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Authors: DS Williams

Winter's Kiss

BOOK: Winter's Kiss
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Winter’s
Kiss

By

DS
Williams

 

 

 

©
2012
All Rights Reserved

 

Also
By DS Williams

 

Erotica:

Forbidden,
The Darkness of Passion

Dirty
Little Thoughts

Dirty
Little Thoughts, Too

Darker
Still

 

Erotic
Art By DS Williams

Sex
Crimes

Sex
Crimes Book 2

 

 

For
More Information Visit

www.DSWilliams.com

He
walked out of his cave and shivered, beating his arms against around body to
try and get the blood flowing again. His name was Xing although he was no
longer sure if that was true. So many names over the years, so many lives he
had lived that they seemed to merge and swirl like the snow all around him.
Despite prodigious layers of furs draped over him his old frame was cold. That
was the cruelty of living, when you finally get a good idea of how to do it you
start to die. He chuckled at his own melancholy. That was not like him. The
wind shifted the snow into swirls of living ice that danced around him seeming
to lick at his furs in an attempt to draw out the last of his heat.

With a
simple gesture and a quick thought he cast a small magic that made a small
tornado of wind that sucked the drifting snow into it until it was a solid
vortex of ice. He watched his creation as the ice shifted and swirled and
danced for him. There was a day when he had awed the imperial court with such
small tricks as though they were great magics that could change the world. He
had, long ago, had the appearance trappings, and office of an important man.
How strange he thought to himself that only now, standing alone, did he fully
understand how little power he had there and how much he had here standing on
the side of a mountain. Exile had been first cruel but then kind to him. Living
where they assumed no mortal could live he stood now above the world looking
out at the kingdoms of man before him. They were so small compared to
everything he had thought of them.

He
flicked his hand again and the ice vortex flew apart and the snow continued its
chaotic dance of nature. The wind, the snow, the cold, the sky, the clouds,
even the stone under his feet, all of these things he could command but he no
longer cared to on most days. Instead he took great joy in watching them do as
nature dictated. Even the stone. He would sit and watch the stone for hours and
while most saw stagnation he saw perseverance and courage. Stone, by its nature
wants to fall down. A rock, freed of the mountain’s hold, will roll until it
reaches the bottom. But this mountain was like he, old and stubborn. It refused
to release the rocks to their playful jaunt, holding them firmly in place so
long as it could. He admired that.

He
caught a scent in the wind. Here in this lonely place the faint smell of plum
blossoms. Sweet to the point of pain, the scent, even the very feint trace of
it, reminded him of younger days and women whose kisses were as sweet as the
scent. He grinned. She was coming. There had been no doubt in his mind that she
would, the cold was too intense for her to stay away. Here so close to the sky
the days of sun could warm even her flesh but these nights of cold were brutal
in their invasive caresses. Like long fingers of cold they would sneak under
any covers and tickle your feet until the chill was deep in you. Even he, a
master of fire, had nights so cold he thought he could not endure them. He had
no idea how it must be for her. So when the cold north wind began to blow he
knew she would come. She always did.

 “How
many animals must you drape over yourself old man?” Her voice drifted in out of
the cold night ahead of her. It was smooth like honey. He grinned.

“As
many as I can.” He answered and chuckled.

She
seemed to drift in between one shift of the wind and the next, a vision that
the night flickered before his eyes. Resplendent in crimson robes trimmed in
silver fox fur that hugged her lithe frame and seemed to be part of her. The
wind did not wish to disturb the beauty of the vision, it left her robes un
touched even while tearing at his furs. Her face was hidden under a cowl so
that her voice seemed to echo from the darkness, slithering forth to seduce his
hungry ears with licks of sweetness.

“I
thought WuJen were forbidden to eat meat.” She said stepping closer.

“Oh. .
.yes. . .they are. Thus my paradox.” He said chuckling. “For I am WuJen and I
am man. WuJen is chaste and does not eat meat. Man likes meat. So we
compromised and WuJen does not enjoy the succulent flavors and man does not
Savor the warmth of the furs. He shivers but is full and WuJen is warm but
hungry.”

“I am
glad they could come to an understanding.” She said with a slight laugh that
was like tiny bells ringing in the wind.

“They
always do these days. The days of arguing and fighting are over. They are both
too tired to argue anymore.” He said.

“Peace
is a beautiful thing.” She said and finally stepped close enough that he could
see part of her face. Her skin, as white as the snow, perfect, unflawed and
eternally youthful.  Her lips stained so deep red that one would expect them to
bleed but they did not. As she smiled he found himself completely entranced by
the movement of her mouth, the slow bending of the lips, the slight pout to
them. She paused and allowed him to savor the sight before turning away.

