Spellbound Ch. 08

A woman scorned will often seek avenues of release for frustration. Though she isn't ordinary woman, Melina is no different.

Special thanks to volunteer editor stbkvln!

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Chapter 8

A cloud of dry splinters shot into the air as the massive limb came free, cracking deeply and reverberating like a thunderbolt off the neighboring trees. Melina's furious screams accompanied the snapping and creaking of dry wood as it was massacred in a flurry of clawed hands and black hair. The surrounding landscape seemed to have fallen into a stunned silence as it watched her attack. When the tree had been shredded into kindling, she looked up to see a grunting tarhide boar, aggressively tossing its head from fifty feet away. The territorial creature pawed the earth and squealed when she made eye contact, making a grand show of its threat.

Melina crouched low on all fours and bellowed back at it, then preempted its charge by surging towards it. The tarhide turned and fled in an instant, and she pulled short of pursuit by catching herself on another tree branch. She panted from the exertion, and her rage faded when she looked back at the pile of wood chips and splinters she'd created.

Melina growled and scaled a wide-limbed oak nearby, perching atop one of the upper branches to catch her breath in the warm breeze. The soft rustling of leaves and twigs brought her chaotic thoughts bubbling to the surface, demanding to be recognized.

How dare he! was chief among them. How dare Vardan show such disdain for her basest nature? How dare he look down upon her for doing what she'd always known; for not thinking to question herself, when it hadn't even been a possibility? How was she to know? And was her clear willingness to learn from him utterly meaningless? Melina found herself looping back into the thought which had set her into a frenzy: Was Vardan right? Did I deserve it?

Could it be undone? Her countless victims, taken over the course of many long years, would be impossible to find even if she could. In the past, that fact alone would have been justification enough for Melina to avoid troubling herself with such introspection. But today, it was insufficient. A terrible guilt gnawed at her insides, and an entirely new emotion broke forth: sympathy.

While she was an empathetic creature by nature, feeling what others felt was an autonomic occurrence which required little effort on Melina's part. But imagining what others might be feeling, speculating on their emotions and lives, was a new concept. An exhausting one.

She wilted as tiredness and hunger seeped into her limbs, and began grooming splinters out of her hair while taking in the view from her vantage point. She could see the town sprawled beside the river below her, miles away, with dozens of humans scurrying about. The foothills and mountains at her back cast an imposing shadow as the sun began to set, taking the edge off of the day's heat and stirring up a wonderful breeze. And though she'd made plenty of noise, no nearby humans seemed to have heard her.

She already missed having someone to speak to, and could have used the additional insight now more than ever. But Melina had begun to lose focus, and grown weary of running through the same thoughts all afternoon. Whether she stayed in the same town to attempt to reconnect with Vardan, or left the very next day, she needed to feed.

She scampered down the oak and ran back towards the town, flying over the open ground with a spark of exhilaration. She retrieved the green clothes from where she'd stripped them off and draped them over a branch, taking care not to dirty the fabric in the process. Even in her irrational state, she couldn't bring herself to destroy so beautiful.

When Melina reached the outskirts of the town, she asked passersby for the location of the Owl and Nightingale inn, and then looped around to the opposite side of town to ensure she didn't encounter Vardan accidentally. Though the sun had long since disappeared behind the mountains to the west, the sky was only just beginning to lose its light, and lanterns were being preemptively lit along the streets. The nearby river had finally begun to cool the air, and a lively chorus of crickets and frogs began their nightly songs.

Melina wasn't entirely certain what she was searching for when she wandered towards a cacophony of music and merriment, but knew that she was interested in what had drawn such a lively crowd. When she turned a corner, she saw an inn with its walls still rolled up, overflowing with light and noise. This was no small room with a dancing girl and single musician; there was surely a spectacle to be enjoyed. She hurried inside, brushing past an array of couples dancing near the entrance, and took in the sight of the massive high-ceilinged room.

