Little Red's Riding

Throbbing Heat

Dahlia lay on the bed, her body glistening with sweat, as the temperature in the room felt as though it had steadily risen for the hour since Silas had run off to solve whatever problem it was that was more important than fucking her senseless. Her throat was parched and she'd long since emptied the cup of tea that she thankfully hadn't wasted flinging at him when he'd made that ridiculous comment about Archer. Lifting her hand, she pressed it against her forehead. Her skin felt as if it were on fire.

And Silas wasn't here to put it out. What a ridiculous thought. She shook her head, trying to clear her senses.

"This mate bond is half madness. Why would anyone want sex when they're burning up. I'm out of my mind."

Standing, her legs felt a bit shaky, but she made her way, slowly over to the room that she'd guessed was a bathroom and pushed open the door. She let out a sigh the door swung open and she actually saw what the master bathroom looked like. The floor under her unsteady feet was made with reddish brown tiles only just smaller than the palm of her hand, and shaped like small hexagons. The walls, and shower, and sinks, which were grander than anything she'd seen, or even imagined, were all shaped out of stones that looked as if they'd been plucked from a nearby stream. They were all shapes and sizes and they fit together like a great puzzle.

And if Dahlia hadn't felt so odd, she likely would have taken the time to appreciate it. But on this day she only had eyes for one of the bathroom's features. She stumbled towards the enormous copper tub, and turned a knob, almost crying in relief when cool water began to spill into the basin.

Immediately she thrust herself into the water, even though it hardly covered her toes. Sitting down, she wished that it was colder, and turned, leaning back and letting it rush over her head, and down past her shoulders, washing away the sweat and lust of the day.

Still she burned. "What is happening to me?"

Dahlia turned the cold water all the way up, so that it blasted into the tub, filling it as quickly as she could. Once she felt a bit better she cupped her hands below the faucet and raised them to her lips and drank. After she'd had her fill she leaned back against the edge of the tub, up to her neck in water that should have left her shivering, and decided that she had to be ill. It was the only logical explanation that her mind could come up with. And she was very ill, if the way her body burned, as if she might spontaneously combust at any moment, was any indication.

After ten minutes in the water she pulled at the plug and stood, reaching for one of the impossibly soft towels that were folded on a rack nearby, wrapping herself in it and stumbling out of the bathroom, and back into the bedroom.

This time, instead of falling into the bed she went to the window and stared out into the streets, hoping to see her mate somewhere nearby. Her eyes took in the little town that Silas was so proud of and she was surprised. It wasn't very different from the town that she had grown up in and it was absolutely nothing like what she had expected. But one thing was very different from her small village.

There wasn't a single soul anywhere to be found. Not a man, woman, or child was walking, or playing, or talking, or laughing. Dahlia frowned and shook her head. Something felt seriously wrong. And the burning that flamed through her body was getting stronger by the minute.

Stepping back from the window she began to search the room, drawn back to the closet that she'd seen earlier when she'd first woken up. She pulled a fine tunic over her head, wincing at the way the fabric rubbed against her pointed nipples. They were so very sensitive at the moment, and for at least a minute she had to press her back against the wall to rest. Finally she forced her legs into a pair of breeches and tightened the belt as far as it would go, shaking her head at how ridiculous she must look in his too large clothing.