Chapter 5 #2
When his fingers reached her hand, she gripped it, pulling it up before her. Her eyes, green and brown, a swirling mixture of East and West, were still on him. She rubbed her thumbs into his palm, holding his hand between them. Then she parted her lips.
All he could see were her lips. He wanted to kiss her. Was dying to kiss her.
He dropped his head, his resolve flying away, but Eve moved instead, opening her mouth and angling his hand.
She took the tip of his finger, touching it with her tongue.
Then she drew his finger into her mouth.
With his other hand, Michel reached up to grab the back of her hair, holding her in place, his heart either frozen or beating so fast he couldn’t track it.
Eve gasped and then closed her lips around his finger, letting it slip over her tongue.
A flash of heat engulfed him from the inside out, centering on where her mouth held him.
His brows came together, and his own mouth fell open as he watched his finger sink to the back of her throat.
It didn’t matter that he towered above her, that he had the strength or the title.
He knew, in that moment, that there wasn’t much that would keep him from giving this woman whatever she wanted.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through him, causing him to release her body and hop into the air.
He cursed at the pain before he even knew what had happened.
He grabbed his hand and saw his wet finger with red tooth marks all down the side.
He looked at Eve, who had backed up a step.
She was standing in place, her face flushed, hair in a mess from where he had held her, a breathless smirk on her face.
“To be clear, I will not be that kind of servant, Monsieur,” she said, crossing her arms. “But I will be happy to fold your towels.” She glanced at him, her words weighted.
“At least, until we reach France.” She turned to his travel bag and dumped out the contents. She returned to organizing his things.
For the second time that day, he stood there gaping. What the hell just happened, he thought, massaging his throbbing finger.
She probably shouldn’t have done that.
Later that evening, she was still thinking about it. Eve lay on the bed in the yurt, turned away from her keeper, with the taste of his skin still on her lips. What had she let happen?
She toyed with a rag in her hand, but she kept her body still, not wanting to invite any more interaction from Michel now that they had finally stopped bickering long enough to settle down for sleep.
She had allowed an intimacy between them, one she didn’t trust. Yes, she felt she could safely control this man.
He had a gentle nature, and she didn’t fear that he would demand anything of her.
The problem was going to be controlling herself around him.
Growing up with six older brothers, Eve was never surprised by the fits of men, and she considered herself quite proficient in being able to gently prod their egos into doing what she wanted.
In fact, she’d never been at a loss for someone to do her bidding her whole life.
She outwitted them easily, and her father always commented on how she may have been the youngest, but she had always been the one in charge.
Things changed for her when her brothers began to marry.
First, Dzhambul, her eldest brother, was married, and he was closely followed by Esen, the second eldest. The next three did the same in succession.
When she had been taken from her home, her last brother was preparing for his wedding.
As her brothers entered into courtships and marriage vows, she had seen them each controlled, in a way, by the woman they married.
She noted how these strong, intelligent men whom she loved and respected would be angry, despondent, irrational—and how one trip to the bedroom would restore their senses.
Though she knew her brothers would never stop loving or caring for her, Eve quickly recognized that her own position in their lives had diminished, and their wives held a very different kind of power over them.
Eve had filed this information away. She knew one day she would be a wife—it was her duty to her family and tribe—though she never wished for that moment to come any sooner than necessary.
So, on days when the men warred or planned, she spent much of her time listening to her elder sisters-in-law talk of the things they did to her brothers.
They would speak in hushed tones, though they would talk in a way to ensure each would hear, trying to outdo each other without crossing the line.
Men may have their challenges to assert dominance, but so do women.
Through their twittering, Eve began to understand the way certain intimacies could sway a man.
She had never needed this weapon before.
Her own intuition and cleverness were enough to get what she wanted out of people.
Then suddenly she found herself alone and running for her life, with none of the protections she had become accustomed to, with danger close behind her, in the care of a Frenchman who didn’t want to bring her to France.
When the Frenchman denied her request to go with him to France, she decided to experiment.
She changed her body. She changed her tone.
She changed her tactic. Michel changed, too, in an instant.
She felt his desire fill the room, flames of it pressing on her from all directions, from his body against hers, his hand in hers, his other hand in her hair.
He may have been trying to control himself, but his want for her was obvious.
What upset her, however, was how quickly her body responded.
His desire called to hers, causing her edges to fray and for strange, debilitating tremors to run through her body.
In that second, Eve realized that she might not have all the control.
So, she bit him. And everything stopped.
The quiet of the night had settled around the yurt.
Eve continued to wring the rag between her fingers as she lay in the bed, the one he had moved for her earlier.
She still felt the tingles of his touch on her—on the places of her skin he had held.
The room was warm from the stove at the center, but she wished she had a blanket to pull over her for comfort.
Tomorrow, she decided, she would have him take her to the market to purchase essentials: blankets, tea leaves, some decent items to cook with, and a rug for the comfort of their feet.
She had confidence that he would allow her what she wanted now that they were communicating.
She would use her practiced ways to guide this man toward her goals.
If anything happened to threaten her position in this company, or if he decided to leave her behind, she suspected she had a new weapon to use on him.
Until she had to use this weapon again, however, she would keep it a secret that she liked the way he had tasted on her tongue.