The Sensual Emberskeeper Pt. 01

Hi there,

this is a new short story I came up with, I hope you'll enjoy. I don't want to make too many parts, but you never know :)

Let me know what you think!

xoxo,

Jackie

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Disclaimer: All characters are older than 21!

Trigger warnings: Blood, lost love

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Lysira's tent was her sanctuary. It was a place of flickering runes and scented smokes, a sanctuary filled with dozens of cushions, her bed and the ancient rite table. The incense of bloodwood and moonpetal curled in the air and gave the whole place a warm and inviting feeling. In the center of her tent was a small brazier with embers that never died, because she kept them alive.

She was sitting in the middle of a few pillows, her hands resting on the knees of her crossed legs, her mind in meditation. Her mind and spirit had tried for a few days now to connect to Kaelaen's flames, but without success which meant he was too far away. He wasn't dead, she knew that. After all this had been her whole purpose for nearly 30 years. For thirty years she had been his Emberskeeper, he needed her to replenish his fire powers.

There was a sudden tremor in the flames of the braziers all around her and in the middle of her tent. It was almost as if the fire felt his presence and moved like it could actually feel. Lysira took in a deep, sharp breath as her amber gaze flickered between each brazier, trying to pinpoint where he was.

A second later the flaps of her tent flew open and Kaelen was dragged inside by Micah and Soren, both were fellow flamebound, though they had found other Emberskeepers besides her.

She jumped up and towards the broad shouldered man, ignoring that her brazier flames licked towards his energy.

"Put him down," her voice was smooth and even, showing none of the pain she felt seeing him like that.

Micah and Soren put their General down slowly, causing Kaelen to grunt in pain.

He looked like the fires of Hell had swallowed him and spit out broken pieces. She knew they were at war but seeing him like this broke a little piece of her.

She knelt in front of his broken body and gently stroked his cheek. His energy was low, too low! His right hand weakly reached out and traced her cheekbones with a rough thumb. Those eyes, usually a warm brown, were now nearly black, showing his rough state. He tried to focus on her amber eyes but they were fighting to stay open.

"Lady Lysira, do you need help with the chest plate?" Micah asked gently.

"No, I shall tend to the General myself." Her tone was gentle and professional as she ran her fingers over the chest plate, whispering an old incantation to release the magic holding the pieces of his armor together. The runes on her shoulders and palms glowed, when she wielded her magic.

"We'll leave you to it. We need him back as soon as possible, the war is not going our way," Soren murmured, then gave his General a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Rest, my friend." With that he and Micah disappeared, closing the flaps behind them.

Once they left, Lysira let out a shuddering sigh and slipped out of her sandals, before she knelt beside him. Usually it was better to replenish his energy on the ancient rite table, but there was no way she could get him up there right now. So she needed to heal him first. It wasn't her strong suit but it would do.

Carefully she removed the chest plate and then opened the laces of his shirt until it slid away, exposing the upper half of his chest, his stomach and the bulking muscles of his shoulders. Usually he had an incredible aura, warm and inviting. Lusty and playful when she undressed him, teasing even. Today he felt broken and tired and she knew that while it was always a bad sign when he didn't come see her after a fight, this time it was much worse.

"What have they done to you," she whispered and removed the clothes until his upper body was completely bare. She rose from the floor and quickly fetched a small bowl of water and cloth so she could begin washing away the dried blood and grime that coated his skin. He winced every few moments. But she needed him clean to be able to see what she had to heal and how bad it really was.

His heavy lids closed and the cold washed over his body, wrapping around every inch. Numb. He was growing numb and part of him wanted to welcome that relief. But the rest... well, it didn't want to die, but sometimes life had other plans. A strong touch and he forced open his eyes, finding Lysira standing above him. That look on her face said it all: not good. A lump formed in his throat at the sight. There was so much to say but words were difficult when his body was burning.

