Chapter 23
With the weather clear but cold and the ground frozen rather than muddy, Imogen and Balar decided to take the opportunity to lead the animals on a walk to the Ahearn farm. Along the way, though, they made a few important stops.
First, Imogen visited Sofie Brádaigh’s home on the outskirts of Granach to thank her again for all her care—as well as pay her. Sofie hadn’t wanted to take payment, but Imogen insisted. She also asked Sofie to visit Neomi when she had time to see if her sister might open up about her troubles.
After waiting patiently for her outside with the animals, Balar welcomed her back into the warmth of his side beneath his wing. Together, they strolled through town.
Imogen flushed with nerves for quite a while—until she realized that hardly anyone noticed her walking beside Balar. Most everyone gave them a wide berth; those who did greet Balar did so almost warily. The responses gave her pause; she’d thought him well liked in Granach.
Balar didn’t seem to notice, steering her to stall after stall. If he had his way, they’d leave with armfuls of pretty, luxurious, unnecessary things.
“Choose at least one thing, urisá. For me.”
“You want me to choose something for you?” she teased.
He rumbled with laughter, pulling her closer to kiss her hair. “There are plenty of things you could choose for yourself that would really be for me. If you so wanted.”
Imogen’s flush returned. Fates, that’s right. Silky stays or translucent nightgowns. Rouge for her lips and cheeks. Sweet-smelling oils. They were all a possibility.
But she didn’t think she could manage it with how the shopkeeper stared at them with such blatant interest. They’d know what it was for—and Imogen might expire on the spot to know that they knew.
In the end, he guided her to a colorful stall full of fine fabrics.
Imogen recognized the merchant, Emelda, and the three of them had a pleasant chat.
She was one of the few who didn’t look at Balar with a degree of wariness; instead, she smiled big and talked him into another embroidered pillow.
And then another blanket, like the one he’d gotten Imogen before, but twice the size.
Before Imogen could argue, Balar whispered, “For my place beside you in bed. You always steal the blankets.”
If Emelda hadn’t been as polite as she was, pretending she couldn’t hear Balar, Imogen might have melted into a puddle of embarrassment.
They left Granach only after having visited every stall—except Gilda’s. Her manticore seemed more than reluctant to go, so she hadn’t insisted. Besides, she hadn’t any business with Gilda today.
It was on their final walk to the Ahearn farm that Imogen realized—“Balar, you can’t keep wasting your coins on me. Those were expensive.”
“Not to quibble, but I bought them for myself. You, my wily kigara, managed to make it out of there without having chosen anything. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Well, that was true. Still, she couldn’t help her consternation.
Pinching her chin between his finger and thumb, Balar tutted. “Don’t pout. I’ll be going back soon. You’ve given me plenty of ideas.”
“N-no, that’s not—!”
“And it’s not wasting coins to spend them on you. There will always be more coins.”
“But…how…?” He spent his time with her, and it wasn’t like she was paying him a farmhand’s wages.
Balar merely shrugged. “Mayors of villages are compensated. And my brothers and I often work for the Brádaighs when they need additional hands. Our expenses have been few—we all look forward to spoiling a kigara.”
His answer didn’t make her feel better, really, even as he whistled a jaunty tune between his teeth as they strolled.
He wouldn’t be mayor for much longer, though, and Imogen refused to let him spend all his savings on pretty things for her. Or himself. She made a tidy profit from her farm and the products she sold, but she couldn’t say for certain that it would support them both.
Fates, this was a lot to think on. She’d need to sit down with her ledgers, consider expanding the garden, maybe even procuring a few more goats.
She’d been saving what was left of her inheritance; perhaps she should take the risk and invest in a small flock of the exotic breed of sheep from Caledon she’d been considering for years.
“I can hear you thinking,” he teased. “Please don’t trouble yourself, Imogen. We’re comfortable. We have the winter to consider what we wish to do next.”
We, he said. What we do next.
