Sunny - Mona Lisa Darkening

So first day rested, miraculously back from the Cursed Realm of the damned dead, I found myself wielding a wooden sword, learning basic sword drills. The scowl on my face wasn't from the ridiculously easy drills. It was from the perceived injury to my dignity.

"Why can't I use a real sword to practice?" I asked after finishing up the first set.

"Because you are a beginner. Until you demonstrate to me that you are more than that, what you hold in your hand will be your practice weapon."

"It's not as if I haven't used a real sword before," I grumbled. "It's demeaning using the same thing a snotty twelve-year-old kid here would use." Come to think of it, I guess I was lucky he wasn't having me train with the beginner's group, which ranged from ten- to seventeen-year-old boys.

"Just because you were fortunate enough to kill your opponents with a sword during battle does not advance you beyond novice status," Nolan said.

"It wasn't luck," I muttered. "What more do I need to learn than swing a sword hard enough to take off my enemy's head." Yeah, yeah, I knew better. But I couldn't seem to help myself. I was embarrassed and chagrined by the wimpy pretend weapon I held.

"Okay, show me," Nolan said. He picked up a wooden practice sword and faced me. No embarrassment on his face. But then, not only was he a big guy, almost as physically big as Amber, he was a master swordsman. He had nothing to prove while I, on the other hand, did. Still, this was far better than doing those embarrassingly easy drills.

I swung full out at Nolan, knowing he could more than adequately defend himself.

He just stood there and parried the blow with insulting ease. In a quick countering maneuver he knocked the wooden sword from my hand and laid his weapon against my neck.

"All right, you proved your point," I said, swallowing at the fresh reminder of how lucky I'd been so far. Lucky that I still had my head attached to my body. "But do I have to start from the very beginning?" Even to myself it sounded whiney — I couldn't help myself. It was embarrassing waving around what amounted to a glorified twig, especially with my men watching from the house, keeping an eye on me. "If I have to practice with this stupid stick, at least can we do more challenging drills?"

Nolan was a good teacher. Flexible. "More challenging drills coming right up, milady." He executed a fluid bow that was not bad considering he'd been out of practice for twenty years. "But I want you aware that my healer wife, as well as your men, will have my head if I get a single scratch on you."

"No scratch, I promise. Just don't treat me like a baby."

He didn't. For the next fifteen minutes, he paired up as my partner, and wooden sword went up against wooden sword, which was much better than thrusting and parrying against empty air. I was grinning like an idiot until Nolan said, "Good. Now let's pick up the speed."

"What do you mean, pick up the speed?"

"You're only moving as fast as a human. Let me see more speed and force behind your strikes. Don't hold back."

"I wasn't."

His turn to say, "What do you mean?"

"I wasn't holding back."

Frowning, he raised his wood sword and said, "Again." We repeated the thrust-parry, thrust-parry maneuvers, and I consciously pushed myself in speed, in strength.

"Harder," he said. "Faster."

"I am," I grunted. When Nolan stepped up the pace, I couldn't match him. Nor could I hang onto my weapon when he increased the force behind his strikes. My wooden blade went flying out of my hand to land on the grass.

A chill went through me as I stood there weaponless, breathing heavily. Nolan's breathing wasn't even labored.

"I'm slow," I said, as if repeating that fact out loud could sink the revelation into my brain. "I move as slow as a human, and am as weak as one." I remembered the pain that had slashed me when I had tried to call up power to compel the taxi driver, and had been unable to. I'd thought it was because of my exhaustion from crossing two different realms, journeying back from death to life. But I wondered now if something in me had been damaged. If my Monère strength, quickness, and power had been torn out of me along with Mona Louisa. That inner wound was still there inside me. I still felt it.

"Forgive me, milady. I should have allowed you more time to rest and recover before beginning your training."

As the stunning realization that I had lost my Monère strength settled in on me slowly, I couldn't bring myself to mouth platitudes. Couldn't find anything worthwhile to say to Nolan. I just nodded and left him, walking back to the house.

When I saw Amber waiting for me by the front door, I dashed up the stairs and was caught up in those big arms that always felt like safety, warmth, love — Amber, my rock.

Those giant arms tightened as they lifted me. "Careful, Amber. Gently," I gasped, even though he always was — gentle and careful with me, ever conscious of his strength. After my words, he started to loosen his embrace and draw back. It was I who tightened my arms around his neck and plastered myself against him, burrowing into his bigness. His arms came tentatively back around, holding me loosely as I murmured, "Oh, Amber." Just that, his name and all that he meant to me.

I didn't question his return, how and why he was there when I suddenly needed him. Nor did he question my almost desperate welcome. He was a man more of action than words, and his next actions were perfect. With me clinging to him like a burr, he went inside and climbed the stairs. Only when we were in his bedroom did he speak. "I missed you. I needed you."

"I missed you, needed you, too." He didn't know, I thought, gazing at his clear, untroubled eyes. He didn't know the awful truth that I had just discovered about my strength. I didn't want to think about it or dwell on it, all the worries. I just wanted to feel, enjoy what I had now, for the moment. Kisses followed, far better than words. A meeting of mouths and hearts. Sweet and gentle on his part. Hungry and ravenous, a touch desperate on mine. Still he was careful, gentle, letting me set the pace. Allowing me to unbuckle his belt, push down his pants as he pulled off his shirt. Letting me shrug out of my own clothes with careless haste and abandon. No thoughts, no modesty, no care, just this — his hands running lightly over my breasts, me pushing him back down on the bed, climbing on top of him, holding the stiff, throbbing jut of him, slipping a quickly snatched condom over him, then sinking down on that thick, swollen head. Oh! Just so.

"Amber," I murmured, closing my eyes, sinking into bliss as my body swallowed him slowly into me. When I had sank down as much as I could, I gave a little wriggle, a sharp swivel, and deeper still he went. A big man all over, was my Amber. Mine. Yes, mine. At least for now. He groaned, I moaned, and together we began to move, him gently, me much less so. I wanted him. Wanted him to wash away all my doubts, fears, concerns. I just wanted him like this — on his back, his stiff rod buried inside me, a part of me, his calloused warrior hands running tenderly over me, stroking my breasts, pinching my nipples, combing his fingers lightly over the soft mound between my legs, there where we came together, melded with sticky wetness to each other as we rocked together, as I rode him, my strong huge stallion, still gentle in his counter-thrusts while I grew increasingly wild on top of him, plummeting up and down with increasing speed, sliding wetly up and down him. His fingers grew more urgent, harder pinches, more abundant squeezes paced and metered to my cries, my needs, my heated murmured response of "Oh, yes… like that… and that." Then just his name, "Amber," and my need to forget, to only feel. A gentle slide up, a harder thrust down, pushing his thick length back in. "Yes." Like that.