt mentioned the town off-handedly earlier she imagined it to be a small village or maybe a clone of that depressing little village they saw nearly months ago just before they were attacked by those fleders. No, this town was not like that at all. It was easy to tell that whoever the mayor was of this town, they kept it in somewhat decent order. The streets, although while being dirt and still caked with mud from the never-ending drizzle of rain, had boards running down the middle that allowed people to walk on and avoid the thick piles of mud. Guards were stationed sporadically around the town and patrolled the streets regularly, keeping a silent air of order as people walked to and from, some smiling and some looking determined as if late for work despite the time of night. Like everyone she had seen thus far this rotund man was obviously of the merchant class from the greased stained canvas apron that hung from his hips, his disheveled hair, and overall wearied demeanor. The man looked the sort that got up before the sun each day and got to work until well after sundown.
Ending his conversation with the man, Geralt walked back towards her and grabbed Roach's reigns. Located at the corner of town near the large bordering stone wall that encircled the town, the barn in which Geralt started walking towards sat next to a large two-story house. Like all the building's in town, the house seemed to be made of partly stone and wood. Large dark boulders stacked tightly on top of one another framed the whole bottom half of the house, reaching to what Ciri could only assume was the second floor before changing into the wood-framing of the house. She wondered if it was built that way in case a fire broke out. Fires were one of the biggest fears when living in a village made mostly of wood. One fire could easily breakout and destroy a whole town by nightfall, killing many and undoubtedly leaving scores of people without a home. But if the houses were stone or at least partly stone the damage wouldn't be so bad.
Leading the horse across the muddy strip of road that curved in front of the house and barn, Geralt stopped just inside. Cold and musty, the barn was dark and dank. She could hear at least two other horses inside snuffling and shifting around in their stalls.
"Wait here," Geralt said, looking beyond her head at the stall behind her. "Put Roach in the stall near the back on the left."
She opened her mouth to ask him where he was going, but Ciri stopped herself. She already knew, didn't she? He told her last night what he intended, so why ask him now. She didn't want to hear him say it, she wasn't sure she could stand to hear the words spoken again. Jealousy burned bitterly in her throat as she simply nodded. Securing his sword, he turned and walked out the stable door.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Ciri looked to Roach's large glossy eye. "Come on, let's at least get you settled."
Walking him to the stall Geralt indicated, Ciri backed the obedient horse into the stall. She left his saddle on, just in case they needed to leave in a hurry. Looking around she spotted a small pile of hay near another stall, thankfully the loft hatch door above was left open allowing a little moonlight from outside to filter inside. Grabbing two big handfuls of hay she walked over to Roach who was giving her a much more eager look now.
"Oh, I see someone is perky," she whispered as she held out the dry hay for him to munch on.
Despite her still lingering jealousy over Geralt "activities" for the evening she couldn't help but smile at the feeling of Roach's mouth gently rubbing at her palms as he dined on his hay.
Looking to her right, further into the dark crevices of the barn, she let out another heavy exhale as she held her hands steady for the horse. "Mmm you think I should try and find somewhere to lay down in here for the night, Roach?"
"Why would you do that?"
The sound of Geralt's rumbling voice made her jump in surprise. Whirling around she was beyond shocked to see the giant white-haired warrior only standing a few feet away from her. Pulling in a deep breath, anything to try and calm her racing heart, she let her eyes drop to the large sack in his hand and her eyebrows furrowed in question.
"Grab my pack from the saddle and come on," he gestured past her to where Roach stared at them curiously in his stall.
Doing as she was told; she ran to catch up with him as he left the stables and turned towards the side door of the large house from which the grease stained man from earlier went into. Stepping through the doorway, Ciri nearly sighed at the warmth and the delicious smell of warm bread filling the small hallway. Down the hallway she could see a set of narrow stairs leading up while on the other end was a doorway leading beyond to what she assumed was the greater living space and another that led to the kitchen where she could see movement.
The man from earlier stepped out from the doorway to their right, both of his thumbs were hooked into the band of his apron and he gave them a narrowed look. "Upstairs, fourth door on the right," he instructed before sternly adding. "And just for one night, you hear, witcher. We are even after this."
Geralt gave the man a silent look. It wasn't menacing nor was it friendly, just a stoic look from his naturally aggressive face that held just a bit too long, enough to make the man squirm. And just when the man opened his mouth to say something Geralt finally gave him a nod.
"Consider this full repayment."
Geralt turned to walk up the stairs.
"Wait," Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to grab something from an older lady who peered worriedly over his shoulder before slinking back into the kitchen beyond sight. Turning back to them with a large basket in his hand he thrusted it to Geralt. "It's just a bit of food."
Looking at the basket, he still held high in his hands as if inspecting a foreign item Geralt eventually lowered it and nodded to the man. "Many thanks."
Going up the narrowed stairs they came up to a dark landing. There wasn't even a candle lit, just a window at the end of the hall that let in so little nocturnal light that it was almost useless. Geralt however had no issues managing the dark hall, walking past by many shut doors he easily found the door they were instructed to and walked in. She so needed enhanced night vision, she thought with a pout as she followed him inside. A few mutant modifications to her person, sure, it would be well worth it, she figured.
The room was much larger than she imagined, and far cleaner too. The furnishings were simple: a few bedside tables, a large lumpy looking feather mattress on a simple wooden frame, a fireplace, two worn area rugs that had seen better days, and the absolute pinnacle of the room--the focal point where both her and Geralt stared at with near lust--a huge wooden tub.
"Ar..are we…?" she stammered with disbelief in her voice.
"Yes," he grumbled with pure satisfaction. "A little over a year ago I stepped in and killed a vampire who had taken it upon himself to use Thomas's inn here as his personal layer. Thomas couldn't repay me at the time but I told him I would most likely travel this way in the future and here we are," he explained.
Setting his heavy leather saddle pack near the bed she flopped onto the floor, not wanting to dirty the bed linens with her mud stained clothes.
Setting the basket and sack cloth on the floor in front of her, Geralt lowered himself to the floor as well letting out a deep tired groan. Delving into the sack he produced two large bottles encased in a form fitting wicker weave and a few meat pies wrapped in thin muslin. Handing her the still warm pie, Ciri couldn't stop herself from taking a greedy bite as she watched in gleeful excitement as he pulled even more delicious goodies from the basket. Sinking her teeth into the meat pie, Ciri shut her eyes in pure pleasure as the rich flavors of the seasoned meat and toasted pie crust came together in her mouth. They had been eating good on their journey, wild vegetables and freshly killed game each night but this--this was far different. Bread and spices mixed with meat, was simply a savory treat she hadn't experienced in what felt like forever.
Leaning against the bed's frame Geralt pulled one knee upward while letting his other stretch outward as he tore off a hunk of bread. Using a knife, he pulled from his boot, he used it to spread a generous amount of butter he found wrapped in waxed paper before handing her the slathered piece.
Ciri paused for a second and looked up to him. His amber eyes glowed warmly as he stared back at her with an air of amused patience, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Grasping the crusty edges of the bread, she was surprised to find it soft and still warm.
"Thank you," her voice was so low it was nearly a whispered.
He said nothing. Slathering his own piece of bread, he took a large bite out of it while grabbing a roast leg of duck.
Silence passed between them for a few moments, just the sounds of the fire crackling in front of them and the occasional sound of people hollering and talking from outside as they passed through the streets.
Uncorking one of the bottles Geralt poured two cups and handed her one. "Tell me," he began, handing her a cup with an obviously less amount than his own. "Why did you think I would leave you in the stables tonight?"
The piece of bread she was attempting to swallow got caught in her throat. Grasping for her cup at her side she took a big swallow of the mildly sweet wine. Coughing she looked up at him in tears. The mild look of amusement in his eyes didn't helps her pride.
"I…I thought you said you would be enjoying other…activities…tonight," she struggled with the awkward words, unable to meet his gaze.
Geralt let out a short bark of laughter before shaking his head. "I was joking Ciri, witchers may not be considered human but trust me when I say I do have the rare capabilities to attempt humor."
Feeling her face heat in embarrassment, she nodded as she focused on her the honeyed pastry in her hand.
Slowly the silence that descended on them once more, gradually changed into a comfortable one once again. Wrapping the remainder of the uneaten food and packing it into their satchel Geralt looked to the giant empty tub and back to her.
"We only get to fill it up once," he said, his expression serious.
Ciri let the full implications of his words settle in before her eyes widened in realization. Nodding her head slowly she looked at the gigantic tub. "I see," she said with forced calmness.
It made sense she thought, as Geralt turned on the spigot that stuck out from the brick in front of the wooden tub. The spigot was connected to a pipe that most likely ran to a cistern that sat on the roof. Heated by coals, the cistern would only have a very limited supply of hot water. Two large baths were just not feasible.
Standing up, Ciri grabbed her bag from the pack and walked to the far corner of the room. As the water filled the tub, she began to undress. Fishing out a long piece of clean cloth, they kept for potential injuries that may need to be wrapped, she used it to wrap around her breasts while leaving on her underwear.
"Clever," he said from across the room.
Still crouched, Ciri peered over her shoulder at him. He was shirtless wearing only his trousers which were untied in the front leaving them to flap partially open, giving her the barest hint of dark hair just below his pants. Whipping her head back around, she stared at the wall in front of her as her heart thrashed against her breastbone.
Behind her there were sounds of water splashing and shifting.
"It will be a tight fit, but the water is hot," he informed her, his silent encouragement to hurry was not lost on her.
Taking a deep breath to steady the nervousness in her stomach, Ciri stood up straight. He has seen you completely naked, she told herself, there was no real difference now. Stepping up to the tub, Ciri forced herself not to peer through the water's depths at the rest of the witcher's body hidden beneath. Although, she thought as she stepped in and lowered herself into the wonderfully hot water, he had seen her naked nearly a dozen times now it would be only fair if she saw him in return. No, she told herself, she would resist looking and just be content with what she did allow herself to look at with absolutely no shame and no limit--his bare chest. With her knees drawn up to her chest, for modesty's sake and as well as to allow the huge witcher plenty of room she laid her cheek against her knees as she watched contently as he soaped himself. It was such a massive chest, she thought. The type of chest her grandmother would have lustfully called a barrel-chested sort. Broad and covered in hair, his chest was thick and solid setting the tone for the rest of the man's extremities. Like his arms, his chest bulged with muscles with each movement. In Cintra, Ciri had seen countless knights, warriors and secret lovers pass through the halls and fight on display and had witnessed her fair share of men's naked chest. But she could never remember any that matched this man's body. Instead of a soft belly that told a story of the man's diet, Geralt's was flat and rippled with muscles down to his tapered waist--it was highly unusual for a man his age and highly distracting.
"Stretch out your legs," His deep voice cut through her thoughts forcing her to tune back into the present.
Looking up at him she shook her head. "I'm sorry what?" she said, wanting him to repeat whatever it was he just said.
"Stretch out your legs, relax," he repeated. "Here, give me your left foot." Holding his hand out just below the water's surface he waited for her to abide the softly given command.
Slowly she stretched out one leg, her toes pointed out straight, until it settled into the warm cradle of his hand. Positioning her leg over his own until it laid partially over his right thigh Geralt silently called for her other leg. Lowering her knee and obliging, Ciri left herself exposed with only the now translucent material of her makeshift top to cover herself in the ever-lapping hot water that surrounded them both. Placing her leg in the space below his bent left knee, Ciri let out a nearly inaudible exhale of contentment at the new position.
No words were spoken as contentment settled through them both. The now milky, soapy waters were slowly cooling as they both lounged with their arms outstretched and their heads back. Ciri hardly stirred when she felt Geralt's firm but gentle grip on her leg, picking it up and readjusting it to a new spot. Lackadaisically, she heard the sound of water cascading down and felt Geralt get up from their tub leaving it noticeably empty, but Ciri could not muster the strength to open her eyes instead she found herself falling deeper and deeper into an all-consuming sleep.
Nuzzling deeper into the soft fabric beneath her Ciri turned towards the source of radiating source of heat next to her. Hot bare skin seared wonderfully against her face as she let out a small sleepy sigh of contentment. The silken skin of her legs glided against each other, sending muted signals of alert into her subconscious mind. Her hand reached out and met a wall of heat, unmoving and searing to the touch. A deep rumbling groan vibrated around her in response.
