Blood of War Read Online Free PDF Page B

think-
    “Hello.”
    He spun at the sound of her voice, like a burbling brook, like wind in the trees, like birds singing. He saw her where just a moment before he knew there had been no one. When his eyes met hers, he was struck. Struck by the deep aquamarine, like a sea, or was it sky-cerulean? It seemed to depend on which way the light came. Golden hair that seemed to shine independently of the sun hung in waves and those waves moved languidly, languorously, though there was no breeze. Her crimson lips were like the petals of a rose under the delicately aquiline cheeks and nose. Her skin was the color of the first buds in spring, and her lithe, naked form bespoke life. Her breasts were full, round, perfectly formed, as ready to be caressed in acts of passion as they were to give nourishment to a suckling babe; in the center of each was what appeared to be a rosebud. Her hips gently swelled outward like the world's most perfect hourglass: perfect for birth, perfect for the act that presaged birth. Her legs, were long and slender, willowy and graceful.
    And then he knew. He knew because it made sense. He knew because—well, who else could she be?
    “Hello sister,” he said.
    She laughed, a golden tinkle, and her eyes turned azure, cyan, then so deep blue that he did not have a name for it. “I see father picked well,” she said.
    He blushed, looked down, and he was not sure if it was the praise that made him do so or the intense lust that woke in him, heated him, and thrashed sensible thought to tatters. Of course, the lust was merely a side-effect of who she was; he could not expect to be in the vicinity of the Goddess of Life and not feel some thing. Still, it was off-putting to be thinking thoughts like that about his sister. It was disturbing.
    “Where are the others?” he asked.
    “Who? Shomra and Maora?” Valsa asked. “Oh I imagine they'll be along in their own time. They're rather busy right now.”
    She stepped toward him, extended her hand and caressed his cheek. She smiled and he had to stifle an animal growl that rose in his throat, had to resist pressing his face into those silken fingers, had to resist...
    That's my sister!
    A dissident part of his mind chuckled maliciously. More like an adopted sister though, it said. That would be all right, right?
    “I'm glad to finally meet you,” she said and she sparkled like a thousand fireflies. “The other two are always so boring. Shomra is always dour and sad. He's always mourning. You'd think he'd be used to it by now. Maora can't ever seem to stop spouting useless trivia.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It's enough to make a woman weep! I think you're going to be much more interesting.”
    Interesting? He had an idea that all he would really be doing was keeping Shomra very, very busy.
    “Oh don't say that,” she scoffed and he had to wonder if he spoke aloud. He did not think so. “No you didn't. But your thoughts are so loud that you may as well have.”
    Could she see his other thoughts? Could she see the other shamfeul imaginings that went on in the dim, secret recesses of his mind? Oh her? And him? Oh gods!
    She laughed again, and patted his cheek with one soft hand. “Oh don't worry about that ,” she said. “I got used to that a long time ago. It's part of my charm.”
    “So what brings you here?” he asked. There was certainly real curiosity to know, but there was also an intense desire to change the subject. Before his head popped.
    “I just wanted to meet my new brother. I wanted to take your measure. So far I'm not disappointed.”
    She leered at him! Her eyes took him in with a slow sweep from head to toes and back, and where they passed, it was like a physical contact, like fingers. Soft, warm...tracing, exploring.
    Your sister, you bloody fool!
    Uncomfortable almost to the point of fainting, he backed away a pace and turned to walk through the grasses. He could feel her eyes on his back but it was better. She