Page 105 of Queen of the Shadow

“I love your hair,” he said, continuing to work his fingers through it.

She opened her eyes as he brought her head toward him. He guided her to his cock, which had grown hard again.

“May I touch you?” she asked in a sultry whisper.

“Yes.”

She took him in her hands, stroking him until he arched toward her. She did not move nearer, though, until he guided her mouth to him.

“May I take you into my mouth?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Show me. Guide me. I will only do as you wish. Remember, my Sentanta,youare in control.”

“I’ll remember.” His eyes remained open—his gaze on her lips as she licked the head of his cock, teasingly, until he put enough pressure on her head that she drew him into her mouth. His body trembled as, with small pushes and pulls, he showed her his rhythm.

He had to stop twice. She said nothing, only smiled up at him and waited as he collected himself, until finally he was able to immerse himself completely in her touch, her mouth, and his pleasure. He shouted with his climax and then dropped to his knees beside her, where he wrapped her in his arms and held her close while his breath steadied.

“Are you well?” he murmured against her hair.

“Very well. You?” she asked, her arms tightening around him.

“I have never been better,” he said, a smile in his voice. "Which you know is the truth because I spoke it easily in a realm where only truth can be spoken thus."

A little later Cuchulainn retrieved the mead and the bread and cheese. He sliced the apples in half and put them on the stones to warm. They filled the camp with the homey scent of cooking apples. And then they sat on their makeshift pallet, naked, sharing her cloak as they ate and drank and talked.

“Do you think we’ll enter the Winterlands in the morning?” Cuchulainn asked her.

She swallowed the mead and nodded. “I know we will.”

“What should I know about the Winterlands? I mean, besides the fact that the worst of humanity will be found there. Will we have to fight our way to Curruid?”

“We would if I didn’t have a way around that.” Her eyes gleamed. “Thankfully, there are shadows aplenty in the Winterlands.”

His brows lifted. “You’re going to cloak us like you did the horse and wagon when the warriors from Tribe Catuvellauni ambushed us! You can do that as we’re traveling?”

“One of the benefits of traveling through the Underworld is the vast number of shadows held here,” she said. “So what would be difficult if not impossible for me in the mortal realm or even in the Summerlands is easily accomplished in the Winterlands, where darkness reigns.” Scáthach took another drink of mead and then passed the skin to Cuchulainn. “The spirits in the Winterlands will not be able to see us. We will be able to see them.” She shivered and leaned closer to him. “You’ll need to ready yourself. What you see will be terrible.”

Cuchulainn nodded solemnly. “The brutality of man can be terrible. But I have seen it many times.”

“What you’ll see in the Winterlands goes beyond that. Some of the spirits have been there for so many centuries that they have very little humanity left.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

She shivered again. “It means they are being absorbed by the realm. Those whose deeds have condemned them to the Winterlands will never leave. So eventually they become part of the realm itself. As you know from traveling through the Autumnal Realm, the Underworld is sentient.”

“Is it not possible that the absorbed spirits will allow others to escape? Perhaps just to sow chaos in the other realms?” Cuchulainn asked as he handed her the mead skin.

“No. The dead from the Winterlands are selfish. It’s the most consistent character flaw that all spirits who earn their way to that realm share—they have a particularly virulent form of greed that smothers self-awareness and empathy. They believe the world is centered on them and their whims. They constantly strive to possess and control, even in death.”

Cuchulainn nodded. “So their obsession with possession and control becomes part of the Winterlands.”

“Exactly. Those condemned to eternal winter are used to hold others like themselves in eternal confinement,” said Scáthach.

He took her hand, caressing her palm with his thumb. “It seems pitiable. Tragic even.”

“I thought the same until I entered the realm.” Her gaze went distant and she shook her head. “What I saw there altered my pity. It will yours, too. Though I can’t say my pity was erased, just changed. I still...”