Ciri opened her eyes and her heart froze. Laying shirtless on his back next to her, Geralt had one arm extended out which she was currently using as her pillow. Becoming more and more aware of every breath, movement, and twitch of muscle as the seconds ticked by Ciri could feel the thick bicep under her head with perfect clarity. She was surprised by the comfort the immense knot of muscle had given her as she slept--but not now, not anymore. Now, she was aware and too stiff to do anything other than focus on all the heart-stopping facts namely the fact that she was naked. Taking a shaky breath, she amended that thought, not naked just practically naked. Wearing a long shirt, one she was positive belonged to Geralt judging by the deep woodsy male scent of the fabric, she knew by the pressing feel of the fabric against her naked breasts that she wore nothing underneath.
Shifting stiffly next to him, she risked a glance upwards to his face and froze. Amber eyes stared at her through the dim light of the room. The blazing fire she had watched dance in the hearth earlier was small and pitiful now, barely lighting the dark room. But Ciri could see Geralt clearly. There was just enough trickling moonlight coming from the window to illuminate the hard-rising planes of his chest and the golden hue of his eyes. Geralt said nothing as he let his gaze linger on hers, his stare not harsh but certainly not placid. There was something there, something pooling in those amber eyes that made her want to turn away, to run, but at the same time wrap her arms around his neck and whisper all the shameful things she wanted him to do. Her breath came out in shorter more rapid bursts of air as she lost herself in his eyes while desperately searching for the right words to say.
A deep feminine torment lit within her eyes as her body began to react to his presence. Anxious and restless all at once, she did her best not to fidget against him while praying she could somehow make some space between them. Although he had yet to utter a sound and made no movement besides blinking, she felt as if everything around her was growing too unbearable to stand. The sheets beneath and around her were too hot, his muscled arm under her head was too hard, his large body next to her was too overwhelming. Even her own body was beginning to betray her. Her breasts felt heavier as his fiery amber gaze lowered to her lip that she held between her teeth. Tingling and hot, her sex reacted to this bold perusal making her want to shift in discomfort. There was something cruel and wonderous about his slow-moving gaze over her features that made her want to growl and sigh at the same time. Ciri had to get up. She had to leave this bed or she was going to implode-- or worse, do something incredibly stupid.
Making to move backward, Ciri began to slide herself away when she felt Geralt shift suddenly. The brief confusion in her eyes turned to shock as she felt his other hand glide underneath the covering and settle on her naked hip. The shirt she wore had risen above her hips in her movement baring her from the waist down beneath the covers. Geralt's expression remained unchanged as he gripped her hip and kept his gaze locked with hers.
"Wha…" Her words were lost on her lips as her sex turned to liquid heat by his next action.
Curving his hand purposly along the rounded flesh of her ass, causing her to shiver, he let his large callused hands dip down until he was able to grab her thigh and lift her leg, parting her. Withheld breath, she watched him with her eyes wide and mouth agape as he fitted his muscled thigh between her legs. Shifting until both hands were now placed on each of her hips and her head now laid against the pillow, Geralt gave her hard look.
"Go to sleep, Ciri,"
Ciri's mouth just hung open as she barely took a breath. Here she was completely naked from the waist down with his trouser clad leg shoved between her legs, how in all the gods' names could she ever sleep?!
Seeing her unspoken answer to his ludicrous command, he gave her look that said she would regret it.
Tightening his hands at her hips, he forced her hips backwards, forcing the delicate folds of her now moist sex to glide across the rough material of his trousers.
Ciri let out an audible gasp at the feeling. Balling her fists, Ciri attempted to push him away or at the very least push herself out of his grip but before she could he was pulling her forward until her hips nearly touched his. This time the moan she tried to fight back before broke from her throat. Back and forth her sawed her aching sex across his covered thigh watching her as she weakly succumbed to the exquisite torture. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping the firm rounded flesh as she rode his leg. Adding to the torture the feel of his hands moving to grip the fatty flesh of her ass made her moans grow louder. Somewhere deep in her mind she wondered at the image she presented right now, moaning and begging in this witcher's arms as he forced her to find pleasure against him.
"Geralt please," she panted. "I want… I want us both to…"
His brow furrowed in concentration. Geralt looked from her to her lips as if he was warring with himself to kiss her or not, all the while his movement of her hips became frantic. "Ciri," he interrupted her with a harsh growl ordering her full attention. "Come now."
The fine thread that held her sanity together and that had worn away with each movement of his hands snapped. Ciri let out a small cry as her world burned away under the power of her release.
Boneless and exhausted, Ciri laid there panting against the pillow as Geralt slowly slid his leg from beneath her, smirking at her for the first time as she let out an involuntary moan at the movement against her still aching and sensitive clit. Pulling her shirt down around her waist until it properly covered her again, he draped an arm over her, pulling her closer to his heat.
"Now sleep."
#Witcher#the witcher#witcher fanfiction#witcher smut#witcher netflix#Geralt#geralt of rivia#geralt fanfic#geralt x ciri#ciri of cintra#ciri x geralt#ciri#writings#katerinawinters
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The Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 5
Geralt watched her as she took a deep breath and pulled back the bow string. About forty yards away stood a whitetail buck. With its broadside facing them, the shot was perfect. Calmly, he looked at the young woman at his side and observed her intense expression as she lined the shot. Raising its head, the deer's tail flicked as he looked around cautiosly. Taking a hesitant step forward it quartered-away, angling its rear toward them and its chest in line.
Ciri released the arrow.
Imbedding the arrow deep into the lungs, the deer fell instantly.
Sliding his gaze to hers, Geralt already knew she would be wearing that cocky smile of hers.
"You thought I was going to miss the shot, didn't you?" she accused good-humoredly.
Already kneeling on one knee, Geralt crossed both of his forearms on his bent knee comfortably and turned to her with a wry smile. "Well, at first I was wondering why you wasted a perfectly good angle, but then I just assumed you were trying to starve me tonight since it’s your night to cook."
Her beautiful faced scrunched up into a sulky scowl. "Oh, come on," she whined as she stood up. "You are such a better cook. Why do you want to take the chance and have me ruin all this meat?" she flung an arm into the direction of the downed deer. "Everything I make is either burnt, bland, or too salty. Your food taste amazing."
Standing up, he started walking towards the deer as she followed alongside of him, tucking the bow over her shoulder like he taught her. "Yes, but you will never get better if you do not practice."
Grumbling something under her breath she forged ahead through the high brush and went to field-dress the deer. Wearing buckskin pants, a dark blue shirt tucked in into the waist, and a smile on her lips she was practically a different girl from the one he had taken in his charge weeks ago.
Not long since they arrived at their new home, he had taken them to the nearest town. Buying a few supplies for their new home he had given her a few crowns and a strict order to get some practical clothes she could train and move around in. He had gotten more than tired of seeing her in the worn dirty clothes he had found her in. Now however, he was filled with a bit of regret at the decision. She had come out of the shop with two large parcels that she showed him proudly, describing with enthusiasm that she found clothes similar to his, but Geralt did not miss the small delicate package she kept hidden under her arm. It wasn't until that night when she had gotten done bathing from the stock pot in the far corner of the room behind that worthless curtain she hung that he spied her carefully slipping on new undergarments and smiling with such a pure feminine smile it made him wish he had given her more money. His regret unfortunately did not stop there, it was the pants. He was convinced they had to be too small but she assured him with a tug of the waist band as proof that they were plenty roomy. By God's teeth, the fuck they were! They fit her like a second skin.
Leaning against a nearby tree, he refocused his thoughts to the present and off the wretched pants and watched as she carefully sliced the animal open.
"Ok, how about you supervise as I cook to ensure I don't leave us both hungry and angry tonight?" she spoke over her shoulder as she removed the pieces of meat.
"The last time I instructed you on how to cook the meat you ended up making a pie, I was essentially teaching your backside," he countered.
"But it was good pie was it not?!" she laughed. "What luck to find a place with a baker's oven."
Shaking his head, he grabbed the buck's antler preparing to drag the carcass further away from their property.
Placing her hand on top of his, she gave him an offended look stopping him. "I'm supposed to be doing this remember?"
Smirking, he lifted both hands in silent surrender and stepped back. Waiting for the inevitable.
Folding the fabric containing the meat tightly she strung it up on a tree limb off the ground as he taught her. Walking pridefully around him, she eased herself in front of him to take the position near the antlers. Geralt nearly laughed, the girl was so stubborn and prideful all the while only reaching the center of his chest.
Grabbing the antlers, Ciri tugged at the carcass. It did not budge. Frowning she tried again, this time bending her knees and putting more power into the move. The carcass moved one whole inch. Giving off an exasperated sigh, Ciri reluctantly brought her gaze to his and immediately regretted it. Smiling fully now, Geralt did not stop his silent laughter this time.
"You're as stubborn as a mule," he said shaking his head.
"Well," she began with a petulant little whine. "The whole point is to teach me so that I can do this on my own if needed."
"Yes, but if you were on your own you would get smaller game, just enough to feed yourself."
"Yes, well I won't ever have to worry about that right?" she said haughtily, tossing back a few strands of her ashen hair that had come down from her bun at the top of her head. "I belong to you by law and I don't see any reason that I will ever need to hunt for one."
Though technically it was said as a statement they both heard the lilt in her tone towards the end and they both knew it was a truly indeed a real question. It was something she did often with him. Constant little hinting questions, constant inquiries about their future. Her need to be reminded that he would not abandon her was vital. And just as he usually did, he obliged the young woman, unable to ignore the desperate need for confirmation shining in her large gray eyes.
"Yes of course," he agreed as he stepped around her towards the buck, laying a hand on her back.
The resulting shiver that ran down her spine and through his fingertips burned his senses like magma. Removing his hand, he steeled his expression to show nothing, a skill he had yet to teach her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her lips part with a silent gasp and her eyes widen slightly at the contact.
Fuck.
It had been two weeks since they took over the cottage. Two weeks of sleeping on the floor side by side. Two weeks of nightly bathing in the living area while the other turned their back. Two weeks of his iron will being tested in a way he would have never dreamed.
Not for the first time Geralt cursed himself for finding the girl so late. No longer berating himself for simply enacting the idiotic fucking Law of Surprise, no, just for claiming her so late. Though granted, he thought with a heavy sigh, the line was a fine one. If he were to have walked into Cintra and claimed her too early he would have had a child on his hand but waiting until now as he had done…well he had something he wasn't quite sure to handle on his hands. A young woman who looked at him as if he was the savior of the world. Hell, to her maybe he was. He certainly did seem to get to her just as her life had turned to shit, plucking her from the ravages of the world and keeping her safe it made sense why she viewed him with wide eyed heroism. It was her smart-mouth and surprisingly wry personality that he fucking liked. When her initial fear and wariness of him wore off leaving him to discover the actual princess beneath, Geralt knew then that he was fucked. Used to getting her own way and far more knowledgeable than standard nobility Geralt often found himself trading barbs and witticisms with the ashen haired young woman. And to make matters somehow worse, it was exact moments like these that was killing him. Moments of instinctual feminine reaction and appreciation to him that was undoing their innocent relationship and slowly and infernally building something else.
He refused to let it happen goddammit. Grabbing the buck's antler, he channeled his anger into his strength and easily slid the heavy carcass behind him as he stormed off into the woods. Damn his witcher libido, he thought, placing the blame there. Normally his heightened sex drive was always something he could control unlike some of his other witcher brethren but he must have miscalculated. He needed a good fuck, he surmised, that would solve this issue and let him resume looking after the girl without fucking everything up.
~*~
Letting off a small groan in her sleep, Ciri frowned at the soreness of her muscles. Not really wanting to, she forced herself to open her eyes. The rafters above were no longer dusty and decorated with cobwebs and various nests. The holes in the thatching were fixed allowing the cottage to stay even warmer with the use of their wood stove. With only a week of repairs the cottage felt like a real home. Of course, there was more that needed to be done, namely the bedrooms. It was a task neither one of them were looking forward to and both for completley different reasons. Geralt had told her he needed to stack the stones just right if he didn't intend on having to repeat the whole process at a later date and between her daily training and other chores that needed to get done, he simply hadn't had the time to focus on it. For now, their camp in the middle of the living area would have to suffice. Stuffing a few rags underneath the bedroom doors to block the wind from seeping through and their heat out, Geralt looked to be in no rush to get the job done. Something she was immensely happy for.
