sponge passing over her skin was followed by gentle, kneading fingers creaming soap over her flesh, bringing lavender to her nostrils. There were no lavender soaps or gentle touches in the steel room. Those things suggested a garden. A deserted garden of Eden, the best kind. There was stillness there, no animals, no humans, only her, amid bright tropical flowers. The trees were still, for there was no breeze. Movement attracted bad things.
So she stayed still in this unexpected garden, watching, listening, yearning to touch, move and feel, but far too afraid to do so. She knew that song, though. An Irish lullaby, a sleep song that hoped for angels to watch over her, keep her from all harm. If she’d been less weary, she would have drawn the blade of her cynicism, sneered at the words. Instead, she wanted to fall to her knees in the garden and weep. When the stanza repeated itself, she thought of Lord Mason in the tomb, his shirt covered with blood. He’d lifted her in his arms and held her close, against that evidence of his ability to savagely protect and defend what he considered his.
The breeze started to whisper through the garden, setting leaves and branches in motion, an elegant dance. A few birds joined the song. Preceded by rustling, a deer stepped out, staring at her with liquid brown eyes. She had a soft coat. Touch. She wanted to touch it, to connect.
Something was touching her. Jessica focused cautiously, and became aware of the tub, the heat of the water, though the garden stayed at the fringes of her consciousness. It unfurled behind Amara’s feet where she knelt. Jess blinked at the trees, the bright eyes of a squirrel who paused on a branch to consider them. The doe stepped through blue flowers.
Setting aside the sponge, still humming, Amara soaped both her hands and glided down Jessica’s shoulders, her arms, then back up to her neck. Over her sternum, over her breasts. As the woman’s hands molded the curves, her touch was a caress, the thumbs making a light pass over the slick nipples, and then she’d moved onward, to the convex plane of Jessica’s stomach and prominent ribs.
“We’ll get you some food next. Small amounts at first, so you don’t get sick, but you need nourishment, child.”
Jess turned her blank gaze up to Amara’s face, really looking at her for the first time. Along with the dark hair and eyes, she had unblemished olive skin, a remarkable, delicate beauty appropriate in the midst of Eden. She wore a wedding ring, another unexpected element. That hand passed over the flare of Jess’s hip, and then her thighs. Coming up the narrow channel allowed by the ankle cuffs, Amara submerged the soapy sponge to rub between them. Clean her. Easy and gentle, just the two of them.
Jess swallowed. The garden started teeming with cautious life, things peering out of foliage, and her body wanted to move like the trees in the wind. Her gaze became full of Amara’s intent eyes, her distracting mouth. She wore simple, elegant clothes, a halter over a pair of slacks, but her breasts, loose and unbound, drew the eye to the deep cleft, the tempting roundness of them beneath the cotton.
She was surprised by the direction of her thoughts, but she supposed she shouldn’t be. It had been so many months since she’d been touched by anyone. Men frightened her, and her sickly appearance repelled everyone else. Amara emanated gentle kindness and sensual beauty. While the woman was a vampire’s slave, and therefore not to be trusted, Jessica thought she could be trusted for this, even if she was doing it for Mason’s mental entertainment. Only it didn’t feel like that. Amara’s cosseting was easy, keeping the garden growing with life, not startling anyone back into the forest. The unfurling of desire, the needful response of a young, healthy woman’s body, startled her, though. Her mind warred with her reaction, knowing how her arousal had been twisted, distorted in the past, by roads paved
So she stayed still in this unexpected garden, watching, listening, yearning to touch, move and feel, but far too afraid to do so. She knew that song, though. An Irish lullaby, a sleep song that hoped for angels to watch over her, keep her from all harm. If she’d been less weary, she would have drawn the blade of her cynicism, sneered at the words. Instead, she wanted to fall to her knees in the garden and weep. When the stanza repeated itself, she thought of Lord Mason in the tomb, his shirt covered with blood. He’d lifted her in his arms and held her close, against that evidence of his ability to savagely protect and defend what he considered his.
The breeze started to whisper through the garden, setting leaves and branches in motion, an elegant dance. A few birds joined the song. Preceded by rustling, a deer stepped out, staring at her with liquid brown eyes. She had a soft coat. Touch. She wanted to touch it, to connect.
Something was touching her. Jessica focused cautiously, and became aware of the tub, the heat of the water, though the garden stayed at the fringes of her consciousness. It unfurled behind Amara’s feet where she knelt. Jess blinked at the trees, the bright eyes of a squirrel who paused on a branch to consider them. The doe stepped through blue flowers.
Setting aside the sponge, still humming, Amara soaped both her hands and glided down Jessica’s shoulders, her arms, then back up to her neck. Over her sternum, over her breasts. As the woman’s hands molded the curves, her touch was a caress, the thumbs making a light pass over the slick nipples, and then she’d moved onward, to the convex plane of Jessica’s stomach and prominent ribs.
“We’ll get you some food next. Small amounts at first, so you don’t get sick, but you need nourishment, child.”
Jess turned her blank gaze up to Amara’s face, really looking at her for the first time. Along with the dark hair and eyes, she had unblemished olive skin, a remarkable, delicate beauty appropriate in the midst of Eden. She wore a wedding ring, another unexpected element. That hand passed over the flare of Jess’s hip, and then her thighs. Coming up the narrow channel allowed by the ankle cuffs, Amara submerged the soapy sponge to rub between them. Clean her. Easy and gentle, just the two of them.
Jess swallowed. The garden started teeming with cautious life, things peering out of foliage, and her body wanted to move like the trees in the wind. Her gaze became full of Amara’s intent eyes, her distracting mouth. She wore simple, elegant clothes, a halter over a pair of slacks, but her breasts, loose and unbound, drew the eye to the deep cleft, the tempting roundness of them beneath the cotton.
She was surprised by the direction of her thoughts, but she supposed she shouldn’t be. It had been so many months since she’d been touched by anyone. Men frightened her, and her sickly appearance repelled everyone else. Amara emanated gentle kindness and sensual beauty. While the woman was a vampire’s slave, and therefore not to be trusted, Jessica thought she could be trusted for this, even if she was doing it for Mason’s mental entertainment. Only it didn’t feel like that. Amara’s cosseting was easy, keeping the garden growing with life, not startling anyone back into the forest. The unfurling of desire, the needful response of a young, healthy woman’s body, startled her, though. Her mind warred with her reaction, knowing how her arousal had been twisted, distorted in the past, by roads paved
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