Chapter 12 Chapter Six - Orenda
As the intoxicating effects of being in close proximity to my animai begin to leave my system like someone detoxing a drug from their bloodstream, clarity finally breaks through the fog of desire and I feel a sense of shame and disgust come over me…yet at the same time, my body is still electrified by the pleasure he brought me.
This isn’t fair or right! How can he go from ignoring my very existence and acting so dismissive of me to touching me so intimately like that? I’m sure many women have used the term ‘explore’ to describe the way someone touched them, but I doubt any of them meant it as literally as I do. It truly felt like he was exploring and testing out my responses, but to what end? He never spoke a word; he didn’t seem to show any desire to be with me and yet he touched me like that.
I run my fingers through my hair as I let out a scream of frustration, clutching at the roots of my hair and fisting them in aggravation. I’m so angry, confused and spent I can’t even fucking think straight! Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he think just because I’m his animai he can do what he wants with me? Or maybe he doesn’t even care about that. Maybe this is just a power trip for him. He wouldn’t be the first God to end up on one.
With my emotions swirling around my head like an angry storm, I decide there is only one correct course of action right now. I get up from the bed, my legs still wobbly, and retrieve a towel from the closet. I make my way to the bathroom and discard my clothes, annoyed by the fact Azadou teleported my underwear who the fuck knows where. I step into the shower and turn on the water, laying my hands against the cool marble and letting the hot water wash over me. The heat immediately begins to rejuvenate my muscles, restoring their strength.
I pick up my loofa, apply some body wash and begin to scrub my body clean, but as the lather builds on my skin Azadou’s burning purple eyes flash in my mind. The growl he made as he tasted me on his fingers reverberates through my entire body and I have to take a breath to keep my faculties. I try to push the thought from my mind but as I move the loofa over my body I become aware of the echo of his touch lingering on my skin. My heart begins to quicken, and my breathing turns shallow as I recall the burning sensation of his skin against mine. I feel my nipples harden and my pussy throb, aching to feel his fingers inside me again.
I drop the loofa, turn up the heat and press my hands against the wall, shaking my head furiously hoping I can burn the desire away. I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want him to have so much control over me when he won’t even give me the time of day. I try…Gods, I try so hard to push the images out of my mind, but every time I try they only seem to come back with greater force. I clench my thighs together to dull the ache as I replay the feeling of his fingers caressing my labia, my clit…I feel myself getting wetter by the second as I think of the way his fingers moved inside me as if they knew what I needed better than I did.
My breathing turns ragged, and I can’t stop the growing ache between my thighs, so, desperate for it to stop – or so I tell myself – I slip my hand between my thighs and begin rubbing my clit, my juices coating my fingers instantly. I prepare to relax and feel the ache become satiated by my touch, but instead, I feel like I’ve been ripped back into reality. I’ve been alive a long time and I’ve touched myself more times than I can count. I know how to get myself off and yet suddenly, the feeling of my own fingers against my clit feels foreign and disinteresting. Every ounce of burning desire that was rippling through my body a moment ago completely disappears like it was never there.
“FUCK!” I shout, slamming my hand against the marble and feeling the dull throb of pain shooting through my palm.
Just great. That son of a bitch has now ruined my own touch for me. Why couldn’t he have just accepted me or rejected me? Did he do this on purpose? Is the God of Malice playing some sick game with me? Maybe now that he knows I’m immune to his dark touch he thinks he can finally have some fun by tormenting me. I don’t know. Even I know my mind is going crazy with pointless speculation because that’s all I’ll ever have because that jerk won’t speak to me! Oh, sure, he’ll finger me, but have a conversation? No, why would we do that?
Now even more frustrated than I was before, I finish washing up and turn off the shower, wringing the water out of my hair. I step out, wrap my towel around me, collect my clothes and make my way back to my room. I don’t hear Ayawamat or the sounds of guests, so I assume he’s still out on patrol, which means I’ve got the house to myself for a little while longer. I dry off, get dressed and tend to my hair by towel drying it and adding in my favourite hair serum. It’s a lovely little concoction made with aloe vera, sweet grass and yucca – among other things I’m sure I’ll never know – made by a family of Wampanoag women who have passed the remedy on for generations. It keeps my hair strong, healthy and hydrated and if there is anyone I would trust to care for my hair, it’s the native people of the land.