Turning onto her side towards the radiating heat to her left, Ciri sucked in a breath at the sight of the witcher sleeping. It wasn't often she was up before him and even less that he was still asleep. Each night as they laid down for bed, he would teach her all about the different monsters to be hunted, describing their features with such crystal-clear clarity she could envision them almost perfectly. He would explain their weaknesses, their likely or theorized origins and sometimes he would tell her stories of growing up in Kaer Mohren, a place that seemed magical and frightening to her. At some point during his tales without fail sleep would catch a hold of her taking her under, no matter how hard she struggled against its pull and each day she would wake up next to him wishing she could have had just a few more minutes.
Tracing his features with her gaze she smiled at the stern expression he had even in his sleep. Firm lips, a strong jaw line, and straight nose this sleeping warrior was beginning to infect every one of her waking thoughts. At first, she just needed to know he would be by her side, that he would not leave her like everyone else did, but at some point, during their daily training, their nightly bathing, and sleepy conversations her heart started to constrict with each amber glance cast her way. Ciri found herself blushing like a fool as he wrapped his arms around her to show her how to properly hold a sword.
Dropping her gaze to his exposed collarbone she bit back the urge to grin at the sprinkling of chest hair peeking over the material. Geralt in armor was imposing indeed but it held not even a single candle to Geralt wearing just a simple shirt and pants. Built like no man she had ever seen his body seemed to bulge with muscles, it was almost obscene. When he lifted the heavy stock pot to the floor each night so they could wash off the day's grime, a privilege they afforded themselves along with twice a week soaks in the large tub, Ciri watched with open fascination at the flex of his biceps at the action.
When did her admiration for the stoic man evolve into this? When did her beating heart turn from nervous thrashing into blood racing heat spreading throughout her body? Dropping her gaze further she examined the broad width of his chest as he lay on his side, following each rise and fall of his breath until she could feel her own match his rhythm. Once, he had mentioned off-hand in conversation when she questioned him about his mutations that everything from his hair to his eating habits were changed, she wondered…was he changed elsewhere, perhaps? Settling downward she settled on his crotch with a blush. Her grandmother, Calanthe, was a very progressive woman she did not endorse the same beliefs that most nobility believed in when it came to their daughters. She believed from an early age that Ciri should know the facts about sex and not be led to fear it like some girls were taught, in fact, Calanthe believed quite the opposite and was not afraid to expound on the joys of rigorous sex no matter how much Ciri cringed.
Closing her eyes with a sigh, Ciri let her thoughts shift to her grandmother with a painful smile.
"And what has you smiling so early in the morning?" Geralt's deep voice caused her to flinch.
Startled she looked at him realizing how close they were before sitting up. Running a hand through her loose hair she shook her head and gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, um nothing really. For some reason I was just thinking of a rather inappropriate story my grandmother told me, of course before she married Eist," she added.
"Mmm," Geralt replied deeply, in a way that made Ciri suspect that he did not believe her. "I'm sure that woman had quite a few encounters that would make even a sailor blush."
Standing up, Geralt moved to the bowl of water they kept on the nearby table. With his hair down from his normal tie he kept it in, it fanned around him like a white curtain as he leaned forward to splash his face with the frigid water.
Standing up from her pile of quilts, which had been mostly layered on her, she stepped over the mattresses and reached for one of the shuttered windows. Sunlight spilled vertically through the seam of the wooden shutters, enticing her to let it in. Kneeling and leaning forward on the chair in front of her, she reached out and obliged letting the warm light spill into the dim cozy room. Smiling, Ciri stared out at the beautiful day though she knew how cold it was judging by the radiating cold from the glass.
"Where did you get that gown?" Though the question was asked in the witcher's softest tone yet, there was still a dangerous quality to it that made her heart skip a beat.
Still kneeling on the chair, Ciri turned and looked over her shoulder at him, light spilled in from behind her bathing her and the surrounding area with bright morning sunlight.
"I…I got it from Goldencheeks, I had nothing to sleep in so she let me have it," she explained, watching his eyes take in her form and suddenly feeling very self-conscious.
His scowl deepened as she shifted to face him directly. "It doesn't look warm," he groused.
Looking down her chest, she tried to see the simple white cotton gown how he did. It had no lace, no frills, no ribbons, or embroidery, it was just a sheaf of white fabric with long sleeves. It might not be much, she thought with a frown, but it was darn warm and it was all she had.
Putting her hands on her hips she stood straighter and gave him a menacing look. "I will have you know it’s very warm, so unless you plan on buying me a new one you can keep your opinion to yourself, witcher."
Her statement was so bold, so audacious that Ciri was momentarily proud of herself. In that moment she truly channeled the lioness spirit of her grandmother Calanthe, in such a way she was sure the woman would be proud. Sadly, pride was not the emotion she inspired from the pale witcher standing across the room who was currently giving her a look so menacing it could turn water into stone.
Resisting the urge to take a hesitant step back, partly for her pride's sake and due to the fact, there was a wall directly behind her, Ciri swallowed nervously.
Taking a step forward, Geralt stepped from the hazy shadows of the room into a spear of light that fell across his face illuminating one of his amber eyes. "Say that an again," his voice was so low in the quiet room, Ciri almost had a hard time hearing it over the steady percussion of her heart.
Ciri made no sound, no movement at the command. Taking a few more steps forward, Geralt easily closed the space between them until he was standing only inches from her, staring down the bridge of his nose at her with hard gleaming eyes.
Fear swirled like a cold winter gale within her gut as she looked up at him. Unable to meet his gaze any longer Ciri let it drop to the column of his neck and down further to the breadth of his chest. Muscled and strong, she imagined a man trying to fight this huge witcher, imagining their punched landing on his chest and bouncing back. The thought of his strength combined with the feel of his emanating heat reacted within her in a way she could not fathom. Tingling awareness traced up and down her skin leaving her breasts feeling tight and sensitive while a deep flush colored her skin as she looked back up at him. A flicker of awareness ignited in the depths of his eyes and Ciri knew in that exact moment that he realized what she was feeling. Pride thankfully bubbled back to the surface within her, overshadowing that odd foreign moment of consciousness she felt towards this man. Stepping sideways, she nearly tripped over a small chest sitting against the wall near the door. Edging towards one of the small bedrooms she had been using to change in, she raised her chin, trying her best to give off a confidence she did not feel.
"I am going to get dressed," she announced as if she was the one that ended the battle of wills on her on terms.
His gaze narrowed, dropping to her neck and further down before abruptly coming back up to meet hers with an unholy flame lighting them. "Good, because today we train--hard."
~*~
She was snoring face down in her pillow. A deep heavy snore that told him that pretty much nothing at this point would wake up the princess. Good, Geralt thought with a snort. Turning to the large stock pot of boiling water, he lifted it from the hot wood stove and lowered it to the ground in the corner of the room. Stripping his clothes, he paused for a moment, the deep snores continued on in the background. Smirking he continued with the removal of his clothes. Grabbing a clean rag, he began washing off the dirt of the day. Training had been brutal. He drilled in the basics of defense for what felt like hours, using a long straight branch he found as a rod to assist in "training." Mostly, he used it to whack at her whenever she stepped out of place during the footwork drills. By later afternoon, a hatred so deep and consuming filled those beautiful gray eyes of hers it completely washed away that awakening look of desire that ignited within them that morning.
Letting out a deep groan, Geralt let his forehead rest in both hands as he propped his elbows on his knees. What in the fuck was he thinking? That morning she had caught him completely by surprise. Kneeling in front of that window like that, the sun had enveloped her like a long overdue hug, completely penetrating through the white gown until it outlined every detail of her body. Rounded pert breasts that sat high on her chest like a pair of ripe apples; nipples that stood proudly against her gown scratching maddeningly at the fabric until Geralt could swear he could hear the delicate rustle of each movement. Lust so powerful and depraved spread through him like wildfire, gripping all of his senses willing his body to act until he could feel his feet begin to move on their own accord. Calling upon his iron will he called his baser instincts to a halt as he savagely reminded himself that she was his ward--nothing more.
Clean now and wearing just a pair of pants he grabbed one of his clean shirts, grimacing at it. He hated sleeping with clothes on especially surrounded by sturdy walls. But sleeping in the nude wasn't practical for the life of a witcher nor would it be appropriate at a time like this. Glancing back at the girl's still body he watched the slight rise and fall of her back as she slept, he could risk leaving the shirt off at least. Laying down, he folded one arm behind his head and closed his eyes.
His eyes opened seconds before the shattering clap of thunder struck the sky. The walls of the cottage shook and Geralt could here bits of stone fall away from the mountain wall at the disturbance. A sharp intake of breath and the jolt to his right was expected. Holding out his right arm he barred the girl from getting up from the spot. Soft and warm Geralt inwardly cursed at the feeling of her breasts pushing against the side of forearm as he kept her still.
"You are fine, it's just a storm," he reassured her, hoping his voice sounded calm to her rather than as rough as it sounded to his own ears.
Breathing deeply Ciri looked around the dark room in a confused panic. He could see her mind slowly putting together reality as she finally let her gaze settle to him. The light from the stove's grate had died down only casting a small circumference of orange glow. It was the occasional flashes of bright lightening piercing through the shutters' cracks that illuminated the room in sporadic spurts. Watching her gray eyes slowly take him in with recognition and clarity Geralt tensed at the reminder he wasn't wearing a shirt.
But her eyes did not widen in shock nor did that tiny spark of feminine arousal ignite this time. Looking down she gave him a shaky nod before laying back down, turning her back to him. Pulling back his arm, Geralt laid there completely still listening to the sounds of the storm rage around them. He let the deafening sounds of rain hitting the cottage file themselves into individual sounds: rain hitting the thatched roof, the stone siding, the metal chimney of the wood stove, even the sound of rain hitting the side of the mountain. All of the sounds he categorized and filed away. Scents were inhaled and labeled immediately--all except one. One scent, one salty tang that pierced the air around them took him a few seconds longer to confirm. The scent of tears.
Turning onto his side until he mirrored her position, he looked down at the slender back of the girl next to him. Bunched up around her waist the quilt left the outline of her shoulder and upper arm exposed. Observing her carefully, he watched the small almost indiscernible tremors shake her shoulders and he listened to the soft sounds of her irregular breathing.
Geralt debated his next move longer than usual. Quick thinking was key to survival as a witcher but when it came to just a handful of weeks with this girl, he realized there was still things to learn.
Laying a hand on her shoulder, he felt her tense but he said nothing he simply waited. Seconds trickled by like sand through an hourglass and Geralt couldn't help but focus on the heat of her skin through the fabric of her gown. It felt as if her skin was a river of heat pulling his hand like a strong current to sink deeper to urge it to glide to the natural dip in her hips. Fuck! Why had every one of his past encounters with a woman been sexual? His instincts were worthless if not sexual. Resisting the urge to move his hand he waited.
Without turning she spoke. "I dreamt nothing had changed. For a moment, it was all just a terrible nightmare," she began, her voice thick with tears. "I miss grandmother, I miss Mousesack, I miss Cintra…I miss my old life," she whispered weakly, barely audible over the din of rain surrounding their cottage. Turning over under his hand she looked up at him her eyes watery and desperate. "Please don't be mad, I don't mean to sound ungrateful I…I just…I…"
Letting his hand rest onto her other shoulder, he pulled her against him without a word. There was nothing he could say that would ease her pain, no great words of wisdom that would help her through her grief any faster, he had nothing he could give her but his presence. Pressed tightly against his bare chest Geralt ignored the warnings in his head about their positions, closing his eyes he waited until her shock slowly dissipated and her body relaxed. He felt her tears renew even as her arms wound around his neck bringing her closer and closer until she was tucked into him perfectly.
Raindrops and tears continued to fall while lightening veined through the night sky, briefly illuminating their entwined embrace.
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Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Walking along side of Roach, Ciri swiped away a couple of low hang branches that threatened to catch in her hair. Up ahead, Geralt was leading Roach by the reins over the uneven terrain of the forest. Earlier that morning he told her they were just outside the edges of Olena's Grove in Temeria. Since the night they were attacked by what he called Fleders, vampiric beasts, they had travelled for four more days until finally they dismounted here. Steep craggily cliffs covered with soft layers of leaves, belied the gentle seeming forest's true dangers.
"It is nothing more than a quarry covered in trees, one misstep can cost you a horse at the very least," he had grumbled to her as he carefully led Roach down a crumbling ravine.
Ciri could not help but smile at that. It amused her how much this gruff man of few words loved his horse. Each day since that night of the attack--since he administered to her wounds, she thought with a flush--she had taken over the job of brushing and feeding the venerable Roach. The task was actually rather enjoyable. His dark coat was soft and easy to brush and his tendency to nuzzle her affectionately made the small chore pleasant.
"Ah," Geralt said, stopping up ahead. "There it is."