As
much as she entranced him, he entranced her as well but in different ways. She
had watched him age from a young man running for his life to an old man who finally
knew what it was to live. She had seen brash youth  flower and then gracefully
mature into age that suited him so well. His voice was always harsh, it always
had been and age had not mellowed it at all. His laugh had always been quick
and full of life and age only punished him with coughs when he laughed now but
had left the joy of the sound intact. His soul had flowered into a true wise
man. His power had grown and redoubled many times until he was the last great
WuJen master. As much as he loved her lips, she loved his soul in her own way.
Although her heart could no longer pitter patter in girlish delight, her mind
admired all he was.

“You
need to bathe.” She scolded him and then swift as the wind swept by him and
into the cave behind him.

“Bathe?!”
He snorted. “This a manly scent, a natural scent!”

“Bathe!”
she called out from inside.

“But.
. .”

“You
smell like dead animals.” She called out and he broke into laughter then
coughing. “Bathe.” She said peeking her head around the corner, no cowl or robe,
he saw her flesh and melted immediately.

“Manly.
. .” He protested one last time. She raised one eyebrow and he laughed again
followed by several coughs. “ok.” He finally agreed and she smiled and vanished
once more inside.

He
chuckled to himself as he flicked his fingers once more and another vortex
formed, sucking in the swirling snow and ice into a solid spinning mass. With
another gesture he sent it stumbling into the cave. He followed it in and with
his will directed it down the mouth and past the hanging furs that kept the
wind out. Once inside he motioned one last time and the vortex meandered to a
circular depression in the rock and then collapsed, dropping all of the ice and
snow into a mound which over filled the stone basin. Xing motioned to a candle
nearby and the flame grew and danced wildly and then jumped off the wick and
into the pile of ice. As he mumbled arcane words so old most ears could never
hear them the fire grew and the ice melted. The fire danced and cackled as it
devoured the ice and left only water behind. After a short few moments the
basin was filled to the brim with hot bath water. Flicking his wrist he
directed the flame back to its home and it jumped back to the candle’s wick and
shrunk to its proper size.

“Flowers.”
She said from behind the paper blind that hid his sleeping mat.

He
snorted but complied and took a jar from the shelf and emptied the dried
flowers into the steaming water. Mumbling a few words he blew on the water and
it frothed and bubbled and devoured the flower petals, the tiny dots of purple
vanishing into the froth and then it went calm again. The scent instantly
filling the room with a hazy scent of lavender and he paused to breathe in the
smell.

“It
reminds me of summer when I was young.” He said with his eyes closed. 

“You
were never young.” She retorted.

“I
keep forgetting that. . .it must have been someone else then.” He laughed and
he heard her chuckle. “It was so long ago though wasn’t it?” He paused and
breathed in deeply once more and then snapped himself out of his recollections
and began to strip down naked.

“Very
long ago.” She whispered as she slid around the blind clothed only in the
sheerest of silk robes. It was in fact spiders silk that he had convinced
several spiders to weave for him. It retained a constant appearance of being
wet and almost but not quite see through. It clung to her frame and teased him
with all the pleasures it hid. He grinned at her and even at his age felt the
sight affecting him as his cock shifted and began to stiffen.

“Wash.”
She said to him smiling. Her face was almost innocent looking, eternally fresh
and youthful. Her body was lithe and tight, small pert breasts and nipples that
seemed on the verge of cutting the fabric away. Her legs were long and slender
and yet muscled enough that she had a certain feline grace to her.

Grinning
he stepped down into the basin and let his old body down. In fact the hot water
soothed his aching bones and he closed his eyes as he let his entire frame
drift into the water. The scent surrounded him completely and he lay his head
back so that just his nose and mouth remained above water. The heat of the
water penetrated his joints and muscles, slowly making him feel less and less
broken. He raised his head with a start as he felt a hand upon his chest.
Looking up he saw her leaning over him gently reaching down and caressing his
wrinkled flesh lovingly. She smiled and he felt like crying at the sight of her
over him. He closed his eyes and savored her touch.

“I
remember. . .” he started to say.

“Hush.
. .” she whispered. She knew all he remembered because she remembered it all
too.

“So
long ago. . .” He said and stopped, his throat choking up as he spoke.

“Hush
now. . .bathe old man. You still stink.” She said, smiling wistfully at him.

He
chuckled and reached out for the cloth at the basins rim to scrub his old flesh
clean for her. He looked up at her and a thought occurred to him for the
thousandth time. Once more? How many more times would it be?

“Hush
old man. . .let your soul be still now. . .peace is a beautiful thing.” She
whispered close to his ear and took the cloth from his hand and began to gently
wash his flesh. Dipping the cloth in the scented water and then raising it to
drip the warm liquid on his chest. He nodded and lay back against her and let
her wash him clean.

“Manly
scent.” He said, grinning.

BOOK: Winter's Kiss
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