Lysira rose and grabbed the mortar and pestle as well as the pouches with the herbs and infused oils, her slender frame returning and she began grinding the various herbs into a paste. Her free hand kept trailing over him, touching him, feeding his flames, even if it was just an ounce. It wasn't really strong what she did now, they needed to be a lot more intimate for that, though usually he was affected by her touches, even if they were this light. Now, nothing. It sent a cold shiver down her spine. She needed to finish this so she could take care of his energy.

Carefully she spread the healing balm on the first deep gash and started to recite the healing incantation. The runes on her hands and forearms started to glow faintly. The deep gash slowly began to knit close. She continued healing, one wound after another, reciting mantra after mantra, until her words started to slur and her movements were so heavy that her fingertips just caressed his skin and she began to sway on her knees.

"Lys, it's okay," his voice, tired and hoarse, barely above a whisper, "You can stop."

"No... I haven't," her response was a hoarse and weak whisper.

"You've done more than enough."

She shook her head weakly and forced her tired and unfocused gaze to stay on his wounds, but he grabbed her hand, his grip like iron, even in this state. She always forgot how strong he really was, because he never used his strength on her.

"Rest," he ordered, though the order lacked bite. Lysira however jerked her hand back and glared at him. The motion sent a fresh wave of dizziness over her.

"Stop underestimating me, Kaelen." The strength in her voice returned for just a moment, because the anger overwrote everything else. She hated being underestimated, especially by him.

"When have I ever-"

She cut him off. "Every. single. time. You have underestimated me for the past thirty years!"

This was only partially true. He had never underestimated her. Fuck, she was the strongest creature he knew, including him. But he feared losing her. And maybe it was this fear that prevented him from letting her stay beside him, fight his fights, protect him instead of just recharging when his tank was nearly empty. If she knew that would she be angry? Happy? He had no idea.

His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing slightly. That damned temper. His had gotten a little shorter with age too. He was well-versed in the art of keeping a lid on it most days, but right now the strain was too much and too familiar. He should just lie down and stop giving a fuck. Why make it hard on them both? Why pretend things could be different?

"I've never estimated you. But you shouldn't exert yourself because of me. Now," his voice went rougher than normal, "rest."

Despite his aching body he got up, marvelling at the fact that 80% of his body had been patched up already, because of her.

He stalked towards her, noticing her swaying again and he frowned slightly. Grabbing her firmly around her hips, he guided her towards the bed.

Her knees hit the bed and she gave up the resistance against his commanding hands.

She had done all she could and her own magic was depleting now, they both knew that. She wouldn't have the energy to spark his embers but for the moment he didn't care. That he'd survived the battle had seemed impossible and yet here she was. He wanted to say how grateful he was for her, that she was able to patch him up after what had happened, but he couldn't form the words. Instead, he merely stayed there until she patted the spot on the bed beside her.

He climbed onto the bed and grunted. He was so fucking sore, not even her magic could keep his body from hurting. Lysira slid beside him, her own fingers ghosting over his wounds again, her lips pursed slightly, as she assessed if there was still a need for healing.

"Lys, sleep," he ordered softly and pulled her petite form on top of his chest. Though his body was hurting it was still some kind of comfort to feel her on him, it grounded him in a strange way. The silence felt a little heavy, there were too many unspoken words between them. She relented and let him pull her on top of his naked torso, her cheek resting over his heart, feeling its soft beating.

"You are running hot." She whispered her hand travelling between his pectorals, slowly and gently.

"It's been a hard week," he replied, his voice dropping in volume as the tiredness set in.

"You should have come back sooner. It wouldn't have been that bad. Now I have to heal you, really recharge your flames and be careful not to overheat you," she breathed and shifted in his embrace to rest her cheek on his shoulder.

"I probably should have. But we weren't making a lot of ground out there." And that was the truth. His job wasn't just keeping his men alive. He was their greatest asset on the field and being out there meant taking the brunt of it. And he had tried to keep his distance from her, at least emotionally and she felt that. Which in turn put even more strain on their bond. A loop that was impossible to break. At least until he opened up.

"At what cost, though?" She whispered and intertwined her fingers with his and gave his palm a soft squeeze.

"Better me than them."