Excited to know what he was referring to she ran forward to catch up, stopping at his side. Standing just at the edge of the forest they both looked at the gleaming body of water surrounded by tall reeds.
"Is it a lake?" she asked, marveling at the serene beauty of the surprising find.
"No, it’s a river," pointing to their left, he nodded to the mountains that curved around the water on the other side like a great wall. "The water flows from those mountains and comes down here and continues south," his arm panned to their left following the water to show her where it narrowed once more in the distance.
"And, this is where you wanted to go?" she asked carefully, pointing to the ground where they stood.
Geralt caught her eye and grinned. "Not here exactly. Over there," he pointed to across the river towards the mountain side that formed a steep wall on the other side.
Following his pointing finger, she squinted as she tried to discern to what he was pointing at through the tall reeds. Eventually her eyes settled on a dark shape against the mountain wall.
"Come," he commanded, taking up Roach's reins again and walking towards the water.
Pushing their way through the reeds, Ciri was surprised to see a sturdy looking bridge crossing the flowing water. Wide enough for a cart the bridge held them firmly as all three crossed to the other side. Closer now Ciri stopped at the sight of the cottage. Built purposly into the mountainside the cottage only had three sides, using the natural wall of the mountain as its fourth. Only one story high, the stone and thatch roof cottage were definitely worse for wear. Walking closer in Geralt's footsteps they both silently took stock of the house's condition. Surprisingly the thick paned windows still looked in tact behind their shuttered doors. Stones along the corner wall had come loose and crumbled into a pile making a hole that gave them both a peek into the shadowy inside of the place. Looking up, they could see portions of the thatching completely missing from the roof whether blown away in a previous storm or collapsed inward into the house.
Warily she looked over to Geralt, who didn't bother meeting her gaze. Making his usual grumbling noise of disapproval he stepped up to the front door and shoved. It did not move. Ciri was going to question that maybe someone still lived here despite all the signs that said otherwise but before she could even open her mouth Geralt grabbed both edges of the doorframe and kicked in the door.
Giving her the signal to wait, he stepped inside. Minutes dragged by as she shifted impatiently on her feet. Surely the place wasn't that big. Smoke began to billow from the open door and out the various holes in the house.
Alarmed, Ciri stepped hesitantly forward. "Geralt!"
Walking calmly out the door with his nose and mouth buried in the crook of his arm he backed away from the house and stood by her and waited. Covering her own face with her sleeve she gave him a confused look. Silently, he pointed.
As if on cue a handful of vermin started vacating the premises through whatever hole or door they could find. Hopping away from a few scurrying rats charging from the doorway, she and Geralt watched as a large yellow snake slithered out of the fallen corner wall.
As the last few birds flew away and the smoke died down, she turned to Geralt with a knowing grin. "What would your teachers say at Kaer Mohren if they knew you were using your witcher magic for vermin extraction?"
"Why Geralt, I see that your ingenuity and prowess has not waned in these passing years," his tone was so deep and deadpan it took Ciri a full minute before her brain registered his jest.
Laughter flowed through her spreading a smile so wide on her face it almost felt foreign. She could not remember the last time she laughed or even had much of a reason to smile. Turning away from her with an unreadable look, Geralt walked back inside the house, this time allowing her to follow.
Inside they each approached one of the square windows and unlatched the hook locks. Opening the paned windows, they reached out and opened the outer shutters letting in the much-needed light and air. Shafts of sunlight cut through the dusty room revealing its contents. Standing in the main living area they looked around to see a large steel wood stove against the largest wall, with various baskets and old furs tacked against the stone wall. Above them was a loft space still holding a few items covered in dusty cloth. On the adjoining mountain wall there were places that the mountain was cut into making a built-in larder and pantry section next to a narrow wooden table used to prepare food, and on the final wall were three doors.
"Two of the doors lead to small bedrooms, both of which are affected by the hole in the wall. And the third door leads down a hall cut alongside of the mountain to a small privy."
Turning to survey her surroundings again she looked up to meet his silent waiting expression. "This...this is actually a very nice place."
Folding his muscular arms across his chest, Geralt leaned against the doorframe and gave her a matter-of-fact look. "There is no need for false flattery princess."
Ciri flinched at the use of her title. It was a remark of derision she ought to have been used to by now. The only people who said the title with any respect and meant it were all dead now. Nobility meant nothing good in the real world, all it did was cast a giant target on her back and ostracize her.
"I mean it, honest," she implored. "If you mean for us to stay here I honesty have no complaints, I rather like it. It…it seems so peaceful," she could hear the wistful note in her own voice and winced.
Again, the same unreadable looked passed over the witcher's face before he turned and walked outside.
"There is a small stable outside, I will see to Roach for the night. You look around and take stock for what we can use," he ordered.
Nodding, Ciri turned and got to work.
Not surprisingly there was no food in the larder but there were plenty of tools. A few of them a bit rusted and dirty but all seemingly usable. Next to the wood stove, which she didn't notice before was a small domed oven which sat on a block of bricks. Kneeling down, she took note of the metal rack inside before leaning back to see a wooden paddle resting near the structure. Ciri smiled, having spent enough time in the palace kitchens to recognize the small baker's oven for what it was. Two bedrooms with furniture and beds, a loft filled with pots, pans, and other hidden away little items: it all seemed so carefully abandoned she wondered what could have happened to the prior occupants. Walking outside she shivered at the strong breeze that whipped by. Just a few minutes inside the little mountain cottage and she was already appreciative with how warm it was. Circling the other side of the house opposite of the stable, she stopped at the sight of a familiar shape hidden behind a bush. Carefully she approached. Covered by a few old sack cloths she pulled away the material to reveal the prize.
Stumbling backward she nearly tripped over herself as she scrambled to the other side of the house where Geralt stood examining some old horse equipment. Sensing her presence, he turned and gave her a pointed raise of his brow at her obvious excitement.
"You must come and see it for yourself," she exclaimed, waving him to follow quickly.
Following her around the house she pointed at her find with a huge grin. Slowly, like the coming dawn, a satisfied smile spread across the terse man's lips at the sight of the tub. "Let's see if it holds water first."
Hauling the large wooden tub on its side, together they rolled it to the river.
"Even if it can hold water," she rasped as they rolled the heavy item. "We will need a pail. The cottage does not have pumped water or pipes and we would die of old age if we have to use your tiny pot."
Geralt gave her a wicked look, before pushing the giant tub on its base. "Mmm and here I was thinking how much enjoyment I was going to get watching you run a thousand times to and back from the river to fill up my bath for the night."
"Ha, in your dreams witcher!"
"Wait here," turning he ran back to the stable and came out with a large bucket.
Ciri wanted to cry but she forced herself to hold back her tears until they tested the blasted thing. Filling the bucket with water they poured the water in and waited. With narrowed eyes and clipped commands Geralt lifted the heavy tub to one side and had her go to the other and check for leaks. There were none, the water held.
"Please Geralt, please tell me we can bathe tonight," she asked carefully, not sure if the man had other plans for the night.
He gave her a sidelong look that questioned her sanity. "At this point you would have to physically fight me not to take one."
Laughing she helped him roll it back to the house. "Good," she huffed as they pushed it over the door's threshold. "Because we reek."
~
Filling the tub with what seemed like endless buckets of water, Geralt went outside and collected an arm full of smooth river stones while she brought down the large stock pot hidden in the loft. Placing the rocks in the wood stove that thankfully still worked, he began heating the rocks as she boiled a large pot of water. Working in tandem they were able to clear the living area, sweeping and bringing in the feather filled mattresses from both rooms and moving aside the chairs, they made a makeshift camp in the center of the room. While Geralt knelt and turned the stones in the fire Ciri used a tarp she had found in the loft for a makeshift curtain. After beating the material outside of all the settled dust, the best, she could she strung it up over the rafters so that it hung partially in front of the tub. It would not conceal everything she thought, but a little privacy was better than none in their makeshift living space.
With Geralt's help the steaming pot of water was lowered to the floor and placed in the far corner of the room near a small wooden stool. Gathering their miniscule amount of bathing supplies she hesitantly turned to Geralt.
Before she could even pose the question, he turned and grabbed the large blacksmith tongs he found in the stable and pulled a few of the rocks from the fire. Steam rose off the rocks as they met the cool air just before he dropped them into the filled tub. Sizzling and popping from the cool water's touch he added the stones one by one until the water began to heat.
"Wash quickly if you want to enjoy the water while its hot," he instructed tersely.
Without waiting for her to respond he turned and sat in a nearby chair with his back towards her.
Quicker than ever before Ciri pulled off her tunic and sat on the stool. Dipping her towel carefully into the hot water she began wiping away the days of filth and grime. Absently she could hear the sound of metal being pulled from its sheath and knew without looking Geralt was cleaning his sword. Each night the man inspected his array of weapons with meticulous care, even if there had been no incident between the time he last checked. A few times she had wanted to question the act but stopped herself each time, settling on silence as she simply watched. Carefully and as silently as possible she removed her pants and undergarments to wash her lower half. Finishing quickly, she used one of the sheets she had found as a towel and walked behind the curtain and stepped gingerly into the hot water.
Ciri could not stop the moan of satisfaction that escaped her lips. For a brief but tense moment she listened as the sound of Geralt's polishing strokes paused before quickly resuming. Due to the position of the rocks at the bottom of the tub she was forced to sit with her back towards the wall and her feet towards Geralt's back. She watched as he leaned into his task, attentively caring for the weapon. Dipping her hair into the water, she scooped just a tiny amount of soap from the jar Geralt provided. With little where else to train her gaze she let it settle on his broad back as she soaped and washed her long hair.
"Do you like being a witcher?" she asked, dipping her head back into the water, raising her breasts in the air.
"Mmmm," he intoned deeply.
Seeing that he did not necessarily give any sign for her to cease talking she continued. "Even as the world rebukes you on one hand but calls upon you in their time of need with the other?"
Straightening in his chair she watched as he tilted his head to the ceiling rafter as if in thought, causing his white hair to fall behind his shoulders.
"I manage," he began. "Because I have to, because I've no other way out. I've overcome the vanity and pride of being different, I've understood that they are a pitiful defense against being different. I have lived my entire life by the sword, I am comfortable knowing it will be how I die."
There was something so startlingly different about this man, she realized, something Ciri could not put her finger on. Was it his strength, his inhuman exotic capabilities? She could not determine it. Not once did her chest fill with a tight longing to be simply near a man like it did now. Knights, warriors, princes, sons of the highest nobility, none of them affected her like this witcher did. She just wished she knew what the feeling meant.
Standing from the water she bent and grabbed her makeshift towel by the tub and stepped out. She could have stayed in there all night but she knew Geralt was looking forward to the bath as much as she was. Kneeling down by the grate on the wood stove she picked up the tongs before calling over her shoulder. "Would you like for me to add your stones to the water?"
"Yes," the deep sound of his voice directly behind her nearly made her drop the hot stone between the metal tong's grip.
She had not heard him move from the chair. Carefully holding the wrapped sheet around her naked body, she plucked each stone from the orange blaze and dropped them into the water. Glancing up and over her shoulder she realized she had no need to be self-conscious. Already turned and facing the corner, Geralt was already undoing the snaps to his armor.
Leaving him to his privacy, Ciri hurried to her designated mattress on the floor. Dressing as he did the exact opposite, Ciri sat with her back to him facing the opposite wall with the three doorways. Earlier she had braved the private privy and was thankful to realize it wasn't as nightmarish as she imagined. Pulling out a thick warm dress Goldencheeks had given her, she pulled it over her head before discreetly pulling on her second set of undergarments.
The deep rumbling groan from behind her nearly made her laugh out loud. The sound of water sloshing and more satisfied groaning filled the air as she made herself comfortable underneath the blankets.
"What do you think happened to the people that once lived here? It seems like such a nice home," she reasoned aloud.
Settling into the water Geralt made a contemplative noise. "The last time I passed through this area a woman and her two children were leaving for her sister's house up north after her husband had been killed. I believe it has been abandoned ever since, hidden by the reeds and hidden far back in this forest which is inconveniently too far to the nearest village."
"I wonder if they will ever come back?"
"Maybe, maybe not," he answered, water splashed as he moved about behind her. "It’s not safe to travel long distances especially as a woman and doubly so with children."
God did she know it, she thought. Just thinking of the near misses to her life just trying to find Geralt made her want to bury herself in her covers for days.
"And what of us?" she dared herself to ask.
"What about us?"
