Embrace of Memory by Vicki McElfresh

Author:Vicki McElfresh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Writers Exchange E-Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Alone in his room, Cree cursed his fear, his weakness, and his will. He locked his door and curled up in the chair to stare at the sun sinking behind the city walls. Temptation had been an ever-present seductress for years, and he had learned to ignore its voice. He could ignore Mirayla as well, no matter what he sensed from her, or how he felt about her. He would not allow himself to love her. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to sink into the arms of sleep, but his skin crawled with the need for a bath. He ached in places he hadn't known could hurt; a good soak would remedy that. He stood and started for the door, wondering what he could wear once he was clean, but that question was soon answered. Some kind soul had left a stack of clean clothing on the bed. He paused a moment to wonder about that, but finally shrugged, grabbed a shirt and breeches and headed to the bathing room.

He had expected to have to heat water and haul it to the tub, so he was shocked to discover a pump over the tub. Tentatively, he raised the pump handle and a gush of water poured from its spout. Reaching out, he found that the water was hot. He pumped with more vigor until the tub filled with steaming water, then removed his clothes and sank into the depths of the tub. The hot water seeped into his tired muscles and relieved some of the ache. Closing his eyes, he sank into the water until it tickled his chin, grateful to feel the dirt and grime of the last few days washed away. When the water grew tepid, he levered himself up with a sigh, reached for a fluffy towel and dried himself and his hair. A stopper in the bottom of the tub, once pulled, drained the water. Fascinated, he watched it spiral down through the circular hole and wondered where it went.

Dressed in the soft woolen shirt and breeches, he walked back to his room, the cool tile floor soothing the ache from the soles of his feet. He opened the door to his room, and lit the lamp. Soft light bathed the room in golden tones; shadows grew large and flickered on the wall. Staring at the bed, Mirayla's blue eyes danced across his vision. The scent of her hair ghosted through the room. He imagined her body pressed against him, her hand caressing his back and face. He groaned and banished the images, wishing he had a book, a piece of paper and a pencil, anything to erase the temptations from his mind. Instead, he folded the covers of the bed back, stripped off his shirt, and slept.

Cree dreamed. Fire surrounded him. The scent of burned flesh and destruction brought bile to his throat. He wondered what had happened. Had the village been attacked? Had lightning struck? He could not remember. His only memories were of thirst, pain, and fear.

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