Her lips pressed into a firm line, fingers tracing the tiny bits of skin where it didn't hurt him. It wasn't him being selfless. Not anymore. Something had changed the last few weeks. He had become restless, desperate almost and she had no idea how to ask him without seeming out of line.

Her hand then rested on his sculptured pectoral as she felt exhaustion finally catching up with her. It had taken hours to patch him up properly and she had drained her reserves. So for now, she would sleep.

*****

When she woke up, his body felt like a furnace. She was used to his heat, his body temperature was always elevated because of his fire element, but right now he was even hotter than usual. She stirred slightly, lifting herself from his chest. His skin was covered in sweat, but his eyes were tightly closed and his breathing came heavy and strained.

Her own brow was damp from the heat and a layer of sweat beaded her own body.

"Kael," her voice was a whisper, yet filled with worry. She lifted herself and removed the blanket from their bodies. When she glanced down at him, his chest was covered by the runes tattooed on his skin, and it seemed like tiny rivers of magma moved beneath his warm skin. Usually the runestone were dormant and she didn't see them like this. That they were moving wasn't a good sign.

"Kael," she breathed, brushing his hair away. "Don't do this to me," she hissed softly.

He'd told her once it had happened before. It was an imbalance in his elemental fire energy. There were times it threatened to consume him from the inside if he used too much.

Slowly she pulled the silken gown over her head, leaving her completely bare and stroked his cheek.

"Kael, you have to wake up," she whispered and he started stirring beneath her. He was sleeping in his breeches, which were soaked through with his sweat. She grabbed them, sliding them down his hips, so he was completely naked in front of her. Her own core twitched at the sight of him. Even now in his weakened state, he was utterly breathtaking and for a few seconds she just sat there, her hands traveling over his cheeks and his full lips.

"Fuck," he whispered when his eyes fluttered open and focused on her, a lazy smile spreading. "If this is dying, I'm totally down with this," he murmured, hands lifting to her hips.

"I'm trying to prevent that, Kael," she rolled her eyes and was happy to see his brown eyes were clearer than when he first arrived in her tent.

"Hmmmhh, I'm all yours," he murmured and put his arms behind his head. Lysira had to keep from snorting at his bold confidence, but he wasn't wrong. And she didn't mind having him spread out and naked in front of her. She did mind having his life literally depend on it, though.

Carefully she let her right hand brush over his stomach, her fingertips tracing the shape of every muscle in his taut abs. His breath caught in his throat but he didn't say anything. He loved her fingertips tracing him and exploring his skin. He knew she was activating her own runes, allowing them to refill his energy.

A faint blue light radiated from beneath her skin and the ancient symbols on her ribs and the curve of her waist and hips.

When her magic had awakened, her fingertips moved to his nipple and he inhaled sharply. After so many years she knew exactly where all his weaknesses were. She had a mental map of where to caress him to elicit different responses and she used them shamelessly.

His own hand moved up her upper body, finding the silky flesh of her breast, letting his thumb travel over the tight peak.

"Temptress."

"Behave, this isn't about me, Kael," she protested even as he tugged her gently towards him. She didn't protest anymore when his lips sealed around her nipple and began suckling, sending hot pleasure straight between her legs.

It was always difficult not to melt into his touched and she knew exactly why he was doing it. It made their connection stronger and it would be easier to restore his powers. If they let their minds and souls connect along with their bodies, it would go so much faster, but right now both minds resisted for different reasons. So the physical part had to suffice for now.

Usually he didn't mind the little teasing, partially because he knew that she needed it, partially because he liked it. And even though he had been severely wounded, he wanted to go out there again as fast as possible. But he couldn't just tell her to straddle him, their connection was needed first. And he had to get his head straight, which shouldn't be too hard, considering he had her glorious breast in his face.

He licked and nipped, delighting in every sigh and moan that slipped past her lips. He knew she was as starved as he was, but she needed to take this slow. And she needed to get rid of some of her energy first before he could even think about giving her pleasure. If her own sensual energy rose although her reserves we full, it could severely hurt her.

