Page 11 of The Manticore's Fire

“I am impressed regardless. Not many humans would be so observant to catch a mistake like that, especially when not distracted by my bathing pool.” He stopped at the water’s edge and stared down at her naked body beneath the water. An expression passed over his face, but it was so brief and unfamiliar that she was unable to guess at his thoughts. Still, a hot tingle swept through her as his eyes roved casually over her before finally lifting her face, his lips curling with satisfaction. “What do you think of my bathing chamber?”

“Very nice,” she croaked around the lump that somehow became lodged in her throat out of nowhere.

He rumbled in agreement before disappearing to a point behind her. “This hot spring was the reason that I chose to makemy home here. It is a true luxury though it has been some days since I have been able to enjoy it.”

“Since you’ve put yourself on human-watching duty you mean,” she flippantly corrected.

Samir chuckled quietly, his laughter rolling through her from a point very close behind her. A loosely clenched rag was dipped in the water beside her and the fluttering sensation in her belly increased as he drew it back and applied some sort of flower substance to it.

“I do not mind. Watching you is infinitely more interesting than staring at my own reflection in this pool,” he replied with a deep laugh. “Yet now there are perhaps more interesting things to explore.”

The sudsy rag dragged across shoulders, the perfume of the soap rising from her skin as he ran it down her arms and along the back of her neck, scrubbing away days of grime. He then proceeded to wash each arm down to her hands where he splayed her fingers for his inspection. She shivered as he gently ran the rag over every digit before lowering her hand back into the water again to tackle the opposite arm. Although he went nowhere near her breasts, there was an intimacy in what he did that made her breath catch and something unfamiliar awakened within her in wonder. That awareness expanded and encompassed her so that tiny electric bursts ran from every contact point he made with her. And when he made her lean forward so that he could wash her back, it brought an explosion of sensation as he ran the cloth along her back.

And yet his movements, while smooth, were almost mechanical. There was no sign of uneven breath from behind her that might reveal that he was just as affected as she was. The silence was a blow to her ego, even more so when he tossed the rag across her breasts with an order to continue washing.

Frowning down at her breasts, she complied and began to soap herself while something metallic scraped on the cavern floor just behind her. The water to her left rippled toward her and something was audibly plunged beneath the surface and lifted free.

“Head back,” he commanded, and she complied without thinking twice but instantly regretted it when cooling water was dumped over her head.

Jerking forward, Abby sputtered as she rapidly swiped water and streaming locks of hair out of her eyes. “Samir! What the hell?” she snapped.

“Just helping you get clean,” he purred and there was a sound of something snapping open just as she began turning toward him.

Something thick and cold was poured onto her hair and she gasped at the unexpected sensation seconds before Samir moved forward and repositioned her so that she was facing forward again. Her fingers plucked at her washcloth with surprise and a soft grunt of satisfaction rose from behind her. Sinking his fingers into her hair, he began to work whatever that stuff was from root tip through her hair while paying special attention to scrub her scalp. A warm liquid sensation filled Abby, making her feel boneless as she completely relaxed under his ministration. It truthfully felt so good that she abandoned herself entirely to the pleasure of allowing the manticore to wash her hair. She was actually a little disappointed when he commanded her to lean her head back again for the final rinse. Water doused over her again and it ran down her hair, plastering it to her skin. It was followed by a heavily herbal-scented liquid that was combed through her wet strands of hair as the manticore mumbled in a soft purr behind her. Giving her shoulder a firm pat, Samir rose and stepped away from her, his claws once more lightly scraping, this time intentionally giving away his location sothat she was aware. She turned quickly on the ledge and her eyebrows flew up in surprise as she watched him stalk once more back to the entrance without a backward glance.

“There is a short pot just behind you,” he rumbled as he momentarily paused at the entrance to the passage. “It contains more of the soap for your skin. I will now leave you to your bath in peace.”

Without another word, he exited the bathing chamber, leaving Abby to stare after him in confusion. Slowly she gathered her washcloth in her hand and turned just enough to pull the pot to her side. Scooping out a small handful of the creamy soap, she spread it across her washcloth and lathered it up. She shook her head, her lips twitching as she rose from the water and began to vigorously wash the rest of her body. He was so contrary that she could barely keep up. One minute he was determined to wash her, and in the next fleeing from the room like a juvenile. But of all the faces he had shown her, which was the real Samir? And why was she growing more fascinated with the monster beyond the drive of her instincts? That was a question that, if she was less rational, she might have been tempted to discover.