What was their life to be from here on out? Did he really mean it when he said he would train her? Were they going to live here for long or move on soon? Ciri had so many questions she wanted to ask but stopped herself from asking, she was still unsure about the brusque man and had no wish to try his patience. "I mean will you still be a witcher and hunt monsters?"
Geralt's laugh was loud and dry. "I will never not be a witcher Ciri," he said with almost a rueful tone. "And if you really mean to ask, what will your future with me now hold? Then the answer is simple my dear girl--you will be trained as a witcher because I know nothing else."
Ciri could not deny the bubble of excitement and fear that surged within her. Staring at the dusty rafters overhead she could see a peek of the night sky through one of the holes in the thatching. It was amazing what a little bit of safety and assurety to one's future could do to brighten one's mood even while sleeping in a forgotten house deep in the woods. Closing her eyes, she listened as the water sloshed and Geralt stepped out of the bath. Quiet as a cat he moved around the room presumably dressing until she could feel his presence right next to her. When they had travelled on the open road each night he had slept upright leaned against a rock or tree allowing her to curl up next to his side. Now with the shutters tightly fastened and the door barred shut she could feel himself relax and lay straight on the small mattress next to her. Warmth radiated from his person as well as from the woodstove. He had told her earlier at her worried expression when he lit it, that the cover of the mountains would block most from discerning the smoke and since the moon was well hidden behind the clouds that night, predators and human alike would only have their nose to follow through the rocky forest in order to find them. For the first time in a long time, she was truly safe.
Sleep had no trouble finding her that night.
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Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 3
For two days silence stretched between them, a silence Ciri was desperate to break.
After the first day of her self-imposed silent treatment towards the revered witcher she had come to realize a few things. One, Geralt was more than fine with silence. She even wondered if it would be too far to say the man downright enjoyed it. Thus, making her form of retaliation worthless. And secondly, with the passing time Ciri was able to quietly reflect on their exchanged words with the absence of her pride and petulance and she realized he was right. There was nothing they could do for Yurga and his family at this point, all she could do is pray no harm befell the kind family.
The problem now was her deteriorating relationship with the quiet witcher. Each night since that day he went by his rituals in complete unbothered silence. In the morning she was awoken by a gentle but firm shake to the shoulder, pulling her from her sleep. Sitting up on the thin bedroll she was immediately given cold leftovers wrapped in cloth from their dinner the night before. Considerately the caught and killed quail, or rabbit he gave her was always paired with a few sprigs of wild onion or mushrooms. After eating he would give her just enough time for her to rub a few chunks of the charcoal, made by the night's fire, on her teeth and to quickly dart behind a tree to relieve herself before starting their journey. Ciri had tried numerous times to speak but each time she caught a glance of his awaiting gaze, as if he knew exactly what she was trying to do, she chickened out. She knew she should just apologize, just blurt it out if she had to but every time she met his stoic expression all the words in her throat seized up.
By the third day Ciri was on the verge of giving up entirely. Maybe whenever they go to where they were going the opportunity would present itself but for now as they rode through the mud and drizzling rain, Ciri succumbed to the silence. No longer trying to keep any distance between herself, Ciri wrapped her arms around his waist and let her full weight lean against the massive warrior as they rode, a part of her hoped it bothered him then maybe he would finally say something to her. Unsurprisingly, however Geralt said nothing.
It was evening when they heard the noise. Slowing Roach to an easy walk they both looked ahead as the trees began to thin out with each approaching step until a rough man-made tree line formed. Making his usual deep grunt of disapproval, Geralt reached into the saddle bag next to her, his hand brushing her knee as he pulled out a handful of small maps. Selecting one he stuffed the rest back into the pouch, this time avoiding her knee, before reading it over.
"This is a new settlement, one that I have only heard rumors about. A portion of the town's people broke off from the village of Kerbostwo a few miles east of here," pulling Roach to a complete stop about a dozen yards away they watched from the natural incline in the forest floor down through the cut trees below into town.
There was something bleak and desperate about the village. With the pathways between the poorly erected buildings covered in thick soppy mud, the few people she did see walking around were forced to lift their knees higher than usual to get through the caked mess. The expressions on the women's faces looked downtrodden while the men wore expressions of grim menace. Nothing about this place seemed inviting and everything about it yelled at her senses to get far away from it as possible.
Folding the map in his hand, Geralt returned it to the pouch with the others before tugging Roach's reins east.
"We will go around," he announced evenly.
Letting out a breath she didn't even know she was holding Ciri began to ask him if he felt the strange animosity in the air too when his hand suddenly covered hers at his waist.
"Silence," he whispered. Pulling on the horse's reins they all stilled.
Shouts rang out from the other side of the muddy village clearing just before a chorus of unearthly high-pitched screeches drowned them out.
Geralt did not waste another second. Kicking Roach's flanks, the horse bolted off, nearly knocking Ciri off the saddle if it had not had been for her tight grip around the witcher's waist and the firm pressure of his arm covering her own. Ciri clung to his back as he weaved them in and out of trees circling the large cut-out in the forest where the village sat. Screams shot out through the air sending flashbacks of the terrors of Cintra rushing through her mind. Clenching her eyes shut, her pulse hammered in her ears as she heard a shattering screech and multiple scurrying sounds from behind them. Something slashed at her cheek and Ciri let out a small cry. The trees were denser as they raced further and further into the dark unknown forest and away from the city. Long, thin branches naked from their leaves whipped at them as Roach barreled them through. Looking now, she could see dozens of dark shapes and glowing red eyes running on four legs alongside them.
By the heavens, they were monsters!
Real living breathing monsters that were trying to devour them. Monsters that Mouseseck used to tell her about in his tutoring's. Never once had she seen a live monster. Dead ones were kept in the palace underground research laboratories, ghoulish body parts floating in dim yellowish fluids or dried pieces of arms or legs but never once a live one.
Hearing the fast scurrying sounds on the other side she turned her head against Geralt's back to look to her right. There were four more chasing them on this side, possibly more!
A pair of red eyes settled on her, flashing with frenzied delight. With a large bat shaped head and gruesome open mouth of sharp mismatching fangs, the creature's dark slick skin glinted in the weak moonlight filtering through the trees. Ciri watched the strange bat creature slowdown from the pack and she could see his muscles bunch as his eyes stayed on her with a hungry intention.
She knew it was going to jump moments before it did. Ciri screamed as she saw it leap towards her both hands extended, its long claws glistening.
Knife fisted in his hand, Geralt's arm whipped backward in one smooth motion, embedding the silver blade in through the creature's giant bat-like ear hole and into what she presumed was its brain. The glowing red of its eyes faded and it fell to the ground behind them with a thud, immediately trampled by a few of its own, some stopping to tear its flesh from its body.
Terrified she clutched tighter at Geralt's back. Ciri wanted to scream, she wanted to hide in some dark hole far far beyond the reach of these wretched creatures. But she said nothing, she didn't allow herself utter one sound as they raced ahead of the snarling pack in pursuit. Gaining a few meters Geralt steered Roach suddenly to their left towards a large tree. Practically scraping the horse's flanks against the tree's bark Geralt pulled the horse to a stop and turned in the saddle. Without a word her grabbed her around the waist and yanked her out of her seat and lifted her up into the high branches.
"Climb," he roared.
Too scared to question Ciri clutched onto the nearest branch and began pulling herself upward. With the added help of Geralt's hands pushing her dangling feet the rest of the way up she cleared four branches putting a few yards between her and the witcher.
Ciri heard the sing of metal and stopped to look back down through the tree's limbs at Geralt who had already dismounted his horse pulled out his sword. Standing with his sword in one hand, he stood ready, knees slightly bent as he waited for the approaching horde. With his long white hair soaked against his neck and back and his black armor glistening in the falling rain Ciri could feel the violent tension radiate from the man.
Still standing within the tree's limbs, Ciri watched and listened as the sounds of the snarling monsters were practically upon them ready to burst from the brush any minute. Raising his sword until the long silver blade fell across the length of his broad shoulders Geralt took two quick steps and turned with nearly a dancer's grace letting the blade swing out and free at the height of the turn slicing the head of a creature who jumped perfectly in time with the move. Ciri choked down a gasp as she watched with wide eyes as Geralt brutally dispatched three more of the beasts. Holding his blade in a way she had never seen before, more like a dagger than a sword, she watched the white-haired man turn and move with the creature's movements before turning the momentum and his sword against them. Blasting three more of the creatures with a forceful telekinetic wave Ciri watched as one of them went skittering past her tree head over feet while two of them hit the base of her tree with a shaking thump that nearly pitched her to the ground. Grabbing a hold of the thick wet limb ahead of her with a small cry, Ciri immediately realized her mistake.
Looking down the tree's trunk the two monsters were now looking up directly at her. Swallowing a scream Ciri scrambled up the limb, higher into the tree. Everything within her wanted to call out to Geralt, but she could see that he was fighting off nearly a dozen of the things already. All she had to do was climb, if she could just stay away from them then she would be safe. Thankfully the tree naturally curved making it easier for her hands and cheaply made boots to find purchase against the slick bark. Her blood raced as she reached for a limb just outside of her reach, the scratching noises vibrating up the tree told her the monsters were gaining on her. Stretching her arm out painfully Ciri reached for the limb that stuck out, if she could just reach it then maybe it would be too out of reach for the creatures to follow her onto. The tips of her fingers barely brushed the damp bark when the tight searing pain closed around her ankle. This time she could not suppress the scream.
Dragging her down the rough bark, Ciri screamed and clawed at anything she could find, but the thin branches just sliced through her hands as the grip on her ankle pulled her farther down as the rough bark serrated her skin through the rough journey down. An explosion of stars burst behind her eyes as her body hit the unforgiving ground, face first.
A deep almost inhuman sounding roar sounded above her. Using borrowed strength Ciri pushed herself up to her knees and caught a glimpse of the witcher. Just as the rumors described she knelt there in frozen shock as Geralt swung his blade to her left and with a complicated twist of his wrist arced the blade to her right cutting in half two of the bat-like monsters. His eyes were completely black, it was the only fact she could process as she knelt in the rain surrounded by monstrous corpses.
"Are you hurt?" she watched the inhuman man's lips move and she understood his rough words but she could not seem to get past the deafening ring in her ears.
His eyebrows furrowed together with savage menace as he swung the sword out of the way until it rested upward along the back of his arm, the tip pointing up just behind his shoulder. Taking two steps forward he grabbed her with his left hand by her upper arm and pulled her to standing.
"Ciri," he barked, demanding her attention. "Answer me girl, are you hurt? Have you been bitten or scratched?!"
Unsure where to look in his black eyes she pointed to her ankle and stammered. "One of them grabbed me as I tried to climb."
Whipping the sword around, he buried it into the ground next to him with an angry grunt as he knelt and snatched up her billowing pants legs inspecting one before landing on the one that was already bruising. Lowering to his haunches he reached for her leg with one hand and grabbed her waist with the other forcing her to balance against him as he lifted her foot. Without irises or pupils, just an empty sea of black he surveyed her foot before letting it drop with a gruff sound.
"You are lucky, there are no scratches and the skin has not been pierced," grabbing his sword he grabbed a cloth from somewhere on his person and began wiping the long blade, but his black gaze and lowered brow remained trained on her. "Next time I tell you to climb, you do as I say. Do you understand?"
She wanted to argue, she wanted to yell that no amount of climbing on her part could have prevented those monsters from eventually catching her but as she looked up covered in mud and sore from her fall she could see the simmering energy of the fight still pulsing through him and knew that arguing with him would accomplish nothing. Lowering her eyes, she nodded her head as she wiped at the mud on her cheeks.
"Roach," he called.
Walking up to meet the trotting horse he stopped by its flank before turning his head to look at her over his shoulder. Obediently, she walked forward, doing her best to hide the limp in her gait.
Raising himself onto the horse, he extended one gloved hand towards her. Taking his hand, Ciri let him hoist her into the saddle behind him, she was too tired and still too stunned by the event to do or say much else. Glancing at the long talons of the felled monsters she remembered its shining red eyes and frenzied hungry shrieks as it pulled her down the tree. In all honestly, she just wanted to cry. She wanted to break down against his back even as Roach walked forward back to their journey to their unknown destination picking its way over the strewn corpses they left behind. But she didn't, taking only a small handful of his leather armor in each hand Ciri willed herself to sit straight and tall like her grandmother taught her despite the mud caking her clothes and face and despite the all over soreness of her body. This was her reality now. The soft life she knew surrounded by comfort and safety was gone. Tonight, like so many of the other nights she spent in terror quickly showed her the harsh realities of this world and she knew now she was nowhere near prepared for them. She could not afford to be weak and a burden to this man, inhuman or not. She would swallow her pain each day if that is what it took just as long as he let her stay by his side.