Every touch from her restored some of his energy and the magic she poured into it fueled his power. He could feel his energy coming back slowly. His strength growing the more she touched him, and yet they hadn't really started yet. But his own arousal shot through the roof with every small moan, as she kept her pace agonizingly slow. His teeth caught and he bit down just enough to make her hips twitch.

"Mmmmh..."

He had a smug grin and ran the tip of his tongue around her areola before taking the pebbled peak again into his mouth, his other hand travelling over her other, her belly, her butt and her inner thighs.

"Hands behind your head," she commanded and he looked up. For a long moment their gazes locked, until he complied. He was hers to worship and control for as long as she chose or rather as long as she needed to fill up his energy reserves.

She stroked every sensitive spot on his upper body, until her fingers moved through the hair that led down from his navel. The muscles of his belly bunched and she purred with pride and pleasure at her effect on his body. She loved the effect her teasing touches had on him.

She gripped his half hard erection and stroked him into hardness, listening to him hiss with delight at her touch and the grip of her tiny hand.

"Gods woman, fuck," he panted, his head falling back as her thumb trailed a line over the thick, straining vein of his length, her gaze drinking him in greedily.

He could hear her voice whispering ancient words. The runes on her body lit up brighter with her chants and the one of his runes on his chest followed suit.

Without looking at him she straddled his big thighs and reached behind herself so she could tease the tip of his cock to her opening. She didn't know how often they had performed the Ember Rite in thirty years. Hundreds or thousands of times. And even though they'd been together for years, she had never managed to grow completely accustomed to his size. He was a beast down there, her warrior, her champion, all carved marble and rippling steel, but oh so soft when they touched.

She reached down and positioned him so she could slip him inside just enough so that her body had a taste of him. Then she raised off again and adjusted before slipping a little bit deeper, slowly. Every movement forward elicited a hiss of air from him until his tip grazed that tender, deeply hidden place and she arched her back, moaning.

When he had opened her for the first time, so long ago, he thought he'd rip her apart. Her body was petite except for her lush breasts and the plump ass. He, however, was everything but small and one of the tallest and broadest men in their camp. Seeing her take him, had been both a miracle and one of the sexiest things ever. And every time he saw his length disappear deep inside her, it made him realize how special she was. And today was no different.

She watched his abs tense and strain beneath her and couldn't help a grin of pure satisfaction at the effect she had on him. And yet when she arched and her channel gripped him, he could tell she was as hungry for this as he was. Her walls were gripping him like she never wanted to let him go again.

The slow pace was maddening, but necessary and he could feel his power slowly awakening and recharging.

As soon as the connection was established her amber gaze flickered over him with genuine care. His body temperature had gone down and the glow from the magma in his veins had also lessened.

Slowly she started rocking her hips, singing ancient spells and coaxing her body into an erotic trance to aid their connection.

Kaelen felt the energy pour in, like a burning inferno through his body and all his senses. But also her... her overwhelming lust for him, her fierce need.

With her fingernail she painted an old rune of pleasure and amplification on his abdomen and Kaelen suddenly moaned. It was the single most pleasurable spot she could have drawn. on, besides the obvious places. She knew his body like the back of her hand, it belonged to her after all. It was a running joke between them that he was like a war machine and that they made him in a forge somewhere, but that she was the only tool to disassemble him.

She drew the same rune below her belly button and activated it. Her response was almost immediate as she started moaning softly and her walls quivered around him.

This time he gave her a smug grin as his hand grabbed her waist and his thumb started following the lines of the rune on the sensitive skin of her lower stomach, before they travelled lower, gliding to the part where they were joined, teasing the apex of her sex, focusing on the bundle of nerves there.

Lysira moaned loudly when he started teasing her with his finger, but the teasing quickly transformed to intense pleasure as he hit the right spots and her climax started building rapidly. She didn't have to tell him that he'd found the perfect spot yet again, he knew exactly what made her shake and shiver.

His fingers knew the exact right motions and speed and when he upped the pressure a second later her hips bucked as her eyes rolled into her head.

