Mask & Veil Ch. 01

There was no room in anyone's tent or wagon, so Keira agreed that he could sleep in hers. Lying beside him that night, as he slept and dreamed about something that upset him - something that made him cry out sometimes during the night - Keira watched him and checked his brow for that horrible heat. That night, however, Touran was free from the hell of it.

When Touran awoke he remembered the kindness of the young beauty that has saved him. That's all he could remember at first. Though, as he laid there alone, he began to remember Lord Piqoud. The bastard was hiding the truth as to his allegiance with the Knights Templar, who was demanding a witch hunt on the village where he had gained and lost his wife, Tierney. Women who he had always loved were about to be murdered for crimes they didn't commit. And though he was a mercenary witchfinder because of the mystical horrors that took his wife away from him, he wasn't about to let innocents die because of the fear of the Devil.

He wanted to get up right now and return to the man who tried murdering him, exact revenge on the loathsome bastard, but as he moved his arm ached and his head spun with a hazy confusion.

Then he fell back asleep. Upon waking again, he looked over at the groggy beauty who saved him. He smelled fresh bread and wine, seeing that she held a loaf in one hand and a wooden goblet in the other.

"The blood and the flesh of Jesus Christ?" he said, joking.

"Who?"

Touran didn't even realize that she was ignorant of what he was saying, his mind already on devouring what she proffered.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Keira Brynn Davan," he said. "Your accent is strange and you have a weird name."

"I'm not from France," the girl said. "I'm Irish."

"You're still beautiful," he said, taking the food. "Excuse me if I seem like an animal. I haven't eaten in awhile."

Keira giggled, which tightened the warmth in his heart for her. As he ate, he looked at her slender form. She was obviously a peasant, wearing a little more than a thin, draping loin cloth of skin and some skin to cover her small breasts. It all stirred something in his own loins. Something magic.

"You're looking better today, but you still need some rest," she said. "If you're feeling better later today, I'll help you out and you can get some fresh air."

"Fresh air sounds really nice right now," he said. "Where are my clothes?"

"Um... They're in tatters. We had to destroy them to get you of of them quickly. They were keeping you away from the natural healing that's in the very air."

"Well, the natural healing air is freezing my balls off," he said and she laughed.

"I'll find you something to wear. Right now, just keep yourself wrapped tight in this skin," she said. Then she left him and he ate and drank alone. The grape wine warmed him a little more, made him feel good and strong. A part of him wanted to go find her, talk with her forever, but he probably wouldn't be here that long.

As promised, as midday approached, Keira helped him into some bizarre clothes that he wore out. She clung to his side, her small frame always close to him and he was in heaven.

That's when he realized that he wasn't in a village. It was a gypsy camp, which accounted for the strange slacks and shirt they gave him. The one thing he learned over the course of the last four years was not to judge too quickly. The gypsies were a mysterious lot, more pagan than Christian, yet harmless unless you had something they wanted. At least, that's what he was told once upon a time.

They gave him a larger meal to eat and, after, they decided that he needed to get back into the wagon, where he could rest. Touran was for certain that they were a little nervous having him here. The only ones who seemed fine with it were Keira, her friend and the old woman they called the Seer. Of course, it was hard for him to trust them as well - except Keira, who he was sure was an honest, decent person. Though, of course, all this remained to truly be seen, besides her saving and healing him for some reason he really didn't know right now.

When she crawled in next to him, in her own sleeping skin, Touran tried to pretend to be asleep. He wanted to sort things out in his mind. How long should he stay here? How far could he trust these people? Trust Keira?

Touran felt like he was being watched. He felt like he was being hovered over. *Must be Keira*, he thought. Though he didn't know why she was looking at him.

"Touran?" she said.

He didn't answer her, still acting as though he was asleep.

"Touran! You awake?"

He still didn't answer her. Then he heard her talking to him as though he were awake: "You won't mind if you're asleep, right? Course not. I'll just have a quick look and then I'll stop. I won't do it again, Okay?"

Touran continued his pretending.

Then he felt her grip his sleeping skin and pull it up, where he felt a cool breeze running over his dick, his balls. Amazed at this girl's courage, he began to feel himself "heat up". His dick began to pulse, to grow.

*God*, he thought. *I hope she doesn't realize I'm awake because of that little bastard*.

Then the girl giggled and released his skin to fall back over him. A few seconds later, she was touching his brow with her lips, kissing him like a feather.

"You are a handsome man, Sir Touran DeVaughn," she said and laid back next to him.

*God, she's beautiful*, he thought.

But it wasn't over. Touran felt her moving, rhythmically. He heard of some women masturbating themselves - it was a favorite secret dream for men to want women to masturbate for them. He could feel her body warming up, could smell the scent of her sex as she rubbed at her wet groin. Touran wanted to watch her, wanted to grab her and thrust himself inside her so bad that his cock was engorged and aching. And he knew he couldn't jerk off to her, joining her in her pleasure. He was asleep, after all. Goddammit!

Keira let out a small peep as her body went ridged for a moment and then she sighed.

"Sir Touran?"

Of course, he didn't answer. He didn't want to scare the poor girl.

"Goodnight..."

*Goodnight...*, he thought, wishing now that he could tell her.

[to be continued...]

Next Chapter: Lord Piqoud's daughter is abducted by a ruthless killer for profit, and she's sold as a slave girl to a farmer in southern France.