As he slowly regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight passing through the wall of the hut enveloping him.
He exhaled, a long, shaky breath that felt like it carried the weight of two lives. His head still ached faintly, not from pain this time, but from memory. A bit too much memory.
He tried to move but his body was still stiff and weak, he sighed and slowly turned his head and saw that 'his aunt' Lyra was sitting cross legged near the wall, weaving a basket out of some dried vines, Her hands moved quickly, in a practiced rhythm,the kind you get from doing something thousands of times, her face was a bit tired, but still drop dead gorgeous.
For a moment he was fascinated and just continued to stare, he didn't know if it was just his aunt, but damn, she is really gorgeous, like much more gorgeous than those so called celebrities in his last life.
So, here comes a very serious question, why is this primitive woman so damn gorgeous?
Aren't primitive women supposed to be rough and ugly? He searched his memory and found that most of the women in the tribe were above average in appearance, with many simply being bombshells.
Maybe it's because he has been staring a bit too intently, she suddenly turned her head and met his eyes, and for a moment his heartbeat sped up, and his throat felt a bit dry, 'damn how can a woman be so beautiful?'
Seeing him, she gasped softly and immediately jolted up with a pleasantly surprised expression and hurried towards him, the basket in her hand was immediately forgotten and fell down, and in a moment she was already kneeling beside him, with an expression mixed with worry and concern etched on her face.
"Sol," she whispered, voice soft but trembling, "you're awake?"
He blinked up at her, trying to speak, but his throat felt like literal sandpaper and he couldn't help cough.
Seeing this her eyes widened a bit and she hurriedly stood up and reached out for the clay jar resting in a cool shaded corner, taking a clay cup from the side she filled the cup with water and hurried back to his side and slid an arm behind him to lift him gently.
Seeing this Sol was so touched that he felt that his eyes would start watering.
Damn… when was the last time someone cared about him like this?
But he still managed to control himself and took small, desperate gulps at first, because he was really damn thirsty, then took big gulps, the water slid smoothly down his throat, moisturizing the dry throat.
The water was cool, earthy and a bit sweet, much better than any expensive mineral water he ever had.
She stayed still and let him drink, her breath even and face concerned, the scent of clay and her body, assaulted his nose, as he loosened the cup.
She immediately filled another cup and helped him drink, this time he drank normally, "Are you okay now?" she asked.
He nodded, still catching his breath, she eased up back down, wiped the rim with her palm and returned the cup to the pot, the whole motion extremely careful.
Seeing her back, "Aunt… I'm okay," he said, voice rough, the words sounding strange in his own mouth.
The sound of it was definitely…his voice, but not quite his… and this made him pause for a second. It felt heavier, deeper. This voice belonged to this body, not the one he used to remember.
Still, after this, the words came much easier.
"I'm okay," he repeated, a little steadier this time.
Lyra's shoulders finally dropped, the tension easing out of her face. She let out a breath that sounded like it had been stuck in her chest for days, then gave him a weak smile.
He tried to move again and successfully managed to lift his arm, and maybe shift the leg a bit, but that was it. His muscles still screamed in protest, but this time the peaceful one not the violent one. His body felt used, drained, like it had been running for days while he slept.
He couldn't help wondering, what the heck, his previous self did to make the body so wrecked.
Lyra leaned closer, brushing the back of her hand against his forehead like she was checking for fever. Her skin was cool, steady, and for a second the simple human warmth of it felt more than he expected, it had been a long time since he had been in such close contact with a human let alone a woman.
Up close, he felt even more of her beauty, she really was beautiful in a way he hadn't noticed before…strong, sexy body, dark eyes that could capture heart in an instant. Completely unlike the modern fragile beauties, she was the kind of beauty that belonged to someone who worked and survived in a wilderness.
But damn, her seemingly gentle touch sent a shiver down his spine as she brushed the back of her hand against his fevered brow. Her skin was a soothing balm against his flushed cheeks, a stark contrast to the heat that continued to smolder within him.
And as she leaned even closer, he couldn't help inhaling deeply, and the heady musk of her scent enveloped him. It was primal, wild, and utterly intoxicating.
His tongue darted out to dampen his suddenly parched lips as he drank in the sight of her - the sun-kissed glow on her strong, supple skin, the dark eyes that seemed to hold ancient wisdom, the full, inviting lips that curved into a smile that made his heart stutter.
As Lyra's hand drifted from his forehead down to his shoulder, her ample bosom brushed against his arm, sending sparks of arousal through him. He'd never been this close to women, let alone, such a stunning woman, and her raw beauty radiated from every sun-kissed pore.
And his gaze drifted involuntarily to her full, rounded breasts straining against the animal hide of her garment, and he didn't know why, his cock began to stir, swelling with a primal need he'd never experienced before.
The intoxicating scent of her mature allure hit him like a punch to the gut, making his head spin harder than any fever could. He tried to keep his body under control, but it seemed to have a mind of its own, reacting viscerally to her proximity and charm. The feel of her cool skin against his burning flesh was electrifying, and he had to bite back a groan.