Winter's Kiss Read Free Page A

no longer aching,
no longer weak, no longer cold. The WuJen within was awake, he was alive, he
was hungry. He began to chant as he worked, old words that had no real
beginning nor end, they were part of some stream of thought that began when the
world first came into existence. Now he spoke portions, parts, of fire and
passions as he cut the last line of kanji into her. His mind focused like it
had not been for many years, he chanted words she could not understand,
meanings she would never grasp. His mind was fire, pure fire now, the WuJen was
here.
    As he
chanted she felt herself getting more and more aroused, mor and more thrilled
by the sound of his voice. She did not know the words but she knew the voice,
that voice of power and fire. She knew the WuJen so well. He cut her again,
deeper now, she cried out and he licked her wound. He was laughing and she
moaned. The hunger she felt from him was like a force in the room swirling
around them pushing them together. Another cut, deeper, she moaned as the blade
sliced her, as she felt her blood dripping and him lapping at it, taking her
life into his body. As he spoke again, he spat the ancient words wetly and
rubbed his hand over her flesh, it was now slick from her own blood. Then
another cut and another and another and it was done. She collapsed forward, the
flesh already knitting together, she felt her body healing even as he crouched
over her and drank from her unreservedly and mercilessly.
    He
stood over her and spoke the words again, the words he had created for her. He
spoke them now and it was less a poem of love and more a poem of ownership,
claiming, naming her as his. She looked up at him and he was young and
beautiful, every inch of him strong and powerful and as young as he had been
when they first met. Hair jet black, eyes burning green, skin taut, smooth and
rippled over his muscles. His cock, harder than hard, bigger, bobbing up and
down slightly as he spoke.
    “Skin
like virgin snow,” He looked down at her and his skin began to darken in
strips, wild slashes of darker tendrils of skin began to snake up the contours
of his muscles. Starting at his cock, they seemed to grow and slither out from
there up his body and down his legs.
    “Flesh
chill to intimate touch,” The darkened marks forming into great tribal swirls
of black that molded to his muscles and painted him with the design ancient
fire. From head to toe his body became marked with these great fiery swirls,
painting his flesh with fire older than mankind.
    “My
Forever beauty,” Yes. . . his. The tribal swirls grew jet black and then
seemingly deeper than black. Slowly the black yielded to tiny pin pricks of
bright red that grew in number until the entire swirl began to smolder and then
cracks of red spider webbed across the dark as though he was cracking apart.
She watched in amazement as the fire on his flesh at first spat out tiny puffs
of flame and then with a great rushing sound combusted and became actual fire.
His flesh seeped fire from its pores, it burned freely, and the fire engulfed
him in a flash of pure energy that coiled around him and shrouded him in flames.
    He was
a WuJen fire master. He burned with a fire that helped to forge the world, that
created the first stars, that gave even the dragons their fiery breath. He was
that fire, that arcane power so much older than the oldest man, older than the
world itself exploded out of him. He breathed deeply and embraced the flames
and then smiled a wicked smile as he reached down and grabbed her. He lifted
her to him as easily as a child lifts a doll. The fire seething all around him
encompassed her without burning her. It swirled and grabbed her with tangible
physical force. . .a living thing, it too embraced her. She moaned as she felt
the warmth of it penetrating her form, her flesh. The poem began to burn, every
cut searing in pain as the fire licked blood from her as well, turning it into
pure flame and branding the words into her