But since she was a sane woman, she promptly began to vigorously wash herself. She could enjoy these luxuries while they lasted, however, and perhaps in the meantime she could start teasing some clues as to the real Samir to take with her when she finally escaped.

Chapter

Nine

Samir’s eyes glittered in the dark. He followed his sneaky little huntress as she flattened herself against the wall, her hood pulled up. His mouth curved in amusement. It seemed that once again she was making a bid for freedom. It had been some days since she last made the attempt that he had begun to wonder if she had given up. It wasn’t until he felt her uneven breath betraying her wakefulness that he realized that the game was once again afoot. She had merely pretended to be sleeping. So, he too feigned sleep, but far more successfully.

Keeping his breathing light with all the outward signs of deep sleep, he had felt the twitch of body against his and then the shift of the bedding when she slid from his bed. The sound of her feet dropping to the stone floor in a light slap was louder than she had likely suspected and he was only just able to keep himself from smiling. Persistent little female.

He smiled to himself as he prowled behind her. A quiver ran up his spine as he watched her. He truly did enjoy these little contests between them. He suspected that she enjoyed it too. Every time he tracked, he observed the way her flesh trembled with excitement and there was a blatant perfume of interest clinging to her flesh when he finally caught her. He could have,of course, seized her effortlessly at any time but he enjoyed watching her clever mind at work as she attempted to evade him. The chase was something that they both craved. The hunter and the hunted. He wondered how she, the huntress, enjoyed being the hunted. He personally found both roles stimulating.

But only her. Abby was the only one who was allowed to make him her prey. Anyone else who dared would be quickly dispatched and added to his collection. He rather missed being her quarry, truth be told. As he stealthily followed her, he wondered how he might engage her instinct to give chase. As riveting as it was to hunt and catch her, he wanted her single-minded focus back on him. Sure, it was with the intent of driving a particularly painful and potentially deadly weapon into his flesh—but that aside, while she was hunting him, he was all that she thought about and all that she desired.

And he craved that.

For so many years he had longed for something that he had been unable to define. Perhaps it was to be the irrational longing of another. The other hunters had wanted him, but they had been lazy and crass, too confident in their abilities and with no more interest in him than they would have for a gazelle brought down to satiate their appetites. They had possessed an erroneous belief that he would be easy to bag so that they could return to Veldala to collect their riches. But conversely, he had not wanted them. Each and every one of them had been a thorn in his hide whereas he had hungered for Abby and sought to lure her deeper and deeper into the caverns to the door of his den.

She did not realize it. She did not know that he had intentionally sought to cut off every opportunity for her escape. Once he had her where he wanted her, he was certain of victory. It had been a fair match between them in so much that they both brought the best of their hunting skills, he merely utilized his skills in playing the part of the pursued in order to successfullyhunt and claim her. He had wanted her from the moment he had caught her scent in the desert air, but he had not pursued her. In the beginning, she could have left at any time before she invaded his home. She could have given up her pursuit and ended her hunt and he would have allowed it. If any of those who had hunted him reconsidered and decided to flee, he never gave chase since the hunt was abandoned. But like so many of the others she did not, and so he consequently did not feel any guilt for what he did, not even days later.

But now Abby, weaponless and vulnerable, believed that she was fleeing him. It was adorable. She did not realize it, but the hunt was not over for her yet. It would never end now. He would continually stalk her and lure in. And the more he came to know her, the more certain he was of it. He would never let her go before he was ready to release her.

Perhaps some part of her did realize it and it was making her even more determined to defy him and fate. Little did she know, he adored that streak of stubbornness. Her determination charmed him. It seduced him and made him as playful as a cub even if there was nothing particularly cub-like to what he wanted to do with and to her when he finally caught her. The arousal in his loins was all a male Manticore in his prime, eager to breed and rut even as she aroused his mind and drew him in to play her game.

And she was deep in her game. He could see it in the way she tilted her head and the cautious way she observed her surroundings before moving forward even an inch. Her head cocked, listening, and then shot forward, her dark cloak unfurling and thickening the darkness around her. Samir came close to growling out loud as he shot after her, but he froze mid-step, his paw-like hand resting in the air in front of him, when she suddenly drew short, her head whipping as she scanned the room.

“Is he here?” she whispered, her voice barely audible to even his keen hearing. “No. Why do I not feel alone?”

Samir smiled in the dark. His angle prevented her from seeing the glow of his eyes, but his clever huntress had picked up on some clue to his presence that he had not even realized that he had divulged. Keeping his movements small and light, he crept toward her and slowly circled wide around her to position himself in front of her. Although she was not hunting him, it was a pleasant illusion. More than that it set him up with the perfect opportunity for a fine capture.

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