~*~
The toxicity of the serum eventually wore off he could feel his overactive senses finally calm. Riding through the forest for what felt like hours they finally broke through into a small valley. Spotting a small strip of woodland about a mile out, Geralt led Roach in a silent trot in the direction of the woods and following the path of a narrow stream.
Casting a scouting eye over the area Geralt tried to ignore the absence of weight on his back. From the moment they had mounted back there in the woods the prideful girl had kept her distance again. Didnt she understand that riding like that would only hurt her in the end?
Stopping near an embankment of rocks from which the stream passed through, hidden within the strip of woods, Geralt paused. There was no movement from behind him. Looking down to the delicate pale hands that clutched at his armor he turned and followed the arm until he stopped at the sight of her face. Muddy and slightly bruised on one cheek, the young woman had somehow fallen asleep sitting straight up. Giving an almost invisible smirk Geralt covered her hand with his own.
"Ciri," he said, waiting for her reaction.
There was nothing.
He repeated it, louder this time. "Ciri, wake up."
The startled flinch of her hands caused a tinge of guilt within him as he listened to her automatic apologies despite her confusion. Bracing against him she began to swing her leg down from the saddle. Instinctively his hand tightened on hers as he knew before she did that she was not prepared for the coordinated move. Catching her weight just as her foot slipped from the stirrup, Geralt lowered easily the rest of the way down. Watching her face, he noticed with worry that her face did not flush like it normally did when she did something wrong, it just remained pale and drawn telling him yet again the toll tonight's events took on her. Swinging off the horse, Geralt tied Roach to a tree and grabbed a few items from his pack. Watching the girl from the corner of his eye as he walked to the stream all the while noticing how her tired eyes followed his movements. Despite her severe fatigue he could see the worry in her tense posture and balled fists at her front. She looked at him as if she expected him to turn around any minute and rage and yell at her. The realization annoyed him.
Not for the first time he cursed himself for enacting the law of surprise that day years ago. What in the fuck was he thinking? He was no good with people, especially not displaced princesses. Kneeling down by the flowing stream Geralt filled the small pot with water before casting another glance at the girl still standing like a miserable shaking tree in the middle of their camp. Wide gray eyes met his, exposing all of her fear, weariness, and worst of all that small spark of desperate hope she only directed towards him. That was his answer to that infernal question as to why he chose the Law of Surprise that day, that look right there. She was his destiny whether he agreed or not, and right now his destiny was practically the walking dead.
"Come here and sit down," he pointed to a large rock he planned to put his back to tonight and catch a few hours asleep against.
Like an automaton complying with its preset wind-up functions she moved towards him with a slight limp to her step. Anger unfurled within him as he thought of those piece of shit fleders getting past him to her. Annoyed with himself he began making a fire. It was a task he intended on giving to her from now on, but he was too angry and she was too tired for the lesson to be taught tonight.
"Watch carefully, from now on I will have you…" his brusque words faded as he looked up to her.
Leaning against the rock, Ciri was dead asleep.
Sighing, Geralt continued arranging the fire.
~*~
Something warm and damp slid across her face. Despite every shred of conscious thought telling her to ignore it and simply continue her blissful sleep, Ciri opened her eyes to see Geralt kneeling beside her. Meeting her gaze with a short pause, Ciri's heartrate picked up as they stared at one another. Breaking away first, he turned back toward the small black pot suspended over the fire. Dipping the strip of linen back into the pot he pulled it back out before reaching out to her again wiping the mud at her face. The hot damp feeling nearly made her moan, it felt like ages since Yurga's cottage, ages since she had a proper warm bath.
Motivated by only her pride, Ciri lifted her hand to his as he wiped the other side of her face with every intention to politely take over. Goosebumps rippled across her skin as the now cooling cloth slid from her temple down the curve of her neck.
"I can smell blood," his rough voice only seemed to make her eyelids feel heavier she noted as she blinked tiredly back at him trying to decipher the meaning of his words.
Tilting his head, he gave her an imperceptible smirk before settling a hand on her narrow shoulder. Gently he urged her to turn around and face the rock. "Your back," he explained as he settled to sit behind her, one leg tucked in and one knee bent at her side, "must be scratched by the tree, I will need to wash it."
Having let him position her without argument, Ciri paused at his deep words. Looking over her shoulder in surprise she met his waiting amber gaze. "You mean…I need to…"
Though her words were pocked with pauses and doubt, the implication was clear.
One pale eyebrow drew up in a sardonic angle. "Can you reach your own back and make sure not to waste my medicine?"
Turning back to face the rock, she hid her embarrassment at his words. Shaking her head, she waited for his next command.
With surprising gentleness, she felt the tips of his finger scrape against her as he carefully lifted her dirty, torn tunic. Lifting it higher and higher, Ciri felt her fatigue burn away in the fires of her embarrassment as he gathered the material around her neck, exposing her back.
For a moment neither one of them moved or said a word.
"This will be better if you lay down," he said brusquely, his voice thicker sounding than before.
Reaching over her Geralt grabbed her bedroll for her and rolled it out next to her. Quickly she held her gathered tunic carefully in front of her and laid face down on the thin bedroll, exposing her bare back to him. Turning to face the large boulder to her right she felt and heard him move to her left just before she felt the stinging warmth of the cloth against her sore back.
Flinching at the sudden contact, Ciri swallowed the hiss at her lips.
"I put a few herbs in the water, it will sting but it will clean the cuts," he explained tersely above her.
"Are there lots of them?" she asked, now a little worried by the state of her back.
"Yes," he growled before dipping the towel in the water which had grown even hotter now.
Ciri had to bite back a moan at the mixture of feelings his clothed touch invoked. The hot steaming towel against her cold skin felt like heaven whereas the stinging pain to her cuts was slow torture. Ciri could not begin to fathom why the mixture of sensations affected her so but she could not deny that they did. With every stroke of the hot cloth Geralt left a damp trail in his wake allowing the night's cold breeze to wash over her skin making her tremble and long for the next stroke.
With her arms folded to her sides, her hands balled into the thin fabric of the bed roll as she felt his touch move further to the base of her back. As if sensing her tense, Geralt began to explain while his hands moved to the hem of her pants. "The scratches appear to stop just below the waistline."
Giving him a quick silent nod, she held her breath as his fingers pushed the material of the pants down. And though it was only a few inches Ciri could hardly control the thrashing rate of her heart as she felt cool air touch the seam of her bottom. Rumors said that witchers could see in the dark, could smell things only animals should, and could hear the sound of a hummingbird's wings. Surely, he could hear the pounding beat of her heart right now.
More swipes from the hot cloth comforted and stung all at once as he cleaned the lacerations. After a few moments she could feel him shift beside her and waited with an eagerness that surprised her for him to touch her again. Finally, she felt it, the warm scrape of his callused fingers gliding something pungent and greasy across her cuts.
"This is a salve we are taught to make our first year at Kaer Mohren," as he spoke his fingers traced along her cuts with an infinite slow precision that made her eyes draw to a close.
"Did you get many cuts learning to be a witcher?" she asked not bothering to open her eyes.
He let out a short bark of a laugh. "More than I could ever count. At one point I was practically bathed in this stuff."
Smiling she could feel her body relax completely even as his fingers traced at the top of her backside.
"I wish I was strong like you," she whispered tiredly already losing her grasp on reality. "I'm so tired of running and being scared all the time…I want to be like you. I want to face the dangers that seem to follow me instead of run from them."
His movements stopped but she did not notice. Pulling her tunic back down and readjusting her pants Geralt stared at her, unnoticed by the girl as she fell further into the arms of sleep.
"Then I will teach you," he proclaimed not only to her but to himself.
#geralt x ciri#geralt#geralt of rivia#geralt fanfic#ciri x geralt#witcher netflix#witcher fanfiction#witcher smut#fanfiction#katerinawinters#writings
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The Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Swaying in rhythm to the horse's gait Ciri willed herself to stay awake against Geralt's broad back. They had been riding since dawn, after a short but tearful farewell at Yurga's cottage Geralt had lifted her to his horse and began their journey. Cold misty air whipped past them as they rode, stinging at her face and any bit of exposed skin that wasn't shielded by the large leather jacket Geralt let her wear. One look at her thin clothes Goldencheeks loaned her, the witcher let out a disapproving growl before unpacking a spare jacket from his horse's pack. Swallowed by the heavy black leather Ciri couldn’t stop the smile of contentment from spreading across her lips. It felt good to be warm, but more importantly it felt good to be protected again.
Thankful for their positions Ciri looked up to see the back of the witcher's head as they rode. His pale white hair fell to the middle of his shoulder blades, damp from the dreary misty air. When she was younger, she was often teased by the other children noble and peasant alike for her ashen hair, calling it a sign of a curse. When her nanny had told her in secret about the man she was destined to, she had told Ciri of the witcher's white hair and great strength. Although she never admitted it to anyone, the similar trait shared between this revered man and herself had comforted her.
"Ciri," the sudden deep sound of his voice startled her. It had been hours since they left Yurga's cottage, though she couldn’t be sure since there was hardly any sunlight in the gray cloudy sky, but not once did Geralt speak.
"Yes, sir?" she answered obediently. If it were anyone else, she would have never added the honorific. She was heir to Cintra, she was taught since the moment she could speak that people were to show her respect not the other way around. But that was no longer her reality. Casting a downward glance, she tried to stamp away the pain in her chest at the reminder. Cintra was lost to her and she was princess to nothing. With no skills that would provide any use beyond the castle walls she learned the hard way more than once that her aristocratic demeanor was unwelcome in the real world.
"We are coming up on marsh land," he paused momentarily and Ciri got the impression as if his statement was supposed to mean something. Worriedly, she tried to guess at the significance of his words.
The silence stretched for a second longer, making her feel awkward and self-conscious.
Finally he continued. "Marshes, swamps, bogs, and ponds, pretty much any small stagnant body of water are rife with monsters," he explained. Ciri's grip clenched tighter at his sides.
Having kept herself upright all morning to prevent herself from leaning on his back as he rode, Ciri had maintained her grip to the witcher by grasping only the sides of his armor. She did not think the large warrior would appreciate her clutching on to him. Looking around, she noticed the trees beginning to thin as they approached the flooded low lands. The tall tufting blanket of green grass belied its wet swampy nature making it almost appear like a green field rather than the soggy wet mess it truly was.
"I will get down from Roach and lead you both through. I want you to listen to me carefully and do exactly as I say," he paused, turning his head ever so slightly she could see his strong profile as he waited for her to acknowledge him.
Her grip on his armor tightened. "Yes, of course," she rushed to answer.
"If we encounter anything you will not scream and you will not come down from Roach. You will simply hold onto him and allow him to take you wherever he goes. If you two are in danger trust that he will run to safety."
"Yes, sir," she answered softly, dreading the thought of possibly being separated from the witcher.
After getting down and pulling a sword from his sheath, Geralt grabbed Roach's reins and began leading them down the sloping incline into water. With only the sound of their sloshing steps, Geralt led them through the marsh. Birds cawed in the distance, safely perched in their trees away from the constant miserable drizzle. Dim gray sunlight fought to pierce through the dismal clouds giving them brief moments of light before losing the battle yet again behind the oppressive damp clouds. With her eyes jumping all over the place, Ciri tried to mimic the man sloshing through thigh-high water. Calmly and expertly his eyes scanned every detail of the horizon while occasionally glancing behind them. She wanted to speak, but she knew better.
Eventually they made their way up a muddy slope that edged the other side of the forest. With a heavy sigh, Ciri felt a huge portion of her energy drain from her body in payment for her relief. Getting down from the horse, she waited as Geralt pulled a strip of cloth from Roach's pack and dried himself off before pulling back onto the horse and reaching down for her. Seated once again behind him, she shifted uncomfortably as she tried to maintain a gap between them.
The warm grip suddenly covering each of her hands gave her no time to react before she was jerked forward. With a thud, her chest thumped against his broad back while her hands were placed over his stomach.
"Relax," he gently ordered. "If you value to the ability of being able to walk tomorrow you will need to relax. Our journey is long and we have a week of riding ahead of us at least."
With no choice, Ciri turned her head and laid her cheek against his broad back. The cool rough feeling of his leather armor scraping gently against her soft skin was surprisingly comfortable.