She cried out as the sudden orgasm shook her. It always was explosive when their energies were connecting as deeply as they were.

Kaelen roared with her as he joined her over the edge. His big body tensed, as he shot stream after stream of his essence into her.

Their chests heaved as they were catching their breaths. Slowly they came down from the utter bliss the joining brought them and both of their runes flickered out.

She let herself slump forward, her sweaty cheek hitting the side of his shoulder, breathing heavily. She needed a bath. Well not just her. Their combined juices were everywhere and the sweat mixed with it in a heady mixture.

"How do you feel?" She murmured, lifting her gaze to his and saw the storm of emotions in them. He wanted to kiss her but she had told him that she'd only kiss him once he'd open up to her, not just physically. Until then all of this would remain shallow. But if only she knew that for him it was already something different. That he did this to keep her safe. Because he'd already seen it too many times. Her smile. Gone. Her body limp, devoid of life, by his own fire. The image he saw in his dreams had imprinted itself into his mind and his body shuddered involuntarily.

"Better, thanks to you." His reply was gentle as he lifted his hands so he could caress her neck and lower back with his fingertips. He had seen his share of battle, pain and death. And maybe that was why his own emotional responses always seemed limited and subdued, until now, anyway. But whenever his emotions threatened to overpower him, he stopped them. He couldn't stand the thought of even one scar marring her perfect skin. It's why he insisted that she couldn't follow him onto the battlefield, even though there were some Emberskeepers fighting. She was strong, probably one of the strongest Emberskeeper's, but Lysira and Isha weren't cut from the same cloth, or so he told himself.

Her finger brushed over the sensitive spot at his ribcage to get him back into the present. He jerked from his thoughts and looked down.

"You never give me enough time to heal you properly."

"That's because I need to be at the battlefield, ideally in about two hours and..."

She lifted her upper body, a frown furrowing her brow,

"What!? You are crazy! You can't go back!"

"Yes, I can and yes, I will," Kaelen stated and narrowed his gaze, "I am not sending my men in there and let them fight my battles, when I should be right there beside them." His tone was more of a warning and she felt anger rise up in her veins.

"You had a fever through half of the night, Kaelen, your reserves are severely weakened, you won't survive the next battle, not after having just a few hours to replenish and-"

"A few hours is all I need, because you did an excellent job, just like every time."

Her upper lip was curling slightly and she blinked then shook her head, pushing herself away from him.

"No, nope. No fucking way I am letting you go in there!" She slid from his body, angrily sliding her robe over her naked form

.

"Lys, don't overreact."

She spun around and glared at him.

"Overreact?" Her eyes spat daggers and a long wave fell in front of her left eye. "Oh no, I am not overreacting! You haven't seen me in like, two weeks! You came to me yesterday, half stabbed or beaten to death, your energy reserves depleted. You come back here, refuse to tell me what happened, let me heal you and then you want to leave again? Your body is still hotter than it should be, your magic unstable, and you want me to sit back and watch you commit suicide!?"

He held his hands up and gestured for her to come to him again. "No, that's not what I said."

"You just did!"

He heaved a sigh, rubbed his stubbled chin with his thumb and index finger. "That's not how I meant it, and you know it."

"Do I!? Because you haven't really talked to me in fucking years!"

It was always a miracle to her that this huge and hulk-like man had a soft spot for her because otherwise he would have probably gone all supernova at her angry and defiant words. He wasn't known for his patience.

But for now his jaw just flexed and the muscles in his arms bulged.

She glared at him some more and he rose up, stepping into her personal space, "you won't let me speak," he said firmly.

"I didn't have to, your actions talk pretty loud."

A growl rose from his chest, hands gripping her upper arms.

"Sometimes," his words came out in a low rumble, "talking is not a viable option. This war will consume us all unless I stop it. And if this means that I have to lay my life on the line," her palm covered his mouth before he could continue.

"Don't."

The words were sharp and forceful, her gaze piercing and yet he could see her heart breaking.

"Then what do you want me to do, Lys?" He asked.

