Page 113 of Queen of the Shadow

He didn’t enter her immediately, though he wanted to. Instead he caressed her back. Brushing her hair aside, his fingers traced the tattooed lines of swimming sturgeons that flowed over her shoulder and into a waterfall, which became an eternal blue spiral that covered her back. His hard cock throbbed against the softness of her generous ass.

“Now, Cuchulainn. I need you inside menow.”

As he entered her with one deep thrust, she threw her head back and moaned his name, closing her heat around him. Her hair flowed down her back like a veil, allowing alluring glimpses of her tattoos and naked skin. Cuchulainn moved rhythmically with her, in and out of her slickness. He bent so that he could reach between her legs to stroke her in time with his thrusts.

Her release came first, and again as they shifted position and she rode him. With her third climax, her beautiful voice cried his name and it was too much for him. His pleasure was so intense as he lost himself in her that she took his breath, his heart, and his spirit. And as they lay entwined together, their heartbeats racing in time, Cuchulainn knew that even if they must part, he would be hers forever.

Scáthach’s head rested on his chest. He caressed her shoulder and her back. He thought she’d fallen asleep, but her musical voice asked softly, “Are you well, Sentanta?”

“Better than well.” He could feel her smile. “And you?”

She propped herself up on her elbow so she could look into his eyes. “Better than well, too. But I will admit I wish I had my big bathing tub and buckets of hot water.”

He grinned. “That sounds—” Her gasp cut off his words, and Cuchulainn bolted up and looked wildly around the cave for a weapon, cursing to himself that his sword wasn’t closer.

Scáthach pressed a hand to his chest. “All is well, love. Look.” She pointed behind him.

He turned to see a hot spring had miraculously appeared tucked against the rear wall of the little cave. Steam lifted from the pool of water. Cuchulainn laughed and then said, “This realm adores you.”

“And for that I am very grateful. Come on!” She sprang to her feet, and he was close behind.

With matching groans of deep pleasure, they sank into the hot mineral water. The pool was rounded like a basin and just big enough for them to fit in facing each other.

“This is perfect,” Scáthach said as the water covered her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned languidly against the side of the pool.

“It is. Though it’s missing the presence of a bard singing inaccurate ballads of our mighty feats.” His eyes glinted mischievously when hers opened to dangerous slits. Cuchulainn laughed and held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not being serious.”

She flicked water at him. “That bard! I have a feeling those inaccurate ballads will be told and retold for generations.”

“Well, were he here, perhaps he would compose an accurate love ballad,” Cuchulainn said.

“That chirping budgie would not be allowed in my cave,” she said firmly. “Ugh. Can you imagine?”

“Yes,” Cuchulainn said, eyes still sparkling with humor. “He’d make you one of the fifty maidens I pleasure over and over and over.” As he spoke, he took her foot in his hands and began to firmly massage her arch. “Because, of course, the Hero of Ulster must have superhuman prowess with the maidens.”

“Maidens, huh?” Scáthach’s voice was light, though her eyelids were growing heavy as his clever hands massaged from her foot to her calf. “I am most definitely not a maiden.”

“And for that I ammost definitelygrateful,” he said. He moved up to her thighs, which he gripped, and then slid her slowly through the water to him so that she straddled his lap. “But we could make the being pleasured over and over and over part of the ballad true.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “So we’re writing ballads now?”

“No, we’re living them.” Cuchulainn kissed her and then he did, indeed, pleasure her over and over and over during that blissfully long night.

Chapter 26

Sentanta woke before Scáthach. She’d taken to sleeping with her head on his shoulder with one long leg thrown across him. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and snuggled more closely to him.

They would find Curruid today. Their quest would be over. Then they would return to Dunscáith.

It might be hard to believe, but he wished the quest was more complex, the realm bigger, the task more difficult to finish. He was in the frozen land of the unrepentant dead, a place filled with nightmares personified, and Sentanta did not want to leave.

* * *

It took all Scáthach’s willpower to leave the cave when the coal sky lightened to slate. She and Cuchulainn spoke little but touched often. It was one of her favorite things about him being her lover—those brushes of intimacy—fingers that lingered when she passed the mead skin to him, shoulders that pressed lightly together as they broke their fast, looks that were long and said so much without a spoken word.

Leaving the cave was difficult, especially when they emerged from their cocoon of warmth and serenity to reenter a frozen realm of horrors. It was snowing again, small sharp flakes that slanted sideways in the bitter wind. Scáthach almost stopped, spun around, and reentered their cave. She had no doubt Cuchulainn would gladly follow her, gladly remain in that safe place with her for as long as she would have him. As the two of them trudged through the calf-deep snow back to the path, Scáthach wondered how long they could remain here in this realm of death and cold while the mortal world kept spinning.

If they stayed longer, would her Little Fry be a gray-haired matron when she returned? Would Scáthach be a grandmother? Perhaps even a great-grandmother? A shudder passed through Scáthach at the thought of missing half of a lifetime with her daughter, Tabiti, her Shadow Guard... no. That she loved Cuchulainn was one truth. A greater truth was that she had a life and a family waiting for her. She would not,could not, forsake them.