Whatever they decided, it would be together.
She marveled that that thought actually made her feel better. She hadn’t been part of a we for a long time. It…felt good.
A smile tugged at her lips, and she realized that this newfound sense of belonging had been growing inside her for a while now. The more time she spent with Balar, the more she never wanted to leave his side. Because beside him was where she felt she belonged.
“Thank you for coming with me today.”
With his hand at her waist, Balar pulled her closer to nuzzle her temple. “Of course. I’d never miss an opportunity to see your family home.”
Imogen blushed. She was getting used to all the romantic things he said and did, yet he always managed to make her go pink. Although, maybe it was less getting used to and more…becoming familiar with. She didn’t know if she’d ever truly be used to it—she certainly wouldn’t take it for granted.
“However…” His teasing purr buzzed against her ear, inciting a spark of warmth low in her belly. “I wouldn’t say no to a reward.”
“A reward? What kind?” She knew just what kind.
Each day, they tried something new, something more. All of their experiments and exploring were about learning each other. There were no wrongs, just things they preferred.
To Balar’s delight, Imogen found she inordinately enjoyed having her breasts played with. They’d spent long afternoons discovering that she could orgasm just from having her nipples pinched and her breasts squeezed. She was a well-endowed woman, but with his big paws, he could hold all of her.
Honestly, if she’d allow him to walk around with his hands full of her breasts all day long, he’d probably be the happiest manticore alive.
Every day they practiced, sometimes old favorites, others discovering new pleasures.
Imogen flushed remembering the day before last, when, over a lazy long morning, they’d laid in bed pleasuring each other simultaneously.
She’d knelt on all fours over him, completely still, for a long while, her mind catching up to the position.
Facing down his giant manticore cock was intimidating too, thick, pink, with a spade-shaped head, but it was hard to think with his textured tongue lapping at her.
“Wh-what’s here, at the base?” she’d managed to ask, gently running her fingers along the bulbous root. It couldn’t be his bollocks; those were furred and lay further down.
His abdomen shivered at her small touch. “That’d be my knot.”
Imogen gulped. “Knot?”
“Mmm, for keeping me locked inside you. We’ll play with that later, when you’re ready.”
She’d almost broken out in a cold sweat.
It seemed unfathomable that she’d manage to take half of his angry red manticore cock, let alone the extra girth at the base.
But then he’d done that thing with his tongue, where he swirled it around her clitoris before sucking, and Imogen didn’t string two coherent thoughts together again for a long while.
Instead, she’d shored up her courage and done her best with his cock. She’d heard tales of this act, of course, and she gave him all her enthusiasm and hard work ethic. Nipping and licking, she’d taken what she could of the head into her mouth to suckle.
It wasn’t long before he came in her hands. It wasn’t the first time—although for all the others, she’d been working him either over his kilt or just dipped her hands inside to hold him. His pearlescent spend overran her hands, and somehow, Imogen felt full. Of satisfaction, of pleasure, of power.
Another purr vibrated in her ear as Balar leaned down to survey her face. “I know that look. Which day are you remembering? For me, it’s when you rode my face, and my tongue reached so deep I could curl it at—”
With a horrified gurgle, Imogen smacked her hands over his big mouth. The infernal lion-man merely grinned, poking out his tongue to lick at her fingers.
“My sister might—”
“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account.”
Imogen and Balar lifted their heads to see Neomi, hip popped against the doorframe, arms crossed, a cat-with-the-cream grin stretched from ear to ear.
“You two are too adorable. Come inside, I want to hear everything.”
“Absolutely not,” said Imogen.
“With pleasure,” said Balar. And, “Do I smell pie?”
There was, indeed, pie. Apple and walnut pie, to be precise, Neomi’s specialty. Nothing but crumbs were left in the dish by the time Balar and Imogen waved farewell after a pleasant afternoon of stories and laughter.
Imogen was pleased, almost flattered, to find that with it just being her and Balar, rather than all the brothers, too, Neomi was more than happy to sit back and listen.
