Aura by M.A. Abraham

announcement than a desire to leave.  He knew his men would be looking for him, but as far as he was concerned at the moment, he did not care if they ever found him.  Not as long as he was with this woman.

Aura was surprised by the man's sudden decision.  He watched her mull over his announcement then, to his disappointment, shrugged the matter off.

Perhaps it was for the best, she decided.  She was beginning to get used to the company, and that could only bring her future pain.  It was also obvious that his intentions were less than honorable.  He had showed her that he was not to be trusted.  He had attacked her once, and in her opinion he might again. The next time she might not get away from him so lightly.  Yet there was something about him that drew her in a manner she found frightening.  She avoided looking at him, as with little imagination she could see herself nestled against his great muscled form.  His mere presence set her body tingling and his gaze on her made her feel breathless and weak.  It was not something she wanted him to see or know, for she felt he would be quick to exploit her feelings.

In a medical sense she knew he was not quite ready to leave, yet, if he insisted, she would let him go.  He would need to be warned about the dangers.  He could rip open his sutures and cause himself even greater problems than he already had.  There was also the possibility that the three men who had attacked him were still waiting somewhere for him, though that was highly unlikely.  If they had thought that he had lived they would have finished him off as he lay on the ground before them.  With this in mind Aura decided to just warn him of the medical dangers.  He would be familiar with the dangers of the outside world he was about to face.  This was his time, his home, after all.

"Your worst wounds are not healed sufficiently to travel and could become septic if not cared for as they should be.  The stitches are definitely not ready to come out.  If we try to remove them now the wounds could reopen and you would be in no better shape than when I found you.  On your own you would not stand a chance against the same fevers you have already lived through."

He took note of her objections to his leaving and gave her a bright, hopeful smile, as he asked.  "You want me to stay?"  Perhaps he had misread her and she desired him as he did her. If that was the case he was ready if she was.

Afraid he might misinterpret an affirmative answer, she replied.  "It might not be necessary.  I can show you how to remove the stitches tomorrow then you would be free to go as you please."

He nodded in reply, feeling a deep-seated disappointment he found impossible to justify.  She wanted him gone.  The thought of her rejection made him feel lonely.  Why did her acceptance mean so much to him?  Especially when he knew that if she were any other woman than whom she was she would be laying under him right now, enjoying his attentions to the fullest.  He squirmed at the discomfort this thought caused him and tossed her a dark look.  Why was she so different?  Why did he find it impossible to take her out of pure lust?  Had his self enforced celibacy done this to him?  He had to admit he had been without a woman for a long time.  Then again he had never believed that rape was acceptable.  Seduction was another matter, but first he needed to know if the woman was even in the least interested.  She was sending no messages to him to make him believe his desires were returned.  That made him feel guilty about the way he was thinking about her.

He turned from her in self-disgust and threw himself onto his bed, wincing as he hit the hard ground.  He would think about these feelings another day.

Early the next morning he woke to the sound of something moving in the cave and he reached for his sword.  He had learned in the past to never sleep without a weapon close at hand in case he needed one.