She focused on the song of healing she was weaving. Threads of healing power extended from her and wove around his body. The colorful threads of life seeped through his flesh, mending bones and torn flesh. The song on her lips faded when she looked up and saw that he was watching her.
“Don’t… stop,” he murmured.
A tender smile curved her lips. “Sleep, warrior,” she instructed.
Her fingers traced along his brow. He fought her command, but she wove a spell of healing sleep into her touch. His eyelids fluttered before they closed.
Angeni swallowed as she continued to caress him. How could he hear her? See her? Feel her touch? There was something different about him that both frightened and fascinated her. He was a man of Earth, one destined to live a short life before he returned to the soil. Yet, the idea of his death repulsed her. She did not want him to die.
Her gaze lowered to his lips. They were slightly parted. Her hand slid down to his chest. He was breathing normally now that the injuries to his ribs and lung were healed. She leaned over him and hesitated a brief moment before she tenderly laid her lips against his in a brief kiss.
“Sleep, warrior. I will watch over you,” she promised.
Chapter 4
Aditsan lay still, listening to the morning birds. He kept his eyes closed, allowing his other senses—especially his hearing—to take over. It was as if he was hearing the world around him for the first time.
The soft buzz of bees moving from flower to flower sounded unusually loud. The wind swept along the ground and he picked out the faint sound of sand being shifted. There were other sounds. The waterfall flowing into the basin, the rush of the water across rocks, the chirps of the birds, and the patter of a small rodent looking for a last meal before the sun came up.
Mixed within the sounds was a lilting voice that soothed his soul. He slowly opened his eyes and gazed upward. He was lying under a protected section of the cliff.
A frown creased his brow when he realized something else—his body didn’t hurt. He slid his hand across his stomach before gingerly assessing his ribs. The flesh was smooth instead of torn. It was then he realized two things. First, that he wasn’t wearing any clothing; and second, that he was covered by a soft blanket.
He reached up and fingered the blanket, wondering if he was hallucinating. The thick cotton fibers were familiar against his skin. He lifted his hand and studied it. The flesh was no longer raw and sore. He wiggled his fingers, closing and opening them.
The next test was to sit up. If he could do that without pain, then either he was dead and didn’t realize it or somehow he’d been found, taken to the hospital, healed over the course of a few months, and redeposited to the exact spot where he had collapsed.
My being dead makes more sense, he wryly thought before he grimaced.
Do dead people have to take a piss? he wondered when the familiar pressure of his bladder demanded relief.
He reached for his breeches that were neatly folded and shook them out. They looked like they had been dry cleaned! With a shake of his head at his wayward thoughts, he pushed the blanket aside and stood up.
He almost lost his balance when he tried to shove his foot through the opening too quickly and it caught on the material while he scanned the area. He pulled the leather breeches up, but left the Concha belt undone.
His shirt and moccasins were at the end of his makeshift bed. He sat down and pulled the moccasins on before grabbing his shirt. He pulled the clean shirt over his head and tugged it down. He stood again, noting the thick layer of blankets and the still smoldering fire.
“Call of nature first, then find out what in the hell is going on,” he muttered.
He strode a short distance away and took care of business before walking down to the shallow river to wash his hands and face. He squatted and stared at the flowing river before he shoved his hands into the water. The chill sent a shiver through him and he rubbed his hands together as he processed that what he was doing was real.
He cupped his hands, scooping up the water and lifted a handful to his face. He took a deep breath and buried his face in the water before rubbing his cold, wet hands over the back of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine when some of the water seeped under the collar of his shirt and trickled down his back.
“This feels like I’m still alive,” he said under his breath.
He lifted an arm to dry his face when a movement across the river caught his attention. Slowly rubbing the dampness from his face against the soft material, he remained in place as he watched the woman approaching him. She held a large basket in her hands and moved with surprising grace over the uneven ground.
She was wearing a beautiful black and red Navajo Blanket dress that stopped just below her knees. White and red moccasin wraps covered her lower legs and feet. The dress was accented with a silver and turquoise belt with matching turquoise and silver jewelry. Her long black hair flowed freely around her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was also the woman who had haunted his dreams last night.
He carefully rose to his feet. The last thing he wanted to do was startle her. She stopped when she saw him standing and they stared at each other in silence like two wary predators wondering who would make the first move. Her lips curved into a hesitant smile and she began walking again.
“Watch out,” he cautioned when he saw her place a foot on one of the large round stones in the river. She raised an eyebrow. He waved a hand down at the stone. “It might be slippery. Let me help you.”
Before he could move, she crossed the river. He lifted a hand and rubbed it across his eyes. It was strange, but it looked more like she floated across. He shook his head.
Maybe I’m having a mental breakdown and none of yesterday really happened, he thought.
That was the only thing that made any sense. It was possible he had suffered a case of mild sun stroke or had a bout with dehydration and this woman had found him. His hand went to his shirt. There were no tears or any evidence of blood.
“I… thank you. It would appear that something happened…. I…. Can you tell me what the hell is going on?” he demanded.
She paused in front of him. His hands shot out when she held out the basket. He looked down and almost groaned when he saw the bounty of food inside. His head jerked back to her when she stepped around him and continued to the small campsite where he had awakened.
“My name is Aditsan Claw, by the way,” he called after her.
He shook his head when she merely looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. Not only was he going crazy—or had gone crazy—he was doing it with a sexy hallucination that made his mouth water to kiss that smile right off her lips. The thought that he might be dead again was interrupted when his stomach growled.
“Well, if I am delusional, at least it comes with a gorgeous woman and a meal,” he said with a sigh.
Chapter 5
Aditsan sat on a medium size boulder and placed the items on the woven plate that he hadn’t noticed at first. The woman sat across from him on another rock. The early morning sun brightened the other side of the canyon. The rays from it struck the layers of sediment and made the tiny rock crystals sparkle. The entire effect made it appear as if an artist had taken a paintbrush to the walls.