Page 4 of Warrior Princess (Blood Weaver Trilogy #3)
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T he bath water was comfortably warm, the temperature just right, as I settled into the modest tub tucked away behind Ronan’s house. The tub, though small, felt like a sanctuary after the recent horrors I’d experienced. I scrubbed my skin vigorously, trying to cleanse away not only the physical remnants of dried blood, but the deeper stain of trauma that had seeped into my pores. No matter how hard I scrubbed, the reddish tinge remained. My heart pounded with the thunderous intensity of a thousand galloping horses.
“Come on,” I muttered, my voice a mix of desperation and frustration. “Come on, please ,” I pleaded to no one but the wind.
“Leila?” Ronan’s voice broke through my focus, his tone soft yet laced with concern as he stepped outside. “Do you need help?”
I froze for a moment, gathering my composure before turning to face him. “I’m fine. Promise.”
“No. You’re not,” he replied, his gaze piercing and too aware of my insecurities. “I don’t like it when you lie to me, Leila.”
“I’m fine, truly,” I insisted, mustering a bright smile. “Just a bit frustrated that my skin is stained.”
He frowned slightly and squatted down beside the tub to meet the level of my eyes. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But I hope you’ll choose to confide in me. Whatever it is,” he offered gently.
“I know.” I returned his smile. “Have you spoken with your father yet?”
He grimaced. “Silas has. He was... content with Shiro’s help, but I think the demon fox is right. My father wanted something more.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I reached out and clasped his hand where it gripped the edge of the tub. “What matters is that your clan is now strong enough to defeat Keldara and free your people… with Shiro’s help.”
He nodded, then his eyes dropped to our intertwined hands. “You’re right. There’s not much my father can do now that the demon fox has returned.”
“Exactly.” I released his hand. “Do you have paper and ink? I’d like to send a message to my father. He needs to know I’m okay before any rumors reach him and a war is started for no reason.”
“Good idea,” Ronan snickered. “The last thing I need is for my in-laws clamoring for my head on a spike!”
I chuckled, covering my mouth. “Yes, that would be unfortunate, indeed.”
Ronan's gaze shifted from my eyes down to my neck and his expression darkened. A shadow passed over his features.
“Does… does it look that bad?” I whispered, my hand subconsciously moving to touch my neck.
It took a moment before he met my eyes again. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay. I figure it’s one more scar I’ll have to live with,” I murmured, feeling a vulnerability I hadn’t expected. I was a strong blood mage, not this weakened version of myself. Clearing my throat, I shifted topics. “Any word on Keldara?”
“They just crossed the border. They should be here in about two hours. Silas went to inform Shiro.”
I nodded, and a mix of apprehension and resolve settled within me. “Good. I wonder what he plans to do? Starting a war doesn’t seem ideal. Hopefully, this can end peacefully.”
“I hope so as well,” Ronan agreed, his voice low and hopeful.
Ronan watched me for a moment, his concern evident. Silence stretched between us, filled by the distant sounds of village life and the rustle of leaves tossed about in a gentle breeze. Finally, he broke the quiet, his voice soft but firm.
“Let me help you.” He reached for a clean cloth that lay beside the tub and dipped it into the warm water, wringing it out gently before extending his hand towards me.
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to assert my independence, yet another part craved the comfort of his touch. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, I nodded and allowed myself this vulnerability. Ronan’s expression softened, and he began to carefully dab at the stains on my skin, his movements tender and attentive.
The softness of the cloth and the gentleness of his touch soothed not just my skin, but something deeper within me. As he moved the cloth over my shoulders and down my arms, each stroke was a balm to my rattled nerves. The intimacy of the moment and the quiet closeness was profoundly healing.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my eyes finally meeting his. His gaze was intense, signaling a depth of feeling that made my heart flutter.
Ronan paused, his hand still holding the cloth against my skin. “I just want you to feel safe, Leila. To know that you’re not alone in this.”
His words stirred something inside me, breaking down the last barriers I had erected around my heart. “I do feel safe… with you,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The admission felt like a confession, one that brought with it a rush of relief and a sense of connection I hadn't realized was missing.
Ronan set the cloth aside and cupped my face gently, his thumbs brushing away the moisture of my tears. “I’m here for you, always,” he promised. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in.
Our lips met in a kiss that was gentle at first but quickly grew in intensity, as if all the emotions we’d held back were being expressed in this one connection. It was a kiss that spoke of shared hardships, of battles fought and yet to fight, and of a burgeoning love that had been tempered in the fires of adversity.
As we breathlessly pulled away, our foreheads rested against each other. Ronan’s hands remained on my face, his breath mingling with mine. We didn't need words; the comfort and understanding we offered each other were as palpable as the touch that lingered on my skin.
In that moment, everything else fell away—the fears, the uncertainties about the future, the shadows of past horrors. There was only us, the warm water, and the promise of support and care that we both needed and were finally ready to fully accept.
Wanting more… needing more, I stood from the tub, bringing Ronan with me as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Heal me,” I whispered against his lips.
“How?” he asked, almost pained.
“Make love to me.” I leaned in closer, brushing my lips against his.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Leila… we don’t need to do anything until you are ready—”
“Please, Ronan,” I begged. “I need this. Please .”
His lids slowly opened and those crimson eyes stared deep into mine as if trying to see past the walls I’d erected after last night.
I didn’t know what he saw, but the resolve was clear. Ronan gripped my thighs and lifted me out of the tub, splashing water everywhere as I wrapped my legs around his waist. As if I weighed nothing at all, he walked us back inside and to his bed. Laying me on the fur blanket, Ronan hovered over me, his gaze never leaving mine, filled with an intensity that made me shiver.
“Ronan, I need to feel you inside me, please.” I pulled him closer, trying to connect the only way I knew how.
“I know exactly what you need,” he murmured. His crimson eyes raked over my naked body beneath him. He peppered kisses along my neck, shoulder, and breasts, his tongue finding my nipple and circling the nub before biting it gently and then licking away the sting.
He lowered himself and nestled between my thighs before spreading my legs wide. He kissed my inner thighs, trailing kisses along my heated skin until he reached my core. His tongue flicked against my nub, slowly at first until they became lashes. Pressure built within me at the hungry sounds he made as he consumed me completely. I threaded my fingers into his hair and gripped it tightly, guiding him as the pressure built. Wanting more, so much more, my moans were loud and unyielding as I lost control. He inserted a finger inside me as he continued to lick my clit, then added a second finger. I was teetering at the precipice of my climax when he added a third finger and hit the spot that made me see stars and scream his name.
I came over and over again, my over-sensitive body jerking at his touch.
“Ronan!”
He pulled away, placing small kisses against my inner thighs. “Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you,” he murmured against my skin. “You just have to say the word.”
“I want you,” I whispered in a euphoric daze.
His eyes met mine and he offered his signature smirk as he climbed up my body and settled between my thighs. I reached down and untied his pants, hurriedly sliding them off with the heels of my feet until his erection popped free. Without a care for the torn fabric, I ripped off his shirt. My hands grazed his tattooed skin and muscular body.
“I love you, Leila.” He placed a kiss on my lips, letting me taste myself. “Always,” he whispered as he plunged inside me.
I gasped and arched my back, delighting in the feel of him deep inside my body. This was exactly what I wanted. I never wanted to leave this room again.