The Mother of Spirits slept deeply, her naked, fragrant body nestled against the damp moss. Her long green hair spilled across the pillow, her breath steady and calm. Her lips, slightly parted, hinted at a satisfied smile. Eros gazed at her for a long moment, careful not to wake her.
He slipped out of the bed, his bare feet meeting the soft tent floor. He donned a simple robe of rough vegetal fiber, brought to replace his bloodied clothes coarse but comfortable.
Parting the curtain of vines that served as a door, he stepped into the night.
The air was cool and humid, heavy with the scent of wet earth and nocturnal blooms. The moon cast a silvery light through the canopy, painting shifting patterns on the village ground. The silence wasn't absolute, filled with the ceaseless chirping of crickets, the rustle of wind-stirred leaves, and the distant howl of an unknown creature. He passed a patrol of dryad guards, their slender silhouettes almost ghostly in the darkness. They saluted him with respectful nods, their eyes glinting with an animalistic glow. Eros returned a lazy gesture and continued on.
His steps led him to a small house nestled among the monstrous roots of a millennial tree. The dwelling was simple, built of living wood and moss-covered stones. A faint glow seeped through the cracks of closed shutters. He stopped before the door, a weathered wooden plank smoothed by time and the elements. He knocked, the sound resonating in the night's calm.
Minutes passed, answered only by the forest's sounds. Then, a rustle behind the door, the metallic clink of a latch lifting. The door creaked open.
Râ stood in the threshold, cloaked in the shadows of her home. She wore a sheer nightgown, so light it seemed made of mist. The fabric, nearly transparent in the dim light, clung indecently to her form, revealing the curve of her breasts, the slimness of her waist, and the roundness of her hips. Her dark brown hair fell loosely over her shoulders, tousled from sleep. Her large, sleep-laden eyes widened as she recognized him.
"L-Lord Eros?" she stammered, her voice soft with sleep and surprise. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest in a futile attempt at modesty. "What are you doing here?"
A faint smile flickered on Eros's lips. Seeing her so vulnerable and flustered sparked a familiar, potent desire in him. "I told you I'd come see you, didn't I?" he said, his voice low and husky, made for nighttime confidences.
A flush crept up her cheeks, visible even in the dimness. "Yes, I remember," she murmured, glancing down before meeting his gaze again. Her eyes betrayed a mix of fear and excitement.
"Can I come in?" Eros asked, resting a broad hand on the doorframe, his massive form nearly filling the entrance.
She stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. "Yes, of course."
The interior matched the exterior simple, functional, yet warm with an organic vitality. Shelves carved into the wooden walls held clay pots, dried herb bundles, and a few parchment scrolls. A fire smoldered in the hearth, casting dancing orange glows on the walls. The air smelled of wild mint and embers.
Eros sat heavily on a bench covered with animal hide, his eyes scanning the room with detached curiosity. Râ stood frozen, unsure, her fingers nervously clutching the thin fabric of her gown. The silence between them was thick, charged with unspoken tension.
"Would you like some tea, Lord Eros?" she offered, seeking a task to ease her embarrassment. "A forest herb infusion. It's soothing."
Eros tilted his head. "Sure."
She hurried behind a curtain leading to an adjacent kitchen. Eros heard the gentle clink of cups, the hiss of poured water. He sat still, listening to the steady beat of his heart and the fire's soft crackle.
Minutes later, she returned with two rustic clay mugs, handing one to Eros. Their fingers brushed briefly, and she flinched as if shocked. She sat across from him on a small stool, sipping her tea in small, careful gulps, avoiding his gaze.
They drank in silence, the warm, aromatic liquid easing an invisible tension. Eros finally broke the quiet.
"Why were you there when I arrived?" he asked, setting his empty mug on the floor. "You were with the welcoming group."
Râ looked up, startled by the direct question. "I was sent by the Mother of Spirits," she explained, her voice steadier. "As the Queen of Spirits, she has total control over the forest. She senses every intrusion, every new presence. She felt your arrival and ordered my squad to escort you."
Eros nodded, understanding. The dryad's network of awareness was more expansive and sensitive than he'd realized. "And what's your role exactly?"
"I'm a squad leader," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "I command a group of twenty dryads. We patrol the northern edge of our territory."
Eros narrowed his eyes, searching his memory. "I don't remember you from my first visit."
A shadow passed over Râ's gaze. "I was patrolling near the Valley of Thebes that day," she said softly. "We heard echoes of the battle but arrived too late. We only saw the aftermath."
"I see," Eros murmured.
His gaze, until then fixed on her face, drifted slowly, inexorably, to her chest. The treacherous, sheer gown left little to the imagination, revealing the curves of her breasts and the dark outline of her nipples. Râ followed his stare and turned scarlet, a shiver of intense embarrassment running through her. She stood abruptly, nearly toppling her stool.
"I'll put the mugs away," she mumbled, grabbing both with trembling hands.
She fled behind the curtain, seeking refuge in the cramped kitchen. Leaning against the cold wooden wall, she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. Her face burned. Eros's presence, his aura, unraveled her completely terrifying yet intoxicating.
A soft creak of wood behind her made her jump. She spun around.
Eros stood in the curtain's frame, his broad body blocking nearly all escape. He'd followed silently, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes gleaming with an intensity that pierced her.
"Lord Eros… I…" she began, but words failed her.
He said nothing, closing the distance until he was mere inches away. He raised a hand, his fingers brushing her bare arm. The touch was feather-light but sent shivers through her. A spark of electricity raced across her skin.
"You…" she whispered, unable to form a coherent thought.
He leaned in, his warm breath grazing her neck. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by sensation. Pleasure, mixed with primal fear, began to dominate, dissolving her will. Her knees weakened. His fingers slid into her hair, a grip both firm and gentle, tilting her head back.
He turned her to face him, her eyes meeting his, their depths pulling her in. His face lowered, his warm breath mingling with hers. The world the forest, the village, the sleeping Mother of Spirits faded away. There was only this moment, this anticipation.
Then his lips found hers.
It wasn't a hesitant or gentle kiss. It was deep, possessive. Her mouth opened under his, yielding to the assault of his tongue. A muffled moan escaped her throat, a sound of total surrender. Her hands, raised in instinctive defense, settled on his chest, clutching the rough robe like an anchor.
Eros, sensing her complete submission, wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her against him. The kiss deepened, grew urgent.