Her eyes glittered and gleamed to hear all about Imogen’s confession to Balar and how they were considering adding his cabin to her cottage come spring.
Nothing was decided yet of course, but Neomi sighed and hummed happily, clapping her hands and hugging Imogen every chance she got.
“He’s perfect, Gen,” she whispered to Imogen as they cleared away the dishes together.
Imogen couldn’t help a grin. “He is. But don’t let him hear you say it—his mane’s big enough already.”
Today had been one of the most pleasant visits she could remember in a long time.
Although, as she and Balar headed down to the lower pasture to collect the animals, she couldn’t help a twinge of regret over not having asked about Neomi’s…
struggles. Imogen desperately wanted to know if Neomi had taken her advice and talked to Sofie.
However, she could understand if Neomi didn’t want to say anything in front of Balar, and Imogen didn’t want to spoil a good day if there was only bad news to share.
Still, those were the thoughts in her mind as they passed by the smaller of the two barns. From inside, she could hear hay being moved about. A peek inside revealed Collin working alone, moving fresh straw into the stalls.
Chewing her cheek, Imogen considered. Should I?
“Imogen?” Balar asked from a few paces ahead.
“I just—need to do something.”
He nodded slowly. “All right.”
She pulled in a deep breath and, for courage, hurried up to him to steal a kiss. He blinked down at her, bemused, but Imogen didn’t explain, instead marching into the barn.
Fates, I’m really doing this.
Taking a wide stance and planting her fists on her hips, she called, “Collin.”
He looked up in surprise. “Gen, I didn’t know you were visiting. Are you—”
She held up a hand to silence him. “I’m going to talk now, and I’m only going to say it once, so you’d best listen.”
His golden brows shot up his forehead. “What?”
“You’ve tormented me all my life. Made me feel ugly and worthless.
Maybe you didn’t mean to, at least not when you were younger, but you’re a man now.
One who’s married to my sister.” Closing more of the space between them, she told him gravely, “You won’t call me Gen anymore.
You won’t joke about my birthmark. And you aren’t going to make Neomi as miserable as you made me. ”
Collin paled. “What—?”
“From now on, you’re going to support her. You’re going to make her feel loved and appreciated—whether or not you have a child. You’re going to stand up to your mother for her. You’re going to give her everything she needs and love her how she deserves.”
His lips drew thin, and what seemed to be true disquiet darkened his face. Perhaps he was more troubled by her words than she’d thought he’d be.
“You’re going to do all this, you’re going to make her happy, or else it’ll become my business. And what’s my business is also the care of five manticores. They have sharp teeth and claws, and I have a lot of land. No one will find you, Collin. So grow up, be a man, and take care of your house.”
Collin’s mouth fell open, and honestly, Imogen was just as astonished. Rather than letting him see it, though, she shot him a final nod before turning on her heel and striding right back out of the barn.
Did I really just do that? Her insides almost vibrated with jitters, and she couldn’t take more than quick, shallow breaths. A myriad of emotions zipped through her, none lasting long enough to parse out.
But then she was outside again, and it didn’t matter.
Right where she’d left him stood Balar, his arms crossed over his chest, and a proud grin on his face. “So says the erēz,” he said.
She didn’t quite know when she started running, but then she was—and jumping into his arms. Throwing her arms around him, she buried her face in his mane as he lifted her off her feet to swing back and forth.
“I can’t believe—I did—that!”
“As fierce as you are lovely,” Balar crowed.
Imogen giggled, and then she couldn’t stop. Emotions crammed in her throat, and she just couldn’t seem to stop laughing, even as tears began to trickle from her eyes.
Holding her tight, Balar turned from the barn and continued on toward the lower pasture.
“Let’s go home now, urisá. I have many good ideas on how to use that bravery of yours.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she sob-laughed.
“Is that another human word for in love with you? If so, then yes, I’m incorrigible. For you.”