Yet another Romany Skies teaser. I’ll stop with them soon, I promise… maybe.
Connor and Lisa.
Lisa stood by the window, singing softly to herself and watching the dawn break over the flower meadows. Smoke from the still smouldering buildings cast a grey haze over the usually vibrant colours, muting them to soft pastels. Movement to her right caught her eye, and she watched as a group of the Sisters of Florence moved slowly along the rutted track, their old carthorse pulling a cart laden with the dead, townsfolk and soldiers alike, their bodies swathed in bright white sheets. No doubt heading for the Funeral Plain, she thought, absently twisting a lock of her deep red hair with her fingers. In the distance, beyond the trees on the far side of the meadows, she spied black crows circling, waiting their chance to feast on the pyre of bodies that more of the Sisters would be constructing. Tonight it would be set afire, and the souls of the battle victims would be released as the flames turned their bodies to ash.
A shiver ran down her spine at the morbid thought, and she averted her gaze to the left, northwards. Here she could see the great, raw scar in the earth where the dragon had come crashing down, spewing fire all around, incinerating a few unfortunates too slow to retreat. The dragon, already fatally wounded by the combined ice spells of the few remaining Spellcasters, was finished off by her man, her Connor. He had sprinted through the smoke and flames, leapt over the flailing spiked tail, and buried his sword up to its hilt in the creature’s right eye. The death spasm which followed threw Connor quite a distance through the air, winding him as he crashed down onto the unforgiving ground. Gasping and struggling for breath, he nevertheless saluted the dragon as it died, its internal inferno consuming its flesh in a white hot firestorm, leaving just its blackened skeleton behind. She loved him for that, loved him more, for showing that simple respect to a fallen adversary.
The soft rain which fell throughout the night washed the black, burnt ash away, and now the bones gleamed whitely in the early morning sun. A handful of small children stood silently, staring in awe at the remains of the dragon, before scampering off to play their far more important childhood games.
“You’re up early, Nightingale.”
The voice, soft, lyrical, and oh so beloved, came from within the room behind her. A delicious thrill ran through her body at the sound of it, her full lips creased in a smile and her green eyes sparkled. The sound of his pet name for her being spoken in his voice, through his lips, after all of these years was wondrous. Truly wondrous.
She turned from the window to face him, her beloved, her man, her Connor. He was sitting up in the bed, smiling, reaching painfully for the pitcher of water on the bedside cabinet. Swiftly she moved across the room and gently took his hand.
“Here, my Lord, let me do that for you.” Lisa took the pitcher and poured a tankard of water, lifting it to his lips so he could take a few sips, tenderly wiping his mouth when he’d drank his fill.
“I’m nobody’s Lord,” Connor scoffed. “I’m just, you know, me.”
Lisa looked lovingly at him through her long lashes.
“You’ll always be my Lord, my sweet.” She quickly inspected the bandages and dressings on his various hurts, none of which, she had been happy to note when she patched him up, were very serious.
Connor reached out a hand, placed his fingers gently under her chin, and tilted her head so her eyes met his. Another thrill ran through her body at his touch, so longed for, so missed for all this time.
“Nightingale… this is real, isn’t it? I am really here, you’re really here, it isn’t some sort of dream?” He smiled as he felt her fingertip gently slide down his bare chest. “And that’s really your touch I can feel once more on my body?”
Lisa giggled shyly, carried on moving her finger down his chest, slowly over his tight abs.
“Yes my love, this is real. You’re here, finally. I’m here. We’re together, where we belong. Somehow, you made it back to me, like you promised.” She leant forward and kissed his lips lightly. “And now, my Lord, I believe you must be fully rested, for you have slept half a day and a full night.”
“You’re right, my love, I do feel rested, though I ache all over and…” Lisa laid a finger over his lips to quiet him, kissing the corner of his mouth, her other hand still moving further south on his body, now under the light sheet at his waist.
“They say my Lord lost his weapon when he slew the dragon beast, but I don’t believe that’s true. I believe my Lord’s weapon is right here…” Connor gasped as her small hand encircled his manhood, massaging and pulling slightly. Lisa giggled, looking up at him through her lashes, the way she knew he loved her looking at him. She felt him start to swell and stiffen in her hand, and giggled shyly again.
“Now that we have found my Lord’s mighty weapon, mayhap he should put it to some good use.”
Connor pulled her face to his, kissing her hard, his tongue twisting with hers as her hand moved faster and more insistently on his hardness.
“Your Lord knows exactly what he is going to use his weapon for,” he said when he finally released her lips. His hand began to unfasten the blouse she was wearing. “He will be impaling something a lot more pleasurable with it than an ancient fire dragon.”
Once again, that shallot.