He used the leverage of her legs to pull her closer with every thrust. The friction was exquisite. It felt like they were melting into a single being. There was no ’Sol’ and ’Evara’ anymore; there was just the heat, the wetness, and the connection.
"This is it," Sol thought, closing his eyes.
He activated the Ash-Grey Energy one last time.
He didn’t use it to stimulate her pleasure centers. He didn’t use it to command her submission. He used it to Bind.
Connection.
He pushed the energy deep into her psyche, wrapping it around her primitive spirit. He felt her soul flutter against his like a trapped bird, then settle. He felt the massive, deep ocean of her Vitality... the life force she had hoarded for years... waiting for a release.
"Give it to me, Evara," he whispered against her lips, his hips grinding into hers. "Give me your strength."
"Take it," she breathed, kissing him desperately, her tongue tangling with his. "Take everything. Leave me nothing."
They moved together in a slow, grinding rhythm that built like a tidal wave. It wasn’t the crashing surf of the shore; it was the deep, rolling swell of the ocean.
Evara wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder to muffle her cries. Sol wrapped his arms around her back, crushing her to him, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.
The climax, when it came, was silent and devastating.
Sol poured his seed into her, a flood that seemed endless, filling her womb with warm, thick fluid. At the same time, he pulled on the connection with everything he had.
He felt a massive surge of Energy transfer.
It wasn’t just the surface excitement this time. It was the dregs of the barrel, the deepest reserves of her energy. It flooded his system, cementing the changes in his body.
He felt his muscles lock, becoming steel cables. He felt his skin harden, the pores tightening. His senses flared white-hot, expanding outward until he could feel the vibration of the earth beneath the hut.
Evara went limp in his arms. Her body shuddered with a release so profound she lost consciousness for a second, her soul momentarily drifting in the grey current before slamming back into her body.
They lay there for a long time, tangled together in the Gift Wrapped position, sweating, breathing the same air, their fluids mixing on the furs.
Finally, Sol pulled out.
He untangled their limbs gently. Evara didn’t stir. She was asleep instantly, a deep, restorative coma induced by the drain. She looked peaceful. The lines of bitterness and exhaustion that usually marred her face were gone. She looked younger, glowing with the aftereffects of the divine pleasure.
Sol stood up. He felt heavy... not with fatigue, but with solid, terrifying power. The weakness of his old body was a distant memory. The ache of Vurok’s beating was gone.
He looked at his hands in the dim light. They were steady. They were lethal.
He covered Evara with a thick fur, tucking her in.
"Rest well, Tigress, I’ll be back again." he whispered.
The Annual Hunting Rite was waiting. And he was finally full and ready for the ’hunt’.
...
Sol stepped out of Evara’s hut, expecting to be greeted by the silver light of the moon. His internal clock, skewed by the intensity of the vitality transfer and the sheer physical exertion, told him hours had passed. He felt as though he had lived a lifetime in that musk-filled room.
He blinked, shielding his eyes.
The sun was still there. It hung low on the horizon, refusing to go down, bathing the village in a deep, bloody orange glow. It wasn’t midnight. It was barely evening.
"Time dilation," Sol muttered, a smirk touching his lips. "I guess time flies when you’re harvesting."
He felt incredible. There was no fatigue in his limbs, no heaviness in his eyelids. Instead, he felt a buzzing, kinetic energy. His skin felt tighter, his muscles denser. The Primal Resonance had done its work; he had siphoned enough vitality from the widow to fuel him for a week.
But he couldn’t walk into the village square smelling like sex, sweat, and Evara. The scent was thick on him... a biological marker of what he had done.
He slipped back to his own hut first, moving through the shadows. Inside, he used the remaining water in the clay jar to scrub himself down. The cold water hissed against his skin, which was still radiating heat. He washed away the musk, the oil, and the dried fluids, scrubbing until he felt clean. He changed into a fresh fur wrap, tying it securely around his waist.
Refreshed, and feeling the best, he had since waking up in this world, he headed toward the village square.
He walked with a new gait. The limp was gone. The hesitation was gone. He moved with the fluid confidence of a predator patrolling his territory.
He approached the area where Lyra had set up the stall, expecting a quiet scene. Maybe Lyra and the girls are selling a bowl or two. Maybe they would be packing up by now.
ROAR.
The sound tore through the evening air.
It wasn’t the roar of a beast. It was the roar of a mob.
Sol froze, his hand tightening. so much that his knuckles whitened.
It sounded like an argument... a chaotic mix of shouting, demanding voices coming from right around the corner.
Vurok?
His blood ran cold, the high of the afternoon evaporating instantly. Had he found out Sol was missing? Had he decided to make good on his threat against the girls right here in the open?
The Ash-Grey energy in his chest pulsed violently, reacting to his spike in aggression. Sol threw aside caution and stormed around the corner, his eyes scanning for a target, ready for kill.
But he stopped dead in his tracks.
It wasn’t an attack. It was a siege.
A crowd of at least twenty people...burly hunters with fresh kills on their shoulders, weary gatherers with dirt under their nails, and even a stooped Elder leaning on a cane... was swarming around the makeshift fire pit.
They weren’t attacking. They were begging.
They were jostling each other, climbing over one another to get closer to the bubbling cauldrons. Hands thrust out from the mass of bodies, holding clay bowls, cracked gourds, and even cupped palms.
"Me first!" a large man with a scar across his nose shouted, shoving a smaller man aside. "I have a rabbit skin! A whole skin for a bowl!"
"Back off, Kael!" a woman shrieked, elbowing him in the ribs. "I was here since the smell started! I have dried berries!"
"Lady Lyra, please!" an old man wheezed, waving a small pouch of polished stones. "Just one ladle! My husband is sick, he won’t eat anything else! He needs the fire-soup!"
In the center of this storm was Lyra. She looked flushed, her hair coming loose from its braid, sweat dripping down her nose. She looked completely overwhelmed, her eyes wide with panic, but her hands were moving in a blur, frantically ladling the thick, red-tinged soup into the endless stream of bowls.
Arelia was beside her, acting as the banker. She was trying to collect the payments... furs, dried meats, stone tools... but her pile was overflowing. Items were spilling onto the dirt. She looked terrified that she was miscounting.
And little Liora was standing on a crate, holding a wooden spoon like a weapon, trying to swat away the curious hands that reached too close to the hot pots. "Back! Sol said wait your turn!"
Sol lowered his spear, stunned.
The smell hit him then. The chilis.
In the open air, the scent of the Fire Devil’s Droppings he had added earlier hadn’t dissipated; it had concentrated. In a world where cuisine consisted of boiled roots, raw berries, and roasted meat with no seasoning other than ash, the sharp, pungent, sinus-clearing aroma of spice was practically a narcotic. It woke up dormant senses. It promised heat. It promised flavor.
It was alchemy.
But even he hadn’t expected to inadvertently start a food riot.
"Sol!"
Liora spotted him first. She waved her spoon frantically; her face smeared with soot but her eyes shining with relief.
"Help!" she screamed over the roar of the crowd. "We’re running out of bowls! And they won’t stop coming!"
A/N: Man! After such along satisfying release, a gift should be a must [mainly because others in our batch had already got castles, and left us behind in the rankings (definitely not because I’m jealous)].