Freewrite Friday #1: Chatha

So I was trying to think of something to post today…and it coincided with Frodo going to his riding lesson. Wait. It makes sense.  Half an hour, boy riding a horse, me with my beloved ipad…  So I found a prompt from Seventh Sanctum (see below) and mashed out about 500 words, tidied, primped and posted. So this is my first Freewrite Friday

MC: barbarian and hermit
Main event: flashback

Chatha  hadn’t meant to touch him.

Her hand had gripped her sword, bloodless and determined and she’d had no intention of reaching out and stroking the gilded beauty of his skin. But like all her best intentions…she failed.

He was surprisingly warm.

That was her first reaction. And a natural one. He was a statue mounted in the centre of a golden dome, a treasure buried under rock and long abandoned ancient buildings.

Chatha drew in a slow careful breath and ran her fingers in a light sweep down the perfection of his thigh.  It was a shame that she would have to hack up and melt down his beauty, but she was practical. His weight in gold would buy her luxury for the rest of her life.  Buy her slaves, land, pretty concubines to pander to her every whim…

“I’m worth more than that to you.”

Chatha’s hand jerked to the dagger at her waist, unsheathing it, her flesh alive with power and strength.  There was no one in the golden dome but her…and the statue.  The living statue?  She circled around him, her heart fast, a slick of sudden sweat down her spine.  No, it couldnt be him. She knew that the old civilisations had held wonders that people could hardly dream of, nor understand. Yet, their time had passed.  Mountains had fallen since.  Her gaze stayed on the impossible and unmoving beauty of his face.  He wasn’t in her head.

“I am in your thoughts, Chatha of the White Cliffs.”

Chatha rapped out a blessings, protecting her soul against the mind demons. Was that what he was? She gritted her teeth, hardly believing that she could be pulled into trap.

“Not a trap.”

His voice was silky, smooth, holding a warmth, a promise unlike any she had heard before. She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, half expecting him to turn, to stare at her with those full-gold eyes and what…?

Her heart hammered and she took slow back steps away from him, until her spine hit the cold metal of the curved wall.

His fingers flexed.

Sweet wings of Argasta, she hadn’t imagined that.  Nor the low twisting groan of moving gold. She couldn’t allow herself to blink, to breathe as the statue stepped down from its plinth.

The cold slither of her sword mixed with the warm, liquid twist of gold. Her arms were rock. Sure and proficient.  She’d survived because of her skill.  It would save her now.

“You need have no fear of me.”

His mouth didn’t move, but there was a curl to his lips, a smile that promised something other than fear, something dark and threaded with pleasure.  Her mouth dried.  She had to ignore the low ache in her belly.  He was a mind demon.  He would make her think, make her do anything.

His smile deepened, spiked with lust.  “Now you understand.”

 

And I think I’ll continue this next week 🙂

I know, not exactly following the prompt…but it’s a prompt 😉

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