Free The False Martyr by H. Nathan Wilcox

declared, but his voice cracked and blood rose up
his face like a boy. “I have to admit that I find you attractive,
very attractive. Too attractive really. And that is the problem. I
am afraid that if we continue like this, I will never be able to
concentrate on what I need to do. Do you understand?”
    Eia watched him with that
same smile then made a false pout. “I understand, but that does not
mean I agree. I feel the same way about you, and I have been denied
my passions for a long time. I cannot see why we cannot have this
time. Is a week not enough time for this and your preparations?”
Giving up on her hand, she brought her small bare foot up to creep
along his leg.
    “ Stop!” Ipid gasped. He
stood and stepped from the table. “I cannot do this.” His breath
came in gasps, his heart hammered until it hurt. “I think we need
to be apart. Thank you for the soup, but I think I will now retire
to my room. It has been a long few days. Perhaps, I will see you
again tomorrow.” He stumbled from the room, nearly running to be
away from the temptation that dogged him like a pack of wolves on
an injured deer. He did not look back as he left, but he could
almost feel Eia’s dark eyes and knowing smirk pulling on him from
behind.
    In a minute, he was in his
room. He pushed the door closed, turned the lock, and leaned
against it. Heart hammering, he suddenly felt as if he had barely
escaped that meal with his life. And he was not sure that he did
not want to go back.
     
    #
     
    Ipid slept in his own bed,
the very bed he had been praying for, but it, somehow, felt too
soft, too conforming as if it might swallow him whole. He tossed
and turned, trying to find a place in all that softness that gave
him the same reassurance he now received from the hard, lumpy
ground. And as he turned, his mind wandered helplessly through a
series of mazes, making its own twists and turns without any hope
of finding its way out of even the simplest. Despite all that,
sleep could not be denied. Eventually, it claimed his mind, eased
his body, and dragged him down deep into its embrace.
    Thus it was that he roused
from that sleep only slowly, fighting through layers of dreams to
reach reality, to place the sensations that were flooding him: a
body warm and soft against his own; hands touching him, caressing,
urging; lips brushing, tantalizing; breath tickling across his
neck, chest, face. By the time his eyes opened, stared upon Eia’s
face perched above his, he was breathing in gasps, was overwhelmed
with need, was lost beyond hope of recovery. His hands were already
upon her, feeling her soft skin, thin arms, firm breasts, bare
back, round rear. His lips moved with hers, their breaths mingling
in pants. Their body pressed so close as to be one.
    And before Ipid could find
his bearings or the sense to stop, her hand was moving past the
band of his nightclothes. Her legs parted around him. Her head
pulled back, white hair falling around him like a veil. And it
happened. Everything he wanted and feared. Beautiful Eia rising and
falling before him, soft skin, warm breath, infinite release. It
was over almost as soon as it started. She collapsed upon him,
covered him with her body, whispered unfamiliar words, and sent him
back to sleep.
     

Chapter 5
    The
15 th Day of Summer
     
    The first rays of morning
shone into Ipid’s eyes through the open doors that led to a small
balcony. The curtains, cast back, ruffled gently in the breeze. The
air flowed over him but failed to penetrate the crisp cotton sheet
that covered him. He groaned softly, squirmed, and rolled onto his
side.
    Soft hair filled his face.
The scent of herbal soap overran him, but there was musk underlying
it, the sharp tang of sex. A warm body slid into his, fitting his
fetal shape like a puzzle piece. His arm wrapped around it. His
hand cupped a naked breast. The body squirmed, writhing against
him, making him groan as he pulled it closer still.
    “ Good morning,” a