"Ask everyone else to do the hard work while I sit by idly, knowing that I could have prevented so much more from dying?"

Lys groaned loudly and struggled free from his grip, pushing against his muscular chest.

"Do you even listen to yourself?! I don't expect that, but I expect you to listen to your limits! Your flames are depleting faster every time and they aren't fully charged now, you just won't admit it!"

The dam was close to breaking, all the bottled up emotions, his own and hers, starting to rise. He could see it in her eyes, sense the frustration and desire and yearning and heartache that clung to her.

"Answer my question, Lys. What. Do. You. Want?" He gritted the last words out, nostrils flaring.

She gnashed her teeth and punched his chest which barely budged him, "you! You stupid, ignorant, foolish, idiotic man. I want you. And if I can't have you here, then take me with you," her voice rose as her fists balled in frustration and anger.

"Not in your wildest dreams," his voice had become colder, darker, dangerous.

"Why the fuck not?!"

"Because I will not let you get hurt trying to help me," he hissed. Her anger only fueled his anger in turn, but he couldn't change that right now. The truth was out and the consequences could be dealt with later.

He could almost smell the fury rolling off of her and knew he was in for another epic tantrum. Lys wasn't the sort to submit to orders without a fight. Not anymore. She was so young when they first met. She was nearly 150 now, in human years she would probably be in her mid twenties, hence she was still so incredibly feisty and temperamental.

He was her first Flamebound warrior. She had reached adulthood at the age of around 40 years and then needed nearly 80 years for the complete initiation process. That's when she would have her first encounter with a Flamebound. He was around 350, all hulking muscle, a soldier to the core, ruthless and focused. Nobody knew what had happened to his last Emberskeeper, but it had left deep scars. And yet she couldn't hate him for wanting her to be safe. And for the past decades he had given everything into ensuring her safety. Maybe she had expected it to change the longer their partnership lasted. But not yet, obviously.

"What are you so afraid of, Kael? Why won't you let me make the choice? I can handle it, you know I can," her eyes softened. "I am not her." She whispered. She had never mentioned the name of his previous Emberskeeper but she was sure he was still hurting.

Silence hung between them. Lysira always knew his deep buried wounds, just like he knew hers. And for her to bring it up, she had to be so frustrated and hurt. And yet he couldn't find the strength to change what was.

"You can't die."

His words hung heavy in the air between them and he shook his head slightly and she sighed.

"I won't. But I won't let you leave if you don't take me."

He gave her a cool glare that would send most of his soldiers running. She, however wasn't faced at all.

"Who's the fucking general here?!" He growled.

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

"Now if you'd excuse me, I need to pack."

He threw his arms in the air, scoffed and stomped towards the corner where his sword had been discarded, gathering and lacing his trousers with jerky, aggressive movements.

"Can you at least pretend to listen to me while we're in the war camp? I am the General after all." He tried to get his point across with more authority but he wasn't sure if she even cared.

"If you listen to your limits and let me recharge you at night," she responded as she watched him turn towards her, buckling his belt.

"You're a menace," he huffed.

"A menace with the power to end you," she reminded him of her status.

"That makes you dangerous. But you already know that," he responded with the familiar warmth he had reserved for her, as he held up his ruined shirt. "Care to go to the lake with me? I need a bath before we can leave," he asked with a gentle lop-sided grin that would always soften her.

"I'll just pack up and we can go together," she whispered softly.

As his arms wrapped around her petite body from behind, she sighed and leaned into him. For now the storm had died down. But for how long she did not know.

His arms slid around her and the residual fear finally settled within him. For thirty years he had never let any harm come to her, he couldn't risk losing her. She was, quite literally his reason for existence and to bring her into the war camp would test his very ability to control himself. It would be hard to keep a leash on the fire he was so afraid of consuming him. Her head was resting against his chest and he sighed. She was a walking contradiction. Sweet and fiery, capable and yet fragile. And to protect her he'd do whatever it took. Including dying to save her from his fire, a fire that had already swallowed up the only other woman he'd ever loved.