Riala woke to a soothing warm sensation running through all of her body, as if drifting through the core of her soul and then melting away to the ultimate of her being. Her muscles were relaxed and the insufferable pain she'd felt earlier had disappeared like a summer breeze in the midst of glorious heat. She felt so much better now. She felt tired, yet refreshed. What irony. The young elf sighed softly, unwinding as the heat poured over all of her cuts and bruises. A firm, nimble hand was washing her, the streaming water pouring down her body like rain. A soft cloth was running against her skin in long firm motions, brushing carefully over her larger cuts and cleaning the dirt and grime off of her. There was no sting upon impact of the fabric, thusly she did not wince and did not have to cower away from the sweetness of this treatment. Riala was drifting in and out of consciousness, not sure if she wanted to remain awake and enjoy the pampering or if she wanted to go back into her own little world, where Carillon had not died. That thought struck her. Carillon...dead? She was dead. Her throat became scratchy as one's will when they are on the verge of tears but she gulped softly, pushing the undeniable urge to sob and bawl away. Now was not the time for this kind of thing.

Riala forced herself to stay in touch with reality. She could not drift off again. She needed to know what was going on. Helplessly she tried sitting up but the hands that had before been soothing hardened a bit and placed her carefully back against a hard surface barely gently.

"Mmmm...it's about time you woke, Riala Isilme," purred a velvety voice. She tensed some but the owner spoke again, their voice lolling over her body like a warm caress. "I might've thought you dead were you not breathing. You were a mess you know...covered in scratches and cuts. I had to clean you somehow, and it's been working just fine." She opened her violet eyes, staring down at herself. She was nude, resting in something akin to a hot spring, the steam pouring up and gushing over her. She inhaled it slowly. It had a strange scent to it, a scent parallel to heavy jasmine and honey. It made her mind feel sluggish and her eyes began to have trouble focusing. The owner of the cloth set it aside along the rim of the spring she was in and began to knead at her shoulders. She bit her lower lip as a groan of delight threatened to pass her. Oh goodness that felt wonderful!

"My, my Riala. Tense aren't you?" she was trying to remember the owner of that voice but nothing came to mind. She searched through every memory that could match the velvety darkness that was this male's voice, but the scent of the steam was making it hard to think and whenever she felt she was close to remembering her mind drifted off to how wonderful this man was with his hands. She sighed and, she felt was against her will, enjoyed the pleasurable sensations. She bit her lower lip again; wishing the owner of the voice would talk or give her some hint of his identity. Yet she was forced to sit in grueling torture as he continued to torment her with his skills. He chuckled and her right ear twitched towards his voice, wishing he would once more speak. But instead of speaking cool lips rested at the side of her neck, kissing near her ear lobe. She shivered, whimpering a bit. She tried moving forward, attempting to pull away as he repeated his action, causing shiver to race through her body. He once more chuckled and then an image came to her mind. Dark skin, black as night it seemed, and silvery hair that fell near his waist. And amber eyes. Burning amber eyes that delved into her soul and seemed to kiss lightly at her heart. They claimed treacherousness about them and a sly arrogance. As if while he caressed her heart with his lips he wrenched it out a second later with sharp fangs. The Fiery-Eyed One. That's whom she knew him as. And he was Drow. Riala cursed herself. It could not be true. Drow were not real, they were not real! They had died! An ancient race that long ago vanished while elves lived on!

Right?

"Who-who are you?" she whispered.

"Kestal Inthuul, my dear Riala Isilme," he grinned, his warm breath pulsating along her ear. She shivered. Elf ears were sensitive to sound and touch, and she was no exception. Riala went to pull away but the hands on her shoulders firmed and held her tight. "I am not done washing you, you should feel honored. No one has ever had the courtesy of me bathing them." She shivered in disgust.

"I would much rather have died than having your hands touch me," she spat. Kestal chuckled, blowing softly against her ear. She whimpered.

"Your body is telling me differently Riala," he murmured. One of his hands slid down her body, resting at the core of her womanhood. She let out a sound that reminded her of groaning in frustration and moaning in pleasure when his tongue ran across the length of her ear. She had to get away from this! This was driving her insane already. Kestal grinned coldly, his finger sliding into her curls and she let out a shriek of desperation. She tried jerking away from him again, yet he grabbed her arm with his free hand, jerking her back against the side of the spring she sat in. He grinned languidly, once more traveling his tongue along the entire length of her ear. She ground her teeth, clenching her eyes. She tried ignoring the tremble of pleasure that ran along her spine over and over, the wonderful sinking sensation in her stomach and the pooling warmth in her lower region. But he didn't let her forget. A long finger slinked up into her depths and she let out a cry. She jerked wildly again, but skillful lips took the tip of her ear into its mouth, and she shivered, falling languid as waves of delight ran along her body. He chuckled huskily.

"I thought it was a rumor, that elves were sensitive with their ears. After all, we Drow have not encountered your kind for generations, we do not know much," he blew softly into her ear, eliciting a gasp from her. His eyes flashed in pleasure. His finger began moving within her body, long stroking motions than ran chills over her body and made her legs uneasy. Her breath became soft pants and she slumped within the water. He took the tip of her ear into his mouth again, nibbling on the points with sharp teeth.

"I wonder how sensitive. If I'm gentle how pleasurable is this for you then?" he moved his finger a tad deeper into her, her breath catching into her throat and her back arching sharply. His finger began a long sweeping rhythm, running deep into her tight virgin folds and then pull out, moving slowly faster and faster. His tongue left long wet trails on the length of her ear and she couldn't resist the moans that threatened to escape her lips once again. Her hips began to thrust towards his fingers as the speed grew. Her legs were going numb and the only parts of her lower region she could feel was the skilled finger delving deeper and deeper it seemed. His hot breathe radiated along her ear and she felt something slowly rising within her. She groaned in frustration and he let out a laugh, quickening the pace of his finger and inserting another, which caused her to gasp and jerk against his hand. His thumb stroked a sensitive nub along her body, which made her mind spin, and her breaths come in sharp painful waves. She was panting harder, she realized. And a sweet sensation was rising deep within her body. His tongue continued to play against her ear, leaving it to twitch. He would whisper soft things in Drow, things she didn't understand but knew with that husky dark voice only drew her closer to whatever it was that was building within her.

And then it exploded. Her back arched painfully and she let out a moan of delight as fire seemed to rage deep within her being. Every muscle went tense and her breath caught in her throat. Everything seemed perfect and right. Her soul seemed to lurch from her body and become caressed by the heavens. The darkness of the room and the intoxicating scent made her tremble and slowly she returned to her body. She fell limp against the side of the spring, breathing heavily. Kestal pulled his hand from the water, his two fingers soaked in a thick creamy appearing liquid. He licked his forefinger slowly, savoring the taste of her arousal. Then he placed his middle finger against her lips and shoved it within her mouth. Her tongue helplessly ran along his finger, tasting her own sweetness and she winced in disgust of her actions. He chuckled and leaned close.

"You are clean Riala, dry yourself off and I'll see you within your new room," he whispered. Kestal stood up and walked away. She slowly pulled herself from the water, but it was a struggle. Her body still felt so lazy and her legs were shaking and numb from his work.

She found a long rough piece of cloth and wrapped his about her body. Then she sat down in a corner, pulled her knees to her chest, and sniffled feebly.