Chapter 634: I Do Not Need Gentleness!

Tight and glistening cherry red nipples broke the surface for a moment, before the water covered them again, as if even they were teasing him deliberately.

"I did not come here to be worshipped," Veylara said, voice calm and even. "I came to wash and to breathe without an entire tribe watching me do it. If your eyes need something to do, you can help me with my hair. Some of the braids from the march are still in it."

Sol was stunned by the sudden request.

His throbbing cock gave a hard, involuntary jolt beneath the water at the invitation.

Helping the Warchief with her hair while she was naked in front of him felt far more dangerous than any battlefield order she had ever given. For a moment he simply stared at the dark, heavy mass of her wet hair, his heartbeats pulsing loudly in his ears.

But he forcibly calmed himself, locked the hunger down as best he could, and carefully moved closer, keeping his arousal hidden in the water.

Once behind her, water rippled between them in soft, expanding circles.

The distance closed until the heat of her body was something he could feel even through the cold of the spring.

When he lifted his hands to the dark, heavy mass of her hair, his fingers brushed the bare skin of her shoulders and the side of her neck first.

The contact was light, almost careful... but she did not flinch. If anything, she leaned a fraction into it, eyes half-lidding with quiet acceptance as he began to work the remaining braids loose.

The scent of her skin rose with the faint steam of their hot bodies in the cool night air... the lingering sweat from the day’s work, and something warmer, more intimate underneath that belonged only to her.

Sol’s fingers moved slowly, carefully, separating the tight braids that had survived the march and the fighting.

Each strand he freed fell heavier and wetter against her back and shoulders.

Occasionally the backs of his fingers grazed the bare skin of her upper back or the side of her neck again, and each small contact sent another low pulse of heat through him.

"You are better at this than I expected," she murmured after a moment, voice softer than her usual command tone.

"I have done it a few times," Sol answered. He had to gulp down the tightness in his throat before the words would come out cleanly.

"With my daughter. And with Zeyra."

Sol’s hands paused for half a heartbeat in her hair. The reminder of Kira dissipated the thick heat of the moment like a sudden drenching of ice-water.

For an instant the full weight of the taboo pressed against the back of his mind again: whose mother this was, whose body he was currently touching with such careful intimacy, whose title he was standing naked in the water with.

But he realized that there was no accusation in Veylara’s words.

Only calm acknowledgment of a fact they both already knew.

The same quiet, sovereign acceptance she had shown when she first stripped in front of him.

Realizing that, Sol forced the tension in his shoulders to ease and continued working the last of the braids loose, fingers moving steadily through the heavy, wet dark silk of her hair while the moon watched and the cold water lapped gently at both of their bodies.

Sol finished loosening the last of the braids.

Under the ethereal moonlight, the dark and wet length of Veylara’s hair fell free down her back.

His fingers lingered for a moment longer than strictly necessary, smoothing the strands, feeling the cool water and the warmer skin beneath.

When he finally and reluctantly let his hands fall, they rested lightly at the waterline near her waist, close enough that the back of his knuckles nearly brushed the soft curve of her hip.

That contact short circuited his brain and he didn’t know what to do next so he just awkwardly stayed there.

A moment later, Veylara turned slowly in the water until she was facing him fully.

The movement brought her closer to his body. Her bare breasts rose and fell with each calm breath, the dark red nipples tight and glistening whenever they broke the surface.

Up close, the mature beauty of her face was even more striking... the deep blue in that gaze was even more dangerous, the strong clean lines, the quiet authority that never fully left her even now.

Water beaded on her collarbones and ran in thin silver trails down the pale slopes of her chest.

For a long moment she simply looked at him.

"You are very careful with your hands," she said at last, voice low. "Even now."

Sol met her gaze. The hunger on his own was no longer something he bothered to hide.

"Would you rather I wasn’t?"

A faint, almost lazy curve touched the corner of her mouth.

"I have not decided yet."

She lifted one hand from the water and placed it lightly against his chest, palm flat over the hard muscle there. Her fingers spread, feeling the steady, heavy beat of his heart.

The touch was exploratory rather than demanding... like an assessment, the way she might have tested the weight of a weapon before deciding how to use it.

Sol stayed still and let her feel it, he could feel the stakes rising.

"You have been good to Kira," she continued quietly. "And to Zeyra. I have eyes. I have watched the way they look at you... and the way you look back. And I do not disapprove any of that." Her thumb brushed once across his skin, in a small, deliberate movement.

Then her tone shifted... still soft, but edged with something firmer.

"But I am not them, Sol."

Her palm pressed a fraction harder against his chest, as if to make certain she had his full attention.

"I do not need gentleness the way they sometimes do. I do not need to be handled like something fragile that might break if a man is too honest about what he wants." Her eyes held his without the slightest flinch, deep blue and completely clear.

"I do not need to be protected from the truth of what a man wants when he looks at me the way you have been looking since long ago."