In one corner was a troupe of musicians, all clad in deep blue, playing a jaunty tune which the crowd clapped along to. A fiddle, tambourine, and flute accompanied the juggler weaving deftly between stools and tables. Two dozen smiles looked up at him as he timed each step with the rhythm of the music, and his mastery of the routine was as visible as the clothing he wore. His eyes were bright and gay as he added shows of skill and balance, hopping lightly to a stool, then a table, much to the delight of all seated nearby. At one point, his foot flicked an apple upward from a patron's plate into his whirling circle, and he bit a mouthful of it with each pass through his hands.

Melina glanced away from the performance briefly to see someone rising from a stool at a full table, leaving what seemed to be the only free seat in the building. She quickly settled into it, drawing a number of peeved glances from those around her, as if its previous occupant still owned the space. She paid them no mind, instead looking curiously at the musicians. Each of the troupe was long and lanky, with thin limbs and dark skin. The fiddler in particular caught Melina's eye, as it seemed her skin was as black as her hair. But upon closer inspection, it was clear that her flesh was etched with an intricate pattern of tattoos on nearly every surface. Her outfit covered only half her torso, and barely a third of her legs, showing that the tattoos coated all but her palms and face. A small pattern even traced up the side of her neck to her half-shaved scalp, where it terminated in a twisting vine.

Melina looked back to the juggler as the crowd erupted in laughter and applause. He'd returned the apple core to the plate he'd stolen it from, juices dripping down his chin as he attempted to chew a massive volume of the fruit. His cheeks bulged comically.

"A fine show, as always!" exclaimed a man to Melina's right, struggling to be heard over the rhythm kept by the crowd. She turned to see a young, rough-looking man in frayed clothes, stained with sweat. He raised his eyebrows and blinked quickly while looking her over.

"Something the matter?" asked Melina with a wry smile. She found herself cocking her head just so, fiddling flirtatiously with a strand of hair, delighting in the youth's attempt to remember which language he spoke. His freckled cheeks reddened. She pictured leading him by the hand out and away from the crowd, stripping him of all clothing and pretense, and taking him before he'd fully realized what was happening. Considering how he'd been dazzled with a single look, he would have likely gone along with anything she'd suggested.

But then, Vardan's scorn returned to her. What would he think of her preying upon what appeared to be a naive and hard working man? And, perhaps more importantly, how would it affect him?

Her smile faded, and the room came back into focus.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, her voice heavy with disappointment as she stood and left him. His face fell as he stammered a farewell.

Melina found herself looping through the same process several times, falling into a habitual interaction before abruptly breaking it off out of guilt. No one who approached her throughout the evening seemed deserving of punishment in Melina's eyes; all were perfectly altruistic beings with long, full lives yet to live. And she was becoming increasingly conscious of her hunger; the passing scents of multiple virgins did not make her plight any easier.

When the troupe of musicians had completed their show, leaving the hall to dissolve into more subdued conversation, Melina found herself speaking with a charming merchant from the deserts to the South. His hair, peppered with silver, was combed neatly back into a short braid, leaving his handsome face on display for her to admire.

"And should you ever find yourself in a similar situation, gods forbid, you need only walk away from the deal. Such trickery can hold no sway if you've exchanged nothing." He spoke with an air of arrogance, and sat with his back straight and head held high. "Ah! How inconsiderate of me. Here I am enjoying the finest wine this establishment has to offer, without offering you a glass. I'll return shortly!" And he rose with his empty glass without waiting for a response, leaving Melina looking at his back with raised eyebrows.

No sooner had he left than his seat became occupied.

"What a grand show he puts on! Preening and showing his feathers like a young griffon," said a startlingly low voice. Melina was slow to recognize its owner as the fiddler from the troupe of musicians, settling herself with a soft moan. "You looked like you needed rescuing."

Melina blinked in surprise at the deep pitch of her voice; its slight rasp made her seem dark and sensuous, as she spoke through painted lips. She chuckled, a low rumble which stood out against the background noise of the room.

"Believe me, I know," she said, reading Melina's expression. Her accent was thick and unfamiliar. "Whatever you are thinking, I've already heard it." She was already so unlike any woman Melina had ever met, and her self-awareness was refreshing.

"Might I ask about your tattoos, then?" she said with a half smile. The woman nodded and held out her arm.

