Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I rinse my hair and then I just lay there for a while. I know I promised Valen I’d be quick, but he’s not back yet. And after the ordeal of the forest, the warm water feels so good—so relaxing.
I close my eyes for just a moment and I think I must take a little nap. When I open my eyes again, the leaves are shifting beneath me.
“What? What’s going on?” I say out loud, my voice coming out groggy and half-awake. I was having some kind of dream about trying to reach a golden apple on a tree but it kept hopping out of my reach.
I feel motion again and open my eyes wider, looking around. The vines lining the tub are moving…slowly…deliberately. One curls upward, its tiny blossoms brushing against my shoulder. Another slides along my calf, the petals soft and cool. Are they trying to wash me?
“That’s enough,” I say nervously, trying to laugh it off. “I’m quite clean now.”
But the flowers do not retreat.
Instead, more vines rise from the water, their blooms opening wider. Soft petals begin to glide over my arms…my shoulders…my back—scrubbing, polishing, working on my skin with gentle but insistent strokes.
I guess they really are washing me—only I don’t need washing. I wonder if their behavior has anything to do with the strange Old Tongue runes I couldn’t quite read on the side of the tub. Are they following some kind of magical mandate?
If so, they need to stop—it’s making me feel strange to be in a tub with vines that move on their own.
“Stop,” I say, lifting my hands to brush them away. “That’s enough—really.”
But before I can push the intrusive blooms away, two vines coil around my wrists—not painfully—but firmly.
My arms are drawn outward, held apart above the water, exposing my breasts completely.
Hold still so we can wash you! I can almost hear them saying. The vines tighten just enough to make it clear this is not a suggestion.
My breath catches in my throat—I don’t like this. It makes me think of what happened in the forest…of Old Man Oak.
“No—no, let go!” I struggle, panic rising in my chest. “That’s enough! I said stop!”
The flowers ignore me.
More vines rise, their blossoms sweeping over my skin in methodical strokes, scrubbing and caressing in turns, sliding over my body with uncanny purpose. The sensation is not rough—but it is thorough—relentless in a way that makes my heart pound.
And then two large white blossoms fasten themselves over the tight points of my nipples.
“What…what do you think you’re doing?” I demand, breathlessly.
But a moment later, it becomes obvious. I feel suction—gentle at first and then harder. At the same time, it feels like two delicate tongues are licking me—teasing my peaks to make me squirm.
And I certainly am squirming! Just a moment ago I was having a terrible flashback to the way Old Man Oak had grabbed me with his vines. Now my thoughts have switched and I’m remembering how Valen sucked my nipples last night in the cave when he healed me.
I try to fight the strange, illicit feelings the blooms are giving me, but it’s a losing battle. Already beneath the water I can feel my pussy getting hot and wet. Oh my Goddess, what’s wrong with me? I should be hating this. But somehow I can’t resist the pleasure the two naughty flowers are giving me. Their little tongues are doing things that make me gasp and thrash in the tub.
And then another vine rises to hover in front of my face. I stare at it uncertainty—it has a single blood-red blossom right on the very end. The blossom seems to be moving—almost pulsating. It purses its petals—which look almost like lips—and makes a kissing sound at me.
“What are you?” I ask it aloud, though of course it can’t answer. “And what do you want from me?”
As if in answer, the red blossom sways seductively—almost hypnotically—in midair.
“What do you think you’re going to—” I start.
And that’s when the red blossom dives into the water, right between my thighs.
45
VALEN
I stalk down the endless hallway of polished, living wood, my bare feet whispering against the grain. This whole place feels… watchful. The high arched ceiling bows overhead, reminding me of the ribs of a giant beast. Knotted faces form in the planks when I’m not looking. Every time I turn my head, they’re gone—but I can feel them staring, just behind my shoulder.
I fucking hate it.
There are doors on either side—smooth, seamless slabs that somehow blend into the walls with no handles and no hinges. Just blank-faced barriers that won’t budge no matter how hard I push. I try a few anyway, slamming my palm against the grain, willing something—anything—to give.
But I get nothing. Not until I reach the very end of the corridor.
There, one door hangs slightly ajar. Just cracked enough to leak a pale golden light around the edges. The wood glows faintly, as if lit from within. It almost feels like an invitation.