Makara Ch. 08

Moving my hand lower, I dipped a finger inside me, gasping as the feeling pushed the air from my lungs. I pressed the heal of my palm against my little bundle of nerves, rolling my hips forward to increase the pressure. Curling my finger to tease the wonderful spot inside me, the combined pleasure forced my back to arch and my chin to point towards the ceiling, my eyes squeezed tight in bliss. Having lost my view, I concentrated on the noises he made, the primitive and masculine sounds sending jolts of electricity straight to me core.

Instinctively, my hand moved faster, my hips rolling to match the rhythm. An almost constant chorus of moans and mewls fled my mouth, and every one of my muscles began to clench in excitement for my impending release. I barely heard Atlar's satisfied growl rumble through him as the wave washed over me, the intensity nearly drowning me. I kept my hips bucking against my hand, drawing out my orgasm, enjoying every spasm of pleasure until it was too much.

I kept my eyes closed as I enjoyed the aftershocks that rolled through me, waiting for my pounding heart and empty lungs to calm down. Satisfied with the progress and tempted by the promise of a chiseled chest, I fluttered my eyes open, straining against the bright light of the room. Shifting my weight back to both elbows, I looked back to Atlar, the mischievous grin painted on my face quickly disappearing with what I saw.

Rodan. His hand deep in his pants, the thin barrier of his boxers doing nothing to hide his movements. I was shocked by the sight, and tried to convince myself that was all I felt, ignoring the renewed excitement that wound its way back through me. The last thing I saw was the blurry edge of my brother changing shape before I woke up, springing ramrod straight and scouring the room for movement.

Soft moon light poured in from the window, leaving a sliver of bladed rays dividing the room, but I was alone.

It was a dream. All of it. Well, almost all of it. I rubbed my fingers together, the evidence of my actions making the movement slick. I still felt the ghost of aftershocks ebbing through me, and fought against squeezing my legs to enjoy the feeling once more.

Frustrated, I laid down, flopping backwards with a disgruntled groan. The dream had seemed so seamless, so real, and I found myself wishing it had included more than just our naked endeavours. Unfortunately, my impulsive offer to be Atlar's snack was burned forever in my memory by the heat of my embarrassment when he turned me down. I replayed the whole scenario. He was nice about it, but I still felt stupid in the thick silence that followed, and when he left the room, I took the opportunity to go to sleep, hoping I wouldn't have to face him when he came back.

And then I found out what happens when I go to bed thinking about him. Why would I have expected anything less?

It was then that I realized I shouldn't have been alone. Atlar told the humans we were mates, and we were only given one room, he should have been there.

An unfamiliar noise drew my attention to the bathroom, and for the first time I noticed the light that streamed through the crack under the closed door. The sound continued even as I tried not to listen, nearly entrancing me with its rhythmic wetness. Instinctively, I sat back up, trying to identify it, ignoring the fact that it was a huge invasion of privacy.

One muffled, breathy moan from the other side of the door was all it took for me to clue into how warm I had become, how the pulses in my own body matched the ones that sounded so clearly in my sensitive ears. I was vaguely aware of my wolf pacing back and forth, her tail swishing repeatedly, like a whip cracking again and again. She was as effected as I was, and I had no doubt she had something to do with my inability to stop listening.

I wondered at my lack of control even as my hearing focused, in time to catch the rhythm quicken, and the moans to become more fervent. A final strained grunt had me clenching my core, all remnants of my actions during my dream gone and forgotten.

I picked up a scent, musky and masculine, and I inhaled deeply, searching for more. Snapping to my senses I realized exactly what had happened, and worked to control my breathing which had evidently become labored during my eavesdropping. The toilet flushed, and my face heated at my discovery.

I started as the door swung open, and I squinted against the assaulting light that flooded the room before Atlar clicked it off.

"You scared me," I muttered, feigning the heaviness sleep brings to your words, hoping the exaggerated shock would hide the true reason for my breathlessness.

He smiled at me, and I swallowed hard as his knowing gaze saw right through me.

"Were you listening to me?" He accused playfully, allowing the grin to leave his face, in favor of a mischievously raised eyebrow.

"Not intentionally," I answered, sounding more awake. "What exactly were you doing?" I hoped to get any half believable explanation, anything but what I already knew to be true.

"You couldn't tell?" He eyed me, scrutinizing the shades of red that painted my cheeks. There was a question on his face, something he seemed to be searching for, and apparently found when the the realization pulled the corner of his mouth back into an impish smirk. "Or, you could tell, but you want to be wrong?"

I ignored the question, instead focusing on the apology I thought he was owed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, or make you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable." He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like I could avoid listening to you either."

The renewed embarrassment stung like salt in a fresh cut, and I nearly hissed as if the wound were to my body, almost wishing it was. Anything over the mortification I felt.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry for that too," I muttered, resigning myself to the situation I was in.

"Don't be."

That was the second time he told me not to be sorry. But this time there was an intensity to his words, like he couldn't stress the importance of them enough. I watched him for a moment, before dropping my eyes, unable to face the ferocity of his gaze any longer.