"Yes, sir," she murmured, fatigue instantly setting in with the comfort of the new position.
"And call me Geralt," her added.
~*~
After a few minutes Geralt could feel the girl's arms around his waist slacken in sleep, though she did not let go. Despite her proud efforts it was easy to read the longing for comfort in her big gray eyes when she looked at him. Fear, exhaustion, and confusion he could sense she had been through a lot before he finally found her. All facts that drove guilt like nails into his soul. He should have taken her with him long ago, once he saw through Calanthe's deception, but no, he decided to fight destiny and rebuke the facts and now they were both worse for wear for it. Glancing down at the pale fingers lightly clasping his jacket he resisted the urge to cover them with his own. Gathering himself with a shake of his head, he concentrated on the path ahead of them and spurred Roach into a faster pace. He did not have time for regrets and certainly no time for sentimentality. His role in life was now changed, he had his child of surprise and it was now his duty to keep her safe.
~*~
Opening her eyes, Ciri let her vision adjust to the scenery around them. No longer on the main trail they moved slowly through the densely packed forest. Thankfully the trees were narrow and tall with most of their branches starting well above their heads allowing them to pass safely through without the fear of being swiped off.
"Good, you're awake," Geralt's rough voice spoke from ahead of her. "We will make camp up ahead."
Thank God. She had to pee for the past few hours but did not know how to say it to the man. She feared the man's reaction to calling a sudden halt in their journey. With only a few streams of dying gray light piercing the sopping wet woods, they rode into a tiny clearing and stepped down from Roach, who gave a relieved grunt. Patting the horse affectionately, Geralt murmured conversationally to the horse as he tied the animal to a tree.
Barely able to hold it any longer, Ciri lifted her billowing pants legs and began to take a running step forward when a strong grip shot out and captured her upper arm. Confused and so very desperate to pee she turned and gave Geralt a desperate look that hopefully conveyed without words just how much she needed to go.
Dawning realization colored his eyes just before a slashing grin spread across his firm lips, though his hold on her arm remained firm. "I understand, however nothing is more dangerous than being caught by some ghoul or other monster with your pants down. Trust me, I speak from experience."
Horrified and a bit embarrassed the overwhelming urge to pee lessened a bit at the terrifying prospect.
Chuckling, Geralt stepped in front of her but motioned her to follow. "First you must scan the area with all senses. Ask yourself, have the birds stopped singing suddenly? Is it too quiet? It's not always what you hear, it's what you don’t hear." Glancing back at her, she gave him a swift nod to tell him she was listening. Giving a grunt of approval he continued forward until he stopped at a broad tree. "Always put something at your back, be quick, and stay alert. Once you're done, I'll have a turn myself."
Stepping just a couple paces away he turned around, scanning the area. After a couple of seconds Ciri realized in horror the man meant to stand there as she went!
"Don't give me that look," his said knowingly, not even turning around. "I can feel your shock. If you want to survive you will learn to shelve your modesty."
Unable to resist letting out an agitated huff, Ciri turned and positioned herself near the large tree. Being as quick as possible she traded places with the witcher, not daring for a second to look up at the man. She didn't need to see his pale face and amber eyes to know he was smirking at her ire.
~*~
For a week now they travelled, mostly through forgotten overgrown paths or making his own route through the forest. When she asked why they did not travel the main roads he answered her question much like he answered any other question she posed, with a question of his own.
"Who is in charge of keeping the roads safe?"
She might not know a lot about monsters and survival beyond the castle walls but Ciri knew a lot about royal governance. Sitting straighter against him she answered clearly. "The soldiers of the presiding kingdom."
"Mmm, and in times of war which soldiers are the first ones the kingdom pull back on?"
"The roads," she answered, this time with much less enthusiasm as she unwilling thought of the slaughter of Cintra by Nilfgaard soldiers.
"These days the roads between kingdoms are the most unsafe, filled with low rank monsters feeding on the helpless and brigands capturing any of the ones who make it past the monsters." Turning his head to look off in the distance at their left, Ciri could see his left eye narrow as if watching something in the distance. Today was another rain drenched day, following his line of sight she tried her best to squint through the misty trees and catch anything but all she saw was more of the same--wet rainy forest. Satisfied by what he saw or didn’t see, Geralt eventually turned to face ahead. "I would rather very much not to have to leave a trail of corpses behind us to Temeria."
"But I thought you told Yurga we were headed towards Rivia?" she asked confused now.
"I lied," he answered simply.
Seeing that he had no intention on expounding further Ciri shifted to the side slightly in the saddle so that she could stare impatiently the side of his gruff profile.
Without moving his head an inch, she watched his eye move until he caught her stare. Smirking he looked back ahead, over Roach's swaying head, to the path he set.
"I had to account for any Nilfgaard tracking you down to Yurga's cottage," he replied evenly. "I could not take the chance that they would not tell your location if they were caught."
Ciri gasped. The thought of gentle Goldencheeks and jovial Yurga being caught because of her took the wind from her lung.
Putting a hand over hers, he pressed it tightly to his abdomen. "Don't," he commanded roughly, turning slightly in the saddle until she could see one amber eye staring at her.
Shaking her head at him, she tried to pull her hand from beneath his overpowering grip. Didn't he understand, they would be killed because of her?!
"But it would be my fault!" she cried, frustrated that he would not allow her to move but frustrated that she never considered her chance meeting of the kind woman at the market could possibly lead to her death.
"We do not know if they will be harmed, it was simply a precaution," there was a finality to his tone that told her he was done speaking of this.
Bit Ciri did not care, couldn't he see how cruel he was being? Yurga and his family sheltered them in a time of need! "But what if they are?" she argued. "What if they do come for them?!"
Slowing Roach down to climb up a steep muddy incline, Ciri waited for the witcher to eventually reply.
"Then we can only hope they do not," he said dryly. "Unless you have a plan on how to fight the Nilfgaard army."
Snapping her head around so that she didn't have to see even a portion of his face, Ciri raised her chin and stared adamantly at the soggy trees beyond. Changing her grip from around his waist until she only held a handful of the material at his sides she thought of the whispered rumors she had heard about him.
"You are as heartless as they say," she muttered.
The rumbling growling sound in his throat sounded initially sounded like a response of anger but as they road in silence she imagined the man's impassive amber gaze and realized it was a sound of agreement.
#witcher netflix#witcher fanfiction#witcher smut#ciri x geralt#geralt fanfic#geralt#geralt of rivia#katerinawinters#writings
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The Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 1
A/N: This is a Geralt/Ciri romance. I imagine them NOT having a father daughter relationship as the game/book/show will depict and I imagine her older. Sooo… that means if you do not agree please hit the back button and return to the wholesome side of the internet and away from my sinful imaginings.
"Where will you go, witcher?" The old man, Yurga asked as he tore and dipped the shredded piece of bread into the bowl of thick brown stew. "You know the roads to Lidine are full of dangerous ghouls and wolves…" The old man began to prattle on, seemingly forgetting he asked a question.
Ciri did her best not stare at the large man sitting at her side. She had dreamt of him, and though despite how vivid her dreams felt she was never able to recall his face with any clarity during her waking hours. But somehow that morning she just knew this man--this witcher. Against her grandmother's orders her nanny used to secretly tell her she rightfully belonged to the man whose name was whispered in either reverence or fear wherever he went. That morning everything inside of Ciri tugged her to the forest, a cacophony of whispers sounded in her head pulling her to run to him to find Geralt of Rivia. He was near she knew it, sitting and waiting was not an option. It felt like there were hundreds of fire beetles under her skin--she had to go to him she could not wait.
When her eyes fell on him, her heart finally slowed and her lungs which seemed tight and constricted from the moment she left Cintra finally allowed her to exhale fully. The comforting embrace was over long before she would have wished it, she was quickly ushered back inside the house by his heavy hand at her back. Once inside, Goldencheeks welcomed her husband with a genuine affection that made Ciri want to turn away in jealousy. It had been weeks since she felt that same love from someone. Weeks since she lost her home and everyone she knew and loved were killed by the dark army. Looking down at her plate, Ciri made a show of eating the last of her soup and ignored how the woman stared joyously at her husband as he rattled on or even worse how the relief shown in the boy, Sulik's eyes towards his father. They were all reunited again and Ciri couldn't help but realize a small horrible part of her hated them for it.
Silence suddenly passed over the table and Ciri quickly looked up from her wooden bowl to see the pale haired witcher staring at her. Naturally everyone else's followed the man's gaze, looking at her before jumping back to him.
"Eat up, girl," he spoke deeply. "We leave at first light." Amber eyes stared at her, piercing into her hidden thoughts until she quickly complied, taking a huge spoonful of the thick soup anything to get away from that sharp stare.
Looking calmly back to Yurga, who had finally stopped talking, Geralt replied to the man's first question. "We will travel towards Rivia."
Seeing that the white haired warrior was not going to say anything else Yurga happily picked up where he left off, filling his family in on his travels and how he came across Geralt.
Later that night while Yurga and Geralt went to care for their horses and check the house's perimeter, Ciri joined Goldencheeks in the family's small but adequate bathing room. Sitting on a tiny wooden stool, Ciri sat very still as Goldencheeks brushed out her pale wet hair. Raking slowly from her scalp down to the ends of her wet hair that trailed her back, the teeth of the wooden comb scraped gently along its path causing Ciri to shudder.
"I've always wanted a daughter, you know?" The woman spoke gently behind her, lifting the comb for another pass down from her scalp. "But the heavens decided to bless me with two boys instead, and rightly I cannot complain. I know I have more than most, but having you around for these past few days reminded me of that old prayer of mine," the woman laughed.
Setting the comb down she gently turned Ciri's shoulders until they were sitting face to face. Both naked beneath the wet muslin cloth, the room around them was steamy and smelt like eucalyptus.
Giving her a serious look, Goldencheeks grasped Ciri's shoulders. "I know you will be safe with the witcher but if you ever need a place to go if you ever find yourself lost please try and make your way back to me, ok? You will always have a place here."
Tears stung at her eyes as the pain of guilt ripped through her chest. Pressing her lips firmly together, Ciri nodded emphatically at the kind words, unable to utter a sound as her tears rolled down her cheeks. Hugging the girl, Goldencheeks wiped away her own tears before silently urging her to stand so that they could both quickly dress.
Wearing a fresh nightgown, Ciri sat at the edge of the narrow bed and stared at the empty bed pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the room. When Ciri first arrived she was told Goldencheeks had two boys, Nadbor, who was currently apprenticing in a nearby village and Sulik. She had slept next to Goldencheeks while it was just the three of them, but now that Yurga was back and Geralt was also here Ciri wondered how they would all sleep. Surely, from the look on Yurga's face towards his wife, he was eager to sleep back in his own bed. Not sure what to do, Ciri began folding the few clothes she was given and began stuffing them into her sack.
"I'll be glad when your gone."
Whipping around in her seat, Ciri gave a wary frown to Sulik's scowl who was standing in the open doorway.
"Once you and that witcher are gone, I can have my family back," he made sure to emphasize the word "my" before continuing. "You should have never been…"
"Leave, boy." The deep baritone voice behind him fell like a hammer in the room. Looking up over the shocked teen's head, Ciri watched as Geralt's massive form darkened the small doorway.
"…th…this is my room," Sulik argued weakly.
"Not for tonight it isn't, now leave," Geralt walked forward forcing Sulik to quickly move out the way or get ran down. Surveying the other narrow bed sitting on the other side of the small room, Geralt let out a low grumbling grunt that Ciri couldn't quite tell meant his approval or disapproval. Looking at Sulik who was still standing by the door with a sullen expression Geralt gave him a cruel smirk. "I believe your mother made you cot by the dogs."
Stunned, the boy whipped around on his heel finally leaving both Ciri and Geralt alone. Sitting on the narrow bed Geralt ignored the dubious creak the wood let out and began rifling through his own bag. After a few moments of awkward silence on her part as she tried not to stare at the big man, the rustling noises finally stopped. Looking up she caught his amber gaze and stilled under its silent scrutiny. Passing slowly from her head down to her toes, she felt a lot like a mare being considered at the market.
"I am not sure what to do with you," he finally said.
And though the words made perfect sense, Ciri could not stop the hot lancing feeling of pain through her chest at that.
"But it does not matter," he lifted one great shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "You are mine, and I finally have you and that is what matters."
The hot pain twisted into a sudden momentary ache of dread, a panic only the vulnerable would feel. Biting the inside of her bottom lip Ciri tried to hush her sudden chaotic thoughts of doubt.