Once I’m settled and feeling more like my old self again, I reflect on the whole reason I let Gabriella transport me to Azadou’s home in the first place – a home I still don’t know the location of, mind you. Now that I have some time to sit and think about it, I find myself more confused by the situation than I was before. Azadou said he wasn’t behind the occurrence, and I believe him, but now that I think about it, I never saw any eyti to begin with. I know what I felt, and there is no mistake in that. I felt the presence of a great number of eyti…but why would such a large number of eyti converge in such a remote location and then disappear?
Since Azadou was no help, there’s only one other person I can talk to about this. I was hoping to avoid it, but duty must come first.
I take in a slow breath and then slowly exhale. “Jartre,” I speak softly.
I swear the word has barely left my mouth when he appears before me. His pure white hair up in a half-pony and cascading down his back looking almost luminescent. He looks so different now that he’s gotten rid of his beard, not to mention the streaks of deep green he has now. So many changes, and yet, they suit him. Clearly, life with an animai suits him too because he immediately graces me with a warm smile, which I can assure you, wasn’t something he used to do.
“Orenda,” he greets me warmly. “How are you?” he asks. And that. Saying my name in such a fatherly way. Asking how I am. I’m starting to think Zarseti might be the most powerful God because the magic she works is on another level.
“I’m well,” I smile, coming to stand in front of him. “And you? You look…happy,” I remark.
He laughs a throaty laugh, “That unusual huh?”
“It’s a nice change,” I respond. “Happiness suits you,” I assure him.
He gives me a gracious smile – something he has never ever done once in all the years I’ve known him – and crosses his large arms over his chest. “What’s going on? You only call regarding eyti matters.”
“I have an eyti matter…I just don’t know what it is,” I say with uncertainty.
His bushy brows furrow in confusion as he takes a step closer. His nostrils twitch for a moment and his piercing silver eyes focus on me intently. “Explain.”
“I was on patrol, and I ended up flying over Nepal. I ended up sensing a large number of eyti converging on Machu Picchu. I flew down to assess and handle the situation, but as soon as I landed…their presence disappeared,” I explain.
His eyebrows knit together tighter as he looks just as confused by the situation as I am. “How many did you see?”
“None, but I know what I felt. I know what eyti feel like and I know I felt them. I just can’t explain it,” I shrug in defeat.
“And what did Azadou say?” he bluntly asks with an accusatory brow raise. I stare at him frozen, suddenly feeling like a teenager who got caught sneaking out, which is utterly absurd. “I can smell him on you, regardless of the shower,” he explains.
Well, that’s not mortifying at all.
“Gabriella helped me to confront him–”
“Gabriella did?” he suddenly interjects, and now I really feel like I’ve put my foot in it.
“Um, yes?” I answer hesitantly.
He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling deeply through his nose. “That woman truly has taken to her role as a Goddess. She’s got the meddling down to an art form,” he quips, opening his eyes just so he can roll them.
“I appreciated her help,” I say sincerely. “Though no information came of it. Azadou said he had nothing to do with it and frankly, didn’t seem at all interested, so I doubt he’ll be any help. I don’t know what happened, but I know what I felt, and I know something wasn’t right about it.”
Jartre places his hands on my shoulders and gives them a reassuring squeeze, “I believe you. I want you to keep looking into the matter and I will do what I can. In the meantime…seeking help from Azadou might not be wise,” he cautions.
I frown in displeasure, “Why do you say that?”
“I’m just looking out for you. Orenda, Azadou is dangerous. You don’t know him like I do,” he warns.
“You don’t know him at all. None of you do,” I argue, shaking his arms off my shoulders.
“And you do?” Jartre pointedly retorts.
“No, but at least I want to. You can’t keep judging him and hating him just because of what he reminds you of, it’s not fair. He’s complicated and infuriating, but I’m not giving up on him yet,” I say adamantly.
Am I annoyed with him? Absolutely. Do I want to punch him in the throat? A little bit. Does part of me yearn to feel his touch again? Dammit, yes. But with all those conflicting feelings, I know it’s not enough to make me give up on him. Everyone gave up on him. No one gave him a chance to just…be, so as frustrating and exasperating as he may be, I’m going to be patient with him. At least for the time being. I may be patient, but even I have my limits.
Jartre sighs, rubbing his chin as if looking for his beard that’s no longer there. “I didn’t come here to fight and I’m not trying to hurt you…I’m just worried for you,” he admits.
“I appreciate your concern, Jartre, I do. But I’d much rather you showed a little bit of faith.”
“That I can’t promise. But…I can promise to be here for you should you need me. Believe it or not, I do want you to be happy,” he says sincerely.
I smile, accepting the genuineness of his words and the kind look in his eyes. Never has he felt more like a father to me than he does right now.
“That’s enough for me.”