Darling & Commander

The Nymph: 4

Gallaleigha POV:

"What now?"

"I am to show you the spirits. You will understand my insulted behavior after this." I get on my knees, only taller because he is sitting.

My fingers fondle every inch of his hard face, flicking my thumbs over his eyelids to seal them shut. He stays unmoving, and shivers at the brush of my lips along his forehead.

"Soft. Plump. Full. Hot. Delicate. Luscious. Rosy. Gentle. Tender. Supple. Alluring. Ample. Mellow." He grits his teeth as if he hates himself for thinking of these words. "I may have the ability to imagine eighty million words for your endearing lips, but all of them sum up to my throbbing heart and feverish grasp."

Before I am allowed to think, his hands are caressing the small of my back.

"You are so wintry... " He breathes without raising his eyelids.

"We are cold blooded, us nymphs..." My voice lowers ineptly as my mouth grazes his reddened ear. "Your touch is like a blistering inferno."

Every time he reaches for me, every time his hands caress me, it is like scalding hot water poured over my skin. So, so dangerous, yet incredibly addictive. I have never been layed a finger on by a human, and if they all feel like this, I do not know why I have holed up in these woods. He sets every inch of my body on a sweltering fever I cannot seem to recover from.

Brock's fingers travel up my back, stroking the line of my unwrinkled spine. The index finger follows the untouched indents, claiming each ridge his own.

His own?

No. Mine. My body. He cannot- we have only met just- it could not-

Undeniably his.

My hands roam up to his hair, sinking through the thick locks that end by the nape of his neck. I stroke my thin fingers along his scalp, holding him there as his breathing goes quiet.

And I close my eyes too, just as my world begins to quiver and my ears prick at the tones and music around us. The notes that are the wind, the trees, the grass, the birds. All conducted into one orchestra of bliss.

"What do you hear?" I whisper to Brock, still cupping the back of his head. "Three things."

He thinks silently for a moment before his gravelly voice declared words with solidity.

"I hear the croaking of bullfrogs in the distance by a creek." He murmurs. "The delicate shrubs with their bristling leaves. The distant hum of bees in the flowers."

Anyone might as well have come up with those answers, but I am near to bursting in pride. He really is listening. Not dull and witless answers like the trees creaking, my voice, or the wind. Something more.

"Good." My fingers stroke his neck, trying to soothe myself from the dopamine rush I have found in his reply. "Three things you can smell."

He breathes in slowly through his nose, not bothering to deem my ritual childish or bizarre, as his fingers tighten their way around my waist.

"The smoky... almost peppery smell of the black tea leaves you plucked. A citrus scent; perhaps you have peaches growing in the area?" He breathes in again. "The smell of your skin... almost like lily of the valley."

I blink at his accuracy.

"Incredible. I do have a lily of the valley scent. I was making a bouquet for the cabin just yesterday." I go on, stroking his head again. "Three things you can see."

Brock's beautiful eyes blink up at me, adjusting to the soft sunlight spilling through the evergreens. He takes in his surroundings and speaks with the same familiarity he always does.

"I see the sprouts of plants surrounding us. I see an array of birds calling to each other on the tall branches of the birch trees." His left hand tucks my hair behind my ear, and speaks softly with a tone I have never heard him attempt. "The golden afternoon sunlight pouring over your hair like a halo."

The melting of his icy surface is enough to make a grown woman burst into flames. My heart palpitates with every second he holds me, our gazes creating a forest fire in our own little world. His touch singes my cold skin, and I fall deeper into the volcano that is his warmth as his fingers work a trail up my spine again. Fingers trace circles and lines and hearts across the bare skin on my back.

We snap out of it unanimously, and I lose my balance on my knees when we jerk away from one another. I catch myself with my hands before I land, the palms hitting the scratchy little sprouts.

Brock shoots to his feet, sweeping me up by the waist. 

"Are you alright?" He says as he checks over my body to ensure I have not harmed myself.

"F-fine." I say uneasily as his fingers grip my waist tightly, as if he thinks I'm so delicate I could fall over again if he unleashes me. 

It certainly is a risk under his heated gaze.

A itching burn crawls around my fingers, and at first I mistake it for an intense yearning, but I soon realize that's not the case as I peer down at my blistering hands.

"Oh, heavens..." I cry out. "That was a patch of poison ivy!"

Brock's face turns rigid, and he grapples onto my wrists to inspect the damage. His brows furrow as he distinguishes the red welts, and wordlessly knocks my feet out from under me. I shriek just as his strong arms catch my body, and I squirm in his arms when he reaches down to grab the basket.

"Wh- Brock?" I feel my nose crinkle.

"I am to take you back to your house. This is my doing." He shakes his head, letting go of my feet as he runs his fingers through his hair.

That's a habit I have noticed on him. Whenever he is uneasy or embarrassed, he rakes his hand through the thick locks. It is adorable, but he is currently holding me with one arm.

"Other arm!" I gasp, hitting his shoulder a little.

"You think I am to drop you?" Brock says, amused.

The corners of his lips tilt upwards as I look away from his sight, almost like he is laughing at me on the inside. He pretends to drop me, and I shriek before he catches me.

"Brock!" I whine as I bury my face into his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Sorry, sorry." He laughs, his head tilting up a bit.

I peek up at him, and he goes red.

"What?" He murmurs, scoffing a little as his blush deepens.

"It is just adorable. You are laughing." I tease.

"Adorable?" His nose wrinkles.

"Cute." I giggle a little at his grip on me tightening.

"Regardless," He dismisses my comments. "I am to take you back. The tea can wait for another day. It does not seem terrible, but the poison ivy will take at least a week to heal. I will take care of you for the remainder of that time."