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A couple retells their first experience with their fantasies.
Bane studied the Forest, wondering how far away the nearest settlement was and if the neighbors would see the fire. Jem did not give the warrior an opportunity to answer. "Are you here to defeat the Queen?"
"Your Queen is no interest of mine, boy," Bane answered harshly. "I am only passing through."
Roane sighed, tucking his pipe into jacket. "We will need to work all night to clear the southern field. We can pile the stalks on top of the pit and have a reason for the fire. We'll use the harvest as our offering when more soldiers come to collect." He looked at Jem. "The first group was never here, and neither was the Dragon." Roane bowed to Bane. "Gwen will attend to all of your needs tonight."
Bane watched as Roane and Jem faded into the rows of corn. The fire continued burning, the flames licking at the clear sky. Bane lifted green eyes to the moon, breathing deeply of the scent and wondering if Nyte would make an appearance. Bane felt certain that the quest did not end here and did not know why they had been sidetracked by the soldiers and this family. The wolf seemed in no hurry to leave, so Bane trusted the guide. Bane had trusted the spirit of Nyte and the wolf for many years.
Only Gwen tended to the Dragon at the evening meal. They ate the meal in silence. Gwen sat to Bane's left, picking at her food and not looking into the Dragon's hypnotic green eyes. Bane enjoyed the cooked vegetables fresh from the fields and the fried chicken. Bane had heard Roane's wife throttle the chicken while Gwen had administered the bath. Gwen wrapped the leftovers and took them to the fields where Roane and the other women would spend the dark night stripping corn from the stalks. Jem would follow his family with the bloody sickle, slicing the stalks to the ground and dragging them to the bonfire.
Bane removed the kimono and laid it across the foot of the bed. Gwen folded it, her hooded eyes watching the naked warrior. The girl pulled the quilt away from the feather mattress, preparing the bed for the hero. Gwen again inspected the spot where the arrow had pierced the armor. Content the wound would continue to heal, Gwen backed away from the warrior, admiring the Dragon's glorious body. Her eyes again fell to the puckered scar on the left breast. Gwen felt more confident now that the mark was a brand. She had helped her father brand the calves one spring. She remembered clearly the crackle of the fire, the red glow of the R that claimed the herd, the cry of the babies, and the smell of searing flesh. She had been sick by the time it was finished and her father had never asked her to help again.
Someone had branded Bane. Someone had held the Dragon down and tried to place ownership on the warrior. The fierce fighter had been young when it had happened. Gwen decided that from the way the brand had healed. She tried to make out the shape of the brand, wanting to know who had held Bane still long enough to think they could possess the Dragon. Gwen did not have to bend far to steer her lips toward the stain. She puckered her lips, closing her eyes as she moved closer to the scar, thinking that this time Bane would allow the touch.
For a few brief moments, Bane was mesmerized by the wet lips of the young girl. Bane longed for Nyte's lips. Nyte's lips and Nyte's hands had been the only ones to ever touch the blemish. Bane could hear the familiar sounds of the castle, feel the pain of the fresh wound, and smell Nyte's natural scent of lilacs. Bane was hungry for a moment, but only for a moment. As Gwen's moist lips came closer, the present flooded Bane. The warrior placed strong hands on Gwen's shoulders, thrusting the teenager away, disgust burning in the deep green eyes.
Gwen stumbled backwards, lifting her blue eyes, feeling as if Bane towered above her.