When I felt brave enough to look back I couldn't see him anymore, but I could still pick out his scent in the air, and hear the thumping sound of his heart and the soft exhale of his breathing. Leaning forward, I crawled to the edge of the bed, peering over the side. Atlar was laying on the ground, blanketless, with a single, thin pillow and his folded hands behind his head.

"What are you doing now?" My curiosity had me blurting out the question before I could remember how badly it had turned out last time, and I clenched my teeth waiting for the answer.

"Sleeping?" He answered in a tone that told me he didn't know why I was asking.

"On the floor?"

"Ah, yes, well, we never discussed sleeping arrangements and you were already out when I got back to the room, so I didn't want to just climb into bed beside you. I'm trying to be a gentleman."

"What if the humans come in and find you on the floor?"

He shrugged in response.

"I guess I'll tell them we had a fight."

"Did we?" I asked him, wondering if I had ruined anything with my offer, or my actions. I knew he could see the worry in my eyes, and he took an extra moment to emphasize his answer.

"No. Not at all."

"Good. Then come to bed." I flopped back over to my side, my stomach knotted in a net of fluctuating emotions. I was relieved I hadn't torpedoed anything with Atlar. It was easy to talk to him and I enjoyed being around him. But I was simultaneously excited and nervous about the prospect of sharing a bed. He sat up, putting his head just above the horizon of the soft blanket, hesitating before making his move. "It's a big bed. Plenty of room for both of us...to sleep," I added, hoping the clarification wasn't necessary. "I insist."

He nodded, pulling himself off the floor and settled under the blanket, the mattress dipping slightly with his weight as he did so.

I laid awake the rest of the night, my nerves causing too much turmoil to allow me any rest. The slow, rhythmic breathing I heard from his side of the bed told me he didn't have the same problem and I slowly peeled back the blanket, carefully stepping onto the cold floor as soon as the light from the window indicated an acceptable time.

I grabbed my phone, some toiletries, and a change of clothes before ducking into the bathroom, careful not to wake Atlar.

It was early, still hours before I would normally train with Cade. Not that I knew what was happening with that, I hadn't seen him since the committee meeting. Feeling obligated, I typed out a message to him anyway.

"I don't know what's going on here, but in case you're not avoiding me the way it feels like you are, I won't be available for training today." I didn't elaborate, hoping that his curiosity would push him to reply, although I didn't hold my breath.

I took a quick shower, resisting the temptation to reach between my legs as memories of the night fought for dominance in my thoughts. Forcing restraint on myself, I focused on the relaxing heat of the shower, finishing as quickly as possibly so as not to test the limits of my will power.

Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, I put my stuff away, pausing to make sure I hadn't disturbed Atlar's sleep, watching him momentarily. He laid on his back, the blanket strewn haphazardly around his hips, his bare chest gently rising and falling. He was rather good looking, his body all hard lines and sculpted muscles, I could see why I was attracted to him. I still wondered how I had dreamt of him before ever knowing who he was, but I pushed the thought aside, not willing to have any more unanswered questions than I already had.

He started to move, his unconscious leg kicking at the blanket as if there had never been anything more stifling than the thick layer of down that covered him. Worrying my bottom lip I debated whether to try and sneak a peak at the thin boxers I knew he was wearing, having already decided against it when a light flashed passed my eyes. I squinted in surprise, looking for the cause as soon as I could manage to open my eyes again and found a new brightness on the wall behind me.

It was perfectly circular, more deliberately cylindrical than the sun's rays appeared to be. I could see the beam, a line of floating dust across the room. As I watched, the light danced on the wall, as if the source were moving. It came from the window, and as I approached I realized the curtain was open much farther than it had been last night, brushing it off as something Atlar must have done after I went to sleep.

The light wiggled again, drawing a tight, frantic pattern on the wall, almost impatiently. Squinting in case of another visual attack, I peered out the window, hoping for a quick resolution to the mystery light. It passed by me another couple of times, just long enough to draw my attention to the window of the small shop across the street. I admonished myself for not looking there immediately, I had seen the same light coming from there yesterday, the same round object reflecting brilliantly on a cloth covered table.

Sighing, I made to turn away, but movement behind the object caught my attention. I moved the curtain aside more, hoping to get a better view of what it was. 'Or who,' I thought as I noticed the form of a woman. She seemed to be middle aged, for a human, and rather short, her long wild hair tied from her face with a colourful scarf.

As I watched, confused by the happenings, she raised a hand. Based on her appearance I expected it to be near skeletal, thin bones covered in a taut layer of flesh, so pale the light shone through it. I was almost surprised to see her hand was no different than mine, presumably boney, but with a healthy amount of muscle, tendon and skin giving it shape.

She beckoned, her disappointedly normal finger curling back towards herself. I looked down the street as far as I could see in each direction, trying to catch a glimpse of who she might be talking to. When I saw no one, I looked back to the woman. She was pointing at me, and as soon as I noticed this she curled her finger, and beckoned me again.

I jumped back from the window, the encounter leaving me a little agitated and uncomfortable. I didn't know who this person was, why would she want anything to do with me? A part of me thought it was a better idea to stay away. Wait in the room until Atlar woke up, or until it was time to meet with the mayor again, although that was still hours away. But a needier part of me was curious, and I absolutely had to know what she wanted.