"They are markings for the gods, that they may recognize me in death and bear my spirit from flesh. It is a dying tradition among my people." Her neck was draped with long, thin braids of silver which disappeared beneath the neckline of her deep blue shirt. They shifted as she sighed. "But you are wondering how far they reach, are you not?" she said quietly, while running her fingers along her thigh.

But before Melina could answer, the merchant reappeared holding a glass of red in each hand.

"Oh thank you, darling," said the fiddler, accepting them both and handing one to Melina. The merchant remained, looking perplexed and offended, before he was dismissed unceremoniously with a wave of her tattooed hand. He scoffed and threw up his hands, cursing to himself as he left.

"What a funny creature. All talk and no bite," she said with a smirk. "My name is Chandra."

"Melina," she said, raising her glass as she'd seen others do. Chandra tapped hers against it before drinking deeply, while Melina could barely contain her curiosity.

The wine was smooth and rich, coating her tongue with an array of tastes. The merchant hadn't been wrong in his assessment of its quality, and Chandra seemed to appreciate it equally. Her long fingers, shot through with prominent veins and strong tendons, held the glass as if it weighed nothing. Her every movement was deliberate, as if she'd spent hours practicing its execution, while all her calm confidence was focused on Melina.

"If you'll indulge me," said Chandra, "what is a beauty such as you doing here, rejecting suitors all evening long?"

"They weren't quite what I was looking for," she replied with a shrug.

"My companions thought for certain you were a whore asking too high a price." Melina nearly choked mid-sip. "I take it they were mistaken." And Chandra looked meaningfully across the room, where the other musicians were watching raptly. She gave them a smile and a rude gesture, causing them to turn away looking more than a little annoyed. Melina laughed.

"Can I not afford to be selective?" Chandra responded by eyeing her up and down, taking her time and being quite thorough, before nodding.

"But what is it you are searching for? Perhaps something new?" Her voice was a deep purr. This was a woman who knew what she wanted, and everything about her seemed different. Melina did adore variety. She began to wonder if lying with a woman would interact with her magic in some new way, avoiding the curse.

"Perhaps," she said, her eyes tracing along the intricately looping and twisting patterns of the ink on her neck. Her ears and nose were pierced with small silver hoops that glimmered brightly against her skin.

"Melina, you have the look of someone who knows how to indulge herself. But have you ever wished that a lover could know your body half as well as you do?" Her words were a smoky cloud, more intoxicating than pipe or incense, which sent a chill through Melina's flesh. "A woman so beautiful should not omit half the world's pleasures."

Melina matched her boldness with a bit of her own, reaching out to fiddle with the silver strands adorning her chest. She noticed a strange resistance as she lifted one, and Chandra bit her lip seductively.

"You never answered your own question," said Melina. "How far do these markings reach?" She noticed two distinct points on the fabric covering her chest, visible even through the thick blue cloth. Chandra placed a thin-fingered hand on Melina's knee.

"Would you like to find out?"

***

The night air seemed chill in comparison to the drinking hall, thick with the breath of dozens of humans, and the slight sheen of sweat dried from Melina's arms as soon as they'd exited. Chandra spoke calmly of how lucky she'd been with accomodations in the town, and implied that she traveled often with the others she'd been with. Apparently, the town they were in was called "Summergate," and she was careful not to visibly react to the new knowledge, for she'd learned it was unusual information to lack.

The two of them were nearly of a height, and Chandra placed a confident hand round Melina's bare waist as they walked. She barely bothered with any pretense, as most men would have; she elaborated no grand promises or overdone compliments, nor did she convey any desperation in her actions. Melina was delighted to hand over the reins, and allow herself to be the one seduced for a change.

She allowed herself the luxury of feeling Chandra's slender form beside hers, hips brushing together with each step. When she placed her arm about Chandra's shoulders, she nearly expected to feel her tattoos as raised edges, so crisp were the swirling lines. But she was entirely smooth, as if cut from a bolt of silk.

Chandra slipped her thumb beneath the waistline of Melina's skirt, stroking the sensitive skin at the front of her hip. It seemed that the tantalizing outline of her body through the clothing had its intended effect, as her bold companion could scarcely wait to slide it off.

