Elijah. Jacquelyn Frank
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it difficult to determine its placement through the denim he wore. Strangely, the denim amused her.
This warrior was a strange one. Most of his people wore clothing that reflected the eras they had passed through rather than the era they were in. It was rare to see such a modern fashion gracing one of their bodies. Then again, denim had been around for well over a century, so if the designer label had been removed, it could have easily been excused as being as much of an anachronism as any other Demon clothing.
Siena reached to unbutton the fly of the pants, tugging a little at the loosened denim in an attempt to see the damage better. Finally, she simply gave in to the inevitable and tore through the tough cloth with razor-sharp claws, stripping him completely. Free to work now, she extracted the second missile and bathed all injuries on his thickly muscled legs. She washed blood out of the hairs that curled over them in a light dusting of gold, using medicaments on the wound burned so deeply into his hip from the poisonous iron.
These were the wounds that would not heal so quickly. She suspected the wound over his heart had been made by an iron weapon as well. Some sort of archaic mace or morning star, perhaps. Whatever it had been, it had crushed and torn the area, leaving telltale burns, but nothing black enough to indicate a missile that might still be festering and smoldering within the now-closed injury.
Once she had bathed him completely in the soothing mineral water, anointed and wrapped every wound she could find, and assessed him for ones she perhaps could not see, she took the time to wash his blood from his hair. She felt more relaxed as she did this. The scent that had been so mind-numbingly appealing was thankfully washed into the lake as the water rolled down the stone and back to where it had come from. Beast she may be, but she was one that struggled for her civilization with a singular conscience. If she had not earned that distinction, this weakened and wounded member of his herd would have received something other than help from her.
When his hair was clean, streaked with a thousand different shades of gold and white and tan now that it was wet, she quickly brushed and licked her own fur clean. When she had finished her ablutions, she once more lifted the Demon into her tired arms and carried him farther back into the cave structure.
It might have surprised the Demon to find furnishings in this place, but the Lycanthrope Queen had fully expected it. This cavern was the Lycanthrope version of a summer cabin. Actually, a winter retreat was possibly a better term. Lycanthropes were not above hibernation, and so these distant caves deep in the bellies of mountains and earth were often supplied for such things. The furniture was an enigma, perhaps, but one of the effects of civilization was the unabashed preference for living in a great deal of comfort. Even if it meant comfort in the incongruous setting of a cave.
This cavern belonged to one of the Queen’s advisors, a woman of impeccable taste and the means to see them suited. Siena had been disappointed upon entering the living area to realize Jinaeri had not yet begun to prepare for the coming winter and there were no signs that she had been coming and going recently in order to do so. When the Queen had last held court, Jinaeri had been present and had mentioned she would soon begin those preparations. Siena had hoped to leave the warrior under her care while she fetched help.
Now she would have to stay and tend to him herself as best she could. She simply could not leave a Demon alone in a Lycanthrope lodging with no protection, no aid. She had no idea how long it took for wounds caused by iron to heal on a Demon. She also knew he had lost so much blood that the healing would be further hindered, if he even yet survived. He was hardly out of danger just because she had dressed his wounds.
A series of steps carved into the cavern led downward far more safely than the original slope had at the entrance to the cave itself. Plus, this far back everything was cool and dry. She stepped down into the living area, a parlor of soft couches and shelved books. There was a fireplace, the chimney of which probably exited out of the mountainside some distance above them. Siena passed rows of bookshelves draped with fabric to keep the must off them, and headed into the second room. This was the bedroom. On the far wall there was a dark, naturally formed alcove with a large handmade bedstead set within it.
Siena moved to it and carefully laid her burden down onto the mattress that appeared to be handmade as well, and very likely filled with the softest tick the owner could find. The giant male sank deeply into the soft comfort of it, and she immediately covered him with a quilt from the bottom of the bed to keep the constant chill of these underground caverns off him as he healed. The parlor fireplace backed up to a fireplace in this room, so one could see through into the next room if one was not easily blinded by a blaze.
She considered building one to warm the place, but with enemies who were perfectly capable of running around in sunlight and itching to kill this Demon, a smoke trail would not be worth the risk. So long as he was this ill, she was very much alone. Powerful or not, all Siena had to do was look at the felled warrior to know she would have odds no better than his if pitted against those diabolical women.
Exhausted herself, Siena moved back into the parlor and immediately curled up into the deeply plush cushions of the couch. She didn’t even bother to do her usual rituals, which often included kneading the bedding for added softness and a bit of moving and turning to find exactly the right spot. She simply flopped down, curled up into a snug ball, and fell fast asleep.
As she drifted off, the golden fur on her body peeled away, slipping off smooth, human skin to dangle in large golden coils, hanging willy-nilly off the edges of arms, hips, and the cushions of the couch. Claws turned into neat little nails, whiskers disappeared. The pads on her hands and feet became nothing thicker than the usual calluses, and her ears had only the tiniest little point to them after changing back to the shape and position of any normal woman’s ears.
CHAPTER 2
Siena woke feeling much better many hours later. For one, she could smell the distinct ionized odor of rain. There was a good-sized storm just beyond the cave entrance. The pressure was unmistakable, even if she couldn’t hear it with her keen hearing. This bathing of the Earth would hide what remained of their trail to the cave. She suspected that in their usual overblown sense of arrogance, the human magic-users were not likely to think they had failed in killing the Demon, and as a result would see no need to double-check. However, with the female Demons amongst them, she could not assume typical behaviors in this situation.
Siena sat up on the couch, stretching out one long limb after the other, soft, contented vocalizations accompanying each one. Jinaeri certainly knew a thing or two about comfort, she thought as she rose to her feet, shaking back her hair as it immediately curled into its proper places. The Queen moved to a pretty antique chest up against one wall and opened it. Inside she discovered neatly folded slips, dresses, and T-shirts.
The brevity of the clothing, most of it short, simple sheaths, was common for the women of her culture. Those who enjoyed the ability to transform into the form of an animal also enjoyed the type of clothing that would fall easily to the wayside and not impede their movement in the event of such a change.
The Queen plucked a soft, flowing minidress from the chest and donned it with a quick drop of fabric over her head. The cute little garment slid instantly into place, held on her by the thinnest of straps at her shoulders and the fact that she was quite a bit bustier than Jinaeri. She looked even more so as the low, scooped neckline left her in abundant display. The floating skirt’s hem fluttered over the tops of her thighs, a soft whisper of sensation that made her rub her fingertips with pleasure over the crushed pile of the fabric. Siena glanced into the mirror near the trunk and smiled as she admired the blue velvet and the way it shone as the garment drifted airily with even a twitch of motion. She might have to exercise the privileges of royalty on a subject and permanently borrow the delightful creation.
Siena then padded across the chilly stone to the fireplace, where she arranged wood and kindling, starting a comfortable blaze without worrying that smoke could be trailed in either rain or darkness. Evening was definitely on them. Siena felt guilty that she had not roused to check on her patient in all of this time, but it was senseless to reprimand herself. There was not much she could have done for him in any event.
She checked on him immediately after the fire took