Eyes of Honesty | ~ Geralt of Rivia ~

Chapter 5 - Horses

“I’ll walk.” She said, slinging her bag higher on her shoulder, turning to walk beside Geralt and his horse. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Geralt growled, holding out his hand for her to take. 

“No.” She said with finality, shaking her head, staring straight ahead as she walked.

“Why?” He gritted impatiently, swerving Roach to cut off her path. 

“I don’t like horses” She said, her jaw set mulishly, her eyes challenging as she stopped her progress forward.

“I found you in the stables.”  He sounded annoyed. 

“Outside the stables.” She corrected simply. 

“Why don’t you like them?” He asked, sounding put upon. 

“I’ve been thrown off a horse, and was almost trampled on, I would rather not relive that experience again.” she said curtly, meeting his eyes. 

“Roach won’t throw you off.” His eyes were reassuring and he held out his hand again. 

She eyed Geralt and Roach speculatively. Geralt continued to hold out his hand to her, impatiences showing on his face. She sighed heavily and took it. He pulled her up onto the back of Roach. She instantly wound her arms tightly around his waist. He cheek pressed tightly against his back, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. 

She heard him laugh and felt him shake his head, but she didn’t care, she hadn’t rode a horse in years and she was terrified. 

“Breathe.” She heard him command, as a reassuring hand patted hers gently. Her grip tightened a little more around his stomach, but she did listen to him and slowly allowed air to fill her lungs again. Her body became less rigid, but she refused to loosen her grip on him. 

“I don’t think I’ve been hugged so tightly before in my life.” he teased, one of his hands gently caressing her hand. The rigidity returned to her body at his touch, and her lungs searched for oxygen. She had never enjoyed a man’s attention, but the lightest of touches from Geralt made her stomach drop out from under her. 

“Shut up Witcher.” She grumbled against his back, grateful he couldn’t see the tint coloring her cheeks.

He laughed again and Roach started into a trot. 

Secretly Faye allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his body tight against hers, the subtle ripple of his muscles against her hands, against her cheek. She focused on him instead of being on a horse and felt a calm wash over her. 

Faye scolded herself at her intense reaction to him. In less than a day's time she was worse than a teenage peasant with a crush on a king's son. In the past she could admit when a man was handsome, but never really fancied any that crossed her path. It didn’t help she was jaded and knew she had nothing to offer a man with good standing so why bother? Geralt was different, she had never had such a visceral reaction to a man before. What she couldn't understand is what made him so different from all the rest? Was he that much more attractive than other men? She put a stop to these thoughts; nothing good could come from picking this thread. Geralt was helping her and she'd repay him.

Faye was lost in her own thoughts when she heard Geralt grumble. 

“Hmm?” she murmured.

“I’m not ticklish, stop that.” He muttered, staring at the path before him.

“Stop what?” She asked dumbly. That’s when she realized one of her hands was absent mindedly caressing his stomach

“tickling me.” He growled, his back becoming more rigid.

"But you're not ticklish." She quipped a devilish smile on her face, having fun at his discomfort.

He grabbed her arm and pulled it away from his waist.

"Okay okay! I'll stop." She pleaded, clutching onto him for dear life. Her heart beating wildly in her chest. 

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