It wasn't long before they arrived at a larger building comprised of small apartments, most of which had their windows open to the breeze. Chandra unlocked the door to a small room, which was barely larger than the ones at the inn in Jizan. A large bed against one wall was laden with embroidered pillows, and a sprawling rug covered most of the stone floor.

Chandra led her in with a hand on the small of Melina's back, reminiscent of the way Vardan had escorted his young prey into his room. But he'd been far more delicate and calculated, whereas Chandra's movements had a certain urgency to them. She had strength and grace in equal measure, and her hands conveyed her intent to use both.

She lit a candle, then returned her hands to Melina's bare waist, applying pressure in just the right places as she closed the space between them.

"Tell me, darling," she said as she looked into Melina's eyes, "have you been with a woman before?" The candlelight flickered on the tattoo of the vine on her scalp, making it look as if it were alive and twisting wickedly. Her words were rich as they perfumed the air.

"I haven't," Melina replied, as she felt gooseflesh raise along the skin at her back where Chandra touched her. The lie would make it more exciting. Melina was backed gently against a wall, before Chandra closed the last few inches between them. Their breasts pressed together, feeling each other's hard points of arousal, before their lips met.

Chandra wasted no time on softness, and was nibbling at Melina's lower lip after mere seconds. Their tongues swirled around one another with subsequent passes, and with a soft moan, Chandra pushed her chest in close and rubbed. The friction sparked little pricks of heat, and seemed to warm the room even further. One of her hands went to the thin green skirt covering Melina's thighs, gathering up the fabric in her long fingers. When she'd exposed enough leg, she began to squeeze and feel those small places which were normally so underappreciated: the bend at Melina's hip, the underside of her ass, and the crease between thigh and swollen labia.

Before she knew what had happened, Chandra had slipped a finger inside her with expert placement. Melina gasped against her kiss, her heart faltering. They seemed to have skipped several steps. She could feel Chandra's sly smile before she nibbled harder at Melina's lip, her magic converting the tiny speck of pain into pleasure. She tasted blood, and felt Chandra's tongue probe the tender spot.

Chandra's finger applied pulses of anterior pressure, sapping the strength from Melina's legs and drawing another gasp from her lips. It was an entirely new feeling to have someone inside her while both were still fully clothed, and it left her craving more. She returned Chandra's kiss forcefully, hands probing neck and shoulders while searching for the ties which would free her breasts. She pulled at the braided silver necklaces in her search, causing Chandra to freeze and moan, eyes fluttering. Melina cocked her head.

Rather than answer the implicit question, Chandra withdrew from her moist folds and slid the finger into Melina's parted lips. It took only a moment for her to begin instinctually sucking at the appendage, licking her own sweetness from it. Chandra smiled.

"I should love to put that tongue to use, darling," she rasped, causing Melina's eyes to spark with excitement. She ran both hands down Melina's chest, just barely grazing the pert nipples through thin cloth, before looping to her partially bare back. Chandra kissed aggressively while her fingers worked at the ties holding the blouse up. She'd unraveled them faster than Melina had thought possible, and the garment was over her shoulders and fluttering to the floor without a sound.

Her hands didn't immediately avail themselves of Melina's exposed breasts as expected. Instead, she took her time, teasing her by running her fingernails lightly over her back, shoulders, and ribs. And when she finally began to massage the sensitive underside of Melina's breasts, it did nothing to quell the smoldering desire in her core. Melina reached for the buttons at the front of Chandra's deep blue shirt, but her hands fumbled and took what seemed like minutes to undo them. All while Chandra was slowly increasing the range which her deft fingers roamed.

When Melina finished, she glanced down in surprise. The silver braids of Chandra's necklaces were not only tucked into the fabric of her shirt; several were anchored to her nipples by way of two hooped piercings like the ones in her ears. Melina's eyes went wide as she recalled casually plucking at the jewelry, and the unusual reactions she'd elicited. The sight of swirling black tattoos reaching every surface, crossed with silver, was an alluring one.