His eyes sharpened towards her as if sensing the sudden panic within her before softening. "Do not worry, you are safe with me. Have you heard of me or been told by anyone who…"
"My nanny," she blurted. "Years ago when I still had a nanny, she told me in secret about you and the Law of Surprise," Ciri paused as she remembered the kind woman's words. "She said you were strong and not quite human," she whispered, risking a glance at the large pale man but the hurtful words had the same effect like a small breeze against a mountain side. Encouraged by his silent patience she continued. "But she also said you were honorable. Even Mousesack said…so…" Her words faded away as she thought of the last time she saw her beloved friend.
"Yes, Mousesack," Geralt mumbled deeply, he too taken with brief memories of the man.
Shoving the last of his items back into his sack, he sat the cloth bag near the dual swords that were propped along side the wall near the bed. "Get some rest, Ciri."
Laying down she watched as he snuffed out the candles and listened to the bed creak beneath him as he too laid down. For reasons she could not explain, the simple sound of her name from this man's mouth comforted her. Maybe it was because she hadn't heard her name spoken by another in so long or maybe it was the fact that this man was promised to protect her, to be her family and friend when she suddenly found herself with none. Whatever it was, the sound gave her comfort, for the first time in weeks she felt safe.
#ciri#ciri of cintra#witcher netflix#witcher fanfiction#ciri x geralt#geralt fanfic#geralt#smut#witcher smut#katerinawinters
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Are we to expect more from the Carnak clan in the future? Really curious if we’ll find out more about their planet and history.
Umm maybe tbh im not sure. When in write them im just throwing words on paper and not really thinking it through lol
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Predator: CityHunter chapter 10
Pain exploded through Tamara’s ribs and chest with an overwhelming intensity, she prayed it would kill her immediately. Instead she suffered every nuance of the blinding pain at its impact. Crying out she opened her eyes against every cell in her body screaming at her to keep them closed and grasped blindly at the iron-like pressure crushing her midsection. The blur of red neon-lights and the dark shapes of colossal buildings whooshing by made her realize just as her hand gripped at the scaled skin pressed against her midsection that the blur of images were going in the wrong direction. The facts poured into her traumatized mind in a single file line: she was being held, she was no longer free falling to the ground, Kian had come back and he had saved her.
Kian! She wanted to speak his name, to call out or say anything but the sudden crushing force of his arm gripping her tightened as air blasted past her face. She felt his abrupt groan of pain vibrate through her body as he tried to take the brunt of the sudden impact that hit them both—but it wasn't enough. Pain like nothing she could ever begin to comprehend enveloped her fully and at once, giving her just a taste of its torture before releasing her into the sweet blissful nothingness she had prayed for.
With one clawed hand and both feet embedded into the side of the glass building, Kian ignored the pain of the lacerations as he looked down at his unconscious mate. Anger, brighter and more explosive than he had ever experienced in all his years raged through him at the sight of her damaged limp body dangling in his arms. With just a glance he could see the multitude of burns on her body and tried not to imagine what she must have endured before she casted herself from her window. Curling his arm upward slowly, he easily hefted her slight weight and brought her closer to him. The urge to hold her close as possible was futile to try and ignore. Something deep within him had roared with gut wrenching fury to run, to jump, to push himself faster across the city back to her place when he left the commander dead from his spear. Each second it took was like the scraping of his bones, hollowing him inside and out. He had to get to her, it was the only thought cycling through his head. Kian had got there just as he looked up to see the small familiar figure falling through the empty air. His body reacted without the need of his mind. Propelling himself forward, he slammed into her just in time, just before he nearly lost everything.
Looking up from her tear-stained sleeping face towards the next floor above them, Kian scanned the properties of the glass. His instruments calculated the weakest point in the glass to strike to gain him entrance. Once inside he would call for his ship and he and his mate would leave this planet. Carefully, Kian climbed.
#
Images of yautja flashed across Tamara's mind—or were they more than just her imaginings? She could not be sure. Yautja of all shapes and sizes walked past her as if she wasn't even there—or didn't exist, they just walked tall and proud giving no indication of her presence. Opening her mouth, she tried to speak but nothing came out. She couldn't understand it. Why couldn't she speak? Why did she feel so disconnected from herself and the rest of the world? She wanted to move, she wanted to wave and scream at the proud yautja that passed her by but her body wouldn’t respond. It was if she was trapped in a dream. So very tired now, she closed her eyes as she sent a silent prayer to Kian wherever he may be, she needed him to find her. Because if this was a dream shouldn’t he be here with her?
#
Kian's claws clicked against the screen as he checked the readouts of the sarcophagus. Two more days. In two days, all of Tamara's wounds should be healed. Looking at the large coffin-like structure he stared at her, she was floating peacefully inside the machine suspended in a blue healing gel. With burns covering over thirty percent of her body in various stages of degrees, she was dehydrated, and underweight.
The sliding sound of the medical bay's door opening interrupted his thoughts. Closing out the screen, Kian turned and faced the familiar huntress. Like him, she was similar in many ways from her markings to her green eyes. Crossing her arms over her breast plate of armor she gave him a look that would have adverted the gaze of any other hunter.
Not in the mood for her intimidation games, Kian folded his arms over his chest and gave the female yautja a tired stare. "What business do you have here Kinrya?"
"Is not all of Carnak's business my business?" Her tone was quiet and subtle, walking the line of threatening.
Stepping closer to her, Kian stopped inches away from the huntress. She was shorter than him, but that meant nothing. She was one of the most powerful females on all of Carnak. Once he had seen the huntress kill a rogue yautja while simultaneously battling two sentinel xenomorphs. Her lethal prowess was unmatched on Carnak and her quick temper was legendary. But Kian did not care, he knew very well of Kinrya's disgust towards humans and he did not appreciate her current presence.
"Let me be clear Kinrya," unfolding his arms Kian prepared himself for the huntress's volatile reaction to his oncoming words. "I know of your opinion regarding humans and you will not harm my mate."
"You think me weak enough to have need to kill this insignificant human?!" Pointing one long curving black claw beyond him at his mate, her eyes shifted from his to the sarcophagus behind him and back to his with brightened satisfaction.
An alarm blared, high and shrill from the monitoring screen. Turning around Kian's eyes met the round brown eyes of his mate. Scared and confused, her eyes bounced between him and Kinrya.
"It seems she is distressed, Kian," Kinrya provoked calmly while standing closer now than she was before. Kian could feel her inches away from his back. "Should I command you to fight me here and now? Could she handle the stress of seeing her mate fight inches away from her?" She asked cruelly, enjoying the turmoil of confusion in his mate's eyes as she watched them both.
Angered now, Kian whirled on the balls of his feet and faced the huntress, the urge to wrap his hands around her throat was tempting.
"Kinrya," he growled warningly. His patience was up, he would fight her if she continued this aggravation any further and the outcome would be something neither of them wanted.
Without a trace of emotion in her eyes to let him know what she was thinking, Kinrya took a step back before turning around completley. Her long dreads whipping around to hit him in the face, a purposeful act of insult. Saying nothing, the huntress left him alone in the medical bay.
Waiting a few seconds, to be sure of no deceit, Kian finally turned back to his mate. Silently, she lifted a hand to the thick glass that separated them. Kian could see the strain around her eyes at the cost of the simple movement. Resting his own hand against the glass he used his other to type a few commands into the data pad on the wall next to him. At the prompt the wall behind him opened. Kian did not take his eyes off Tamara's as they shifted from him to the unfolding scene behind him. An ocean of green as far as the eye could see lit by the golden light of the sun shined back in her widening eyes as she stared at the top of the jungle canopy. Her smile was unlike any she had ever given him before, it was wide an uplifting and it filled him with a satisfaction Kian was unprepared to feel.
This look in her eyes, this warmth she stared back at him with. He knew what it was, he knew of the label humans attached to it. It was something yautja consciously refuted. The emotion had no value, it was only ever weakness. As young whelps they were taught that it could take a warrior to their knees, that it stripped away all pride an honor and made one illogical in the face of this weakness. But Kian did not feel this way now, he never felt more sure of himself than knowing this small human with the odd way of speaking would be at his side from now on.
Leaning his head against the glass, he allowed the dangerous emotion to fester deeper within him. If this emotion called love really did have this capability of destruction then he would happily meet it head on in battle.
#
"You will sleep here with me," Kian explained, pointing to the massive bed on the other side of the metal yurt.
With a black gel like mattress pad the bed sat stark and empty of even a shred of covering. Tamara could only assume it because of the humid heat of Carnak's planet-wide jungle. Pulling self-consciously at her form fitting suit she tried not to scowl up at Kian. Since she understandably had no time to grab her bag before falling to her death on Nova Hermes, the only clothes she had to her name were burnt and bloody. Seeing to her need for attire before leaving the yautja palace to travel to his home deep in the woods, Kian had placed four gold bands on her body. One band for each wrist and one for each ankle. With a few discreet clicks to the hidden settings she was instantly covered in a black form fitting onesie. She loathed its very existence. She swore she had worn more conservative clothes as her time as a nude dancer.
Seeing that he wasn't going to say any more about their home, Tamara paused and looked around the circular room again with a blink. It was wide and spacious and practically walled in windows that appeared like solid black metal from the outside but it was absolutely empty. There was a kitchen area, a bathroom, and a bed—that was it.
"Kian?" She began gently, not quite sure where to starts first: the lack of walls or the furniture besides the bed. An image of Kian sitting cross-legged comfortably on her floor back on Nova Hermes sprung to mind. Tamara sighed, walls it was then. Turning back to Kian she looked up and waited for his rumbling noise of acknowledgment before continuing. "In the future, with children," she added, feeling her face heat at the mention of children. "H-how will we have any sort of privacy?"
Raising both hands to his mask, she heard the compressed air as the hoses disconnected from his armor releasing the mask from his face. Removing the mask, he grasped it with one hand and held it to the nearby wall. As if magnetized the helmet stuck to it with an audible clink. Reaching for the spot on his shoulder armor, where she knew there was a clamp, Kian's green eyes darkened as he unlatched the first clamp. "Are you eager for me to seed you, mate?"
Desire, vibrant and hot welled inside of her as she realized what he intended. Taking a step backward she gave him a coy smile. "Well if we are to go by your s-s-sister's orders I am to "breed" with h-haste."
The day after she was released from the healing sarcophagus both her and Kian were told that they had been summoned to the palace throne room. Tamara had been all nerves at the prospect of meeting the yautja leader while Kian silently seethed at her side. Sitting atop the decorated throne was the familiar green scaled huntress she saw taking to Kian while she was healing. Thousands of alien skulls piled intricately into a large throne shined dully in the dimly lit great room. Tamara could see the glow of eyes dotting the darkness here and there as curious hunters stood veiled in the shadows watching Kian escort his human towards the revered huntress. Without preamble the huntress queen pointed a wicked claw directly at Tamara as she informed Kian of her news.
"Your decision of a human mate is not completely without use, brother. The human DNA spliced into our genes at gestation seems to have only one use--the agility to breed with her kind. I want you to breed with her Kian and produce more yautja. I want to see for myself the worth of this hybrid union our brethren on Ojibwe are so taken with."
Tossing his head back, his thick black dreads sliced through the air in anger. "You will ignore her," he growled, snatching off his shoulder armor and letting it fall with a hard clank against the metal floor.
Feeling the bed hit the back of her knees, Tamara carefully crawled onto the bed backwards never taking her eyes off the approaching hunter. "That would be hard s-since she is the leader of Carnak and your sister."
"Nonetheless, my mate. You will listen to only me and my wants." With all of his armor removed he stood over her with unmistakable arrogance dressed only in a black leather loin cloth.
"And what is it that you want?" Laying down on the bed, Tamara sighed at the feeling of the mattress sinking on either side of her as his massive body crawled above her.
Amusement glittered in his bright green eyes as he reached down and snatched off loin cloth. Reaching for her wrist, his claws tapped delicately against the metal band on her wrist just before they both heard the winding zip of the body-hugging fabric reel back into its invisible confines leaving her completely naked underneath him
"Just this once, my mate, my desires coincide with my sister."
Laughing, Tamara spread her arms open and welcomed him closer. Sunlight bathed them as they moved as one. Her cries were lost somewhere in the unruly tangle of vines and overlapping tree tops of the jungle around them. With each surging thrust of his hips Tamara held onto his thick muscled back tighter. She never wanted to let go, she wanted to feel this moment forever—the moment where all her dreams came true.
Fin
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